This is a letter I am writing for F1, she wants to clean up her facebook account of friends she hasn’t spoken to in years.
I’ve ALWAYS wanted for people to send me a message as to why they are de-friending me…
If I was sending someone this letter…this is what it would sound-ish/read like.
I will be filling it with “Notes” …if you want to cut and paste this and send it to a facebook frienemy you are welcome to but you should delete the “Notes” and my sign off unless your name is Kristin, you are a Witch and on your period….or you will look stupid and they should have de-friended you.
Dear Douche Bag,
Note…A douche is just vinegar and water. I think vinegar is probably the answer to everything, it removes stuck on sticker goo, it can unclog a drain when used with baking soda and boiling water, it removes stains and smells…You can put a couple Tbs in with your flowers and it will pick them up…You can clean windows with it and it will keep your windows of your car frost free…if you put it on your finger nails before your polish your polish will last longer...
Three years ago when I decided to create a facebook account we some how became ‘friends’. I don’t remember who friended whom. This is a moot point now.
We never sent any messages to each other we never comment on each others status’ and when I see your stupid status updates I am always left flabbergasted at your narcism.
Note…I wrote that bit like someone is de-friending ME…hence the narcism comment.
Do you have a life? A real one I mean? You are always sick…I think you should go to the Doctor.
Note…I’m not always sick but I have noticed some people are and they should go to the doctor.
When we were in High School you didn’t talk to me, you probably DID talk about me though…I KNOW I talked about you! You thought you were better than everyone else but still some how I have found that we are facebook friends…but not for long.
A am de-friending you please don’t be offended…unless you find vinegar to be offensive.
Note…to sign or not to sign off is the question…I would…
Something like…
Don’t get your panties in a wad…we weren’t real friends anyway.
Heart,
Kristin, a narcissistic bitch who is a witch…and I will leave it there…Oh, and look out I AM on my period.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Once you go Mac you never go back
This morning at around 5am words started swirling around my brain. It had seemed my grey matter had risen before the rest of me.
Sometimes words are like diarrhea for me and my keyboard is my toilet. You best have laughed at that analogy, it’s funny!…of course I know some people think my writing is shit…so it makes it even funnier!
Yesterday afternoon I was standing on ‘The hill’…’The Hill' is what we call the school area. The Colorado foothills can be windy. I’m not talking about a breeze….we have gale forces that can reach 70mph unexpectedly. I’ll put it out there that ‘The Hill’ is ALWAYS windy!
The wind on a cold day can make some women bitchy.
So we are standing on The Hill waiting for our little people to get out of school so we can collect them and I got in an argument with F?…Holy crap I’ve lost count of my friends numbers…I really should make a list so they can make note that I have used them in my blog ___ times.
I have been very argumentative lately…
She has been bitching about having computer problems for the last few months.
I had some sage advice for her…
Me…”How much do you want to spend?”
This was a stupid question I now realize…no one want’s to ever spend $ on something.
F?…”Around $400."
Me…”You should go all the way and get a Mac.”
F?…”Kristin!”…in an absolutely exasperated voice…
F?…”All I do is write papers and check my e-mail, I don’t have a $1000 to spend.”
Me…”How much is your time worth though? How long has your computer been crashing on you?”
F?…”I’ve I had a bad week and now you are gonna give me shit about the Mac again?”
The bell rings and tiny little humans escape their confines of the elementary school…
We all say our good buys…
I’m not worried about F? reading this and getting her panties in a wad ‘cause she doesn’t have a computer right now because she won’t take my brilliant advice!
I woke up wondering what she thought I did on my computer and how much I LOVE MY MAC!
I am not a genius. I don’t have tech support in my home. I need something that is smarter than me and that won’t leave me frustrated all the time.
I KNOW that MacBooks are expensive. But really…
…How much IS your time worth?!
When I was married I argued with my now Ex about getting a Mac whenever we were having problems with our crappy $500 Dell.
He would be so pissed, and then I would get all mad and frustrated.
One day he decided to listen to me.
Everyone should listen to me…Mensa may not be knocking at my door but I am NOT an idiot.
$1000.oo is a lot of money.
The year was 2009, 4 days before Christmas at about 9 pm, my MacBook decided it was going to have a glass of Shiraz. It couldn’t handle it’s alcohol.
I grabbed it and shook it upside down like an abusive Mother would do to a baby…to no avail.
I cried salty tears of sorrow at the loss of one of my best friends.
The next morning I show up at the Mac Store, computer in hand and my thumb drive that I have backed up all my info on…Yes, I had saved all my pic’s and crap long before I lost my friend.
I didn’t have $1000.oo in cash. This was the ONE time I shelled out my one credit card…I don’t like debt. I don’t want any other than my mortgage. I don’t even have a car/MiniVan payment.
I could have gone on E-Bay but I didn’t have a computer and I didn’t want to waste any time. It is not a waste of money though…My time IS worth more than $400, frustration and a crappy computer that crashes all the time and has more chances of getting a virus than a porn star.
My MacBook makes me feel like an idiot savant!
I wonder what F? thinks I do on my computer?
This is a list of things I do with one of my best friends… my MacBook.
I get on Facebook.
I use Scrabble Cheat.
I Tweet when I remember I have a Twitter account.
I check the multitude of E-mail accounts I have.
(I don’t know why I feel like I have to have 10 E-mail accounts but I do.)
I pay bills.
I google…Folded Jeans for a laugh.
I up-load photos.
I download music.
I take videos and pictures of myself to humor the me myself and I that is like an unholy trinity…——>
I had to have my friend over to show me which InPut to use on my DVD player…before that I would watch DVD’s on my MacBook. (This is ME…I can change a tire but electronics cofound me.)
….and I blog…obviously!
I haven’t even scratched the surface of what I can do with my MacBook. F2 got one, finally, several months ago and she is always telling what she just created with hers.
All you have to do is plug in my bad bad boy and turn it on!…and shit just happens from there, AWESOME shit!
On Tuesday when I was at Re-Hab for my bum knee one of my favorite ‘Gingers’, and my personal Physical Terrorist…walks in while I am cycling…In his hands he has his MacBook…
I look at him like he might be one of the smartest men in the world.
We discuss our love of our MacBooks and how they can’t handle alcohol…his had decided to have a Fat Tire one night.
Mac users know they are smarter than everyone else. We are smarter because we know we have limited knowledge and abilities. The moment you become cognizant of this and that your time IS worth money…you become a genius!
If your Dell can handle it’s alcohol please let me know. (I know that there are covers I can put on my Mac…I just haven’t gotten one yet.)
Once you go MAC…you never go back!
Sometimes words are like diarrhea for me and my keyboard is my toilet. You best have laughed at that analogy, it’s funny!…of course I know some people think my writing is shit…so it makes it even funnier!
Yesterday afternoon I was standing on ‘The hill’…’The Hill' is what we call the school area. The Colorado foothills can be windy. I’m not talking about a breeze….we have gale forces that can reach 70mph unexpectedly. I’ll put it out there that ‘The Hill’ is ALWAYS windy!
The wind on a cold day can make some women bitchy.
So we are standing on The Hill waiting for our little people to get out of school so we can collect them and I got in an argument with F?…Holy crap I’ve lost count of my friends numbers…I really should make a list so they can make note that I have used them in my blog ___ times.
I have been very argumentative lately…
She has been bitching about having computer problems for the last few months.
I had some sage advice for her…
Me…”How much do you want to spend?”
This was a stupid question I now realize…no one want’s to ever spend $ on something.
F?…”Around $400."
Me…”You should go all the way and get a Mac.”
F?…”Kristin!”…in an absolutely exasperated voice…
F?…”All I do is write papers and check my e-mail, I don’t have a $1000 to spend.”
Me…”How much is your time worth though? How long has your computer been crashing on you?”
F?…”I’ve I had a bad week and now you are gonna give me shit about the Mac again?”
The bell rings and tiny little humans escape their confines of the elementary school…
We all say our good buys…
I’m not worried about F? reading this and getting her panties in a wad ‘cause she doesn’t have a computer right now because she won’t take my brilliant advice!
I woke up wondering what she thought I did on my computer and how much I LOVE MY MAC!
I am not a genius. I don’t have tech support in my home. I need something that is smarter than me and that won’t leave me frustrated all the time.
I KNOW that MacBooks are expensive. But really…
…How much IS your time worth?!
When I was married I argued with my now Ex about getting a Mac whenever we were having problems with our crappy $500 Dell.
He would be so pissed, and then I would get all mad and frustrated.
One day he decided to listen to me.
Everyone should listen to me…Mensa may not be knocking at my door but I am NOT an idiot.
$1000.oo is a lot of money.
The year was 2009, 4 days before Christmas at about 9 pm, my MacBook decided it was going to have a glass of Shiraz. It couldn’t handle it’s alcohol.
I grabbed it and shook it upside down like an abusive Mother would do to a baby…to no avail.
I cried salty tears of sorrow at the loss of one of my best friends.
The next morning I show up at the Mac Store, computer in hand and my thumb drive that I have backed up all my info on…Yes, I had saved all my pic’s and crap long before I lost my friend.
I didn’t have $1000.oo in cash. This was the ONE time I shelled out my one credit card…I don’t like debt. I don’t want any other than my mortgage. I don’t even have a car/MiniVan payment.
I could have gone on E-Bay but I didn’t have a computer and I didn’t want to waste any time. It is not a waste of money though…My time IS worth more than $400, frustration and a crappy computer that crashes all the time and has more chances of getting a virus than a porn star.
My MacBook makes me feel like an idiot savant!
I wonder what F? thinks I do on my computer?
This is a list of things I do with one of my best friends… my MacBook.
I get on Facebook.
I use Scrabble Cheat.
I Tweet when I remember I have a Twitter account.
I check the multitude of E-mail accounts I have.
(I don’t know why I feel like I have to have 10 E-mail accounts but I do.)
I pay bills.
I google…Folded Jeans for a laugh.
I up-load photos.
I download music.
I take videos and pictures of myself to humor the me myself and I that is like an unholy trinity…——>I had to have my friend over to show me which InPut to use on my DVD player…before that I would watch DVD’s on my MacBook. (This is ME…I can change a tire but electronics cofound me.)
….and I blog…obviously!
I haven’t even scratched the surface of what I can do with my MacBook. F2 got one, finally, several months ago and she is always telling what she just created with hers.
All you have to do is plug in my bad bad boy and turn it on!…and shit just happens from there, AWESOME shit!
On Tuesday when I was at Re-Hab for my bum knee one of my favorite ‘Gingers’, and my personal Physical Terrorist…walks in while I am cycling…In his hands he has his MacBook…
I look at him like he might be one of the smartest men in the world.
We discuss our love of our MacBooks and how they can’t handle alcohol…his had decided to have a Fat Tire one night.
Mac users know they are smarter than everyone else. We are smarter because we know we have limited knowledge and abilities. The moment you become cognizant of this and that your time IS worth money…you become a genius!
If your Dell can handle it’s alcohol please let me know. (I know that there are covers I can put on my Mac…I just haven’t gotten one yet.)
Once you go MAC…you never go back!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Google IT! and get your panties out of a WAD!
I’m not your traditional Mother of 3. I’m not that grounded, I swear like a sailor, although I try not around my children. I’m on my computer a lot and I HATE crafting with them.
I am admittedly NOT the greatest Mother in the world…and I am only a part-time Mom. (‘Cause my Ex and I share 50/50 custody.)
I have a story of an event that took place yesterday…that kinda pissed me off.
My neighbor and very good friend, K (I have blogged about her before, a widowed Mother of 2 and is now 28), comes over yesterday morning. She had a question about her outfit and how to fold her jeans up….I show her how, we chat a minute and K heads out…There is a reason for this random bit of what seems like trivial mindless space taking words, and it has a great deal to do with several events...
K and I have an agreement. She can be at my house and our children can be alone in her house, for a limited amount of time. We have responsible children and my daughter is probably one of THE most responsible 9 year old girls you could meet. She is in charge. We Mom’s are right next door.
Last night my children were over at K’s house playing. It was around 5:30pm. At around 5:50 K comes over to use my printer and share something with me…something VERY funny!
She says…
…”I know what I forgot to tell you this morning! Before I came over about my outfit I ‘googled “FOLDED JEANS". Google it, go to IMAGES and scroll down, you are gonna die.”
I google it, click on images and scroll down.
Side note…Click on a new window and please do it so you will understand the randomness and hilarity that my life and hers contains.
We are busy laughing our asses off at what we had just seen and the door bell rings. It’s the Mother of the girl that lives up the street. I answer the door still laughing.
Her…”Is ___ here?”
Me…”No, she could be next door though.”
She turns and walks away, looking a little put out. I’m still finding our viewing funny and as I laugh like an idiot I tell K…
…”You might want to get home now.”
She heads back….
This morning K comes over after the children have gone to school.
K…”She was pissed!”
Me…”So, fuck her. She didn’t even know where her daughter was!”
We KNEW where our children were...this time;) (I’m not perfect, I’m not gonna throw stones at her glass house.)
K tells me that as the Mom was leaving K’s house she asks her what we thought was so funny. (You DID google it right?)
K tells her that we had seen something really funny and couldn’t stop laughing about it.
I think she was shocked that it had NOTHING to do with her.
As the Mom is walking away she tells her daughter…
…”I’m not mad at you. It’s the parents involved…..”…as she walks up the street.
We are not traditional Moms. This Mom that lives up the hill is married to a Doctor, he’s a resident right now. They have 3 children. They are Mormons (which might be relevant, might not). She crafts with her children.
Her middle child I can’t leave alone in a room in my house. He get’s into everything, opens cupboards and takes all the shit out. He bugs the shit out of me.
Her older daughter is fine, I actually really like her and she is welcome in my home.
The other is maybe one and half little girl.
She could be classified as traditional Mom, plain, doesn’t dress well and WON’T hang out with us.
I’m also sure she crafts with her children…which I find kinda cool cause that means she has patients that I lack…
I’m always in awe of cookie bakin’ craftin' Moms.
She also has no real hobbies, your children are not a hobby…I have more hobbies than Ben Hur won Oscars!
K and I have figured we won’t be seeing her Children around till summer now.
Now let me put on some panties so I can get them in a wad.
On days when the temperature is below freezing her children have shown up at my place with no shoes on. She didn’t know where her daughter was. Her son is a pain in my ass.
K and I do our best to get by with everyday obstacles. We can jump cars and change tires. We know how to do almost anything together…don’t fuck with us.
Our neighbor who decided we were sketchy…has a husband and family around to help her out…
So note to anyone who wants to judge my bad parenting…as to any other portion of my life…
I’m divorced. I have three Children that have NO issues, have parents that get along and can have a beer together. We don’t fight…we ARE “Team Mom and Dad”.
My children are happy, have their shit together and they are healthy. They are clothed-ish properly on most days although when they pick their own outfits they look like ragamuffins.
The Mom up the street should have gone home…taken her pants off…and removed her waded up panties. She probably would have felt better…
In the mean time I’m gonna go panty-less and say “Fuck it!”.
Oh…don’t let your Children Google shit…Holy crap how casually ludicrous was that!
Did YOU Google it yet?
I’m a perv…and I THINK it’s funny!
I am admittedly NOT the greatest Mother in the world…and I am only a part-time Mom. (‘Cause my Ex and I share 50/50 custody.)
I have a story of an event that took place yesterday…that kinda pissed me off.
My neighbor and very good friend, K (I have blogged about her before, a widowed Mother of 2 and is now 28), comes over yesterday morning. She had a question about her outfit and how to fold her jeans up….I show her how, we chat a minute and K heads out…There is a reason for this random bit of what seems like trivial mindless space taking words, and it has a great deal to do with several events...
K and I have an agreement. She can be at my house and our children can be alone in her house, for a limited amount of time. We have responsible children and my daughter is probably one of THE most responsible 9 year old girls you could meet. She is in charge. We Mom’s are right next door.
Last night my children were over at K’s house playing. It was around 5:30pm. At around 5:50 K comes over to use my printer and share something with me…something VERY funny!
She says…
…”I know what I forgot to tell you this morning! Before I came over about my outfit I ‘googled “FOLDED JEANS". Google it, go to IMAGES and scroll down, you are gonna die.”
I google it, click on images and scroll down.
Side note…Click on a new window and please do it so you will understand the randomness and hilarity that my life and hers contains.
We are busy laughing our asses off at what we had just seen and the door bell rings. It’s the Mother of the girl that lives up the street. I answer the door still laughing.
Her…”Is ___ here?”
Me…”No, she could be next door though.”
She turns and walks away, looking a little put out. I’m still finding our viewing funny and as I laugh like an idiot I tell K…
…”You might want to get home now.”
She heads back….
This morning K comes over after the children have gone to school.
K…”She was pissed!”
Me…”So, fuck her. She didn’t even know where her daughter was!”
We KNEW where our children were...this time;) (I’m not perfect, I’m not gonna throw stones at her glass house.)
K tells me that as the Mom was leaving K’s house she asks her what we thought was so funny. (You DID google it right?)
K tells her that we had seen something really funny and couldn’t stop laughing about it.
I think she was shocked that it had NOTHING to do with her.
As the Mom is walking away she tells her daughter…
…”I’m not mad at you. It’s the parents involved…..”…as she walks up the street.
We are not traditional Moms. This Mom that lives up the hill is married to a Doctor, he’s a resident right now. They have 3 children. They are Mormons (which might be relevant, might not). She crafts with her children.
Her middle child I can’t leave alone in a room in my house. He get’s into everything, opens cupboards and takes all the shit out. He bugs the shit out of me.
Her older daughter is fine, I actually really like her and she is welcome in my home.
The other is maybe one and half little girl.
She could be classified as traditional Mom, plain, doesn’t dress well and WON’T hang out with us.
I’m also sure she crafts with her children…which I find kinda cool cause that means she has patients that I lack…
I’m always in awe of cookie bakin’ craftin' Moms.
She also has no real hobbies, your children are not a hobby…I have more hobbies than Ben Hur won Oscars!
K and I have figured we won’t be seeing her Children around till summer now.
Now let me put on some panties so I can get them in a wad.
On days when the temperature is below freezing her children have shown up at my place with no shoes on. She didn’t know where her daughter was. Her son is a pain in my ass.
K and I do our best to get by with everyday obstacles. We can jump cars and change tires. We know how to do almost anything together…don’t fuck with us.
Our neighbor who decided we were sketchy…has a husband and family around to help her out…
So note to anyone who wants to judge my bad parenting…as to any other portion of my life…
I’m divorced. I have three Children that have NO issues, have parents that get along and can have a beer together. We don’t fight…we ARE “Team Mom and Dad”.
My children are happy, have their shit together and they are healthy. They are clothed-ish properly on most days although when they pick their own outfits they look like ragamuffins.
The Mom up the street should have gone home…taken her pants off…and removed her waded up panties. She probably would have felt better…
In the mean time I’m gonna go panty-less and say “Fuck it!”.
Oh…don’t let your Children Google shit…Holy crap how casually ludicrous was that!
Did YOU Google it yet?
I’m a perv…and I THINK it’s funny!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Trifling of Spring Fashion Advice
I get a pic text of two pairs of heels…
…’Which ones do I get? Remember, I’m more conservative than you.’
Me…'The grey ones with the peep toe and platform. The platform pair maybe higher but they are easier to walk in.’
I get a text this AM…
…'How do you feel about white jeans?’
Me…’I’ve never been a fan…white pants are another story.’
I like white pants, platform shoes, jeans and t-shirts…
It’s almost spring time…”Let’s get busy!”…
I’m a Fashionista, self-proclaimed of course. A personal stylist to friends and family…and I LOVE a good sale.
My closets are not a disaster but they are jam packed with anything you could desire. I’m not huge on brand names and big ticket prices. I AM huge on big savings, quality and style.
I shop all over, with friends and by myself. Somedays I would be walking around naked if it wasn’t for Target. Yeah, I shop at Target. I also shop T.J.Maxx, Macy’s, Dillards and small locally owned Boutiques (my personal favorites!).
Once in a while, a great while, I will head to Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, White House Black Market and Talbots. I only shop sales though…not it’s 20% off…Clothing that has been marked down to 1/2 off and then an extra % off clearance.
I once acquired 5 pairs of pants at Ann Taylor for $2.89 EACH!
Now, onto some things you should have and things you need to be wary of.
My number one rule is you DO NOT NEED to be a size 2 to look good.
(This is for Amy, one of my KickBoxing buddies)…Remember, I was once almost a size 8, with saddle bags fit for a horse to boot!
You must start with basics.
First off…please pull up those bad boys of yours and strap them in a well fitted BRA!
…and finally Panties..to wear or not to wear!
If you are wearing Panties, and they are NOT a thong we most likely can see them. I do however think the boy short style work well. If you have never gone Commando, I recommend it. Ahhhhh…the freedom…but DO wear panties under skirts!…particularly in windy Colorado.
As always having Classic Pieces is a must.
A long sleeved plain tapered white blouse. Plain, no frills or ruffles.
White and black T-shirt’s.
Well fitting non Mom style jeans. Every body type requires something different. When shopping bring a friend who minces no words and is not worried about hurting your feelings.
A well tailored Black Blazer.
Grey tweed slacks.
Black slacks.
A wrap dress.
A denim jacket. (I have had the same one for the last 10 years.)
A black skirt, a line or fitted, depending on your body type.
There are some trends this spring that are fabulous, others I am a little nervous about seeing ‘on the street’.
Adding a splash of colour…
We all have a favorite colour that makes us stand a bit taller.
Do it with a Trench coat, a purse, a chunky necklace or a pair of shoes.
On the runway this season they are even adding streaks of colour to their hair. That means that those of us that HAVE already been doing this are on the right style track.
Faux fur…
WaHoooooo…I love faux fur.
1 animal faux jacket is all you need.
Animal prints…
Take heed. A little goes a long way! (This coming from the woman that has a leopard print dress:/)
Let’s now go back to the 80’s and a bit of the preppy look…
Knee length fitted shorts with a baggy top or your classic white blouse. Wear penny loafers with knee high argyle socks or knee high boots.
One trend that I have been sharing privately that I did not see on the runway (via the internet) as it’s more ‘street style’ is…
Wearing skinny jeans and some cool socks OVER them and pulled up…over the socks wear boots and make sure about 2 inches of the sock is showing. You can do this with calf high or higher boots. You can find some fun socks, (by fun I mean polka dot or argyle) at Target in varying hights.
Lace and ruffles…
This is where things get a little scary for me as all I can think of is Kramer on Seinfeld and the pirate shirt. Please if you are going to try this be very, very careful.
I personally might skip this…oh wait, I can’t…I already have the perfect blouse that I got in Japan;)
This is only a meager amount of advice. Skinny jeans, wide leg pants, belted sweaters are all still ago as are leggings. If you are wearing leggings make sure your ass is covered…well.
I’m trying to be practical. We need to not dress like idiots but take bits from the runway. You need not look like you just walked off a runway to look good. A pair of jeans a nice blouse or t-shirt and blazer with a nice necklace looks put together and actually takes no thought at all.
I don’t remember who said it but…
…”no one knows where you came from or where you are going.” This is a motto of mine: grocery shopping, picking up my children from school and plain just out and about.
When we dress nicely and look good we feel better about ourselves. When we dress nicely we get more respect from others and respect ourselves too.
This was typed out by a woman who could probably wear a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt every day in the winter…I don’t, but when I do I wear a blazer or cool jacket, lot’s of necklaces and fabulous shoes or boots. It’s the little things…
…’Which ones do I get? Remember, I’m more conservative than you.’
Me…'The grey ones with the peep toe and platform. The platform pair maybe higher but they are easier to walk in.’
I get a text this AM…
…'How do you feel about white jeans?’
Me…’I’ve never been a fan…white pants are another story.’
I like white pants, platform shoes, jeans and t-shirts…
It’s almost spring time…”Let’s get busy!”…
I’m a Fashionista, self-proclaimed of course. A personal stylist to friends and family…and I LOVE a good sale.
My closets are not a disaster but they are jam packed with anything you could desire. I’m not huge on brand names and big ticket prices. I AM huge on big savings, quality and style.
I shop all over, with friends and by myself. Somedays I would be walking around naked if it wasn’t for Target. Yeah, I shop at Target. I also shop T.J.Maxx, Macy’s, Dillards and small locally owned Boutiques (my personal favorites!).
Once in a while, a great while, I will head to Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, White House Black Market and Talbots. I only shop sales though…not it’s 20% off…Clothing that has been marked down to 1/2 off and then an extra % off clearance.
I once acquired 5 pairs of pants at Ann Taylor for $2.89 EACH!
Now, onto some things you should have and things you need to be wary of.
My number one rule is you DO NOT NEED to be a size 2 to look good.
(This is for Amy, one of my KickBoxing buddies)…Remember, I was once almost a size 8, with saddle bags fit for a horse to boot!
You must start with basics.
First off…please pull up those bad boys of yours and strap them in a well fitted BRA!
…and finally Panties..to wear or not to wear!
If you are wearing Panties, and they are NOT a thong we most likely can see them. I do however think the boy short style work well. If you have never gone Commando, I recommend it. Ahhhhh…the freedom…but DO wear panties under skirts!…particularly in windy Colorado.
As always having Classic Pieces is a must.
A long sleeved plain tapered white blouse. Plain, no frills or ruffles.
White and black T-shirt’s.
Well fitting non Mom style jeans. Every body type requires something different. When shopping bring a friend who minces no words and is not worried about hurting your feelings.
A well tailored Black Blazer.
Grey tweed slacks.
Black slacks.
A wrap dress.
A denim jacket. (I have had the same one for the last 10 years.)
A black skirt, a line or fitted, depending on your body type.
There are some trends this spring that are fabulous, others I am a little nervous about seeing ‘on the street’.
Adding a splash of colour…
We all have a favorite colour that makes us stand a bit taller.
Do it with a Trench coat, a purse, a chunky necklace or a pair of shoes.
On the runway this season they are even adding streaks of colour to their hair. That means that those of us that HAVE already been doing this are on the right style track.
Faux fur…
WaHoooooo…I love faux fur.
1 animal faux jacket is all you need.
Animal prints…
Take heed. A little goes a long way! (This coming from the woman that has a leopard print dress:/)
Let’s now go back to the 80’s and a bit of the preppy look…
Knee length fitted shorts with a baggy top or your classic white blouse. Wear penny loafers with knee high argyle socks or knee high boots.
One trend that I have been sharing privately that I did not see on the runway (via the internet) as it’s more ‘street style’ is…
Wearing skinny jeans and some cool socks OVER them and pulled up…over the socks wear boots and make sure about 2 inches of the sock is showing. You can do this with calf high or higher boots. You can find some fun socks, (by fun I mean polka dot or argyle) at Target in varying hights.
Lace and ruffles…
This is where things get a little scary for me as all I can think of is Kramer on Seinfeld and the pirate shirt. Please if you are going to try this be very, very careful.
I personally might skip this…oh wait, I can’t…I already have the perfect blouse that I got in Japan;)
This is only a meager amount of advice. Skinny jeans, wide leg pants, belted sweaters are all still ago as are leggings. If you are wearing leggings make sure your ass is covered…well.
I’m trying to be practical. We need to not dress like idiots but take bits from the runway. You need not look like you just walked off a runway to look good. A pair of jeans a nice blouse or t-shirt and blazer with a nice necklace looks put together and actually takes no thought at all.
I don’t remember who said it but…
…”no one knows where you came from or where you are going.” This is a motto of mine: grocery shopping, picking up my children from school and plain just out and about.
When we dress nicely and look good we feel better about ourselves. When we dress nicely we get more respect from others and respect ourselves too.
This was typed out by a woman who could probably wear a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt every day in the winter…I don’t, but when I do I wear a blazer or cool jacket, lot’s of necklaces and fabulous shoes or boots. It’s the little things…
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Autism and Vaccines
This is a blog I’ve wanted to write for a long, long while.
I came home from my Doctors visit and re-hab the other day. I popped a pill, being in a 'little' pain and turned on the TV. On the TV there was Dr. Oz. I never watch this or any other day time talk show…but tune in this time I did as a sign from the God’s that this is what I was supposed to blog about.
Dr. Oz called it a national crisis...
I don’t have children with Autism, or any other issue for that matter other than ‘smart mouth syndrome’.
My children were all adopted, see 'Adoption, Yes, I have a serious side’, blog if you want to know their and my story of how we became a family.
My children never had prenatal care, were not breast fed and all had their vaccines on time.
I can count the ear infections they ALL had on one hand. Illness is not rampant in my home. I don’t have hand sanitizer all over the place (all though my Ex does). They play outside and get dirty.
I do however have many friends with children that have Autism.
There are several varying degrees of Autism. I’m not going to get into the details because the degrees are SO VAST! One type and probably the most common kind is Aspergers.
In 1943 psychiatrist Lea Kanner, ‘discovered’ Autism. At about the same time Hans Asperger described a comparable syndrome. I only put it in quotes because it was always there, they just put a name to something. It did not become a widely used as a diagnosis until the 1990’s as doctors became more aware and educated.
I like to describe Aspergers as a mild form of Autism where the children have a difficult time communicating, making eye contact and feeling empathy for others and also usually but not always have an odd fascination and knowledge about one subject. Think ‘Rain Man’, yet less pronounced.
What causes Autism and how can we stop it from happening?
Those are two of the biggest questions people have….and if your chid is diagnosed with Autism, “How can I stop this, make them better, improve their life standard?”
I do not pretend to comprehend what they deal with on a daily basis.
There are three major schools of thought as to what does cause autism…
Vaccines
Environment
...and conceiving a child after the age of 35 women.
If you are over the age of 35 should you have a child? The risks are there, this is a fact. You increase the risks of having a child with Autism by 30%.
Our society has a perpetual belief that everything can be blamed or explained.
I’m only going to focus on vaccines as our environment is fucked up but the passion with concerns to vaccines is prevalent and indisputably dangerous.
Vaccinations…
There are some people out there that refuse to get their children vaccinated for reasons of fright (not right). They are afraid their child will be the one out of however many that will have the side effects of vaccinations and something dreadful will happen.
Yes, this may happen but the chances are miniscule. So I say bullshit, you are putting others at risk. To rid disease we must eradicate it. To eradicate it you must have 95 out of 100 people vaccinated or this will not work.
You can find any conclusion you WANT if you dedicate a little time on the internet. (As I just have.) Pharmaceutical companies do study vaccines as do Doctors and Scientists. Yes, Pharmaceutical companies want to make money…this is not about that...
The main reason parents don’t vaccinate their children with the MMR (Measles, Mumps and Rubella)…is because a few Doctors/Scientists have done studies that suggest it is linked to cause Autism. One very publicized study was done by Andrew Wakefield in 1997. It’s 2011 now, that was 14 years ago. Parent’s started running scared…
…In the Netherlands on June 21, 1999 there was a Measles outbreak at an Orthodox Reformed Elementary School. 5 cases were diagnosed by a General Practitioner. 2 days later the Head Master of the school informed the Public Health Service that 80 of the 412 students were home sick. They found that only 7% of the children had been vaccinated.
Andrew Wakefield had to retract and admit his is study was falsified. Completely and utterly it was FALSE!
What if you thought of Autism from a different point of view…the one they DIDN’T discuss on Dr. Oz?
I have the answer.
It’s a simple one, yet sad.
Children used to be just called, ‘retarded’ or ’slow'…LONG BEFORE vaccines and the environment changed. Some people think of the word retarded as hateful. I don’t think they meant it to be poisonous. It was just a different time.
The word retard just means…slow. It’s not demeaning, but it did turn into a hurtful word out of the mouths of unsympathetic beings.
Why do people say there is an epidemic of Autism?
Autism is not an epidemic.
Something finally has a name and the only epidemic is that of education.
Education is a GOOD thing.
Children with Autism ARE different. They learn differently than their Peers. Understanding that they learn differently can improve their chances in society. They just need a chance.
If you are a parent with an Autistic child I want you to know I support you.
I’m sorry if you want an answer. Sometimes there isn’t a reason or something/someone to blame. We are just born the way we are born.
If I am ever found to be wrong in my opinion and there is real definitive proof (not internet crap) as to why so many children have Autism now, I will be the first to raise my hand and say I am wrong.
I came home from my Doctors visit and re-hab the other day. I popped a pill, being in a 'little' pain and turned on the TV. On the TV there was Dr. Oz. I never watch this or any other day time talk show…but tune in this time I did as a sign from the God’s that this is what I was supposed to blog about.
Dr. Oz called it a national crisis...
I don’t have children with Autism, or any other issue for that matter other than ‘smart mouth syndrome’.
My children were all adopted, see 'Adoption, Yes, I have a serious side’, blog if you want to know their and my story of how we became a family.
My children never had prenatal care, were not breast fed and all had their vaccines on time.
I can count the ear infections they ALL had on one hand. Illness is not rampant in my home. I don’t have hand sanitizer all over the place (all though my Ex does). They play outside and get dirty.
I do however have many friends with children that have Autism.
There are several varying degrees of Autism. I’m not going to get into the details because the degrees are SO VAST! One type and probably the most common kind is Aspergers.
In 1943 psychiatrist Lea Kanner, ‘discovered’ Autism. At about the same time Hans Asperger described a comparable syndrome. I only put it in quotes because it was always there, they just put a name to something. It did not become a widely used as a diagnosis until the 1990’s as doctors became more aware and educated.
I like to describe Aspergers as a mild form of Autism where the children have a difficult time communicating, making eye contact and feeling empathy for others and also usually but not always have an odd fascination and knowledge about one subject. Think ‘Rain Man’, yet less pronounced.
What causes Autism and how can we stop it from happening?
Those are two of the biggest questions people have….and if your chid is diagnosed with Autism, “How can I stop this, make them better, improve their life standard?”
I do not pretend to comprehend what they deal with on a daily basis.
There are three major schools of thought as to what does cause autism…
Vaccines
Environment
...and conceiving a child after the age of 35 women.
If you are over the age of 35 should you have a child? The risks are there, this is a fact. You increase the risks of having a child with Autism by 30%.
Our society has a perpetual belief that everything can be blamed or explained.
I’m only going to focus on vaccines as our environment is fucked up but the passion with concerns to vaccines is prevalent and indisputably dangerous.
Vaccinations…
There are some people out there that refuse to get their children vaccinated for reasons of fright (not right). They are afraid their child will be the one out of however many that will have the side effects of vaccinations and something dreadful will happen.
Yes, this may happen but the chances are miniscule. So I say bullshit, you are putting others at risk. To rid disease we must eradicate it. To eradicate it you must have 95 out of 100 people vaccinated or this will not work.
You can find any conclusion you WANT if you dedicate a little time on the internet. (As I just have.) Pharmaceutical companies do study vaccines as do Doctors and Scientists. Yes, Pharmaceutical companies want to make money…this is not about that...
The main reason parents don’t vaccinate their children with the MMR (Measles, Mumps and Rubella)…is because a few Doctors/Scientists have done studies that suggest it is linked to cause Autism. One very publicized study was done by Andrew Wakefield in 1997. It’s 2011 now, that was 14 years ago. Parent’s started running scared…
…In the Netherlands on June 21, 1999 there was a Measles outbreak at an Orthodox Reformed Elementary School. 5 cases were diagnosed by a General Practitioner. 2 days later the Head Master of the school informed the Public Health Service that 80 of the 412 students were home sick. They found that only 7% of the children had been vaccinated.
Andrew Wakefield had to retract and admit his is study was falsified. Completely and utterly it was FALSE!
There have been over 1500 papers and studies written stating that Thimerosal is toxic and we have been putting it in our bodies for decades. They also link it to the rise in Autism.
Thimerosal is a Mercury based preservative found in some vaccines. Mercury is poison. In 1999, as a precautionary measure the Public Health Service agencies, the American Academy of Pediatrics and vaccine manufacturers agreed that thimerosal should be reduced or eliminated from vaccines.
I think this is a great idea.
The University of Calgary states that the "United States is in the midst of a tragic epidemic". The study goes on to say that it is NOT due to changes in diagnosis, population changes or environment. Bullshit yet again.
A Doctor on Dr. Oz, a female, said something very smart…
...”Not getting your children vaccinated is the same as driving with them in your car hoping you don’t get in a car accident.”
5200 cases in 1991 rose to 19,200 in 1995. Before the ’90’s autism was not widely diagnosed. Changes in the definition of Autism have led to more children becoming diagnosed within a greater range.
The MMR, containing thimerosal had been given to children in the US from 1971 till 1990’s. During the time the MMR vaccine that contained thimersoal was given there were less cases of Autism diagnosed…AFTER it was taken out, all the sudden was an ‘epidemic’…
What if you thought of Autism from a different point of view…the one they DIDN’T discuss on Dr. Oz?
Children become aware of themselves and make dramatic changes in social and speech behavior around the age of 12 months…around the same time the MMR vaccine is given.
I have the answer.
It’s a simple one, yet sad.
Children used to be just called, ‘retarded’ or ’slow'…LONG BEFORE vaccines and the environment changed. Some people think of the word retarded as hateful. I don’t think they meant it to be poisonous. It was just a different time.
The word retard just means…slow. It’s not demeaning, but it did turn into a hurtful word out of the mouths of unsympathetic beings.
Why do people say there is an epidemic of Autism?
Autism is not an epidemic.
Something finally has a name and the only epidemic is that of education.
Education is a GOOD thing.
Children with Autism ARE different. They learn differently than their Peers. Understanding that they learn differently can improve their chances in society. They just need a chance.
If you are a parent with an Autistic child I want you to know I support you.
I’m sorry if you want an answer. Sometimes there isn’t a reason or something/someone to blame. We are just born the way we are born.
If I am ever found to be wrong in my opinion and there is real definitive proof (not internet crap) as to why so many children have Autism now, I will be the first to raise my hand and say I am wrong.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Valentines day
Did ya think I was gonna blog about, candy, flowers and love?
Nahhh….it’s about my frustrating day;) although love and flowers are mentioned.
My day started wonderfully!
I woke to a message from one of my best friends who’s friendship over flows my love bucket on a daily basis. He lives so far from me though, we never get to see each other. Right now he is in Afghanistan, the AF gave him a year long trip. The year, thank the God’s is almost up now…
I was looking forward to spending time with my CSRM’s for a Valentines breakfast at Panera and getting ready for the day.
Before I got in the shower I had used my usual 1/4 box of Glad Press and Seal around my bandages on my leg hoping this time I did it correctly as to not soak my wrap. I have only gotten this correct twice so far…I’m ready to get my bandages off, it’s not time yet though.
I’m getting frustrated!
While I was in the shower I got a text from F1 hoping that we could all go to DSW after breakfast. I also have Re-hab for my leg and my middle child had signed me up for his Valentines party at school…I really had to get my shit together to get to do all the things I wanted to do…but I couldn’t find something to wear!
Then I get a text…
…’Happy Valentines day Sweetie!’
It brightens my mood as I hunted and pecked for something decent to wear…to NO avail!
I can’t get over my vanity!
I have to wear this compression thigh high on one leg and my other leg is all bandaged up. I have three pairs of pants I can wear comfortably. I can wear ONE of my 23 pairs of jeans, the others are all to tight around my bandages (and I hate the jeans I CAN wear).…and 4 pairs of boots and tennis shoes. I can’t even wear ballerina flats because of the compression ‘sock’ thingy. I have closet’s of shoes and clothes that whisper to me while I sleep, I think they miss me too.
The homely clothes I have to wear and this disfigured leg that is repulsing me. My muscles in my once attractive leg have been decimated and getting worse by the day. My knee looks like a mammoth onion with two roots. It will get even worse from here before it gets better.
I want to be pretty again.
To walk my little sexy walk instead of limping around with an exoskeleton wrapped around my right leg so that I CAN walk.
My frustration is at a high point right now.
I head to breakfast with my friends and order a salad. Breakfast food is not my thing, so I order what I WANT.
We are chatting about schools, teachers and children that refuse to behave and bullies.
F1’s daughter is moving on to middle school next year and we have all heard horror stories. F10 is a middle school councilor. I am shocked at the things I’m hearing. I was a semi-good kid myself. I would never have been the bully so I don’t understand how parents let their child get away with bad behavior. When I was in High School I ‘partied’ a bit, but I was nice about it.
In my frustration I’m in a need to rant and rabble.
As a parent your job is to teach your children to behave like civilized beings that are responsible for their actions. I do comprehend that there are some children with ADHD, Aspergers and other behavior issues. I throughly believe that they can also be taught to behave accordingly. Sadly there are some parents that can’t behave themselves and make excuses for their children’s behavior.
I always hear from teachers and such about parents of children that will not behave. These parents can not seem to fathom that THEIR child would be a disruption to MY child’s schooling!
This makes me a bit angry.
We talk about the bulling and I encourage them to sign their children up at The Defense Institute.
These parent’s also are disrespectful to the teachers. Not every teacher is great, I’m not stupid, but at the school my children attend the teachers are fantastic, the administration well put together and the office staff friendly and caring.
Today I was limping to get my children. James the cross walk guy, and my friend, yes, my friend, was standing in the middle of the road with his placard that says STOP….a woman seemingly decided that the rules of the road did not apply to her and almost hit me. I stood there in my state of vexation, with James, I looked at her and pointed to his sign in all the bitchiness I could muster.
The bell rings and I collect my children.
Over the loud speaker I hear…
... “Will the owner of a grey honda please move your vehicle, it is blocking ALL the traffic to the school.”
Someone thought they were special. They had left their car unattended in the piss and drop lane to get their children.
At an assembly last month the principal had to ask the parents to be considerate and not yell at the teachers trying to get said parents children in and out of cars and to not leave cars unattended in the piss and drop lane. This outrages me.
I DON’T think I’m special, I park on a side street, legally, to retrieve my children.
I think I’m done for now ranting about ‘special’ people.
I have to retrace my steps now and go back in time to earlier in the day.
I get to DSW and meet F1, F2 and F10. F1 is on a mission for some new black heels. I wander around in my hopeless state getting more and more depressed and aware of my homely circumstance. I’m looking at the shoes realizing that even when I will be able to don one of my many heeled beauties that I will be scared I’ll fall, and hurt my knee again.
Will I even be able TO walk in them the way I did before?
F1 and F2 are walking around DSW in shoes that they desire, feeling them out…
I say to F2…
…”Well, you have sweated all in those Mother Fuckers you better buy them now.”
They are lovely set and I am green with envy.
F10 and I are looking at purses. F10 and I are relatively new friends. F1 introduced her to us to her when she moved here. I think I like her, she’s pretty funny and seems to handle my humor, very necessary if you are going to be my friend . She has a tiny little wallet with her. She’s thinking about buying a big ol’ bag. She’s like I used to be. I just moved to ‘the big purse’ awhile back, filling them with everything I can find. She picks out a black one. It’s nice but I encourage her to try a winter white one. A tad more stylish and it can be used with almost everything. I say…
…”I may not look like a personal stylist, but I am one, you should listen to me.”
We start talking about going out. We have a date night planned, we are inviting all the spouse’s to go out with us.
Me…”I really want to ask him to be my date. I just don’t know my boundaries.”
F10…”Well, just ask him.”
Me…”It’s complicated, he’s married.” (stick with me, it’s not THAT bad.)
F10…”Well, maybe you shouldn’t ask him.” As she laughs. I’ve just completely invited and accepted her into my screwed up life.
Me…”It’s not like it sounds. He’s been separated for years. I just don’t know if he would be comfortable being with me in public.”
Don’t hate me or judge me for this.
You sometimes can’t help who you like and giving something a chance is something I need to do. I need to do this for him as much as me.
It’s time to go and I need to head off to Re-Hab. I like my therapist. He’s an attractive ‘ginger’ a couple years older than me. He has a really good sense of humor and makes fun of me with ease…always at my expense.
This time as he unwrapped my bandages he says…
…”Look it’s snowing inside.”
As my dry skin flakes off everywhere. I’m nauseated that someone has to see this part of me, AND has to touch me there to stretch my knee back. He has encouraging words for me and tells me I’m doing well and that he thinks I’ll be able to cycle today, full rotations this time.
I get on the cycle and I win. He leaves me for a bit and I start playing 'Angry Birds’. (refer to 'Drive and Determination' blog;)…He comes back and sees me playing in my obsessive manner and asks me…
G…”How far are you.”
Me…”I have one more golden egg to get and then I’m done. How far are you?”
G…”No where near as far as you. If I give you my phone can you help me out.”
This is a ridiculous conversation between two adults that teenagers should be having. Although I have this conversation with several of my adult friends…All I have to do in Angry Bird’s to complete the game is get all 3 stars on 15 levels which will get me that last golden egg!
He gives me his phone so I can up his scores…and he tells me about some other games he thinks I should play.
I get finished with all my little exercises he has me doing and I get to relax with my ice pack.
My knee is killing me now, had been all day and I decide I need to pop a pill, so I do.
I get to the school, just in time for the party feeling much better now. As I am walking up I pass several people who don’t know me. one of them says…
…”Oh, an owie.”
Really? You just said that to me? Do you think I am going to respond to baby talk? You are an idiot. I just ignore it. I’m feeling better due to my little pill but I am in no mood to deal with a stupid person.
Later in the day I’m hangin’ out with my neighbor K. She’s pretty awesome and worldly. A widowed single mother of two at the age of 28 now. She has her shit together! While she’s over the flower guy arrives. An amazingly beautiful bouquet.
The card reads…’We are jealous of your beauty. Love, The Flowers’
Hmmmmm???
We wonder who they are from. I have a good idea but want to know for sure.
K…”Call up the florist and ask them who sent them. If they give y0u a hard time just say you have a stalker situation. They’ll tell ya.”
She’s is demented! I love her. She works with psych patients…I think it warps her brain.
That was my day, not all of it, you know I have to edit things…
Oh!…I did ask my friend out on a date. He’s not sure yet but he’s thinking about.
…and the flowers from another one of my best friends who is always there for me when I need him.;) Thanks babe!
Nahhh….it’s about my frustrating day;) although love and flowers are mentioned.
My day started wonderfully!
I woke to a message from one of my best friends who’s friendship over flows my love bucket on a daily basis. He lives so far from me though, we never get to see each other. Right now he is in Afghanistan, the AF gave him a year long trip. The year, thank the God’s is almost up now…
I was looking forward to spending time with my CSRM’s for a Valentines breakfast at Panera and getting ready for the day.
Before I got in the shower I had used my usual 1/4 box of Glad Press and Seal around my bandages on my leg hoping this time I did it correctly as to not soak my wrap. I have only gotten this correct twice so far…I’m ready to get my bandages off, it’s not time yet though.
I’m getting frustrated!
While I was in the shower I got a text from F1 hoping that we could all go to DSW after breakfast. I also have Re-hab for my leg and my middle child had signed me up for his Valentines party at school…I really had to get my shit together to get to do all the things I wanted to do…but I couldn’t find something to wear!
Then I get a text…
…’Happy Valentines day Sweetie!’
It brightens my mood as I hunted and pecked for something decent to wear…to NO avail!
I can’t get over my vanity!
I have to wear this compression thigh high on one leg and my other leg is all bandaged up. I have three pairs of pants I can wear comfortably. I can wear ONE of my 23 pairs of jeans, the others are all to tight around my bandages (and I hate the jeans I CAN wear).…and 4 pairs of boots and tennis shoes. I can’t even wear ballerina flats because of the compression ‘sock’ thingy. I have closet’s of shoes and clothes that whisper to me while I sleep, I think they miss me too.
The homely clothes I have to wear and this disfigured leg that is repulsing me. My muscles in my once attractive leg have been decimated and getting worse by the day. My knee looks like a mammoth onion with two roots. It will get even worse from here before it gets better.
I want to be pretty again.
To walk my little sexy walk instead of limping around with an exoskeleton wrapped around my right leg so that I CAN walk.
My frustration is at a high point right now.
I head to breakfast with my friends and order a salad. Breakfast food is not my thing, so I order what I WANT.
We are chatting about schools, teachers and children that refuse to behave and bullies.
F1’s daughter is moving on to middle school next year and we have all heard horror stories. F10 is a middle school councilor. I am shocked at the things I’m hearing. I was a semi-good kid myself. I would never have been the bully so I don’t understand how parents let their child get away with bad behavior. When I was in High School I ‘partied’ a bit, but I was nice about it.
In my frustration I’m in a need to rant and rabble.
As a parent your job is to teach your children to behave like civilized beings that are responsible for their actions. I do comprehend that there are some children with ADHD, Aspergers and other behavior issues. I throughly believe that they can also be taught to behave accordingly. Sadly there are some parents that can’t behave themselves and make excuses for their children’s behavior.
I always hear from teachers and such about parents of children that will not behave. These parents can not seem to fathom that THEIR child would be a disruption to MY child’s schooling!
This makes me a bit angry.
We talk about the bulling and I encourage them to sign their children up at The Defense Institute.
These parent’s also are disrespectful to the teachers. Not every teacher is great, I’m not stupid, but at the school my children attend the teachers are fantastic, the administration well put together and the office staff friendly and caring.
Today I was limping to get my children. James the cross walk guy, and my friend, yes, my friend, was standing in the middle of the road with his placard that says STOP….a woman seemingly decided that the rules of the road did not apply to her and almost hit me. I stood there in my state of vexation, with James, I looked at her and pointed to his sign in all the bitchiness I could muster.
The bell rings and I collect my children.
Over the loud speaker I hear…
... “Will the owner of a grey honda please move your vehicle, it is blocking ALL the traffic to the school.”
Someone thought they were special. They had left their car unattended in the piss and drop lane to get their children.
At an assembly last month the principal had to ask the parents to be considerate and not yell at the teachers trying to get said parents children in and out of cars and to not leave cars unattended in the piss and drop lane. This outrages me.
I DON’T think I’m special, I park on a side street, legally, to retrieve my children.
I think I’m done for now ranting about ‘special’ people.
I have to retrace my steps now and go back in time to earlier in the day.
I get to DSW and meet F1, F2 and F10. F1 is on a mission for some new black heels. I wander around in my hopeless state getting more and more depressed and aware of my homely circumstance. I’m looking at the shoes realizing that even when I will be able to don one of my many heeled beauties that I will be scared I’ll fall, and hurt my knee again.
Will I even be able TO walk in them the way I did before?
F1 and F2 are walking around DSW in shoes that they desire, feeling them out…
I say to F2…
…”Well, you have sweated all in those Mother Fuckers you better buy them now.”
They are lovely set and I am green with envy.
F10 and I are looking at purses. F10 and I are relatively new friends. F1 introduced her to us to her when she moved here. I think I like her, she’s pretty funny and seems to handle my humor, very necessary if you are going to be my friend . She has a tiny little wallet with her. She’s thinking about buying a big ol’ bag. She’s like I used to be. I just moved to ‘the big purse’ awhile back, filling them with everything I can find. She picks out a black one. It’s nice but I encourage her to try a winter white one. A tad more stylish and it can be used with almost everything. I say…
…”I may not look like a personal stylist, but I am one, you should listen to me.”
We start talking about going out. We have a date night planned, we are inviting all the spouse’s to go out with us.
Me…”I really want to ask him to be my date. I just don’t know my boundaries.”
F10…”Well, just ask him.”
Me…”It’s complicated, he’s married.” (stick with me, it’s not THAT bad.)
F10…”Well, maybe you shouldn’t ask him.” As she laughs. I’ve just completely invited and accepted her into my screwed up life.
Me…”It’s not like it sounds. He’s been separated for years. I just don’t know if he would be comfortable being with me in public.”
Don’t hate me or judge me for this.
You sometimes can’t help who you like and giving something a chance is something I need to do. I need to do this for him as much as me.
It’s time to go and I need to head off to Re-Hab. I like my therapist. He’s an attractive ‘ginger’ a couple years older than me. He has a really good sense of humor and makes fun of me with ease…always at my expense.
This time as he unwrapped my bandages he says…
…”Look it’s snowing inside.”
As my dry skin flakes off everywhere. I’m nauseated that someone has to see this part of me, AND has to touch me there to stretch my knee back. He has encouraging words for me and tells me I’m doing well and that he thinks I’ll be able to cycle today, full rotations this time.
I get on the cycle and I win. He leaves me for a bit and I start playing 'Angry Birds’. (refer to 'Drive and Determination' blog;)…He comes back and sees me playing in my obsessive manner and asks me…
G…”How far are you.”
Me…”I have one more golden egg to get and then I’m done. How far are you?”
G…”No where near as far as you. If I give you my phone can you help me out.”
This is a ridiculous conversation between two adults that teenagers should be having. Although I have this conversation with several of my adult friends…All I have to do in Angry Bird’s to complete the game is get all 3 stars on 15 levels which will get me that last golden egg!
He gives me his phone so I can up his scores…and he tells me about some other games he thinks I should play.
I get finished with all my little exercises he has me doing and I get to relax with my ice pack.
My knee is killing me now, had been all day and I decide I need to pop a pill, so I do.
I get to the school, just in time for the party feeling much better now. As I am walking up I pass several people who don’t know me. one of them says…
…”Oh, an owie.”
Really? You just said that to me? Do you think I am going to respond to baby talk? You are an idiot. I just ignore it. I’m feeling better due to my little pill but I am in no mood to deal with a stupid person.
Later in the day I’m hangin’ out with my neighbor K. She’s pretty awesome and worldly. A widowed single mother of two at the age of 28 now. She has her shit together! While she’s over the flower guy arrives. An amazingly beautiful bouquet.
The card reads…’We are jealous of your beauty. Love, The Flowers’
Hmmmmm???
We wonder who they are from. I have a good idea but want to know for sure.
K…”Call up the florist and ask them who sent them. If they give y0u a hard time just say you have a stalker situation. They’ll tell ya.”
She’s is demented! I love her. She works with psych patients…I think it warps her brain.
That was my day, not all of it, you know I have to edit things…
Oh!…I did ask my friend out on a date. He’s not sure yet but he’s thinking about.
…and the flowers from another one of my best friends who is always there for me when I need him.;) Thanks babe!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Reel to Reel
When I was a child we lived in Seeb, Oman. We lived there for 8 years. We lived in Building One, Apt. One in the Pan Am Compound. It was the early 70’s.
There weren’t many Americans there, mostly Canadians and such.
When my mother had foot surgery, Rainbush, the house boy would cook dinners and clean. Oman has a very large East Indian population. Indian food is a staple to this days in my home, I roast and grind my own spices even. My brothers and sister and I to this day will have conversations with each other with an East Indian accent.
The PanAm Compound was oval in shape surrounded by a cyclone fence. It had a ‘gate guard’, a tall Omani wearing his dishdashah who enjoyed taking naps in the little shack next to the gate. The gate was just this long two by four that he had to push down on for it to raise…high tech! There were 5 original apartment buildings with 4 stories each, 2 apartments on each of the 3 top floors. Each apartment had a foyer, a living room, a dinning room, a small galley kitchen, off the kitchen was a tiny semi bricked in porch where my Mom would yell...
…."Stefy, Leonard, Kristin, Thor….!” …and we knew it was time to come home.
It also had 3 bedrooms and 1 and 1/2 bathrooms. The floors were terrazo and the walls the same colour as the outside of the building, concrete grey. My Mom fought and argued with the management to be able to paint or wallpaper the inside. She finally won several years later. Our house was decorated with macramé hanging tables and hideously coloured loaned furniture. Macramé that caught on fire very quickly when brothers and their friends were left alone in an apartment with matches and a lighter!
Parking was under the building. Where we children were often found roller-skating on the smooth surface till our fathers came trotting back in their shared vehicles from work.
From our living room we had views of rocky, jagged mountains, dirt, rocks and thorn trees that dotted the barren land. Thorn trees that had brightly coloured fabrics drying on them. We would run to the windows or outside whenever a camel train would come by, always fascinated by what we saw.
These buildings lined one side of the Compound. There was one difference between building One and the rest, our had a patch of grass. It was probably four feet by four feet. My father had planted it and tended to it with great skill, and a lot of water. He would trim it with scissors.
On the other side were also a few houses for the ‘higher’ ups.
In the center of the Compound, where the rocks had been cleaned away we had volley ball nets up. We would also celebrate major Holidays, like Guy Fawkes day with a massive effigy that we would burn every November 5th. We also celebrated July 4th there with cookouts and fireworks.
On the far side from building One, next to Building 5 were Tennis Courts. I don’t even know if anyone ever played Tennis. They were usually used once a year at Halloween for a MASSIVE party. (Another Blog.)
Eventually they built 1 more apartment building, in all our childish originality, we called it ‘The Big Building’. It was cool and modern, it even had elevators.
We weren’t in the middle of nowhere, the RAF Compound was right next to ours.
My Dad would give us a few Baisas and we would walk over to ‘Tony’s’ to get candy. Tony’s was the closest thing to a convenience store. A ruckety wooden building, painted orange or yellow, my I can’t remember it was so long ago, with beaten wood floor boards. In the center of this tiny space was a trough of candy for us to choose from…I liked the Smarties. If you walked a little farther you would reach the Church/School. The Church all denominations shared and the school was for the ‘older’ kids who took correspondence courses, like my brother, sister, Rachel, Charles, Rob…and all the rest of them.
Us young in’s either went to boarding school or to the local English school, Royal Flight. At that time it consisted of two rooms. We played rounders, painted and Mrs Brown taught us, in her very strict manner. We learned French, the pound the pence and in-depth history of the United Kingdom.
Royal Flight is now a substantial school, with multiple buildings, a pool and sports teams.
I’m a member on an FB 'Royal Flight Group' site. I am THE oldest person on there. I’m looking for one of my best friend from those days, Rebecca Tilly.
Once the Queen came to visit us at our little school, yes, the Queen of England! She wore a brown dress with white polka dots. Her hat was also brown and she had a string of pearls draped around her neck. We were instructed not to talk to Her unless She spoke to use and we learned to curtsy. How COOL is THAT!
I shook the Queen of England’s hand.
We had a pet donkey named Clarence. He was brought up to our apartment on my little brother Thor’s birthday. Clarence had been found wandering on the runway and the Dad’s captured him for us.
A corral was made and I swear there were 4 of 5 donkeys before we knew it in the corral. The corral was lined with forts for us children, made from the containers goods were shipped over in. They were not one story forts but two! Our parents spent a great time building these two story forts for us.
My Mother was always making sure my tetanus shots were up to date because I would run around with no shoes. Rusty nails are NOT my friends, in my feet and forehead. They called me Scar Face because I had/have so many scars on my face from stitches. Mrs. Batstone, one of my Mom’s best friends was a nurse and I saw her often as I was stitched back up.
Excitement for us was when a U.S. Navy ship was nearby and we would get real pork hot dogs, bologna and maybe even a Coke product. We had to keep it quiet though, we lived in a strict Muslim Country where Sharia Law was The Law.
Motorcross was huge in Oman. We would go to races on weekends. Ian Ash...I rooted for him every time. I can’t believe I remember his name! My sister and brother shared a bike, I was WAY to young to ride:( Once my sister went out riding alone, a big, no, no. She came back hours later, on foot, pushing her bike along side with a terrible case of ‘desert rash’ all down her side.
The TV we watched was very limited; Star Trek in English and Sesame Street in Arabic. That’s ok, we missed nothing, we had something better….our imaginations.
My father had a collection of Reel to Reels…My parents would invite the kids in the compound over and we would lie on the dinning room floor on our bellies, our elbows resting on the floor and our chins planted in the palms of our hands. My Mom would make popcorn for us. I remember ‘The Lone Ranger’ and ‘The Shadow’ the best. I am sure he had more….but really…’only the Shadow knows….” It was like reading a book, you saw the story in your head, it was better than TV!
It was a safe place to live and run around barefoot and carefree.
I am friends still with people that shared this most amazing, magical time and place. We had a limited amount of people to interact with and because of that the families that lived there are closer than normal, the friendships stronger.
There weren’t many Americans there, mostly Canadians and such.
When my mother had foot surgery, Rainbush, the house boy would cook dinners and clean. Oman has a very large East Indian population. Indian food is a staple to this days in my home, I roast and grind my own spices even. My brothers and sister and I to this day will have conversations with each other with an East Indian accent.
The PanAm Compound was oval in shape surrounded by a cyclone fence. It had a ‘gate guard’, a tall Omani wearing his dishdashah who enjoyed taking naps in the little shack next to the gate. The gate was just this long two by four that he had to push down on for it to raise…high tech! There were 5 original apartment buildings with 4 stories each, 2 apartments on each of the 3 top floors. Each apartment had a foyer, a living room, a dinning room, a small galley kitchen, off the kitchen was a tiny semi bricked in porch where my Mom would yell...
…."Stefy, Leonard, Kristin, Thor….!” …and we knew it was time to come home.
It also had 3 bedrooms and 1 and 1/2 bathrooms. The floors were terrazo and the walls the same colour as the outside of the building, concrete grey. My Mom fought and argued with the management to be able to paint or wallpaper the inside. She finally won several years later. Our house was decorated with macramé hanging tables and hideously coloured loaned furniture. Macramé that caught on fire very quickly when brothers and their friends were left alone in an apartment with matches and a lighter!
Parking was under the building. Where we children were often found roller-skating on the smooth surface till our fathers came trotting back in their shared vehicles from work.
From our living room we had views of rocky, jagged mountains, dirt, rocks and thorn trees that dotted the barren land. Thorn trees that had brightly coloured fabrics drying on them. We would run to the windows or outside whenever a camel train would come by, always fascinated by what we saw.
These buildings lined one side of the Compound. There was one difference between building One and the rest, our had a patch of grass. It was probably four feet by four feet. My father had planted it and tended to it with great skill, and a lot of water. He would trim it with scissors.
On the other side were also a few houses for the ‘higher’ ups.
In the center of the Compound, where the rocks had been cleaned away we had volley ball nets up. We would also celebrate major Holidays, like Guy Fawkes day with a massive effigy that we would burn every November 5th. We also celebrated July 4th there with cookouts and fireworks.
On the far side from building One, next to Building 5 were Tennis Courts. I don’t even know if anyone ever played Tennis. They were usually used once a year at Halloween for a MASSIVE party. (Another Blog.)
Eventually they built 1 more apartment building, in all our childish originality, we called it ‘The Big Building’. It was cool and modern, it even had elevators.
We weren’t in the middle of nowhere, the RAF Compound was right next to ours.
My Dad would give us a few Baisas and we would walk over to ‘Tony’s’ to get candy. Tony’s was the closest thing to a convenience store. A ruckety wooden building, painted orange or yellow, my I can’t remember it was so long ago, with beaten wood floor boards. In the center of this tiny space was a trough of candy for us to choose from…I liked the Smarties. If you walked a little farther you would reach the Church/School. The Church all denominations shared and the school was for the ‘older’ kids who took correspondence courses, like my brother, sister, Rachel, Charles, Rob…and all the rest of them.
Us young in’s either went to boarding school or to the local English school, Royal Flight. At that time it consisted of two rooms. We played rounders, painted and Mrs Brown taught us, in her very strict manner. We learned French, the pound the pence and in-depth history of the United Kingdom.
Royal Flight is now a substantial school, with multiple buildings, a pool and sports teams.
I’m a member on an FB 'Royal Flight Group' site. I am THE oldest person on there. I’m looking for one of my best friend from those days, Rebecca Tilly.
Once the Queen came to visit us at our little school, yes, the Queen of England! She wore a brown dress with white polka dots. Her hat was also brown and she had a string of pearls draped around her neck. We were instructed not to talk to Her unless She spoke to use and we learned to curtsy. How COOL is THAT!
I shook the Queen of England’s hand.
We had a pet donkey named Clarence. He was brought up to our apartment on my little brother Thor’s birthday. Clarence had been found wandering on the runway and the Dad’s captured him for us.
A corral was made and I swear there were 4 of 5 donkeys before we knew it in the corral. The corral was lined with forts for us children, made from the containers goods were shipped over in. They were not one story forts but two! Our parents spent a great time building these two story forts for us.
My Mother was always making sure my tetanus shots were up to date because I would run around with no shoes. Rusty nails are NOT my friends, in my feet and forehead. They called me Scar Face because I had/have so many scars on my face from stitches. Mrs. Batstone, one of my Mom’s best friends was a nurse and I saw her often as I was stitched back up.
Excitement for us was when a U.S. Navy ship was nearby and we would get real pork hot dogs, bologna and maybe even a Coke product. We had to keep it quiet though, we lived in a strict Muslim Country where Sharia Law was The Law.
Motorcross was huge in Oman. We would go to races on weekends. Ian Ash...I rooted for him every time. I can’t believe I remember his name! My sister and brother shared a bike, I was WAY to young to ride:( Once my sister went out riding alone, a big, no, no. She came back hours later, on foot, pushing her bike along side with a terrible case of ‘desert rash’ all down her side.
The TV we watched was very limited; Star Trek in English and Sesame Street in Arabic. That’s ok, we missed nothing, we had something better….our imaginations.
My father had a collection of Reel to Reels…My parents would invite the kids in the compound over and we would lie on the dinning room floor on our bellies, our elbows resting on the floor and our chins planted in the palms of our hands. My Mom would make popcorn for us. I remember ‘The Lone Ranger’ and ‘The Shadow’ the best. I am sure he had more….but really…’only the Shadow knows….” It was like reading a book, you saw the story in your head, it was better than TV!
It was a safe place to live and run around barefoot and carefree.
I am friends still with people that shared this most amazing, magical time and place. We had a limited amount of people to interact with and because of that the families that lived there are closer than normal, the friendships stronger.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
WWKD?
Is it sacrilegious to ask yourself... “What Would Kristin Do?” over, “What Would Jesus Do?”
I think not!
Christ’s Consciousness lives, breaths, dances and loves through me.
(Christ Consciousness is another blog though. Oh, and his name wasn’t Jesus Christ.)
Who doesn’t get impatient when driving behind someone that doesn’t realize the speed limit posted is a general guideline that you should typically go 5 mph over…NOT UNDER!
WWKD?
Whenever I encounter this situation I try to go around them if able. If I’m not, I breath in, and imagine a beautiful cake, a 4 layer chocolate one, between the layers a raspberry filling, the whole cake covered with ganache, sitting precariously on the seat next to the driver going ridiculously slow. If it was me driving with a cake that I had made and I was delivering it somewhere, I would be that driver that was frustrating me.
The "what if factor”…or as that time old motto goes, “Always be prepared".
I’m not talking about having a pen and paper readily available. I talking about being prepared mentally in the event of any situation and keeping a realistic point of view. If you Do have a pen and paper, or wet wipes, even better!
If you get your knee ligaments ripped to shreds in JuJitsu…?
WWKD?
”Oh thank the God’s I picked and pay for my own health insurance.”
When my daughter was a baby, in diapers, and hadn’t yet started ‘back talking me’…we traveled everywhere, usually via plane and she would sit on my lap. One time just as the plane was gathering enough speed to lift its front wheels to glide through the sky...She ‘blew out’ a shit load from from her diaper. All up her back. She was joyfully sitting on my lap oblivious to the situation….that not only had she shit on herself but also on me.
WWKD?
I was prepared with outfits for her and I, plastic baggies and a shit load of wipes to clean up a shit load. I of course apologized to the passengers around me. I thought to myself as they looked at me with disgust…”Hmmm, aren’t they lucky it wasn’t projectile.”
Another time one of my children was invited to a Birthday Party at the Valdosta Country club pool house. I only knew the adults that attended the party through my children’s Methodist Pre-School where they, my children and now Ex also attended Church. I did NOT attend Church. I saw a woman with a little baby and everyone else was eating and I offered to hold her baby so she could also partake in the breaking of bread with her friends. I’m holding the baby for about 30 minutes and the sweet cherubic little thing not only blew out on my white shirt and pants but also spit up all over me.
WWKD?
I grabbed her absorbed in southern gossip Mother and handed her back. (I wasn’t a babywipe carrying Mother anymore) I headed to the bathroom, cleaned myself up and meandered back. The funk still attached to me. It’s not like anyone there was talking to me anyway, they always seemed to forget their fake southern charm as soon as I came anywhere near them. I sat down by the pool and thought to myself…”Oh, I’m glad I have real friends, and not faux ones;)”
Last year I took my children skiing. I decided to take the scenic route home up and over Mountains galore, the road twisting and turning. My youngest says to me…
…”Mom, I’m gonna throw up.”
Not 2 seconds later the stench of barf had permeated the air.
WWKD?
It was just me a my three children. It took about 10 minutes but I found a place to pull over. Got out opened the boot of my MiniVan and retrieved wet wipes, plastic baggies and an outfit (albite a slightly soiled one as I had no more clean clothes, but it wasn’t covered in barf.)
A car drove by with an older couple and I saw the woman turn her neck, I think she thought she had seen a train wreck…NO! She was watching Wonder Woman at work.
I think that is enough Barf and shit stories…now on to more fun stuff of WWKD?
You find out someone has been spreading vicious stories about your really fun Friday night out…
WWKD?
You hope they get all the details right ‘cause damn it you had a good time!
You discover you have a pimple that ‘rearing it’s ugly head’…
WWKD?
Go to bed with toothpaste on that mean ol’ pimple!
The mirror on your dresser has been ripped from it’s screws and blown over in an unexpected gust with hurricane force...
WWKD?
You pick it up and put it in your garage and wait for your Dad to come visit to fix it for ya.
You are at a party and a heal to your spectacularly delicious Spanish made boots breaks off...
WWKD?
Take them off for the party, crossing your toes your socks match, then to get back to the car, hop on one beautifully attired foot through the snow.
You forget to RSVP to a party...
WWKD?
Call as soon as you find the invitation that your child has secretly hidden in a box under their bed, call and hope they are nice and understanding.
You send a text to your Ex Husband that was meant for someone else...
WWKD?
Hope, pray and re-view to make sure there was nothing explicit in it and re-text him and say…
…”oops, sorry about that.”
And just leave it there. He already thinks of you as a nut job, it’s cool.
That guy you were seeing stops calling and texting you...
WWKD?
You realize he’s not that into you and get out your tarot cards to find out why.
You want to cuddle with someone but there is no one around, to include children...
WWKD?
You heat up your rice pack and cuddle with IT!
You want a glass, or two of wine but you are alone...
WWKD?
You do what ever you want.
You are passing a Taco Bell and suddenly that craving hits you then you remember that story about the beef not being all ‘beef’...
WWKD?
You go trough the drive through and get what ever you want. You like it once a year, fuck it.
The family liquor store is having a sale on your favorite BotoBox wine…
WWKD?
Buy as many as you can.
I guess if you wanna know WWKD? It’s really simple.
Stand on your kitchen counter and get another perspective, from a bigger persons point of view if you may. Don’t care what other people think, just have fun, in a loving way and always, always, ALWAYS have baggies and wet wipes available.
I think not!
Christ’s Consciousness lives, breaths, dances and loves through me.
(Christ Consciousness is another blog though. Oh, and his name wasn’t Jesus Christ.)
Who doesn’t get impatient when driving behind someone that doesn’t realize the speed limit posted is a general guideline that you should typically go 5 mph over…NOT UNDER!
WWKD?
Whenever I encounter this situation I try to go around them if able. If I’m not, I breath in, and imagine a beautiful cake, a 4 layer chocolate one, between the layers a raspberry filling, the whole cake covered with ganache, sitting precariously on the seat next to the driver going ridiculously slow. If it was me driving with a cake that I had made and I was delivering it somewhere, I would be that driver that was frustrating me.
The "what if factor”…or as that time old motto goes, “Always be prepared".
I’m not talking about having a pen and paper readily available. I talking about being prepared mentally in the event of any situation and keeping a realistic point of view. If you Do have a pen and paper, or wet wipes, even better!
If you get your knee ligaments ripped to shreds in JuJitsu…?
WWKD?
”Oh thank the God’s I picked and pay for my own health insurance.”
When my daughter was a baby, in diapers, and hadn’t yet started ‘back talking me’…we traveled everywhere, usually via plane and she would sit on my lap. One time just as the plane was gathering enough speed to lift its front wheels to glide through the sky...She ‘blew out’ a shit load from from her diaper. All up her back. She was joyfully sitting on my lap oblivious to the situation….that not only had she shit on herself but also on me.
WWKD?
I was prepared with outfits for her and I, plastic baggies and a shit load of wipes to clean up a shit load. I of course apologized to the passengers around me. I thought to myself as they looked at me with disgust…”Hmmm, aren’t they lucky it wasn’t projectile.”
Another time one of my children was invited to a Birthday Party at the Valdosta Country club pool house. I only knew the adults that attended the party through my children’s Methodist Pre-School where they, my children and now Ex also attended Church. I did NOT attend Church. I saw a woman with a little baby and everyone else was eating and I offered to hold her baby so she could also partake in the breaking of bread with her friends. I’m holding the baby for about 30 minutes and the sweet cherubic little thing not only blew out on my white shirt and pants but also spit up all over me.
WWKD?
I grabbed her absorbed in southern gossip Mother and handed her back. (I wasn’t a babywipe carrying Mother anymore) I headed to the bathroom, cleaned myself up and meandered back. The funk still attached to me. It’s not like anyone there was talking to me anyway, they always seemed to forget their fake southern charm as soon as I came anywhere near them. I sat down by the pool and thought to myself…”Oh, I’m glad I have real friends, and not faux ones;)”
Last year I took my children skiing. I decided to take the scenic route home up and over Mountains galore, the road twisting and turning. My youngest says to me…
…”Mom, I’m gonna throw up.”
Not 2 seconds later the stench of barf had permeated the air.
WWKD?
It was just me a my three children. It took about 10 minutes but I found a place to pull over. Got out opened the boot of my MiniVan and retrieved wet wipes, plastic baggies and an outfit (albite a slightly soiled one as I had no more clean clothes, but it wasn’t covered in barf.)
A car drove by with an older couple and I saw the woman turn her neck, I think she thought she had seen a train wreck…NO! She was watching Wonder Woman at work.
I think that is enough Barf and shit stories…now on to more fun stuff of WWKD?
You find out someone has been spreading vicious stories about your really fun Friday night out…
WWKD?
You hope they get all the details right ‘cause damn it you had a good time!
You discover you have a pimple that ‘rearing it’s ugly head’…
WWKD?
Go to bed with toothpaste on that mean ol’ pimple!
The mirror on your dresser has been ripped from it’s screws and blown over in an unexpected gust with hurricane force...
WWKD?
You pick it up and put it in your garage and wait for your Dad to come visit to fix it for ya.
You are at a party and a heal to your spectacularly delicious Spanish made boots breaks off...
WWKD?
Take them off for the party, crossing your toes your socks match, then to get back to the car, hop on one beautifully attired foot through the snow.
You forget to RSVP to a party...
WWKD?
Call as soon as you find the invitation that your child has secretly hidden in a box under their bed, call and hope they are nice and understanding.
You send a text to your Ex Husband that was meant for someone else...
WWKD?
Hope, pray and re-view to make sure there was nothing explicit in it and re-text him and say…
…”oops, sorry about that.”
And just leave it there. He already thinks of you as a nut job, it’s cool.
That guy you were seeing stops calling and texting you...
WWKD?
You realize he’s not that into you and get out your tarot cards to find out why.
You want to cuddle with someone but there is no one around, to include children...
WWKD?
You heat up your rice pack and cuddle with IT!
You want a glass, or two of wine but you are alone...
WWKD?
You do what ever you want.
You are passing a Taco Bell and suddenly that craving hits you then you remember that story about the beef not being all ‘beef’...
WWKD?
You go trough the drive through and get what ever you want. You like it once a year, fuck it.
The family liquor store is having a sale on your favorite BotoBox wine…
WWKD?
Buy as many as you can.
I guess if you wanna know WWKD? It’s really simple.
Stand on your kitchen counter and get another perspective, from a bigger persons point of view if you may. Don’t care what other people think, just have fun, in a loving way and always, always, ALWAYS have baggies and wet wipes available.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
My Post Op…this is a bit funny!
So I had my Surgery on Monday…I survived, much to the dismay of my Ex. (That’s a joke-ish, I hope.)
My surgery was at 7am finished at 11am. Before we left for Surgery I took a long hot shower, knowing it would be till Thursday till I could have my next one. It was an out patient surgery and my Dad dropped me off so he and my Mother could get my children off to school.
I get there, meet one of the many nurses and she says to me…
…”Take off everything but your panties and put this on, ties in the back.”
Back story, I don’t wear panties unless I have a reason to take them off…ya know what I’m talkin' about…
They leave panty lines and I don’t want to get my panties in a wad!
Anyway…When I got dressed that morning I didn’t put panties on…thought about it, and decided…
…’Hmmmm, maybe I should just for good measure.’
So Panties on, I tell her as I laugh and tell her my little story.
It was first thing in the morning and I don’t think I have ever heard a woman laugh so hard at 6:15 in the morning!
I’m sitting there with this not very style conscious gown in white and blue tied behind me. No bra and I hate not wearing a bra…My Boobs are real, not perfect and I’m a little sensitive to their loose-ness (Sing along with me, “You can tie them in a knot, you can tie them in a bow…”) At least I have my panties on. To get my mind off the uncomfortable situation, no bra, I’m getting cut open, I’m all alone…I post my panty status on FB and laugh at my ridiculous-ness and can’t believe I have just shared this with all my friends.
The Anesthesiologist comes in and explains some things and sticks me with a few needles to get some groovy drugs into my blood stream. I’ve agreed to a nerve block and this Bitchin’ Wiccian is goin’ under!
He injects me and I feel the lovely high that is shared by those with medical marijuana cards and Shamans. I told him to let me feel it for awhile…he was nice and did…I reminisced out loud;)…I remember all of this. Later I found out something else…later in the blog I will share…
I wake up several hours later, ready to go. No nausea, nothing…just ready. My Doc. comes in and tells me what he did.
This is something I have NOT shared yet on FB or anywhere else yet. I asked for a miracle on the night of the Full Moon. I prayed/wrote a healing spell. My meniscus, and MCL had healed on their own. I have no idea how to up load the before (MRI) pictures and the Surgery pics (semi after) so you can see yourself, when I do I’ll put them on here. My MCL, that was completely torn from my femur reattached it’s self. My Doc was more so taken aback with the healing of my meniscus…it is a beautiful site now, appalling before. My ACL has been replaced with the help of a donor…a dead person’s tendon. Not a big deal, but hey…I’m thankful for the organ donor card now more than ever.
My parents aren’t there yet but show up a little bit later and attempt to get me home. Because of my nerve block I can’t move or feel the lower right hand side of my body. If I don’t pay attention I will be dragging my right foot behind me and have no clue.
I decided the best way for me to get home is sitting in the back of my MiniVan. I had had my Father remove the middle seat thinking I would sit in the way back with my leg stretched out before me. NO…that was not happin’. I sat on the floor.
When we got home I scooted up the stairs on my butt. Safest easiest route I could think of. I got on the bed backward by pulling myself up from behind like a paraplegic. I don’t ever want to be a paraplegic. I didn’t want help though. It was very important that I could do all this myself…there was/is/are many things I need help with…enough that I want to do what I can on my own.
Blah, blah, blah…
I slept, took drugs and had food served to me in bed. On Tuesday, F1 and F2 came to visit me with flowers, pasteries and chocolates from all the CSRM’s…I couldn’t have been happier!
Yesterday I started walking around without my crutches. It wasn’t really walking though…but I was putting all my weight on my leg, no crutches.
My Doc. called and asked me…
…”So how’s your pain?”
Me…”I think I’m just the biggest pain. I’m kiddin’ I’m doing really well, I just popped some pills.”
I love these pain killers but I jest about the amount I use them. I take less than the average and more infrequently than I want. I take them when I AM in pain. I just wait till I can’t take it anymore. However last night after a day of waddling around my house I WAS in pain and took some pain meds and my Mother and I ‘cheered’ with a glass of wine. I texted one of my friends…I told him I would apologize later. I still haven’t apologized, probably won’t….I meant every word! ;)
Today I got up made my Children breakfast as I was tried of laying around. I’m an active kind of gal. I got them ready for school and sent them on their way. Their Grandparents drove them, I still can’t drive. My post op was at noon and I was anxious to see my Doc.
My Dad drives me and we are sitting there waiting talking about Egypt…
Another blog…
I see my Doc and he tells me…
This is what I found SO FUNNY!
…”How are ya?”…a little small talk then…
Doc…"You scared the S*** out of our Anesthesiologist!”
Me…”Really?! What happened?”
Doc…”He told us that after he put you under you started talking, even more, and you told him you were a Witch.”
Doc…”He was so scared and I told him people say crazy stuff you know that. He was adamant, you scared him and I had to reassure him you were normal.”
Me…”I am a Witch.”
Doc…”Stop it.”
Me…”No seriously, tell him I would never harm another though. Hundreds of people know about me, it’s ok. ”
Doc…”Only you.”
He removes the bandages from my legs and shows me somethings and gives me some new rules. Tells me to make appointments for my Re-hab and such...
I got an A+++ from my Doc. I think he is a little afraid I will push to hard. He doesn’t know that I want to heal quickly yes, but most importantly, perfectly!
I skipped all pain pills till 1:00 today and haven’t had any since….I also got to take a shower, a long hot shower with ClingWrap wound tightly around my leg and wounds.
I’m not sure if this is my last blog about this part of my journey or not…I will see and decide as time sees fit.
Now that I have said all that about ME. My journey is nothing, not a drop in the bucket compared to the fights and perils that others go through.
I’m a little embarrassed about this…think about others before yourself. If you want to think about me, think of my vanity and say a prayer/write a spell for me;)
My surgery was at 7am finished at 11am. Before we left for Surgery I took a long hot shower, knowing it would be till Thursday till I could have my next one. It was an out patient surgery and my Dad dropped me off so he and my Mother could get my children off to school.
I get there, meet one of the many nurses and she says to me…
…”Take off everything but your panties and put this on, ties in the back.”
Back story, I don’t wear panties unless I have a reason to take them off…ya know what I’m talkin' about…
They leave panty lines and I don’t want to get my panties in a wad!
Anyway…When I got dressed that morning I didn’t put panties on…thought about it, and decided…
…’Hmmmm, maybe I should just for good measure.’
So Panties on, I tell her as I laugh and tell her my little story.
It was first thing in the morning and I don’t think I have ever heard a woman laugh so hard at 6:15 in the morning!
I’m sitting there with this not very style conscious gown in white and blue tied behind me. No bra and I hate not wearing a bra…My Boobs are real, not perfect and I’m a little sensitive to their loose-ness (Sing along with me, “You can tie them in a knot, you can tie them in a bow…”) At least I have my panties on. To get my mind off the uncomfortable situation, no bra, I’m getting cut open, I’m all alone…I post my panty status on FB and laugh at my ridiculous-ness and can’t believe I have just shared this with all my friends.
The Anesthesiologist comes in and explains some things and sticks me with a few needles to get some groovy drugs into my blood stream. I’ve agreed to a nerve block and this Bitchin’ Wiccian is goin’ under!
He injects me and I feel the lovely high that is shared by those with medical marijuana cards and Shamans. I told him to let me feel it for awhile…he was nice and did…I reminisced out loud;)…I remember all of this. Later I found out something else…later in the blog I will share…
I wake up several hours later, ready to go. No nausea, nothing…just ready. My Doc. comes in and tells me what he did.
This is something I have NOT shared yet on FB or anywhere else yet. I asked for a miracle on the night of the Full Moon. I prayed/wrote a healing spell. My meniscus, and MCL had healed on their own. I have no idea how to up load the before (MRI) pictures and the Surgery pics (semi after) so you can see yourself, when I do I’ll put them on here. My MCL, that was completely torn from my femur reattached it’s self. My Doc was more so taken aback with the healing of my meniscus…it is a beautiful site now, appalling before. My ACL has been replaced with the help of a donor…a dead person’s tendon. Not a big deal, but hey…I’m thankful for the organ donor card now more than ever.
My parents aren’t there yet but show up a little bit later and attempt to get me home. Because of my nerve block I can’t move or feel the lower right hand side of my body. If I don’t pay attention I will be dragging my right foot behind me and have no clue.
I decided the best way for me to get home is sitting in the back of my MiniVan. I had had my Father remove the middle seat thinking I would sit in the way back with my leg stretched out before me. NO…that was not happin’. I sat on the floor.
When we got home I scooted up the stairs on my butt. Safest easiest route I could think of. I got on the bed backward by pulling myself up from behind like a paraplegic. I don’t ever want to be a paraplegic. I didn’t want help though. It was very important that I could do all this myself…there was/is/are many things I need help with…enough that I want to do what I can on my own.
Blah, blah, blah…
Yesterday I started walking around without my crutches. It wasn’t really walking though…but I was putting all my weight on my leg, no crutches.
My Doc. called and asked me…
…”So how’s your pain?”
Me…”I think I’m just the biggest pain. I’m kiddin’ I’m doing really well, I just popped some pills.”
I love these pain killers but I jest about the amount I use them. I take less than the average and more infrequently than I want. I take them when I AM in pain. I just wait till I can’t take it anymore. However last night after a day of waddling around my house I WAS in pain and took some pain meds and my Mother and I ‘cheered’ with a glass of wine. I texted one of my friends…I told him I would apologize later. I still haven’t apologized, probably won’t….I meant every word! ;)
Today I got up made my Children breakfast as I was tried of laying around. I’m an active kind of gal. I got them ready for school and sent them on their way. Their Grandparents drove them, I still can’t drive. My post op was at noon and I was anxious to see my Doc.
My Dad drives me and we are sitting there waiting talking about Egypt…
Another blog…
I see my Doc and he tells me…
This is what I found SO FUNNY!
…”How are ya?”…a little small talk then…
Doc…"You scared the S*** out of our Anesthesiologist!”
Me…”Really?! What happened?”
Doc…”He told us that after he put you under you started talking, even more, and you told him you were a Witch.”
Doc…”He was so scared and I told him people say crazy stuff you know that. He was adamant, you scared him and I had to reassure him you were normal.”
Me…”I am a Witch.”
Doc…”Stop it.”
Me…”No seriously, tell him I would never harm another though. Hundreds of people know about me, it’s ok. ”
Doc…”Only you.”
He removes the bandages from my legs and shows me somethings and gives me some new rules. Tells me to make appointments for my Re-hab and such...I got an A+++ from my Doc. I think he is a little afraid I will push to hard. He doesn’t know that I want to heal quickly yes, but most importantly, perfectly!
I skipped all pain pills till 1:00 today and haven’t had any since….I also got to take a shower, a long hot shower with ClingWrap wound tightly around my leg and wounds.
I’m not sure if this is my last blog about this part of my journey or not…I will see and decide as time sees fit.
Now that I have said all that about ME. My journey is nothing, not a drop in the bucket compared to the fights and perils that others go through.
I’m a little embarrassed about this…think about others before yourself. If you want to think about me, think of my vanity and say a prayer/write a spell for me;)
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Rose
When a man gives a rose to a woman it can signify a great deal, or it could be just another T.V. show.
The different colours of roses signify different meanings...
Red: Love, passion and beauty.
Pink: Grace, elegance and admiration.
Lavender: Enchantment at first site, wonder and impossibility.
Purple: Enchantment and magnetism.
Blue: Mystery, the unattainable.
Turquoise: Calm, abundance.
White: Purity, innocence and new beginnings.
Yellow: Friendship.
Peach: Modesty, sincerity and sympathy.
Orange: Fascination, passion and desire.
Black: Loss or new journey.
I watch the Bachelor whenever I remember it’s on. I haven’t seen every episode but I enjoy them as an escape. Watching desperate women fall over themselves for a man they hardly know is comical. Likewise, observing a man looking for true love with his choice of hand picked women by producers and casting directors…at least he has choices.
Some men I know probably fantasize of having women fawning over them with the thought of NO competition of other men around….Sans the boom and camera operators, producers…which we don’t see but know they exist, or we wouldn’t be watching said show.
Jake, was the first Bachelor I watched…I had never watched it before last year. I recall he was/is a pilot and singled out early on a woman who was a bit unbalanced. What woman isn’t unbalanced though? There was also a woman that had to leave the show because of a ‘friendship’ she had with one of the producers…Whoops, I guess there was competition!
Brad is this years Bachelor.
They keep saying in the promos…
…”The most controversial season yet.”
From what I have gathered he was a Bachelor once before. At the end of the season he was down to two women then quit. He has a life coach now that he sees and talks to via the phone to help him overcome his commitment issues and emotional unavailability. I think he is trying.
He has a choice of a mix of blonds, brunettes, a nanny, an embalmer and more!
All but one of these women will be rejected publicly.
I would rather be humiliated privately.
At the end of every episode there is a Rose ceremony. All those that get a rose get to stay. Sometimes a rose is handed out to an individual on Brad’s whim. The Rose’s are always red.
The show consists of...
Brad going on one on one dates and group dates with these ladies. All the hoopla and drama the ladies impart to themselves and the fights that ensue.
Sometimes times when they need to weed a woman he goes on a date with two women together and they know only one woman will return with a rose, and the other is whisked away, and not to a tropical destination. Whenever there is a ‘mingling’ with Brad and his potentials, the ladies are allowed to take Brad away for a few minutes from the others just to chat so they can hopefully influence him and make him like her…? They steal him from one another and then get their feelings hurt when it happens to them.
There are two specific women this season that Brad, and I, seem to have our eyes on: Michelle and Ashley H. (There were two Ashley’s hence the ‘H’, they were friends and had to go on one of the dreaded two girls and one guy date where only one returns….Ashley H returned with a rose.)
Both Michelle and Ashley are certifiable head cases from my point of view.
They have both been on one on one dates with Brad and both feel they have a special bond with him.
Ashley H, a blond dentist, which is irrelevant…I think Brad actually likes her. The other day Brad was taken aside by one of the women, who hadn’t had a one on one date, for a moment. They end up kissing and there, watching is Ashley…Her feelings hurt…Really?!
Michelle is a hair stylist who assumes she has it in the bag, is psycho and she really brings the drama. A few episodes ago she ‘woke up’ with a black eye. How the hell does that happen?! Way to bring attention to yourself!
I believe she is even more psychotic than Ashley.
She is stunned when he goes on a date with other women, kisses them…talks to them. I think she has forgotten she is on a dating reality show.
The last episode I saw she pulled Brad aside, sat on his lap, looked over him and in the most dominatirx way, grabbed his face told him not to say anything and to just listen to her.
…(Para-phrasing here)…”It’s time for us to go out there and send these women home now. You know that it’s just you and me.”…ok I REALLY para-phrased…but that was the gist, the heart, the ‘gesir’.
PSYCHO!!!
(I’m wondering how many of you think I am psycho?;)
I don’t get what he sees in them…
I have said before and I will say many more times that when a man meets a woman he almost immediately puts her in a place in his life. She has the power to walk away though if she doesn’t like where he places her.
….I often don’t understand what men find attractive in women and why they choose one over the other…
…as a single woman...
Here is a little story about a guy friend of mine, and our relationship.
I had a relationship with a guy awhile back. I’m not gonna go into details although if I did you might have a better understanding of why I continue with my guy tendencies, although, I am trying to overcome them.
We didn’t publicly date. I think he was ashamed to be seen with me. Our relationship was complicated though…no he wasn’t married…it was just complicated. We shared a great deal with each other and then, something happened. He stopped calling, texting and e-mailing…that’s guy speak for, ‘we aren’t seeing each other anymore.’ Then one day out of the blue, he text’s me and wants to see me. A hole is a hole even in the dark. I saw him, I know him and I consider him a friend…He never says what’s wrong but I know he is having ‘girl’ problems, obviously he is dating someone and is looking for comfort….or ya know…I answer his texts or his e-mails now but haven’t seen him in months. I don’t want to. But every time I DO hear from him I always wonder where I am deficient as a woman as far as HE is concerned. I know it’s his issue not mine.
What does make a man want to see a woman publicly? …instead of…
Is it the whole, “Why buy the cow if the milk is free?”
I’d like to go back to the colour’s of roses and their meanings…and The Bachelor…
If a man sends me roses I would hope he would pick the corresponding colours for what he feels for me. It doesn’t matter if they all don’t match.
As for the Bachelor I think the show would be SO much better if he got to pick what colour rose to give to each woman, to signify how he feels at that time…and if ya got a Black one…well, you need to start a new journey, with out him and the cameras.
Is a reality dating show that different than the real life dating scene?
…”Pick ME! Pick ME!"
In real life we go into each relationship thinking, ‘Maybe this is THE ONE.’ The problem is sometimes the other person is thinking, “This is THE ONE, right now…"
We don’t really have a choice though, it’s up to two people to agree on what chapter they are on, or even if they are reading the same book.
(If some of this doesn’t make sense I have an excuse…I’m all drugged up and will be for a few more days…kiddy UP!)
The different colours of roses signify different meanings...
Red: Love, passion and beauty.
Pink: Grace, elegance and admiration.
Lavender: Enchantment at first site, wonder and impossibility.
Purple: Enchantment and magnetism.
Blue: Mystery, the unattainable.
Turquoise: Calm, abundance.
White: Purity, innocence and new beginnings.
Yellow: Friendship.
Peach: Modesty, sincerity and sympathy.
Orange: Fascination, passion and desire.
Black: Loss or new journey.
I watch the Bachelor whenever I remember it’s on. I haven’t seen every episode but I enjoy them as an escape. Watching desperate women fall over themselves for a man they hardly know is comical. Likewise, observing a man looking for true love with his choice of hand picked women by producers and casting directors…at least he has choices.
Some men I know probably fantasize of having women fawning over them with the thought of NO competition of other men around….Sans the boom and camera operators, producers…which we don’t see but know they exist, or we wouldn’t be watching said show.
Jake, was the first Bachelor I watched…I had never watched it before last year. I recall he was/is a pilot and singled out early on a woman who was a bit unbalanced. What woman isn’t unbalanced though? There was also a woman that had to leave the show because of a ‘friendship’ she had with one of the producers…Whoops, I guess there was competition!
Brad is this years Bachelor.
They keep saying in the promos…
…”The most controversial season yet.”
From what I have gathered he was a Bachelor once before. At the end of the season he was down to two women then quit. He has a life coach now that he sees and talks to via the phone to help him overcome his commitment issues and emotional unavailability. I think he is trying.
He has a choice of a mix of blonds, brunettes, a nanny, an embalmer and more!
All but one of these women will be rejected publicly.
I would rather be humiliated privately.
At the end of every episode there is a Rose ceremony. All those that get a rose get to stay. Sometimes a rose is handed out to an individual on Brad’s whim. The Rose’s are always red.
The show consists of...
Brad going on one on one dates and group dates with these ladies. All the hoopla and drama the ladies impart to themselves and the fights that ensue.
Sometimes times when they need to weed a woman he goes on a date with two women together and they know only one woman will return with a rose, and the other is whisked away, and not to a tropical destination. Whenever there is a ‘mingling’ with Brad and his potentials, the ladies are allowed to take Brad away for a few minutes from the others just to chat so they can hopefully influence him and make him like her…? They steal him from one another and then get their feelings hurt when it happens to them.
There are two specific women this season that Brad, and I, seem to have our eyes on: Michelle and Ashley H. (There were two Ashley’s hence the ‘H’, they were friends and had to go on one of the dreaded two girls and one guy date where only one returns….Ashley H returned with a rose.)
Both Michelle and Ashley are certifiable head cases from my point of view.
They have both been on one on one dates with Brad and both feel they have a special bond with him.
Ashley H, a blond dentist, which is irrelevant…I think Brad actually likes her. The other day Brad was taken aside by one of the women, who hadn’t had a one on one date, for a moment. They end up kissing and there, watching is Ashley…Her feelings hurt…Really?!
Michelle is a hair stylist who assumes she has it in the bag, is psycho and she really brings the drama. A few episodes ago she ‘woke up’ with a black eye. How the hell does that happen?! Way to bring attention to yourself!
I believe she is even more psychotic than Ashley.
She is stunned when he goes on a date with other women, kisses them…talks to them. I think she has forgotten she is on a dating reality show.
The last episode I saw she pulled Brad aside, sat on his lap, looked over him and in the most dominatirx way, grabbed his face told him not to say anything and to just listen to her.
…(Para-phrasing here)…”It’s time for us to go out there and send these women home now. You know that it’s just you and me.”…ok I REALLY para-phrased…but that was the gist, the heart, the ‘gesir’.
PSYCHO!!!
(I’m wondering how many of you think I am psycho?;)
I don’t get what he sees in them…
I have said before and I will say many more times that when a man meets a woman he almost immediately puts her in a place in his life. She has the power to walk away though if she doesn’t like where he places her.
….I often don’t understand what men find attractive in women and why they choose one over the other…
…as a single woman...
Here is a little story about a guy friend of mine, and our relationship.
I had a relationship with a guy awhile back. I’m not gonna go into details although if I did you might have a better understanding of why I continue with my guy tendencies, although, I am trying to overcome them.
We didn’t publicly date. I think he was ashamed to be seen with me. Our relationship was complicated though…no he wasn’t married…it was just complicated. We shared a great deal with each other and then, something happened. He stopped calling, texting and e-mailing…that’s guy speak for, ‘we aren’t seeing each other anymore.’ Then one day out of the blue, he text’s me and wants to see me. A hole is a hole even in the dark. I saw him, I know him and I consider him a friend…He never says what’s wrong but I know he is having ‘girl’ problems, obviously he is dating someone and is looking for comfort….or ya know…I answer his texts or his e-mails now but haven’t seen him in months. I don’t want to. But every time I DO hear from him I always wonder where I am deficient as a woman as far as HE is concerned. I know it’s his issue not mine.
What does make a man want to see a woman publicly? …instead of…
Is it the whole, “Why buy the cow if the milk is free?”
I’d like to go back to the colour’s of roses and their meanings…and The Bachelor…
If a man sends me roses I would hope he would pick the corresponding colours for what he feels for me. It doesn’t matter if they all don’t match.
As for the Bachelor I think the show would be SO much better if he got to pick what colour rose to give to each woman, to signify how he feels at that time…and if ya got a Black one…well, you need to start a new journey, with out him and the cameras.
Is a reality dating show that different than the real life dating scene?
…”Pick ME! Pick ME!"
In real life we go into each relationship thinking, ‘Maybe this is THE ONE.’ The problem is sometimes the other person is thinking, “This is THE ONE, right now…"
We don’t really have a choice though, it’s up to two people to agree on what chapter they are on, or even if they are reading the same book.
(If some of this doesn’t make sense I have an excuse…I’m all drugged up and will be for a few more days…kiddy UP!)
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