Signing Off

I usually sign my texts/emails/letters/cards etc.. "J".
Actually it's more like, "j" because I am too lazy to hold a shift key.
However, if I don't know you well, or I'm trying to convince you that I'm not a shady sort of person (and am safe enough to meet up with to sell me your wares) I will sign my whole name.

Unfortunately-
the way my iPhone keyboard is set up, I often unintentionally end up offending people. I wish the "I" and the "K" weren't positioned so close to one another.

Recent text I should've checked before sending:

"No, really, it's alright if you don't get here until 5, I'll wait. jerk."

Yeah. Winning friends and influencing loads of people in everything I do.


On another note:

I am going to London next week. To meet THIS woman. Remember Heidi? I couldn't say enough nice things about her and her kindness to me when my order of Muddy H2O chocolate masks went wrong (on the US Postal side of things-- not the Muddy company) and now she's coming and wants to meet up with Moi. I'm so excited.
Any other UK bloggy friends want to come out and play?
Email me. I'm there. I'll text you back and if I call you a jerk, don't take it personally.

Nose Job

More like partial face amputation.
You know the saying, "Cutting off your nose to spite your face"?
I've got a hacksaw and no one can stop me.
I am currently boxing up my scrapbook room.

Everything.
Ribbons, paper, tapes, pages...
well, everything except the photos
because I receive requests for them (for school projects) regularly.

Why would I crate what I love?
Because there is no time,
for me anyway.

I have church responsilbilities sucking every ounce of strength left after
the kids have left me
gasping for breath.

And then the Hubby?

Yesterday a kind couple requested the company of the cyclone we call Miss Ky and for one day (in what feels like eons) I was going to be able to accomplish something without have my ears perked for her latest disaster. I envisioned reading by the pool in a rare moment of sunshine while my kids splashed and kicked a football around.

BUT, hubby puppy-eyed me. Wanted my undivided attention.
Him, the man who will pick football, computers and electrical gadgets over actually hearing anything I say to him at any other time.
The man who manages to take online courses, run and get in physical training
while I run in the house hamster wheel.

As clear as the nose I am removing from my face, I realize that my life is not my own.
After serving everyone else, there's no time for me
and these books, scrapbooks, paints and stamps are all bitter reminders of that.

So this plastic surgery is
more to make a point...
Something smells stinkowith in our house people and if you're not careful,
I may surgically remove me one day.


*Blog post brought to you only because sausalito tile dries very slowly here and I've mopped myself into a corner.

All This Post Needs Is Some Popcorn

Him: "It's a Homophone"

A fragmented sentence to answer a question from long before.

"...I think... one of the Veggie Tales songs mentions it."
(this is dangerous grounds-- mentioning what movie may have referenced a word we are currently having a brain freeze over could lead to another freeze when we desperately now try to remember the movie)

Me: "Yeah, that sounds right..." (Whew! more brain aerobics diverted)

Him: "It must be it because 'Homo' means 'same'--like
homogenized milk, it's all mixed up so that it will be the same"

Me: "Well now you're talking crazy, because a homophobe isn't afraid of 'sameness'"

Him: "'Homo' means 'same'"

Me: "So a homophobe is afraid of anything that might be the same. I could be considered a Homophobe because I don't want to hear you quote the same Monty Python lines over and over."

Ok, I didn't really say that, but I thought it.

Do you memorize films? Do you seriously come out of a first viewing of a movie theater perfectly capable of doing an entire monolog from that movie?"

I can watch one 3 times in one sitting (Twilight?) and still not quote it right.

I watched a newer release recently. The Time Traveler's Wife. I couldn't wait because years ago I read the book and loved it. It's all twisty and complicated if you put too much thought into it and I like that, so it was with great anticipation I headed out a second time to see it (the first time I got stuck behind a tractor and got there too late. I nearly cried).

I liked it.
And I was disappointed.

I just wonder if Hollyweird seriously thinks I need the gratuitous nekked butt shots to be happy with a movie (Did I just blog about nekked butts on a Sunday?).
I mean, I expected him to be starkers, because let's face it, he's slipping in and out of time and you can't take your clothes with you when you do that, but SHE did not have to show me hers.
Maybe it was a "gift" to all the poor saps dragged to the cinema with their wives. I don't know, my poor sap was at home with a nekked bathing 2 year old.

I can't tell you one line accurately from the movie either.

I can tell you that I'm not phobic of going out to a movie all by myself again. It was bliss. And if I find one I really like, I may watch the same movie over and over again. That would be Homocinematastic I think.

Pillagers Unite!

Arrrrr, shiver me timbers, is it Talk Like a Pirate Day already?!

The lyrics in case yer a little rusty:

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot,
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We extort, we pilfer, we filch, and sack,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
Maraud and embezzle, and even high-jack,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We kindle and char, inflame and ignite,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We burn up the city, we're really a fright,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

We're rascals, scoundrels, villans, and knaves,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We're beggars and blighters, ne'er-do-well cads,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads,
Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho.

Flowing Like a River

We're all busy. We all seem to be trying to keep up with the same bloggers (I see your name and think-- OH sheesh, I haven't been to her place either)-- isn't there a way we could work out some group visits?

Has anyone else found that some horrible joke is being played on you and time just keeps getting siphoned out of the tank when you're not looking?



Remember this song? It reminds me of my just-out-of-high-school romance and warm summer nights on a pier in western Kentucky. Trying to say goodbye when the next day seemed too far away and too long to be apart.
THAT seems like just yesterday, which if it was, it would mean that I had married someone else and had five kids last night. No wonder I'm tired.

The Curse of The Good Girl

I always thought I'd like doing book reviews, but what I discovered with this assignment is that life is not always complimentary to obligations. I so desperately wanted to shoot through this book and take my time relaying it's wonderfulness (or not) to you in my own sweet time, but it wasn't to be that way, so please bear with me while I try to do this book justice.

The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence
by Rachel Simmons
Hardcover: 288 pages
Publisher: The Penguin Press (August 25, 2009)
ISBN-13: 978-1594202186

The dust jacket: In The Curse of the Good Girl, Rachel Simmons ... argues that in idealizing the Good Girl we are teaching girls to embrace a version of selfhood that sharply curtails their power and potential. Unerringly nice, polite, modest, and selfless, the Good Girl is a paradigm so narrowly defined that it’s unachievable. When girls inevitably fail to live up to these empty expectations--experiencing conflicts with peers, making mistakes in the classroom or on the playing field-they become paralyzed by self-criticism that stunts the growth of their vital skills and habits. Simmons traces the poisonous impact of Good Girl pressure on girls' development and provides a strategy to reverse the tide. At once illuminating and prescriptive, The Curse of the Good Girl is an essential guide to contemporary girl culture and a call to arms from a new front in female empowerment."

First, I need to tell you that I entered "The Curse of the Good Girl" very hesitantly because I am pretty old school when it comes to female rolls in society. I was NOT interested in reading an "I am woman hear me roar" book. I mean, I'm completely ok with career women doing their thing, but for me, it's June Cleaver all the way* and I don't need anyone telling me that my idea is outdated or unpopular or stifling to young girls.
*Maybe it's because it's nearly the polar opposite of what I grew up with and that's for another time.

I was fully expecting this book to expound how one could shake off domesticity and join the "real" women-- why? Not because of anything the dust jacket told me-- I inferred it from the title. Call me defensive, I'm ok with that.

Anyway, as I slowly crept (this is not one of those on-fire page turner story books) into the middle of "The Curse", I began to let my defenses down and just began to enjoy what there was to learn. And that's what this book is, folks, it's a self-help/child psychology/Dr. Phil-sort of learn-to- live-your-life-better book.

If all of my kids were grown and out of the house, I would've felt terrible with the new information I gleaned. As it is, I was able to spot mistakes I have made (am making) and ways to improve for the remaining four (Sorry Son #1, I did the best I knew how). Just for clarification here: this book is NOT teaching our girls not to be nice, not to be good. It's more about understanding, recognizing and giving validation to emotions. It's about teaching girls ways to resolve conflict without giving up their beliefs.

If you have a teenage or soon-to-be teenage daughter in your house (or niece, granddaughter, neighbor, store clerk...) this book is an enlightening insight to the mind set of a young girl, but here's the surprise: YOU (we) may just be a "Good Mother" (gasp), a woman who's "Good Girl" mindset is not only keeping you (us) from living fully but bleeding into your daughter's (son's) life by your example. Ouch.
Fortunately this book helps "Good Mothers" spot that behaviour and teaches how to stop. Stop downplaying emotions, stop doing what you think everyone wants you to do. Stop giving in because we're afraid it's not nice to stand up for what we deserve.

One of my favourite bits is the summary for the chapter titled, "My Daughter Myself":

"...But the best thing a mother can do for that daughter is to be herself, with all the challenges that being real entails. Being real means taking up space and having needs; it means drawing the line and saying no. Being real means walking into every room as the same woman, whether you're in a conference room or a family room. And being real means not just tolerating the messiness of relationship but embracing it as the raw material of a family's growth and development."

And here's some things I think that every family should adopt as house rules:

NJZ (no-joke zone). That's when jokes that hit a nerve can be immediately stopped with the simple declaring "NJZ". "When NJZ is called, the other person must apologize sincerely...When you respect the NJZ, you own your mistake and acknowledge the other person's feelings."

"Eliminate "No Offense" (and "just kidding") from your family's vocabulary...If you cannot say something without saying 'no offense', you are better off finding another way to say it."

So, surprise surprise--this book didn't tell me to leave my husband, burn my bra or anything I was afraid it was going to.
Instead it suggested different ways of communication for family members as well as offer tips for teaching our daughters healthy communication (along with tools for resolving conflicts) with their friends.
Nothing to be defensive about here, unless understanding and helping our daughters (and even sons) maneuver their way through social interactions without giving up their dreams is something we wouldn't want to strive for.

Thumbs up on this blog for The Curse of the Good Girl: Raising Authentic Girls with Courage and Confidence by Rachel Simmons.

Staying Fit on a Soap Box

If you've come to hear my resolutions of losing some thigh weight before my next Disney trip, you may be disappointed. Not going there-- not when my laundry room is still heaving and I'm trying to find my way off our family white board that is no longer white (help).

I attended a squadron function last night. I've only attended a handful in our entire time in the military, but can tell you that only TWO times did I come home feeling like I would want to go to another.

We're enlisted folk, and regardless that my husband is a Watch Supervisor and has a higher enlisted rank, we are still enlisted and that's pond scum in most officer's eyes.
The officers my husband works with/for are arrogant college frat boys (to be perfectly frank) and the wives... wow. I was stunned hearing the superficial conversation carried out by one perky little blond, "Oh, that's such a cute bolero! You always have the cutest little boleros...Oh! (as she looks down at another woman's legs) have you been tanning? (and at another's feet) I love your shoes!"
wow.

Last night's ordeal was a chili cook off and auction, organized and flocked to by many of the officer's wives and few enlisted people (first clue that I am not the only one who feels the discrimination). In a sea of over scheduling, I swam through everything that we had to accomplish first eagerly anticipating the night out and babbled on to my husband about how I would see a couple of ladies again that I had enjoyed meeting at the Christmas party (get out much? no).

There were four raffle prizes-- all but one were baskets full of alcohol. I put in my tickets for the travel basket (and checked all night-- it was the least filled basket up until Joe Show off bought about forty tickets). Most of the auction items were alcohol related as well and since we were one of two couples who don't drink, we were limited to the things we might be interested in winning-- which is ok, it gave me more money to focus on fewer items (at least that's what I was telling myself).

But I don't know who I was kidding-- there is no possibility in winning anything at these things.

The arrogance in the room and the need to one-up each other nearly smothered the small group of enlisted wives who just watched everything go ridiculously high.

You think I'm making it up?

One overnight babysitting service went for $290.00.
I'm in the wrong business, I babysit 24/7 and don't get paid jack.

There was a dinner for 6 with wine and champagne AND babysitting. The two women I was sitting with decided we could go in on it together and let the third lady have all the drink-- we just wanted the dinner without someone on our laps.
I stopped paying attention when the bidding got up to $600.00.

There's a recession? Are you sure?

So last night, carrying nothing more but overtired kids and a half-full crock pot of chili I reminded my husband how we don't fit in with his squadron. Never have. When he was in basic training, his peers were single or newly weds. We were already a family and had obligations they couldn't understand.
That lead to realizing we don't fit in with the parent cliques at the kids' schools, the groups of new parents at church or the older friends whose children have grown.

We don't fit in with most of the world.
I think we're nerds.
We like to stay home with our kids. We fit in there.
We like to have friends over (friends who like nerds) and we're LOVING the new Beatles Rockband that we're playing with our equally nerdy kids (you get extra points for harmonizing! I can harmonize!)

Maybe I don't fit in with Miss Perky Officer Wife, but I promise you when I see you that I won't comment on your shoes or your new haircut as much as I will ask how your mom is doing or what came of your recent blood work, and that's a nerdiness my conscience and wallet can live with.

Just Hit Pause

You know when you watch a movie the second time with intentions of shutting it off before the beloved character dies? Or re-read a book but put it down before the tragic ending occurs?

I've just sat through the horrible morning of 9/11 again (I don't know why I do it, so don't ask). The only difference between today and 2001 was that I wasn't screaming. I knew what was coming. And no matter how hard I hoped, nothing changed.

Except our world.





May God bless those who lost their lives and those who were left behind to mourn them. If Sept 11th knocks me off my feet every year, can you even fathom what it's like for them?

Things I Learned At Disney World

Math:
I learned that 30 pounds of extra weight + walking around in a swimsuit all day (Blizzard Beach) = inner thigh chafing.


Yeah.
FYI: If you have large thighs and are walking from a pool area, when they dry (because say, you have covered the entire grounds looking for your family) you will end up walking like a geisha because there can be no movement in the upper leg area. Only geishas are delicate and graceful looking. I was not.
I learned that sometimes you have to give up on one dream to achieve another. In this case, sending someone home early to salvage a trip for the rest.


Yes, we did.
The oldest one doesn't handle humid heat or crowds very well. We were in Florida in August,
of course it's going to be hot and crowded.
He actually asked to go home early since he was spending 80% of his time in the room anyway.
I've made my husband promise to remind me of this come Christmas when I'm wanting to fork out our life savings to get him here (and now you can too). We did have some fun memory making moments though.

I learned that the Disney Dining plan is not to be scoffed at and unless you are a giant, the basic plan should suffice. We were flailing trying to consume the meals on it.
Without the dining plan, we would've eaten mac and cheese in our room, but instead ate at the Akershus Royal Banquet Hall where Miss Ky could rub shoulders with royalty, and the O'Hana Character breakfast where the boys did the Conga with Mickey and Stitch.


I learned that no matter how many Ariel items one woman can collect, her daughter may be smitten with another Princess.
Before we got on our plane, Miss Ky said that she was going to meet "The pink princess", but to surprise us all, somewhere in the middle of our holiday this little girl began shouting, "Snow White!" whenever she saw anything related.
Who'd've guessed? We don't even watch that movie-- correction, we didn't watch it. We've now seen it three times in two days.

I learned many more things, like what it feels like to lose your purse carrying your iphone, credit cards, Disney Reward cards and park tickets-- it can be extremely stressful. Especially when you lose it the first 20 minutes you're in the park on your first day.

Or how to walk favoring one foot after ripping a big toenail halfway off your first night in the room.

Forget what you learned in kindergarten, all you need to know is here. And don't think this wonderfully illustrated adviceorama is over-- I have approximately 1396 pictures to go.

Why Bloggers Go Silent. Again.

We're home! Had a fabulous time. Thanks to all who sent such nice emails, Face Book chats and post comments, I hope to get back to you soon, but we arrived on Sunday--seriously jet lagged and school started monday.

Oh yeah, we also have this to deal with:

What we left:


What we returned to: Luckily you can't see the dead mouse in it.

What's been happening in your life?