Monday, February 28, 2011

Have you ever?

Have you ever seen a lovelier envelope?

In this spot was a lovely picture of an envelope that my BFF sent to me. What an idiot, I posted the picture with my address right on it. I don't want to say who's side of the family has memebers we would prefer not know where we live....but it's Troy's.
Anyway, when I googled my name to see what came up for images today, there was the picture that used to be here with our lovely address.
Luckily all of my favorite stalkers already know where we are.

I got this two minutes ago.
The only thing that would have made it better would be if had been hand delivered.

I told my my bff that I was a little homesick for my friends, so she sent me a card.

She knows how to send a pick-me-up like no one else.

The card was even better:

Amen for sister friends.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Friday Night Outing

Tonight we went out for dinner. It's hit or miss if these evenings are going to be successful or not. But, we look at each other with that look in our eyes that says: "I don't like the looks of anything in our fridge (me) / If I have to cook dinner one more night I may never cook again (not me)"  This is when we decide to take a chance on an evening out with Them. You Know Who Number One and Number Two.  A successful night out can be told by the look we receive from those sitting around us.  It's either sweet smiles with coo's and compliments OR nods of encouragement with sympathetic "we've been there" shrugs.

Our favorite place is a quaint little pizza/Italian joint in a small historic town a few miles from our house. It has a soft serve ice cream store attached to it. We settled into our seats and not long after, an old time jazz band came in for a quick impromptu session with songs like When The Saints Go Marching In. The girls were enamoured. I was enamoured. Suddenly, we were transported to a time when you knew everyones' name you passed on the street, your kids could run through town and you didn't worry because, well, you just didn't have to. No one was going to snatch your kids. If they were misbehaving, other parents were quick to step in and set them straight until you got there. A time when things were slower.

The girls' dinners arrived just as the band was heading out the door for their gig in the town center gazebo. I was left feeling warm and fuzzy and ready to get back to the basics. That's about when The Taz decided that sitting in a chair was torture. The little one was asking for something I couldn't decipher and getting crabbier the longer it took me to figure her out. Cups, napkins, straws, wrappers, sugar packets and chunks of fruit started flying.  A father at a nearby table bent down and handed over Number Two's sippy cup. I thanked him and he replied "Oh, I've been there."

This is when My Chef propped up the iPad and started streaming a favorite cartoon. At first I was a little embarrassed that we took the easy route. A little disappointed that we jolted ourselves from the ease of an earlier time into the hustle, bustle of the technology / now era. Then I said "Screw That."  And enjoyed ten minutes of conversation with my love and actually tasted the food that was on my plate.

After dinner, we each ordered an ice cream cone and walked over to the gazebo. Grandparents were on swings, parents were sitting on the curbs and the children were dancing - ours included. Music that was written a hundred years ago, moving the feet of my little ones. It was the nicest, unsuccessful outing we've had in a long time.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Tuesday's List

Things that happened at the Y that I should be embarrassed about...if I had any shame.

1. Some of my sweat flew off my nose and somehow landed on a nearby lady.

2. I decided last minute that I would do an ab/core workout class without regard to what I was wearing. Next time I will remember not to wear roomy shorts when doing floor exercises with my feet in the air.

3. I hit a milestone (for me) while running on the treadmill and before I knew it, I was fists in the air -
Rocky Style.

4. I got caught in the ladies locker room flexing ("the beach is thataway" style flexing).

5. Asked the young kid/trainer about how long it would take to tighten up a marsupial pouch. Then had to explain what I meant and didn't do a very good job and should have just said abs.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Oh Sister

A few days ago I took the girls to the park. It was a gorgeous day, warm enough for shorts, but breezy enough that you might need a light jacket. I plopped them both in the toddler swings and began my duty as the Taz's personal Underdog Giver. After giving her 152 underdogs, I looked over at a quiet Bear Cub.

Her face was tilted toward the sun. Her eyes were closed. And across her face was the sweetest little smile. Back and forth, back and forth. You could tell she had tuned out The Taz's pleas for more pushes. You could see her sheer enjoyment of having the wind in her hair and the sun on her cheeks. It was at that very moment that I knew the two of us would understand each other for all of our days.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

What If? The February Edition

What if ?

What if The Hair Club for Men
told their advertising team
that they wanted to target:


Harley Davidson Bike Owners


Grease (the movie) Enthusiasts

Do you think that advertising team would seek out this guy to be a model?

This is Benny.

He's neither a cop, a biker, nor a Grease the movie Enthusiast.

And he doesn't have any trouble growing hair.

If indeed the Hair Club for Men did seek Benny out,
they could shave his in the morning for their fake "before" pictures, have a nice long lunch,
and Benny would have already grown enough hair for his amazing "after" shots.

That's just it. Benny doesn't have any trouble growing his hair,
like maybe some of our friends and family do after they've gone through chemo.

And that's the whole point:
Benny is growing his hair out for an event called Shave to Save
to raise money to fight cancer, so that fewer people have to fight on their own and
where losing their hair is the least of their worries.

As a side note:
I hope they don't mistake those eyebrows as part of the shaving scope.
Benny might not have as many people willing to bring him beers without those things.

Did you see them. Take another look. 
Man. Those are somethin', aren't they.

If you'd like to, here's the link to Benny's fundraising page:

Friday, February 18, 2011

Ahh Yoga

I'm beginning to love the yoga. Not that I didn't really love it to begin with. My sister-in-law pointed out- it's an exercise class that has nice mats and nap-like positions, what's not to love? I do the yoga on Friday's as I like to "center" myself before the weekend. Because, as every mother with little children knows, weekends are nowhere near relaxing.

At the beginning of each class, the teacher gives us one word to think about. Today's word was gratitude. She tells you to focus on one thing you are grateful for. This morning I focused on My Chef.  Because without him, there's no telling what kind of train wreck I'd turn this parenting gig into. I'm also grateful that he's strong enough to take the brunt of my frustrations, because taking them out on the children is unfair (even if they are the source). I also focused on how grateful I am for his dimple. Man is it cute.

And I'm happy to say, that all that grateful-ness paid off. When I got home from the yoga, there was a bottle of wine waiting for girls' night out on Skype AND he had two loads of laundry done. 

At the close of The Yoga, the instructor (who if I were to liken her to a dog...well...I wouldn't- she's totally a cat) says Namaste (pronounced  nah-mah-stay). Today, she finally explained what it means = The Light in me sees and loves the Light in you.  I liked that. Here's to a weekend full of recognizing the light in one another and being grateful for.....fill in the blank....

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


I don't know why, but recently, I have been obsessing a little bit about getting an apron. Not an unhealthy kind of obsession where I forget to feed the children because I was thinking about an apron so much. But I have found myself having the same conversation in my head for the better part of two months. It goes like this:

That apron I saw today was super cute.
What do you need an apron for? You don't even cook. And when you do cook, you hardly get messy using the microwave.
That's true. But I could get little matching ones for me and the girls for when we bake cookies.
Troy's the one that does the baking with the girls.
True. But wouldn't it be cute to wear a little frilly apron with turquoise and orange birds on it, while I host little get togethers.
You don't have any local friends.
But I will have some soon. And with it only being mid-winter up North, people are bound to come visit soon.
True. But what do you need an apron for? To protect your fancy Zorbaz Pizza and Mexican tee shirt?

So there you have it. I want an apron for no good reason. My Chef will no doubt read this and tell me something about not needing to go out and buy and apron when we have 6 of them in a bin in the garage. Then I will have to explain why they would never do because they are plain and white and totally functional. The kind of apron I want is frilly and pretty and I wouldn't dare get anything on it.  To which he will ask me why I would want to wear a pretty, frilly apron over my sweats. To which I will reply: What's your point? To which he would most likely give me a nice smile, shake his head and finish cooking dinner.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Happy Valingtime's Day

Ten Things I Love Today

1. I love that my lips sink down one inch into Bear Cub's cheeks when I kiss them.

2. I love that my sister-in-law calls me on Skype, with a glass of wine in her hand, so we can have a girls night out, without having to leave our living rooms or brush our hair.

3. I love that The Taz doesn't know how to say Valentine's correctly.

4. I love that The Taz will bring home cookies and other assorted candies this afternoon, as the semi-sweet baking chocolates that I scavenged off the top shelf of the pantry will be gone in a half hour.

5. I love that My Mudda does not share an office at work, so that she can take personal calls first thing in the morning without getting the stink eye.

6. I love that we have a security system, so I can sleep peacefully when My Chef is out of town and I have watched one too many episodes of 48 Hours.

7. I love that after six months of living in Florida, I have yet to see a gator in the pond behind our house. (Not that I'm letting my watchful guard down. But it's nice to know, if there is a gator in there, he doesn't just roam around all of our back yards waiting for plump little babies to meander two inches away from their mothers.)

8. I love that Bear Cub and The Taz kiss each other goodbye every morning.

9. I love that nap time is closer to three hours than it is to one hour.

10. And, of course- My One True Love. Who bought me a yoga mat so I wouldn't have to smash my face down on someone else's sweat. That's love.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


As I was spreking with My Mudda last night, she commented on how my last blog was a bit confusing. If you read it,  I meant to quote someone saying that starting to floss is harder than quitting smoking. Instead, I kind of botched it and said it the other way around. I must have been distracted when I typed that.  I get distracted easily.

Like when someone with a really cute hat and really dirty face shows up.
And then starts jabbering something while I try to type, it's a little distracting.

Or sometimes someone growls like a puppy because they saw a book about puppies and puppies are the most wonderful thing in their world. Yes. That can be very distracting. 

Sometimes I lose my train of thought because I reach over to grab a drink of my nice
refreshing Coca Cola, and it is missing.

Sometimes I have to stop in the middle of what I am doing to have a serious conversation about
why I would give someone such a bad haircut. Sometimes those conversations can be quite long as I have to spend a lot of time apologizing.

Wait. What was I talking about?
Did you just see that face?
I'd better go make her some brownies.
And a second batch for when her sister gets home from school.

Monday, February 7, 2011


A while back someone on facebook posted something about it being harder to quit smoking than it is to start the habit of flossing. This made me pause a minute. At the time that I read it, I was a twice a week flosser.  I had also just had the conversation with The Mole-less Enrique Iglesias, DDS about bone loss.  The thought of it being that hard to start flossing was depressing.

Flossing daily was one of my New Year's Resolutions. And about the only one I've stuck with. Which is a good sign since I overheard someone say that the first week of February is when most resolutions have been tossed out the window (as an update, my resolution to brush my hair daily never even got into the car to even be thrown out the window). And I'm here to tell you it isn't as hard as quitting smoking.

I did not have dreams that I was hiding somewhere not flossing. Or dream of stealing semi-trucks so I could go somewhere and not floss. I did not run up and down the aisles of the grocery store looking for something ANYTHING I could do besides not floss.  I do not look at other people, not flossing, and wish I were them. I do not think of not flossing all day every day for one solid year in hopes that tomorrow they will come up with a cancer free / stink free way of flossing.

No no. Starting the habit of flossing is much easier than quitting smoking. At night, before bed, I just think about a piece of raw meat that has been left out on the kitchen counter for 24 hours on a hot 98.6 degree day. I think of the smell of that meat. Then I mentally place that piece of meat in between my teeth. And that usually does the trick.

Here's to hoping your New Year's Resolutions are still going strong and easier to hold on to than quitting smoking. Unless of course your resolution was to quit smoking...then I would just suggest getting pregnant. Did the trick for me.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Spilled Milk

Ya know that saying "don't cry over spilled milk"? Sometimes I have to say that over and over again, all chant like, so as to avoid actually crying. Like yesterday when I literally cleaned up spilled milk on SIX different occasions. Through clenched jaws I mumbled each time something about this being the reason we have to buy 4 gallons of milk a week. Then I am suddenly some body's grandpa mumbling about how the price of milk is more than I earned an hour at my first job.

Then to top it all off, after dinner Bear Cub broke into the fridge, uncapped the orange juice and dumped a gallon of citrus on the floor. There are no idioms involving spilled orange juice, so I had to dig deep and recall the breathing exercise I learned at yoga. Luckily I went to yoga yesterday, or I would have had to deal with the spilled orange juice the old fashioned way. Which, as you can see, I was fully prepared to do:

Wednesday, February 2, 2011


I went to yoga today. It was my first time ever. A couple of things happened during the course of the one hour class.

1. I found I could break a sweat by barely moving. What's that you say Bill Jones? "Work smarter. Not harder." There are some things you can hear over and over and not really understand them until your knee is wrapped around the back of your neck.  

2. I found that I am not very flexible. (This isn't really a new revelation, but I thought it would at least have improved from having to chase small people)

3. The mental "chakra" exercise looks a lot like a place on Lake Superior.  Whatever that means.

4. I found that when I have cleared my head of all the stresses and craziness of my day, delicious desserts come to mind. I made this when I got home:

I will call them Yoga Delights.