Work in Progress

2012-01-01T08:54:00.000-08:00

How can I not blog about resolutions and junk like that when it is January 1, 2012? Like, I sort of need to do this. Especially when one of my resolutions is to

blog more

And that reminds me, I also want to

read more blogs

You can check my blog roll or whatever it's called to see some of my peeps who blog and other blogs I enjoy. I just need to make it a point to read them more often because I think I blow the time I could use for that doing stuff that's not nearly as interesting.

I often (and by often, I'm going to go ahead and say every single year) make a resolution about less. I want there to be less of me and I resolve to eat less in an effort to make that happen. So yes, I am making that resolution again, but I have already been trying to do that and even though I said that Christmas cookies were gonna be my bitch they actually made me their bitch and I mean really. Have you ever had like, four buckets of cookie dough in your fridge? Like, Otis Spunkmeyer already-shaped-into-little-cookie-circles-dough that are really good right out of the bucket and really easy to just slap on a cookie sheet and turn into yummy warm cookies? Well, my advice to you if you have resolved to eat less and you would like for there to be less of you is to not have four buckets of Otis Spunkmeyer cookie dough in your fridge. Between that and treats treats everywhere and colder weather and shorter days yes, I have sorta been hibernating a bit and as a result I am maintaining more of a grizzly bear physique than I would like but yes, I would like to get back to going down that healthy road and to that end I would like to

journal my food more (myfitnesspal.com, I've mentioned it before, so cool)
eat more fruits and veggies (Tami was just talking about this in her blog post about her prescription for wellness)
get my kid to eat more fruits and veggies (because I have really sucked hard on that front)

The food part is always so hard. And really, I am always resolved to do better on this front. So I don't see why it hurts to be resolved about this once again. Additionally, I would like to

exercise more (I do so enjoy it... most of the time... and I love endorphins and I just got a Zumba game for the Wii from my Mom for Christmas and of course I love the treadmill for whittling down the DVR and getting my blood pumping at the same time)
get more muscles (Seriously. I have said this before. But seriously, I gotta get the strength training to be a regular thing in my life. I know all the great benefits and yet, I hardly do it. Which is just silly.)

Speaking of muscles, might I just add at this point that I'm watching Date Night (while blogging, because I am a multi-tasker) and though I love Tina Fey and I dig Steve Carell, I wasn't getting into this movie too much and then Mark Wahlberg shows up and he's shirtless and I really think that is an excellent way to get my attention. Just sayin'.

I think I will also resolve to

sing more

It just seems like a good idea and I really enjoy doing it.

There is another resolution I've made but I can't mention it because my mom reads this blog but suffice it to say it's something that seems like a good idea and I really enjoy doing it.

I just ordered up this book for my Kindle because a) I need to

meditate more (and by more, I mean at all, because I don't do it)

and b) it was only $3.82. I know this is something Tami has talked about and I'm sure CdG has, also. I know this is something I need to do. I also know that it seems impossible. But I'm going to give it a whirl.

I also want to

be a nicer person

For real. Like, I want to be

more patient
more tolerant
more understanding

I really do. I am pretty sure those things would make me even happier than I (usually) am. And

more happiness

sounds like a super great idea.

What about you? Any resolutions? What do you want more of in 2012?

Christmas Morning Strata Surprise

2011-12-28T10:57:00.000-08:00

I orignally posted this on Facebook as a "note" because I was at work and my Blogger basically does not work at all on that computer for some reason. But I really wanted this information on my blog because this dish was so tasty. I was just reminded of that when I had some leftovers a few minutes ago. I forgot to take a picture when it was done and just out of the oven and all bubbly and a picture of the leftovers won't really do it justice but I'll post one anyway:

So here's what I wrote on Christmas day:

Because every recipe sounds better if you add the word "surprise!"

I wanted to make something I could do the night before and throw in the oven on Christmas morning. I looked up recipes that used the basics; eggs, milk, sausage, cheese, bread. But I was stuck on using some potatoes, too, since I'd made a hash brown casserole last year that was tasty and delicious. So that's how I found Paula Deen's recipe and used that as a starting point. I also looked at this one.

You could do all kinds of stuff with these recipes. So GO CRAZY! Here is what you need if you want to do what I did. I have been told my version was pretty yummy!

Most of you know I'm not good with measurements and stuff, so I apologize in advance for not being terribly helpful on that front!

Christmas Morning Strata Surprise
(Should serve at least 6 HUNGRY folks if not more)

Frozen hash browns (I used Ore-Ida's Southern Style, a 2 lb bag, but I didn't quite need the whole bag)
French bread
Chicken apple sausage (Aidells), 4 links
Onion (I used one medium yellow)
Cheese, whatever kind you like (I used Havarti [some brand I got at Target for cheap and it's really good] and Dubliner; shred up enough to make... not sure it was quite two cups, but maybe?)
8 eggs (egg substitute would totally work, too)
2 cups of milk (I used fat free and it worked just fine)
Parmesan cheese (Ummm... didn't measure... a few tablespoons, maybe? 1/4 cup, perhaps?)
Salt, pepper, garlic powder (to taste... check out some recipes for ideas on this if you don't trust your abilities in this area, I just sorta sprinkle and stuff!)
Couple squirts of mustard (I used a jalapeno mustard I get from Target that is yummy; I think anything that adds zing would be good, dry mustard of course, would work)
Few drops of hot sauce (I used Crystal, and of course, if you don't like spicy then skip it)

Get out a 13x9 pan (I used glass) and spray that with some cooking spray.

Thaw the hash browns in the microwave. I put the bag in a casserole dish and had them on defrost for 15-ish minutes. You know how your microwave works better than I do! Set those aside. Dice up some French bread. I used a small loaf I got a target but you could do whatever kind of bread you like. You're just going to need enough to make a layer in the pan. Dice your sausage and slice up the onion thinly. Sautee them together over medium heat just to get a little color on them. I did not wind up draining mine; I cooked them in cooking spray and I didn't really have to much residual oil, but depending on what kind of sausage you use you might want to drain it. Shred your cheese(s).

In a bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients.

Put a layer of thawed hash browns into the pan. Add some seasoning like salt, pepper, and garlic powder and mix it up a bit, just so you don't have boring taters. Then put the bread on top of that. I sprinkled a little bit of my cheese over the bread. Next, add the sausage and onion. On top of that, pour the egg mixture carefully, making sure you get it even distributed. End with cheese. Cover it in the foil and put it in the fridge overnight. Of course you don't need to do this, Paula's recipe doesn't call for this, but that's how I did mine.

In the morning pull the casserole out. Let it sit at room temp for at least 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 350. Bake uncovered for 45-50 minutes; it will look firm and golden brown and delicious on top. Let it sit for 5-10 minutes before serving. ENJOY!

The Thanksgiving Post, Or the One in Which I Talk About Stuff For Which I'm Thankful and Try Not to Repeat Myself Too Much

2011-11-24T09:40:00.001-08:00

We shouldtotally be thankful for everything we have and the beauty thatsurrounds us, like, 365 days a year. But since we have this holidaywith the word thanksright in there, it seems fitting that on this day in particular weshould talkabout all that stuff to get into the spirit of the day, you know,beyond getting stuffed to the gills and hanging out with our familiesand/or friends. And what a good place to start... So in no particularorder here is the list of stuff for which I'd like to give thanks:

1. Gettingstuffed to the gills with my family:Thanksgiving is awesome. I am so thankful I am not working todaybecause sometimes that is the case and I show up after everyone'seaten and is already in a coma and I have my plate(s) of food by mylonesome. At least a couple of times when that happened, I wasfortunate enough to have already partaken of an awesome spread atwork. Iam thankful that I love my family... a lot... and that they seem tofeel the same way about me. We always have a good time when we'retogether and I'm really looking forward to this afternoon.

2. Mybeautiful daughter:No explanation needed, right? To be all JerryMaguire(which I swear, is not something I normally am), she completes me. Ina way that no other person or partner ever could. Motherhood isamazing, mostly because she is.

3. Myfriends:I only have about the best group of friends ever. Many of whom cameto me late in a life but that I think I will keep forever. They'reamazing, the way they put up with my insanity and my hormones and mybad judgments and they just loveme. So lucky to have them (and they know who they are).

4. TheInternet:It keeps me connected to people to whom I might not otherwise beconnected. Or not connected on a regular basis, and that is myfavorite thing about it. Also, when you don't know what something isyou can Google it. You don't have to go to the library (though I dolove the library, a whole lot) or pull out an encyclopedia and that'spretty badass.

5. Myfamily:The good, the bad, and the hilarious. The whole thing. They made mewho I am today and they always have my back.

6. Myset-up:As in, my job, my lack of commute, my house. It's awesome. I'm makingout like a bandit. I love my job and don't want to leave until theymake me or I can retire. I love my house and hope to never leave it(and fantasize about owning it one day and making it bigger, but evenif that never happens I still don't want to leave). And I love thatthe house I love is down the street from the job I love. Really, withthat deal right there, what in the heck do I have to complain about?

7. Helpfuldrugs:You know, the kind that make your brain a little better? Like, let'ssay you're wired such that you think things TO DEATH, to the point oflosing a great deal of sleep, and that you get easily depressed, andbecause you're depressed when things don't go right you kinda want toSCREAM or throw things? There are drugs that can help with that. Ilove that one does not have to live with faulty brain wiring theirwhole life if one does not want to. This one did not want to and Ilove that I don't have to.

8. Endorphins:Similar to helpful drugs, but natural and FREE!! Get some.

9. Food:It's just so good.

10. Dancingshows, like DWTS and SYTYCD:They make me smile. Watching people dance can make me laugh, or cry,or get goosebumps, or all of the above. It's a beautiful thing. Ialso love the interaction between the hosts and judges on both shows.Such fun.

11. TopChef, Next Iron Chef, and almost any cooking show: See"food" above, for starters. I've loved cooking shows sinceI was a kid watching them on PBS with my mom on Saturday mornings(thanks, Mom!). Cooking competition shows are just dynamite. I loveto see the things that people make, even though I will probably nevermake them or even taste them. But still, I can't get enough.

12. Awasher and dryer at my house:If you do laundry outside your home or ever have this needs noexplanation.

13. Coffee:I don't know what I'd do without it.

14. CarrieFisher:I love her. I'm reading Shockaholiconthe Kindle right now and I can tell I'm going to devour it. I thinkI've read all of her books; Surrenderthe Pinkwas one of my favorites, and her one-woman show was a-mah-zing.She's so real and insane and funny and has been so troubled and is soopen about it. If I had to go out to lunch with two famous ladiesright now, I want to go with her and Tina Fey.

15. Mymom: Iknow I said my family, but special shout out to my mom. She is my...am I really gonna tear up? F#%king hormones! She is my rock. Mytouchstone. My friend. The one who drives me nuts by nagging me aboutstuff (stuff about which I needto be nagged). To say she has my back is an understatement. She caresfor my daughter (physically, as a sitter, and emotionally, but lovingher up to the moon [and yes, sometimes spoiling her]). She has bailedme out more times than I care to mention. I love hanging out withher; we've had great adventures just the two of us and with the kidand I look forward to many more. If I had to choose a mom from thefictional Mom Store of which I've told Kayla many times, I wouldchoose her all over again. She is simply the best.

I'm thankful for awhole bunch of other stuff, but I've rambled on long enough.

What are youthankful for, today or any day or every day?

Looking Up

2011-10-30T07:21:00.000-07:00

I turned around at work when I heard something I couldn't quite identify. It was just the coffee pot making some post-perculatory (not a real word) noises. When I turned I caught a glimpse of the sky through the trees out of our window. And the sky was amazing. It was just a few minutes ago and it's already changed so it's hard to explain, but there was such a warm, pink glow to it that it instantly calmed me.

The sky is beautiful at 7:15 on Sunday mornings sometimes.

And before I saw that sky I was tempted to write a blog about how some lessons take a really long time to learn. For example, if someone is a douche or someone is thoughtless then chances are, no matter how nice or nurturing you are to them, especially if this person comes into your life as a grown-up, chances are they will always be that way. That ends the lesson/negative portion of this blog.

I woke up this morning and I was miffed. The red numbers glowing menacingly on the clock read 5:16. These numbers in themselves are not evil, of course, but when I've set the alarm for 5:35, you can see how I'd find them to be a little bit evil because it wasn't as if I was going to just fall back into peaceful slumber for another twenty minutes. Nope, my body doesn't work that way.

So I lumbered through getting ready and went to put on my makeup and found some eyeshadow in my Sephora assortment (possibly the best $25 I ever spent even if it's not the same as the one I bought last year with my gift certificate [thanks, Sarah!])that made me look like I was awake and curled my hair and it came out okay and then I got outside to my car and saw the sky, which looked completely different then, at 6:45, than it did at 7:15. And I thought to myself, "Holy crap. The sky looks AMAZING."

Last night when we got home from the super awesome Haunted Hallway at Ellerhorst (though Kayla's reaction to the thrills and chills will be document later in my Kayla blog), as soon as I got out of the car I noticed the moon. It was a crescent, but it was so ridiculously bright, and sometimes you can't really see the part of the moon that's hidden in shadow too well, but last night that part looked so cool, like a deep, dark blue-black. I can't explain why it looked so cool, I can only tell you that it did. And the sky at 7:30 last night also looked really amazing.

So sometimes dumping the negative thoughts is as easy as looking up. Not always, but sometimes.

Life is Like a Potluck... Don't Bring Haggis

2011-10-28T09:45:00.000-07:00

"Be the change you want to see in the world." - Mahatma Gandhi

More than one friend has posted this quote on Facebook before and it's in my mind this morning because I think it sort of relates to want I want to say.

I was in the bathroom this morning getting ready and it's funny how sometimes things strike you while you're topless and curling your hair. Don't get me started on the fact that using hot appliances with a considerable amount of skin bare is a bad idea, and don't think that I get inspired by that bare skin because that pretty much just usually inspires laughter.

So what struck me is that life is like a potluck. But some people look at it like it's a buffet. Let me explain. And when I say that, I mean I'm going to attempt to figure out what I'm trying to say and at the same time explain it to you.

The idea of a potluck is to come together and share. You bring something and you get to partake of the goodies that others have contributed. It's give and take. You give something, and you get to take something in return.

Life is this way. Sometimes it's about a relationship. Any relationship is a partnership. Whether you're friends or lovers or spouses or parent and child or work mates. You bring something to it, and the other person is supposed to bring the same amount. Of course, this can be tricky if you're talking about a parent and a child, and certainly with spouses this is sometimes only a theory, but you get the idea.

I'm thinking particularly about what you bring that can't be quantified. How are you showing up? What's your attitude? What sort of energy are you bringing? Either to your office or your home in your interaction with your kids or your spouse or your friends? Do you bring what you would like to get back?

Do you bring a casserole made of haggis, head cheese, and random animal testicles (thank you, Facebook friends! [and no matter how fancy a chef makes them, testicles OF ANY ANIMAL are never going to be anything I try, like the lamb "fries" I saw on Chopped]) and then expect to eat lobster, caviar, fancy delicious cheeses, and Doritos? Well, it doesn't work that way.

You get back what you give, pure and simple.

Buffets are awesome things. You get to show up and take whatever you want. Life is not like that. You need to give something, and you should give what you want to get back.

Do you walk into a room and light it up? Or do you come in under a gray cloud and spread it all over the place? If you do that second thing, STOP DOING THAT.

The people who will read this probably don't do that. So let me talk to the rest of us. But first I'll say, I've totally been that cloud. I can't lie. Like, especially at certain times of the month, get out your umbrella because there might be nothing but gray skies and rain all around my space bubble. But I really really really try not to be that person. And I really really really try not let that kind of person drag me down.

But let's face it, it's hard. We're only human, for goodness sake. It's hard not to get sucked into some jacked up energy, especially if you're not in a great place and having one of those "fake it 'til you make it" days (and by the way, I am a really big fan of faking it 'til I make it, because it sometimes really works).

Now look, sometimes stuff is just really super crazy awful bad. So bad that you'd be a freak if you could figure out a way to put a positive spin on it. Some of the stuff that people endure from which they come back fighting AMAZES me. They are my heroes. So I'm not talking about sucking it up when it comes to real problems.

I am talking about being positive when you can be. When you have the choice between positive and negative, choose positive. When you have the choice between a frown and smile, pick the smile. When you can't decide whether to laugh or have a rage stroke, try the laughter.

I know, this all seems so basic, but you would be amazed at how not basic it is for some people. You know, the people who probably aren't reading this.

I'm not really sure that my opening quote really goes with what I what I just rambled about, but I'll keep it there because it's a good one anyway.

Like with almost anything I write, I do this so that I can remind myself to be this person more. So thanks for letting me talk to you in an effort to work on my stuff.

And please, if I ever have a potluck, do not bring that casserole. Thanks.

Some Things Change a Little and Some Not So Much and Sort of a Re-Run Post

2011-09-22T12:32:00.000-07:00

Since yesterday I kvetched about stuff I don't like, I figured it made perfect sense to do a post about stuff I love today. About stuff that makes me smile and get all warm fuzzy-like in hopes it would make you guys think of stuff you love and then you'd feel all warm and fuzzy and someone would pass by and see you grinning like an idiot and then they would feel all warm and fuzzy and so on and so forth. Like, how super cool and badass would that be? So I started to type and then I thought wow, this feels familiar... So I checked the archives and found a post from 2008 that well, pretty much covers a bunch of stuff I love. But before you check that out...

... I have to say that while the things I love I have remarkably (or not so remarkably) pretty much have stayed the same (though I will add a few things, just because), the beginning of my post talks about how my life was at the time and how I didn't really want to talk about my life. Which makes perfect sense because I was less than three months away from finally separating from my ex so yes, my home life kinda sucked hard at that time. And now I can say wow. It so DOES NOT SUCK. Like, at all. Sure, I have things I need to work on and change and I get confused about stuff that has to do with boys and just life in general but mostly, wow. I. Love. My. Life. So I'm glad I included that blurb because it makes me really, really, really, really, extremely, very much, a whole helluva lot appreciate where I am.

Here's some stuff I really like that wasn't in the original post:

1. Skinny Fries: Trader Joe's makes them and you can eat 65 of them for 110 calories and 2 grams of fat and they kinda taste like a French fry crossed with a potato chip crossed with air. And they are good for dipping. And I just ate some a minute ago which is why they made my list.
2. Trader Joe's: Damn, they have a lot of good stuff in that store. And a lot of cheese. And decent prices on many things. And the people are always nice, too.
3. That I'm finally actually dieting and losing weight: After years of false starts and no will to give up using food for much-needed comfort, I'm finally getting it done. It won't be fast, but I will do it this time and I couldn't do it without...
4. Major support: ... from my friends and family who are working on their weight loss goals and the ones who just cheer for me when I talk about how much I've lost. Between Facebook and myfitnesspal.com and the close pals I talk to nearly everyday, I have more support than I could ever hope to get and it makes a huge difference in my life. I see a light at the end of the tunnel that I haven't seen in years and this is beyond priceless to me.
5. On-line dating websites: Shout out to them because they get a bad rap and in some respects, sure, there are a lot of losers and weirdos out there, no doubt, and if you are on one of these sites they, meaning weirdos and losers, will wind up contacting you. But you might also find that you meet some interesting folks and have some interesting experiences, and have guys say nice things about you that you kind of needed to hear for like ummmm... ever. Not saying they are for everyone and I've already pointed out the considerable downside, but for someone like me who doesn't ever have friends who know anyone with whom I should mix and mingle (which reminds me of one of my favorite Phineas and Ferb songs) and who has no possibilities in the workplace and who doesn't hang out in bars, well, there you go. It has its uses.
6. Being single: Kinda think it was meant for me. Can't say enough how much I love sharing my space only with a small person.
7. The Internet: Recipes, pictures of Australian blue-tongued lizards, it's all on there. And it seems to be the way I do a huge portion of my communicating with friends.
8. Beer: It's yummy and I like to drink it with friends and I like finding new varieties that I enjoy.
9. Naps: No explanation needed.
10. Sex: See naps.

Click here for the a link to my post from December 22, 2008, to see more stuff I love.

What are you loving at the moment?

Things of Which I Am Majorly Not a Fan

2011-09-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

Ms. Tams had a blog post the other day called "Things I Hate... " So since she has inspired me A LOT recently by like, sending me ideas and telling me to write more I am going to go ahead and ~~steal~~ be inspired by her idea and come up with a similar list. Because I need to flipping write something. At the moment I'm wondering why I always try to do this close to nap time when I'm so sleepy. Probably not a good idea when I'm barely coherent when I'm wide awake.

While I am going to go ahead and complain about this stuff, in general, I don't want to complain. I really don't. I don't want to send my food back or tell someone providing a service for me that they didn't do well and I want to like any gift I receive and I want to adapt and go with the flow rather than have anyone make some change for me. Like, that's my default setting, or at least I hope it is most of the time, but I vent. I can't help it. I do. And I try to do it with a sense of humor and I blow off steam about it and drop an f-bomb or five and then I'm over it. So is this venting, is this complaining, or is this just me looking at that top part of the glass with no beer in it, who knows. I'm just sharing and maybe I'll connect with someone who is also not pleased about the fact that they have zits AND gray hair.

1. Cable TV: Well, any of you know me know that this is a love/hate relationship to be sure. I love TV in general. I do not love taking it up the a$% cablerarily each month when I pay my bill. I would like to be able to design something where I have the like, the 12 channels I want and can get rid of the 388 I don't want and only pay for 12 channels and not 400.
2. Not being able to get my chair right at work: We have nice chairs. I am a moron. I have a hard time some days getting the angle of the seat and back just like I like it (see the part about being a moron).
3. Obliviousness: I am talking about people in a store or a crowd anywhere who for some reason have decided they are the only ones there and do not need to pay attention about being in your space or your path. I'm really big. How do you not see that you're in my way?
4. Rude drivers: 'Nuff said.
5. Crowds: I only deal with them if I must. Some things are fun to do with a large group of people, like a watch a concert or a movie. Otherwise, I dig it when places are relatively empty. Like Target. How wonderful Target is when it's not crowded. Or a restaurant. Or a waiting room, whatever. I'm sure this has something to do with being a big person and always kind of feeling like a bull in a china shop, too. Crowds don't scare me or anything, they just bug me.
6. Snobs: Hmmm... how to explain this one... If you automatically think you're better than someone because you have more money than they do, or because of where that person came from, geographically speaking, or because you've had more schooling, or because of your line of work compared to theirs, you can suck it.
7. Body hair: My wish is for world peace and hair that grows on your body only where you want it to grow.
8. Having acne... as a f$%king grown woman: So. I've paid some dues. I made it through junior high. Terrible hair. Awful eyebrows. Pregnancy. Being in the workforce for 24 years. A failed marriage. Flaky guys on on-line dating websites. 41 birthdays. Should it not be time for me to catch a break in the form of not having zits? On the one hand, great, my skin is so oily that wrinkles are probably far, far away for me. For this I am thankful. And I know, I should be more diligent and consistent about my skincare, no doubt. But I swear, my nose is a blackhead masquerading as a nose. I don't even get how I can smell out of that thing because seriously, it's just one huge clogged pore. Okay, that's gross, but you get the idea. Raise your hand if you thought you'd hit some magic age in your twenties and never ever see a zit again? Yep, same here.

Most other things of which I'm majorly not a fan have to do with me, and that's a post for another time. What's bugging you in general or today specifically?

The Post About What I'm Thinking About Right Now

2011-09-17T09:17:00.001-07:00

In no particular order, certainly not in order of importance, I'm just going to talk about what's on my mind at the moment. And when I say it won't be in order of importance, I mean that probably nothing will be important so you might want to stop reading right now.

I don't have time to really sit and think of a composed sort of anything; my mind is a jumble of thoughts because I haven't finished my second cup of coffee and I'm on a time constraint because I've gotta get on the treadie so I can get in 40-ish minutes and have enough time to get ready and make a quick trip to the store before Spook picks me up for the Lafayette Art and Wine Festival today where we will see the Spazmatics play, yes, those NERDS THAT ROCK. (I'd think you'd say "nerds who rock," but hey, it's from their website.

Anyway, in my head:

Sleeping in was awesome. First time I've been able to stay in bed until 8 in a month.

Doing all this blogging has been swell, but I'm going to have to work on my posture at my desk. Don't think I'm terrible ergonomically correct at home and I'm feeling it in my old neck.

This week I WILL use the weight room at work. Tams has mentioned the weight room at her gym a couple of times, in her blog and on Facebook and I have been talking about how I have been doing ZERO strength training which makes no sense when a) I like it and b) I know how good it is for me, when it comes to my bones and metabolism and c) I have weights at home and d) I can use the weight room at work. For free. Whenever I want. And it's down street from my house. So I will be doing that at least once if not twice this week. Maybe it was never in my head because I didn't want people from work potentially seeing me look like a hag in workout clothes and no makeup? Ummm, I'm over that.

I need to clean my house. I mean, like, all the parts of my house, not just the parts I usually do because we're in them or the parts that company might see. It's redonk. Have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning the house?

With all this zucchini in my freezer (9 cups at the moment, thanks to gifts from the gardens of Steph and my next door neighbor), I WILL figure out a way to sneak some into Kayla's mouth this week. Whether it be in a muffin or a cookie or a smoothie, I gotta get this kid to eat vegetables. Not even MORE vegetables. ANY vegetables. I've laid such a bad foundation by not being more conventional about our eating habits. I gotta work on that s#%t.

I was reading Buddhism for Dummies in the john (a. k. a. "The Reading Room) this morning and I need to spend more time reading it. Such good stuff in there. About suffering and ending it and living morally. Yes. I need to be there.

Okay, my time's beyond being up. I know I mentioned this earlier this week, but my time management skills suck. I need to work on that.

What are you thinking about today?

Money and Stuff I Don't Spend it On Like Purses

2011-09-16T12:27:00.000-07:00

In human years I am 41. In money sense years I am approximately 11.

Actually, I might have had more sense about money at the age of 11, when my income was from a paper route and said income was spent on video games and Tootsie Roll Pops at 7-11 (it was a small and relatively unprofitable route).

I will come out and say that I am a complete and utter idiot when it comes to money. Here is what I know about it: I go to work and make some. Then I turn around and spend more than that on stuff I don't need. I have run out of it several times and have been embarrassingly bailed out by my mother more times than I care to count. I am pretty sure I owe her one million dollars, though she says I work some of it off by carting her around sometimes so maybe I owe her more like $999,900 at this point.

I have set out to make a budget a whole bunch of times. But I'm pretty sure that never happened. I can always tell you how much I pay in bills each month. There's no variable. It's the "other stuff" that trips me up.

So on the one hand, I eat out too much; mostly at work, sometimes going out with friends. I am not sure what my beer budget is, but it's pretty high compared to most households, I'd imagine.

I wind up spending a lot of money on grooming. I just got my hair done today and if I had the skills to do it myself or if I ever took my friend's advice and let her do it for me I would save A LOT of money. But I've been seeing Bernice for years and years and I'm a creature of habit and I like how she does my hair so there you go. I also can't use cheap shampoo (as much as I'd LOVE to) because of the kind of hair I have, so there's more money.

Don't even get me started on waxing. I gotta wax my brows. I can't not go and see Bev. Don't ask me about parts I get waxed that no one ever seems to see. It's pretty ridiculous.

And then there's stuff on which I refuse to spend money. Like purses.
I had this purse I LOVED and the only reason I am no longer carrying it is that I wore it out. It was from Target and made of fabric and it was a black and white floral pattern and it was so flipping cute. And it was $8.

That's right. $8. It was normally $10, but I got it on sale for $8 because I'm cool like that.

So in my pursuit to replace this purse with an almost exact replica, I searched high and low. Checked at Target every time I was there, no dice. Finally found it on Etsy and it was $26. I went back and forth with myself about it. $26? But I really want another purse for $8. Here was a purse that was adorable, hand-made, machine-washable, and I loved it. Yet I was hemming and hawing about it being $26. This blew the mind of my dear friend, Stephanie, when this come up when I was hanging out with her, Spook, and Sarah. She could not believe I would trip off of something like that when I do spend money on other stuff. How much had I spent for this particular girls' night? How much would I spend for a sushi lunch (seriously, like $24 sometimes with tax and all that).

And it was hard to explain why I want a purse for $8 and I want t-shirts that cost about the same and I why I don't even want to spend $30 on a pair of jeans and why I like to buy shoes at Payless. The only way it possibly makes sense is if I say it is wasted on me.

If you gave me a purse that cost $100 and a pair of jeans for the same amount I would look at you like you thought I was the Queen of West County. Why, these are garments and accessories made for royalty, I would say to you.

I TOTALLY don't begrudge anyone their fancy pants or real jewelry (I'm pretty much a fakey fakerson when it comes to that, mainly because losing earrings is what I do), and I'd never pass judgment. Okay, that's not entirely true. If I knew someone who was kind of a douche and they had a pair of $200 jeans I might say, "Oh my gosh, that guy is such a flipping douche in his $200 jeans."

To many I realize I look like an idiot because I DO spend money and I have too much stuff but not so many nice things to show for what I spend. So this isn't about me being cheap, sheesh, I wish I were were. It's just that when it comes to some things I want to spend this many dollars and with other stuff I will spend more dollars.
I went to the book fair at the kid's school today and spent 40-plus dollars on books. We go to the library. Where we can check out books. For FREE. But the kid's a bookworm and she digs owning books. As in, "I get to keep this one? All the time??"

And buying books encourages bookworminess. Which encourages her to be smart. Which encourages her to be so involved in her studies when she is older that she pays no attention to boys whatsoever and she gets into an amazing college where she studies science and becomes a doctor and finds a cure for all the incurable diseases.

Okay, so I'm pushing it a little. But we will get a lot of use out of those books. And when she is done with them we will pass them on to her baby cousin, and who knows how many years they will be around. I could almost buy a fancy purse on sale at Macy's for what I spent on book fair books.

But I really wanted to get those books for her.

What do you spend money on that you shouldn't? Are there "fancy" things you just can't live without, places where you refuse to not splurge? How do you like to save money or stick to a budget?

It's Complicated

2011-09-15T13:27:00.000-07:00

You know how you can pick that as your relationship status on Facebook? You can tell everyone that you are in a relationship and that "it's complicated." What relationship is not complicated at one time or another? I seriously think it should be implied in "married" or "in a relationship."

I guess if you pick that as your status it's more like the purgatory between a relationship and being single. That middle ground of confusion about whether to stay or go or whether he's on the same page with you because you kind of feel like maybe he is but then again there are these signals that suggest otherwise and then there's the length of time he takes to respond to your texts and...

Whew. I am glad I'm not in a relationship. But I mean, seriously, yay for the rest of you who do it and rock it, even with the complicated stuff.

At least a complicated relationship is something you could leave if it got too bad. Sadly, my complicated thing is my brain.

Here's what I wish. I wish there were a little switch on my brain that I could turn off an on. Like, literally, I wish I could turn my brain off sometimes. And it would also be nice if I could flip a switch that would turn on a scrolling marquee on my forehead that says, "It's complicated." What a great warning for people that would be!

My brain is the last place you want to be if, like Fergie sings in Big Girls Don't Cry, you are looking to be with yourself, center and get some clarity, peace, and serenity.

And that's why I'm writing about it because I'm always looking for ways to make it more peaceful and less complicated in there. Granted, it's been way worse in there than it is now. Right now it's not too bad... but there's still room for improvement and today I had sort of a light bulb moment about something I'd been making overly complicated and I told myself what I'm always telling other people (usually not to their face, usually it's when I'm kvetching about something at work or something that is driving me nuts). I say, "It's not that hard."

It's not that hard.

It really isn't. Some things just aren't that hard to grasp and to make sense of and yet I find myself over-complicating such things a lot. And I don't want to do that.

A friend recently posted a clip from YouTube of a guy doing a funny riff on the differences between the brains of men and women. He talks about women's brains being sort of like a jumble of wires where everything is connected, compared to the brains of men, which would look like a set of boxes, everything separate and compartmentalized. Now, I would be likely to say such an idea were ridiculous if it were not, in my case, so true. I do connect a bunch of stuff together and sometimes it is because it should all be connected together and other times, you know, not so much. But it's what I do (ask my ex-husband).

I will never be able to divorce my thinking from my feelings. And I will always be an over-thinker, sometimes to the detriment of my psychological well-being. But I'm writing because I'm also going to try to embrace the moments of clarity where I really listen to what I tell other people:

It's not that hard.

And also:

It's not that serious.
It's not nearly as complicated as I'm making it out to be.

The more I keep this in mind and the more I relish the feeling of taking something complicated and making it simple, the more I will be likely to do it. At least I hope so.

Do any of you think the crap out of stuff or have to deal with someone who does? Know any good tricks (other than meds, that's one of mine!) that help with this sort of thing? Please, share your ideas with me!

A Really Quick One About God

2011-09-14T13:20:00.000-07:00

So I started a blog post this morning that I thought was going to be about Dave Grohl and how I'm attracted to random people and then I got both confused and bored so I scrapped it. Perhaps I will come back to it later when I can think of a way to make it interesting to me.

Logically, instead of talking about the most beautiful rock star of all time, I will go ahead and talk about God.

Real quick-like, because I'm really sleepy and it's just about naptime.

I would really like to believe in God. Like, you have no idea how much. But I just don't. And I'm kinda pissed about it. It's odd, because it pisses me off but at the same time I feel perfectly normal about it.

I totally used to believe in God. I don't know when I first heard about Him, exactly, but I know that when I had the chance to go to vacation bible school at a neighbor's house and when the red and white church bus came around to pick up kids from Hilltop Green to go to the First Baptist Church of El Sobrante (El Sob #1) my brother and I were like, totally "all aboard" and whatnot.

I think I went to Sunday school for about three years or so... I can't remember why I stopped going, exactly, I just know that I did.

I spent from the age of 13 or 14 until I was 23 believing in God and saying prayers every night. And then Polly Klaas was abducted and killed. And then that was the end for me.

In an instant, it was all gone. I decided that God had to be a complete and utter sham because if there were a God, stuff like this wouldn't happen.

Now, right off the bat, those of you who believe will tell me I have it all wrong and that it's completely illogical and that there are reasons and a plan, etc. And I'm not questioning that idea at all. If it helps you to make sense of things, I'm all for it, and I would never judge it. It just doesn't work for me.

I just got to a point where I decided it made much more sense to me that all of us being here is about science. Obviously, I'm no scientist and I do believe that there could be a God involved with all this science-y stuff, I just don't happen to believe this is the case. At this moment.

In spite of the fact that I stopped believing, I started attending the El Sobrante United Methodist Church in 2001. I loved it, the pastor and the music were great. I left after Pastor Gaye's sermons feeling like I wanted to be a better person. Which is awesome and what I think church is supposed to be about. I might still be attending had I not moved and wound up working weird hours and weekends, because obviously, there is something to get from church even if you don't believe in God.

Did I mention that I'm agnostic and not an athiest? I do not have near enough conviction to be an atheist because hey, there could be a God, and if there is, well great.

Can I be agnostic and still hope that somehow, when I die, I will still be able to say, watch over Kayla? I hope so, because I am and I do.

It's about faith. I don't have any, not in someone who is above us or around us who has supreme power but chooses to sit back and watch all of this. And by this, I mean "the world," the good and the bad. Because as we know, there has been some really bad shit that has happened and I don't blame a supreme being for that, either.

When good stuff happens, I believe it's because we made it happen or we were super flipping lucky. I love the idea of being "blessed," but I don't believe in it. I am one of the luckiest people in the world. Had things gone slightly different at certain times in my life, I would not be sitting on my ass blogging write now. I might be sitting on my ass behind a liquor store passing around a can of beer in a brown bag to my friends. Seriously, some people would say, "there but for the grace of God go I" when they see someone less fortunate. And I say, thank goodness I have been so lucky to be where I am surrounded by those I am lucky enough to have in my life.

For those of you who are so fulfilled by your relationship with God, this is me saying, that is awesome. I sometimes wish I understood that and I had it and I'm not kidding, it's true. But at the same time, I truly believe you can be happy and fulfilled and a good (mostly) person because it's what you want to do and who you are. So don't feel badly for me because I don't have what you have. I'm just sharing what it looks like over here.

At the end of the day it's all about being nice to each other, no matter what your reason for doing that is. Whether you want to be like God or like Jesus or like Ganhdi or like Martin Luther King, Jr. or like your mom; whomever or whatever it is that inspires you to be a good person is a good thing.

Let's Start With the ABC of It

2011-09-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

Let's start with the ABC of it
Roll right down to the XYZ of it
Help me solve the mystery of it
Teach me tonight

If you have never heard Teach Me Tonight, dial it up on the YouTube. Dinah Washington's rendition is outfreakngstanding, and Amy Winehouse's version will break your heart because you'll see what a huge talent she was and how legendary she might have become.

Anyway, my dear friend Tami's blog post this morning was called "The ABC's of Me," a fun read and a great way to learn a little bit more about her, and since she asked us to share our own alphabetized list of random tidbits about ourselves, I figured it would be a great way to get my fingers moving on the keyboard and actually do a blog post since, unlike Tams who does it every day, I obviously have nothing similar to that level of dedication or ambition, so any little thing helps over here. Anyway, here it goes. I would love to get your list, so please, share it in the comments or wherever you like (just tell me where to find it).

A - Age: 41.25.
B - Bed size: California king and it still seems too small, especially when Kayla and Chief are all up on my side.
C - Chore I dislike: That would be all of them which is why I so seldom do them. Anything to do with cleaning my "office," as it is ALWAYS a complete and utter disaster area, would be at the top of the list.
D - Dog: I love them. I have never owned one as an adult and I can't imagine having to take care of one though I am asked at least every other day, "When can I get a puppy? Is seven old enough to get a puppy?" If a dog would use a litter box I would probably already have one.
E - Essential start to my day: Coffee and hugging up the kid. Followed closely by checking my e-mail and Facebook.
F - Favorite color: I like a lot of them. I love pink and lavender and black or black and white prints when it comes to clothing.
G - Gold or silver: Silver or white gold for sure. Though I'm more of a fake jewelry type of girl than anything.
H - Height: Ridiculously tall at five-eleven-and-three-quarters-and-no-not-six-it's-always-just-under-six-feet.
I - Instruments played: Oh, if only I could answer this question in a dirty manner. Trumpet in elementary school. And my dad had been a music teacher and I never practiced as much as I should have. And that's a whole other post that could be written with the help of a shrink. Trumpet and then baritone in junior high and high school. It was ginormous. And every once in a while I had to carry it home. From Crespi. On foot. Over the trail and through Hilltop Green. And up the hill from the park to my house. No wonder I find my life so flipping easy now. I think the last straw was playing it in the rain at Cal Band Day. NOT FUN. So that did not last my whole high school career, mercifully. I long to learn to play piano and drums. One day this may happen, at least the piano part, I hope. Oh, and guitar. I would like to be like a rock star lady and play guitar and sing at the same time.
J - Job title: Full-time mom and full-time police dispatcher
K - Kids: A 21 year old stepson, an 18 year old stepdaughter, and a five year old daughter and I'm really lucky I have all of them.
L - Live: Like every day is your last but within reason. Which means tell people you love often that you love them and have a really good time.
M - Money tip I like best: I'm not sure I've ever received a money tip, at least not one I've retained which would explain why my finances are the way they are.
N - Never plan to: Get married again. Marriage is great for other people. I will never do it again and I most likely would never shack up with a person again. I didn't realize how much I love not sharing my space with another grown-up until I'd lived it.
O - Overnight hospital stays: Ugh. Surgery to remove fibroids, C-section to remove a baby, and nose surgery to remove something that was in there and fix my deviated septum. Guess how many times I'd like to stay overnight in a hospital again? ZERO TIMES. First time was the best because I got a lot of morphine and slept through most of it.
P - Pet peeves: I'm usually bugged by the way people act as opposed to things that they do. So I am peeved by douchebags and people with no sense of humor or who think they are way more important than they are or who have no self-awareness or are selfish.
Q - Quote from a movie: So many good ones. "Don't be like me. Don't you be like me." - Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets telling Greg Kinnear's dog to not be as crazy like he is... which is what I say to my kid.
R - Righty or lefty: Righty, though my handwriting is so terrible I've always wondered if I was supposed to be a lefty.
S - Siblings: One younger brother who is awesome and hilarious.
T - Time I wake up: Days I work at 7 I sleep until 6, usually. Days I take the kid to school, 6:45-ish maybe? Just depends. Today I slept until 7 because the bd took the kid to school and it was divine.
U - Underwear: Yes. And I usually like them black. Unlike my coffee.
V - Vegetables I don't like: Okra. I can't think of anything else so I'm surprised I don't eat them more often.
W - What makes me run late: Extremely poor time management skills. There's no way to sugarcoat it.
X - X-rays I've had: Dental x-rays plenty of times. There was that stupid chest x-ray I got when my doctor thought maybe I had pneumonia and it cost me a fortune because I had a PPO or whatever and not Kaiser at the time. SMH. Oh, and I suppose I had one when I broke my arm when I was a teenager.
Y - Yummy food I make: Lasagna or anything resembling it. If it involves cheese and a casserole dish I usually believe it will come out okay.
Z - Zoo animals I like: Giraffes and zebras, and not just because they remind me of me.

Zukesagna!

2011-08-18T20:14:00.000-07:00

Yes, zukesagna. It's the fancy name I made up (and I guess I made it up because when I Google it I come up with nothing) for making lasagna and using slices of zucchini in place of lasagna.

Yes, fancy. Zukesagna! It's so fun to say I can hardly stop saying it.

So, since at least one Facebook friend (shout out to Livvy!) asked for a recipe, I figured I'd just blog it and then I could say that I'd actually done a blog post, since it's been a month or two or three of Sundays since I'd done one.

My dear friend, Stephanie, had a shit ton (I love that expression) of zucchini in her garden, and I was lucky enough to benefit from her bounty. I started with one that was ginormous. There's no other way to describe it. If I remember correctly, it weighed in at 3 pounds. I really like my new digital food scale and will probably mention it again before this post is done.

I peeled that big mofo and sliced it up. I wasn't sure how thin to slice it; the slices were thicker than lasagna noodles and of course they weren't uniform or anything because it's not as if I actually have any knife skills. Frankly, after slicing that zuke and an onion last night it's amazing that I have no wounds as a result. When I was done I had in the neighborhood of 5 1/2 cups. Anyway, after I sliced it I threw it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes. I used two pans, and the slices were overlapping, but I didn't really care. I was hoping to dry it out a little bit, and I'm not even sure if that did anything to that end, because it's not like I'm Alton Brown here, I'm no food scientist or anything.

I read a blip somewhere that you could salt up the zucchini and let it drain, I imagine a process similar to what I do with eggplant (I slice it, salt it, stack it, then put heavy stuff on top of the stack to help drain the bitter juices, then rinse it and dry it and it's ready to go). Just saying, I'm not sure you need to throw the zucchini in the oven at all, but you might want to address the high water content, because when my stuff was all done, it was a little watery, however, it did not take away from its deliciousness. That being said, I will certainly address that issue in a different manner next time and see what happens. Before I used it in the dish I did pat it dry a bit, but still, I'd love for it to be even a little drier next time.

After I dealt with the zucchini, I made my sauce. Well, if you've read this blog before you know I don't "make" sauce. I take jarred sauce and maybe add some stuff and voila, you've got sauce. So in this instance, I squeezed some chicken Sicilian sausage from Trader Joe's out of the casings and browned that up, all the while poking at it so it was nice and crumbly. Then I throw that onto a paper plate lined with paper towels to try to drain some of that grease and wipe my pan out, too.

Here comes the hard part: Open two jars of sauce. I know. I didn't mean to throw this wrench into this easy dish but yes, you will need to open up two jars of your favorite sauce. So I used Trader Joe's Puttanesca, by far my favorite jarred sauce of all time. I would have liked to use two jars of that, but I'm all diet-y and junk, so for my second jar I used Classico's Tomato Basil since it literally had like 8 grams of fat less than my Puttanesca. After I feel I've sopped enough grease off of that cooked sausage, I throw that back in the pan with the jarred sauces and let that simmer for a bit. I don't know, like 15 minutes would do just fine. And when I say simmer, I mean it's up higher than that until it sorta starts popping, then I turn it down to simmer, but I want to let all that stuff mingle for at least 15 minutes. I also added some red pepper flakes (I like my sauce a little spicy, just like my men) and some dried mince garlic. So do whatever you like with this step.

While that sauce was simmering I shredded some cheese. I had Monterey Jack and a sharp white cheddar from Trader Joe's, so I used three ounces (exactly, again, I love my food scale) each of those, in addition to using 6 slices each of lite provolone and lite havarti from Trader Joe's. I am calling it "lite" since that's what's on the package and if you try to do it like I did I wouldn't want you to be confused looking for light provolone and finding none. I also sliced up a sweet onion, since I had one and it sounded good.

Now it's time for assembly. I used a 15 x 10-inch glass baking pan. I always do sauce-noodles (zucchini)-cheese-sauce-noodles (zucchini)- cheese-sauce-a little more cheese, or something like that. I threw in sliced onion with the zucchini layers. So on my cheese layers I did my sliced cheese and filled in the gaps with the shredded stuff and then ended with the shredded stuff. I felt like more sauce would have been good, actually, so I will give you this warning that you might want a little more sauce if you use a pan this big and this much zucchini.

I covered it with foil and baked it at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes, then I took the foil off and gave it another 10 minutes... at least I think I did... that was all the way last night but I'm pretty sure that was right.

Of course you're gonna want to let it sit for a minute before you try to cut into that bubbly goodness. I cut mine into 12 pieces, and the breakdown went something like this using the ingredients I did (thank you, myfitnesspal.com): 307 calories, 12 carbs, 18 grams fat, 20 grams protein. You can TOTALLY bring the fat and calories down by using different cheese and sauce and omitting the sausage. Frankly, my stuff is totally freaking delicious made just this way, and for me the calorie/fat count was worth it, but next time I will try to get it lower.

So give it a whirl and I hope you enjoy it! If you don't, it's totally not my fault, I'm sure it's something you did or blame it on your oven!

Headboards and Other S#@t I Like to B$%ch About

2011-05-19T18:08:00.000-07:00

I slept in a twin bed until I was about 28. I know, it makes me sad, too. There was a time in there where perhaps I had my parents' hand-me-down full or something, but from the time I was a young teenager I had a twin bed that I loved. (Don't try to picture me at this size sleeping in a twin bed. You will hurt yourself laughing.)

So when I got together with my ex-husband at the end of 1997, it was obviously time to upgrade. I mean, the twin was cozy for a few months, but then it was just silly (even though I was MUCH thinner back then). I remember we bought a queen bed and a metal frame from this place on San Pablo Avenue near 23rd in San Pablo. It was a good deal. I remember at the time thinking wow, we really need a headboard and stuff, but let's just wait until we can afford to get matching stuff. You know, the whole deal. Dressers, nightstands, etc.

Then not long after the kid was born at the end of 2005 (stuff seems to happen to me in December, doesn't it? Her birthday is 12/27, my ex-dateaversary is 12/26), we got a really good tax refund and decided to upgrade to a California King. I think this was when we figured out we were "those" parents whose kid was going to sleep in the bed with them, pretty much until the end of time. Once again we were like, wow, just a spent a good chunk of change on this mattress and box spring... but at some point, we really need to get like, a headboard and all that jazz and matching dressers and stuff.

Fast forward 5-ish years later. I got custody of the bed. And I still have no freaking headboard. I have dressers that are falling apart and are of the variety a college kid would probably have in their dorm room. Apparently this is not much of an issue for me. What is an issue is the lack of headboard. I don't even care that much that my bed is practically on the floor. (Floor, box spring, mattress, us.) But the not having a headboard thing is driving me nuts. The kid has bonked her head on the wall a couple of times, and today I just about knocked myself out when I hit the back of my head on the window sill (who else is deathly paranoid about head injuries and thinks that any time they hit their head that this could be curtains and thinks of poor Natasha Richardson and all of that? Is it just me???). So enough's enough, I gotta do something about this. And this concludes my b$%ch about headboards.

I dislike that I'm a hoarder and that I never seem to throw anything away. I just seem to move piles of paper from one part of the house to the other.

I am not a fan of the fact that I'm lazy. For example, I've been too lazy for years to do anything about the hoarding/piles of paper issue.

It bugs me no matter how much I get inspired or try to inspire, that I still have so much trouble putting down the fork and that no matter how much I know it is not the answer, something gooey and cheesy or guacamole-y always seems to be the right answer when things aren't going well. At the time, it so very much seems to be the right answer. And then, afterward, not so much.

It sorta sucks that when it comes to men, I tend to gravitate like a big fat magnet to those who are not good for me or don't want me. It doesn't help that at my size, I've become something of a "specialty" (see previous b$%ch). On the one hand, it's not really a big deal. I'm not looking to get married, pretty much ever. On the other hand, it frustrates me that it even frustrates me when a HUGE part of me very much doesn't care. Decipher that s#@t if you dare.

It blows that at the age of 41 I still have not managed to figure out budgeting. You know, and spending only what you can afford, that sort of thing. That's pretty fucking sad. Sorry, that deserves that actual bad word.

I'm perturbed by people who don't get it. I can't put it any better than that. I figured that I should put in at least one b$%ch that wasn't about me.

You're probably thinking, man, Jen, if I were you, with all this stuff to kvetch about and the head injury, why are you not standing on top of your one-story house, thinking about doing a face-plant on to the concrete in your backyard? Well, the answers to that one are simple.

I have the best roommate/kid in the entire world. Who randomly accosts me with kisses and tells me I'm gorgeous and that she loves me so much and that I'm the best mommy.

That right there is enough. And then on top of it I not only have a job, but one that I love. Add to that the best friends that money can buy (kidding, about the money, not that they are the best), and the best family. Like, I actually enjoy family gatherings because my family is awesome.

So what was I saying? I'm thinking I might have a concussion... Oh, that's right. I need a headboard.

Conversations With Kayla

2011-05-06T10:19:00.001-07:00

I love talking to my kid. She is endlessly entertaining. I am fascinated by the conversations in which I find myself with her. Here is one we seem to have frequently. As a matter of fact, we pretty much had this conversation three minutes ago:

Kayla: Mommy, where's my (blah blah blah, I can't hear her because I'm on the treadmill, which is loud, and the TV is on, which is also loud, in spite of the fact I have the captions on).
Me: Honey, can you talk louder, please, I can't hear you.
Kayla: Where's my (blah blah blah, she has the cutest little voice which is very soft usually, especially when I'm really trying to hear her and the treadmill is loud).
Me: (Turning off the treadmill) Okay, what are you looking for?
Kayla: Where's my table?
Me: What table?
Kayla: The table for the Littlest Pet Shop toys?
Me: (pause, looking at her and thinking how cute she is and wondering how many times a day do we have conversations like this) Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about.
Kayla: Where is it?
Me: Honey, I don't know what it is. How would I know where it was?
Kayla: It's a REAL thing.
Me: I believe you, I just don't know what it is. (Pause) I need to go write this down before I forget.

So I hopped off the treadmill and came to write this down. This morning she wanted to know where her red scissors were. Who uses her red scissors? Just her. She's the only one who uses them, unless she hands them to me and asks me to cut something out. Right now she's into cutting out paper animals or people, and then cutting out food for them (like the blueberries she cut out of blue foam yesterday). But some things she wants help with... for example, circles are hard, according to Kayla. This is true.

So the point of all of this? There is no point. I'm just entertained by my kid and I'm not making fun of her. Because just this morning I called my mother to ask her where my calendar is. That's right, my calendar. That I use for writing down my stuff. But I had no idea where it was, and I figured she'd seen it when she'd been here taking care of Kayla. And sure enough, she had.

Me: (on the phone) Mom, have you seen my calendar?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Okay... do you know where it is?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Are you going to tell me?
Mom: You're the one who told me where it was the other day.
Me: And where was that?
Mom: Where are you?
Me: In the office.
Mom: Oh, you're really cold.

I'm not kidding. We had this conversation this morning. I also do that to my ex-husband, call him up and say, "Hey, while you were here, did you see such and such laying around?"

But really, this is such a mom thing, I guess. I don't mind Kayla coming to me to ask me where something is, even though I might not know what it is or have any clue regarding its whereabouts. It's just like, Mommy will know. And if she doesn't know, she'll help me find it (or go write about it). And I like that.

She just asked me, "Mommy, where's the white kitty?" I said, "I don't know... " "Oh, there it is!" It's so great when she finds stuff all by herself. And if she asks me first before she goes looking, that's okay with me.

Happy Mother's Day, to all of you mommies who constantly help your kids find their stuff.

The Filing Divorce Papers Post or I Am A Rock Star

2011-03-09T18:48:00.000-08:00

So, I finally did it. I filed my divorce papers. And the "finally" must be included because it's right there in black and white on the papers that our date of separation was March 1st, 2009. And chances are, that separation was at least a year overdue. So yes, finally.

I have known this day was coming. I have made several promises to my mom... that I would file it by my 40th (last June) or by this past Christmas or by Valentine's Day this year (because come on, that's kind of funny). I'm sure there were other dates I'd thrown out and missed just because everything else I have to do is so much easier. And I didn't think it was hard because of the emotional component; I figured all of that was water under the bridge. As far as I knew, I'd already done all the mourning of my marriage I needed to do when it was falling apart and shortly thereafter. The past two years featured some sadness and anger, but mostly it's been about me having a great time as an unencumbered grown-up (nope, the awesome kid doesn't count as an encumbrance, apparently) with a great group of friends and just loving life, mostly.

So when the bout of sobbing hit me this morning in the bathroom, it was unexpected and unwelcome and confusing as heck.

I had just finished printing and copying everything I needed to file. I knew I had some sorting to do, but I needed to take a break and get in the shower and get myself ready. I was brushing my teeth. I was thinking about having to go to Martinez to file the papers, and all of a sudden it was 2002 and I was younger and fresher-faced and I was happy and in love and getting a marriage license in Martinez. So I could get married and spend the rest of my life with this guy. And the next thing I knew, my mouth full of foamy toothpaste, I'm crying. No, not crying, but like, chick flick dumped girl sobbing. Like, pmsy forgot to take my meds for two days distraught.

I wanted to go and get a hug from my mom, she was already here so she could watch the baby while I took care of my business, but I was like, no... I don't want the baby to see me crying and I don't want my mom to think for a minute that my meltdown had anything to do with wanting to stay married. She and I have had that conversation like eight gajillion times. She's known I have been done emotionally for ages, but of course, as my mother, she wanted my rights protected and the only way to do that is to have it be official on paper. She's known the number one reason it hadn't happened yet was that I'm a lazy procrastinator. It's true, I am. For my part, I know that there were other things going on that prevented me from doing it sooner... but really, mostly, lazy procrastination.

Anyway, I had to just take a few minutes this morning to cry it out. Not for me now. Me now is fantastic. I guess I was crying for me from 2002, so (relatively) innocent and full of hope with all kinds of plans. Dang it, I'm tearing up now. Yes, I'm sad for that girl (I was almost thirty-two, but so much more of a girl than I am now!). Would I have it any other way? Absolutely not. And I always come back to thinking that things happen when they happen for a reason. I feel like I'm where I am supposed to be at this moment in time, and part of getting here was dragging my feet with this divorce. But now it's done and it's right and I don't think there'll be a need to shed any more tears.

As I walked away from the court clerk's office, I felt relieved. I didn't for a minute wish I could go back in there and change my mind, which is good, since the line was really long when I left. Had you told me at thirty-two that I wasn't going to live happily ever after with my ex, I wouldn't have believed it and I would have been devastated at the thought. At almost forty-one, it's not how I planned it, but as I sang along at the top of my lungs to Pink's So What the whole way home, I knew this is how I want it.

Recipe Wednesday: Enchilada Casserole Lasagna Thingy Surprise

2010-09-01T11:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it's not really recipe Wednesday, as that would imply I'll post a recipe every Wednesday. I just don't know how to make that many things, people, seriously. It would be cool to aspire to create new things once a week, but no way on Earth am I going to put undue pressure on myself and disturb my lazy groove.

So this isn't really an invention, just my version. There are a million recipes for enchilada casseroles out there. However, this is my recipe, since it is called Enchilada Casserole Lasagna Thingy Surprise, and you would be hard pressed to find a recipe on the Internet also called by this name. Don't recipes sound so intriguing if you tack a "surprise" onto the end? Yes, I think so, too.

I am sharing this with you people for two reasons. First of all, it's super easy and I think you will find it tasty. Second of all, I am afraid I'll forget how I made it, so if I write about it now maybe I can make it again!

Enchilada Casserole Lasagna Thingy Surprise

First thing in the morning OR the day before, make the crockpot salsa chicken. I kinda think I've posted that easy recipe before, but if not, all you need to do is take some chicken (for this I used the frozen chicken breasts in a bag that I purchased at Target). I used two of the breasts. Cover them with your favorite salsa (I used the green and medium red Herdez varieties). Set the crockpot on low and cook for 7 hours. Once the chicken is cool, you can use two forks to shred it up, and it will be incredibly easy to do. For this recipe I actually did mine the day before and shredded the chicken the next day, and that seemed to make it even easier. You can totally use more chicken if you want your casserole meatier, totally up to you.

With that shredded chicken (and at least the next day, the chicken had absorbed most of the salsa, so it wasn't really soupy at all, but it was still plenty moist; get it as salsa-y as you like, I don't think it will matter too much for this recipe) I mixed in about half a cup of chopped onion. The salsa already has onion, of course, but I had the onion, I like onion, and it sounded good to mix in there.

Oh, once you've got the chicken shredded you might as well turn your oven on. I started at 325 degrees, because I found an enchilada casserole recipe that used that temp, and it seemed to work well.

Okay, get a 13 x 9 pan (I used glass) and spray it up with cooking spray. Next pour some green enchilada sauce (I used Target brand) over the bottom. Just enough to cover the bottom, not sure I used the whole can. Next, tear up some corn tortillas (flour would work, I happen to like corn, and I think their sturdiness is good for a recipe like this). Like, I grabbed maybe 3 of them and ripped them... not into bite-sized pieces, but like into 6 or 8 pieces or so? Then I spread those pieces on top of the sauce so that the sauce was mostly covered.

Next spread a layer of chicken. It's a little tricky, because the salsa makes binds it up, so you kind of have to smoosh it around a bit, if that makes sense.

The next layer will be cheese, enough to cover the chicken. Use your favorite. I used mozzarella and the Target brand Mexican blend (yes, I got to Target A LOT), because that's what I had in my fridge. Next time I'd try a pepper jack (thanks for that suggestion, Ang!) and maybe a sharp white cheddar, because I like bite and I'm an I'm on a sharp white cheddar kick (TJ's has a good inexpensive white cheddar that's super yum).

On top of the cheese, more shredded tortillas, and then I poured Target brand red enchilada sauce over the top. I doctor up the sauce with just a little cinnamon and garlic powder. The cinnamon I think I got from a recipe I saw a long time ago for homemade enchilada sauce. I like what it adds to the sauce. Again, not too much, just a few shakes maybe. And as far as how much sauce, you're just wanting to make sure you cover all of the tortillas. I think ultimately I wound up using 2 1/2 cans total of sauce. So after the sauce, more chicken, and more cheese.

Lastly, because I'd run out of chicken, I did tortillas, sauce, and cheese. For the whole dish I wound up using 8 tortillas. It's not an exact science, obviously, since I'm giving you no measurements or anything. But all you're doing is acting like it's a lasagna, but instead of noodles you've got tortillas, and your meat and your sauce are separate, pretty much.

I threw it in the oven covered with foil and baked it for 30 minutes. Then I took off the foil, turned the heat up to 350, and before it even reached 350 just threw it back in for 10 minutes. When it was done it looked like that picture up there.

I wound up cooking it, putting it in the fridge, and then my dear friend, Sarah, took care of heating it up for me at Steph's house. I'm not sure at what temp or for how long, as I was busy drinking beer. But you know, probably like 325 for 20 minutes? That sounds about right. You won't even need to know that unless you wind up reheating, which isn't a bad idea, as you will have given the flavors more time to meld. I had this for breakfast this morning and I thought it was tastier than it was last night!

So give this a whirl and tell me how you like it. If you like enchiladas, I know you will like it, and this is even easier, so go make some right now!

Regret

2010-07-21T15:53:00.001-07:00

I am filled with regret right now. I write this so that maybe I save one of you from feeling the same way.

A friend of mine passed away the other day. She was a very interesting person with a great sense of humor. I hadn't seen her in... probably two years. She was living in an assisted living facility and though it was in the same town in which I live, I hadn't been to visit her.

Why? Any number of reasons that don't make any difference now. I just know now, too late, that I should have taken the time to see her.

I would give anything to hear one more story from her youth or about the way things used to be at the police department. Or have a chance to tell her how much I enjoyed her company during those few dinners or lunches we shared. Or that time she entertained me while we endured the mundane task of watches boxes and boxes of old records get put in a gigantic shredder. I would tell her I wished she hadn't had to have dealt with some of the strife she endured. I wish her life had been easier, and I wish I'd not said to myself countless times, "One of these days I'll go and visit her."

I do this with many things in my life. One of these days I'll deal with the boxes that have sat unpacked in my garage for the past year. Or I'll fill out those divorce papers. Or I'll really get this house so organized that there is a place for everything and everything's in its place.

And those things will get done. But I won't get one more story from Topsy. So if there's someone you've been meaning to see or call, just do it. You won't be sorry.

Crock Pot Love Affair

2010-03-25T13:35:00.000-07:00

I heart my crock pot, I really, really do.

It's hard to remember when my love affair started, but I know that several years ago I found a recipe for crockpot cheesy chicken, or something like that, on RecipeZaar. That has become one of my standbys because it so easy and I don't have to look up a recipe.

boneless skinless chicken breasts - however much you want, I think the recipe was like for 2 lbs, and I ALWAYS use ice glazed chicken breats, the kind you find in the bag at Trader Joe's or the grocery store, but they seem to be cheaper at Trader Joe's
2 cans of cheddar cheese soup
1 can of cream of chicken soup
garlic powder
salt and pepper

So maybe it's 2 cans of cream of chicken and 1 can of cheddar cheese, I can never remember and I've probably done it both ways. But all you do is throw that chicken in the crock pot (when you're using the ice glazed chicken there is no prep involved), and then mix up the other stuff (the salt, pepper, and garlic powder are to taste), and then you dump that over the chicken. Turn your crockpot on low for about 7 hours and you are done. Chop it or shread it and serve it over egg noodles or a baked potato or rice, whatever. You could also jazz it up with other spices. It's just simple, easy comfort food.

Several months ago Super and I went to Sarah's house for dinner. She made us chicken enchiladas. I was like, this chicken is so yummy and flavorful and moist, how'd you cook it? She tells us she just threw chicken in the crock pot and threw a jar of green salsa over it. After 7 hours it's ready to shred.

What the? Who the? How the? No way, it could not be that easy! But sure enough it was. And since then I have made that stuff many, many, many times. I've used green salsa (Herdez is my personal favorite), red salsa, and at various times added jalapenos or green chili or onion. I also throw a little garlic powder on top because I always think some garlic powder's a good idea. Once you shred it up you can use it for tacos, burritos, enchiladas, salad, whatever. Too easy.

Yesterday I did a variation on this and topped the chicken with a jar of spaghetti sauce. I used the Puttanesca sauce from Trader Joe's. Wowza. Just had some over a baked potato topped with some of Vanessa's Homemade Buttermilk Ranch dressing, and dang... that was delicious and filling and fabulous.

It's all about low investment, high reward. I am all about this concept in cooking and in life.

Don't get me wrong, some things are hard work and rightly so, and have amazing results. But some things shouldn't feel hard. For example, if you work hard to hook up with a friend only to find you don't have any fun when you hang out with them, or worse, they annoy you, then I suggest you don't hang out with that friend any longer, or at least not often. Life's too short for that. Look around and see if there are any places you can crockpoterize (that's a new word, yes, I just made that up) your life.

And if you have any crock pot recipe ideas, send them my way!

Fair is Fair

2010-03-18T10:06:00.000-07:00

The last few days I've been feeling like a raving bitch.

I had some discord in my life, and I've been feeling like a spoiled-ass brat. Am I really getting so mad about this, I wondered? What the hell is wrong with me?

But now that I have gotten the issue resolved, and it happened to come out the way I wanted, I realized that I wasn't getting mad because I wasn't getting my way. I was getting mad because it wasn't fair.

Stuff not being fair kicks my ass. In the grand scheme of things, I am super lucky. Like, to have my kid, my family, my friends, my job - I should shut the bleep up and never complain.

But there's this whole big lump of "not-fairness" that I have in my life, and I've pretty much resolved myself to knowing, well, shoot, when it comes to this situation, Jen, you kinda got screwed, you'll continue to get screwed, you can't change that, so move on. I get through this situation of unfairness by looking at all I have in the rest of my life and thinking hey, I'm still way ahead of the game.

But when this one little situation came up recently, I was incensed. It was like okay, I've already figured out the rest of that stuff sort of sucks, but now, really, this is too much. And it wasn't a big thing, but the unfairness of it was big. The lack of give and take. That whole human thing of expecting people to give back what they get. Give and take. Fairness. That was huge.

So after finally being able to get this across, I feel much better. And even now I feel like, is it because I got my way? And it's like no, it's because fair is fair. I do for you, you do for me. That's how it should be. When it can't be like that, that's one thing. But when it can be, so help me it had better be that way or deal with my wrath (I am totally picturing that thing that Samuel L. Jackson's character would say in Pulp Fiction before he capped someone... ).

Anyway, tension is flowing away as I type. I hope all of you get some fairness today. You deserve it.

The Post About the Phobic Thing

2010-03-12T12:04:00.000-08:00

Let's set the scene. Fall of 1982. Math Building, Juan Crespi Junior High, El Sobrante (El Sob, #1), California. The final school bell rings and students are pouring out of the hallway, free to go about their business for the day until they are once again imprisoned within these walls.

A tall, awkward girl with regretfully large '80's hair and big eyebrows is unknowingly suffering from a bit of the stomach flu. She exits the building and pukes her guts out (mostly hamburger and Rice-A-Roni, the previous night's dinner, which will forever become the Meal She Will Not Eat), just outside the building, as several students pass by.

She doesn't at remember if any of the students said anything, but come on, it was junior high. There was probably some pointing and staring and laughing, because let's face it, junior high school students are, by and large, idiots. She does remember a nice teacher named Ms. O'Connor or Ms. O'Conner (or was she a Miss or Mrs?) checking on her to make sure she was okay. She'd never had her for a teacher but she would always remember her kindness.

And this my friends, this seemingly insignificant unfortunate incident would be one that would shape the life of the puker for at least the next 10 plus years. And if you're thinking that the puker is me, well, of course you're right, since this is my blog and all, it only makes sense that this would be my story.

Had this happened to one of my more normal, confident, secure fellow students (some of whom I am today lucky enough to cherish as friends), it would have been embarrassing, sure. But it probably wouldn't have altered their lives. But when it happened to me, not only was I just starting the 7th grade, busting out with hormones, and incredibly shy, it turns out my wiring was such that this made me a little crazy. Well, not crazy exactly (though I totally am not ashamed to say that yes, I am a little nuts, and this is a pretty well-known fact). It made me afraid. I was scared to go to school (yep, that's why I missed so much of junior high and high school) and ultimately to be in any situation in which I felt like I couldn't easily get out. I always hoped for the seat in class next to a door; otherwise I'd be preoccupied about "what if... " What if I get sick? What if I can't make it to the bathroom? What if it all happens again?

And the crazy thing is that I was hardly ever sick. I mean, I'd not feel well, but I hard ever actually vomited as kid or a teenager. So to spend years being afraid of it was pretty ironic.

It got to the point where I refused to go to the mall. Going to the movies I could handle okay, because at least I could say I liked to sit near the back on an aisle and not look like a weirdo. I never shared any of this sort of thing with anyone. I couldn't say, I can't do this or that because I'm afraid I'm going to puke. I don't know that I ever even verbalized it that way to my best friend or to my mom.

My breaking point came in 1992, Easter Sunday. I was at Raley's on San Pablo Dam Road. I filled the shopping cart with items. I went to stand in line and panicked when I saw that all of the lines were long. My cheeks started to feel... puckery. I hadn't been sick or anything, but if my cheeks felt like that, oh boy, maybe that meant something was going to happen. I went over to the far side of the store, parked my full cart, and left.

That was the end.

I went and saw a psychologist at Richmond Kaiser. I was so nervous to go and tell my story. I felt at that time like the craziest person on the planet and so ashamed. I will never forget two things. One, she told me I was not crazy, but I was phobic, and she referred me to a program at Kaiser in Vallejo called Phobease. Number two, I thought she was dumping me after only 10 minutes because I was too crazy and I really couldn't be helped.

I went to this Phobease meeting, run by this guy named Dr. Harold Leibgold. My best friend Kim, who I'm lucky enough to still call my best friend, went with me as my support person. At this meeting were several other people, who like me, were afraid of something. Snakes, planes, bridges, open spaces, closed spaces, you name it. And they were all grown-ups. At the age of 22 and still living at home, I really didn't feel at all like a grown-up.

So Kim and I went for however many weeks... 8? 10? I don't remember, it seems like a lifetime ago. It was all about desensitization. And relaxation. He told us not drink caffeine or watch the news on TV (because that's not good for sensitive folks). It was all about reprogramming our brains, working against the wiring that was in there that made us afraid. It was all about taking little steps. The first assignment I think gave myself was to go to Hilltop Mall, park where the old theaters used to be on the lower level, and walk halfway up that first hallway. That was it. Once I could do that with little to no anxiety, I was able to make it all the way to end of the hall. And so on and so forth.

It was a process. And little by little, day by day, I felt less scared and more "normal." Whatever that means. Essentially, Dr. Leibgold saved my life. And I've never even thanked him, what a rat I am! I think I'll see if I can send him a message and a link to this post...

I think one of the reasons I share this is because I never want anyone to feel ashamed if they need help. I feel like I spent more than 10 years only half-living, and I wouldn't want anyone else to do that. Would I change it? Absolutely not. Those years made me who I am, and maybe they make me appreciate life as much as I do. What if I hadn't wound up dropping out of college at the age of 21? I wouldn't have wound up finishing my degree at Cal State Hayward and having such an awesome college experience filled with amazing teachers and classes that I didn't appreciate when I was 18.

Most importantly, every step we take puts us in the direction we're going... I'm here now because of all the stuff that worked and didn't work, and I wouldn't rather be any other place.

So live and enjoy and love and laugh and entertain and be entertained. And don't be afraid. But if you are, know that you're not alone.

The Year So Far

2010-01-09T11:19:00.000-08:00

So far I'm giving 2010 a thumbs up. Definitely better than 2009. Granted, in 2009 I ended a marriage and lost a house so it's not like the first 8 (almost 9, I guess) days of 2010 would have to be stellar to put it ahead of 2009.

So what's better about it? Well, for starters, it's an even-numbered year. I tend to think those are better for some reason. For example, I was born in 1970, my parents bought their house in Hilltop Green in 1978, 10th and 12th grades were okay as far as school goes, while the 9th and 11th not so much. I started my job at the West County Times in 1990, and while it was a low-paying dead-end sort of job, I made friends there that I will have for life. Started one of my least favorite jobs in 1999. Got together with my ex-husband in '97, but got married in '02. My kid was due in January of 2006... but she showed up in December of 2005...

Okay, so the whole even-numbered year thing doesn't hold much water, but still. There is a certain sturdiness to 2010 that I appreciate. And like hey, we have made it through an entire decade of the 21st century! And want to know what's weird? Years from now, assuming the world as we know it still exists, the people around in the year 2090 will be talking about how WE lived in the olden days, back in 2010, like we talk about the people who were around during the big quake of 1906! Whoa. That's trippy. But as usual, I digress.

I suppose my favorite thing about 2010 is that I started my new year's resolution before the year started. After celebrating a wonderful Christmas with my family, followed up two days later by Kayla's 4th birthday, to say I was super duper fat would be a HUGE, and I do mean huge, understatement. As my dear Spook said that time we ate at Strings so many years ago, as we were finishing up our shared dessert, "I'm so fat I can't turn my head." Yes, it was like that. And sadly, I had been feeling like that for quite some time, oh, I'd say at least since 2006.

At least while I was pregnant and fat, that was okay, because, you know, I was pregnant. But when instead of losing weight after I got pregnant I kept gaining... and gaining... apparently due to eating to combat stress... and eating because I was bored... and eating because there was some food over there, you know, within reach... and not exercising... like, almost ever. See, all of that will make you fat!

Throw in being in your late '30's and well, you're pretty much screwed.

Oh, so yes, the new year's resolution was to put down the fork and get off my ass. I think I can say ass because this is my very own blog, and if you read this, you probably know me, and if you know me, you know I like bad words. A lot.

So on the get off my ass front, I have done some sort of exercise every day for the past 13 days. I have decided I must become as I once was, in the late '90's, that person who MUST exercise every day. I swear to God, that was me. Not only that, but I took weight training classes at Contra Costa College, and at my leanest, I actually went to Jazzercize class in a sports bra and tight little matching shorts. And looked good. I'm not kidding.

And no, I will never have that body again. If for no other reason than I'm damn near 40, not 29, and I am pretty sure that having a baby live inside my body for several months actually stretched my bones. At least it sounds good in theory.

On the put down the fork front, that has been harder BUT I have had amazing accomplishments such as not having a single Red Onion french fry yesterday when I was smelling that most wonderful aroma for close to an hour, and not taking a single one of the chocolate chip crack cookies that Super brought in, and really, they are crackrrific. Granted, it's always going to be a struggle because I've always loved food and always eaten when I'm not hungry, but I'm trying really hard to be mindful of what's I'm my fork and trying to keep in mind that what I've been doing DOES NOT WORK.

Does my new mindset (because really, it's new, I haven't exercised 13 days in a row since... ummm... the late '90's?) have anything to with turning 40 in June? I did not think about that consciously but I'm pretty sure it does. I'm not freaking out about it so much as that number might as well be a sign that says, STOP F#%KING AROUND, JEN! Like, really, this is the only life and the only body I'm getting. Do I want to wear cute clothing? Yes. Do I want to be healthier for my kid and for me? Of course. Do I want to have to fend off guys at the bar? Weeeellllll, that part not so much, that would be annoying. I do like the invisibility that this fat suit can sometimes give me!

I am so hoping I don't write in 2 weeks about how I went back to my old, non-working ways. That would be a real bummer. I don't know... I'm thinking I will still be liking me and 2010.

Where I'm At

2009-10-14T19:16:00.000-07:00

So it's not been the greatest week for me. It's been about changes and ups and downs, and while I'm generally a big fan of the ups, the downs I could do without. Well, technically, with no downs, the ups would just be... well... flats? Normals? So while we need the downs, the ups are almost always better.

At work we rotate shifts every three months. Well, we sign up for shifts, anyway. Some people stay on the same shift rotation after rotation, year after year. Either because they have the seniority so they pick the shift they like all the time, or they have no seniority so they are stuck on the same shift every time. At any rate, I'd been working weekend day shift, and now I'm working weekday day shift, and I'm having some trouble adjusting to this.

What, you say? Are you kidding, Jen? You gotta be out of your mind! Weekends off? And you work during the day? Well, yes, it certainly has its benefits. I can get caught up with friends who have a similarly normal schedule without taking time off, so that's cool. But weekend day shift... what an oasis. It really is. Saturday and Sunday during the day, I think the criminals are probably sleeping in or staying at home planning whatever their nighttime shenanigans are going to be. The schools are closed (not sure if you've heard, but teenagers can kind of be a pain in the you-know-where. Should you doubt this just check out the blotter I write for my department sometime and see how much of the stuff on there has to do with teenagers!). Oh, and there are no detectives or administrative types there. And I'll just not comment on that last part except to say that this is generally a good thing.

So whatever, I could totally get used to this new shift. It's not a big deal, and it's only for three months anyway, and after that I'm back on weekend days for six months. But at the same time the shifts changed, so did the weather. Gloomy, gray, dark in the morning when I go in and dark at night when I come home. I feel like the sun left, and with it took my energy and my joie d'vivre. Just like that. And then there was the day with the crazy wind and rain and all that. And then let's just say that my hormones have been off-balance at precisely the wrong time.

All in all, it's been a rough week.

And there's the personal life. Ugh. Here's what I've figured out on that front.

Things don't always work out the way you want.

You can't fix people, even if they want to be fixed. They need to do that on their own.

You can't get someone to take responsibility for their actions if they are dead-set against it. You might have to face the fact that the only thing they know how to do is to blame you or others for everything that is wrong.

I've also figured out this isn't fair. And have long known that life isn't fair. Also, while I don't think nice guys always finish last, and that it makes more sense to be nice than not, I also know that nice guys don't always finish first, either.

This week has been a back and forth struggle for me, between wanting to wallow in self-pity, and wanting to snap out of it and embrace life and all its wonderfulness.

For starters there's this super cute, wonderful, fabulous, awesome, brilliant, exciting, hilarious kid who just walked in a minute ago and said, "Mommy? I loooooooove you." 'Nuff said.

I don't write this down for pity. Those of you who read my blog know me well enough to know that sometimes, just writing it down helps me sort it out. It puts it all into perspective. When I feel sometimes like it's too much, I write it down and think, "Oh, hey, it's not too much. It's just a couple of paragraphs. Piece of cake."

So I work weekdays. It's busier and I'm not feeling comfy-cozy with this new team of officers like I did with the last. On the flip side, one by one my weekends are filling up with fun stuff. There is already a weekend on the calendar that may have three parties. What? Huh? That's just nuts.

So the days are shorter and the weather will be more blustery. On the other hand, I'll get to use my fireplace and cuddle up on the couch with Kayla, and soon it will be Christmas, and I already have the perfect spot for my tree, right in the front window so everyone will be able to see it.

And as far as the personal life... even if some things will never change, I know that I can change how I react to those things.

And I just checked the weather forecast. Sun every day. Even one day next week when it might rain, there is still sun peeking through the clouds.

Indeed.

Notes from Tweaktown, USA

2009-08-25T08:47:00.000-07:00

There are some things I just can't figure out. A whole lot of them. And most of them are about me and the way I operate.

If you know, for example, that the way you are currently functioning just isn't really working to your advantage you'd change the way you're currently functioning, wouldn't you? Well, of course! Unless, of course, you're nuts.

Ahem.

Anyway, take this sleep thing I've been going through lately. Any of you who read this (I love that when I write that in the back of my head I'm thinking, "That's right, the three or four of you who read this thing, you know who you are, I could pretty much just address this to you guys!) and follow my Facebook status changes will know I've been having a little trouble sleeping lately. For the past few weeks, I have no problem whatsoever getting to sleep. It's the staying asleep that's a bitch. Can I use bad words in my blog? Heck, I think they even use that word in primetime TV. Anyone else remember when they couldn't even say "damn," not even after 9 p.m. on a racy show like Three's Company? Yes, I'm that old.

So what happens is that I go to sleep when the kid does (because yes, she's sleeping with me, and yes, at some point I'll address that issue). Usually even before she does, because the stories and the playing with dollies knocks me out before it does her and she's usually mad I can't do one more story or make Chuckie and Tommy from Rugrats talk some more about whatever (she always gets to be Angelica, which should worry me, because Angelica's a little mean, but I guess I'll just keep an eye on her). Oh, and by the way, I love that she's loving playing with dolls that were originally for my stepdaughter from about a hundred years ago, and that she loves to watch the videocassette of The Rugrats Movie over and over again. Talk about getting your money's worth - I don't even think that video was purchased for full price, because I think that's from back when her father was working at Blockbuster. But oh boy, I way, way, way digress.

So I get to sleep before 10 usually, work or weekend night. Invariably around 2 or 3 a.m., nature calls. Now this has always been an issue for me. I'm usually drinking water right up until when it's time to go to bed. So there's the first thing I could change - perhaps curtail my liquid intake and not have to wake up in the middle of the night to pee! Seriously? Is this even possible? That seems so far-fetched I doubt I'll even check out that theory, but who knows.

Normally after I take care of business, I get back in bed and go right back to sleep. Or maybe it takes 5 or 10 minutes, but that's about it. But the past few weeks it's not working that way. For some reason, my brain wants to race. And race. And think about business that has to be taken care of, bills that need to be paid, checkbooks that need to be balanced, boxes that need to be unpacked. So there's all that run of the mill stuff. Then there's the Big Picture sort of stuff. What is something happens to my baby daddy, do I have to pay for a funeral since he has no life insurance (because we're still legally married)? What happens to my kid if I die? Why haven't I written a will? What if something happens to my mom? What if this economy never gets any better? What if the City of Pinole decides to have the Sheriff's Office handle the dispatching? What the hell else would I do to make this kind of money with my English degree? Why did I not finish my master's degree when I was this close and look at all that time and money down the drain because I waited so long and now I'd have to start all over again?

Oh, and it gets better: Why will I not stop eating so much when I know I don't like the way it makes me look or feel? Am I cruising toward a heart attack at 40? Why isn't the fact that I want to be healthy for my beautiful angel enough to make me live healthy? Why is that one week I can hit the gym every day, and the next week seem to forget I belong to a gym?

And the kicker: What if anything ever happened to my darling girl? Of course, that's the one I hate the most. Having the majority of my happiness eggs in this one beautiful basket, and wishing that I could be with her every minute of every day to somehow make sure she stays safe and healthy. Any mom will agree with me. It's scary. And it's a matter of luck, sometimes, and it all comes down to life being random and I hate the randomness of life.

So of course, I cannot do anything about the things that might happen. But obviously, it makes no sense to worry about things that might happen. Will writing this down and putting it out there for everyone to see make me do it less? Gosh, I hope so.

But look at all that other stuff I tweak about. All that other stuff I could change. How about the checkbook, for example? Yes, I can hop online and make sure I have money and at any given time I think I have a pretty good idea of what I've got in the bank. But ever since I became a one-income family, I've wanted to bury my head in the sand about some things, and this has been one of them. I know it would make me feel better to open my checkbook, and know, at any given time how much money I have, right down the the penny, as was the case so many months ago. So will I start balancing the damn thing? Gosh, I hope so.

Will I start taking better care of myself? Eating better, exercising regularly, that whole thing? Gosh, I really, really hope so.

I don't know if this blog is me hitting bottom with this sleepless thing. I'd love to think that, but it could also mean that I was done checking in on Facebook, the kid's still sleeping, and the next thing to do would be chores, so I decided to come write instead. But really, writing for the three or four of you who read this is quite cathartic and hopefully, in this case, I'll change some of my ways as a result. Heck, you never know. If not, the party's at my house at 2 a.m.

My Kid

2009-07-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

The kid is endlessly entertaining. This goes without saying. But this morning she is especially so, and she's warming my heart like crazy.

She wakes up and looks at me, her big brown eyes sparkling as only hers do, a big smile on her face. This is why I call her my sunshine. I remind her from time to time that I used to sing "You Are My Sunshine" to her when she was a tiny, itty, bitty baby. I can remember singing to her, my eyes welling with tears, because I was so overwhelmed and amazed by my love of this brand new human.

And yes, if you are wondering, she still sleeps with me. Is she ready for her own room and bed? Yes, most likely she is. Would I terribly miss reading stories and playing dollies with her until I can no longer keep my eyes open, and waking up to her gorgeous face next to mine? Yes, I absolutely will. Do I need to get over this and let her move on because it's probably what's best for her? I'm undecided about that...

Anyway, she wakes up and says:

KAYLA: Mommy, I had a dream last night...
MOMMY: What was it about?
KAYLA: I had a dream and... Mommy, can you tell me what it was about?
MOMMY: I can't, sweetie, only you know what you dreamt about!

Kayla thinks about this for a minute.

MOMMY: So you forgot what it was about?
KAYLA : Yes, I forgot.

Later I'm getting her dressed so she can go play outside with her new Diego gardening tools in the patch of dirt we have in our big backyard. The big backyard that will be so much better when that patch of dirt is not surrounded by weeds as far as the eye can see, and when that patch of dirt is something cool, like maybe grass, or the spot where a sandbox goes. But for now she really loves her dirt patch. So I'm dressing her, and out of the blue she says:

KAYLA: Mommy, I love you.

It never fails to kill me when this comes out of nowhere and it totally unsolicited.

MOMMY: Oh, honey, I love you, too.
KAYLA: You are in my heart.

Oh my God, are you kidding me???

MOMMY: Oh, baby girl, you are in my heart, too! You fill up my heart with so much love, I can't believe it! Where did you get that?
KAYLA: It means we are family!
MOMMY: It does, but where did you get that from? Where did you hear that?
KAYLA: I don't know, somewhere... maybe I heard it on the TV.

Sigh. Just when I think I can't love her anymore. I swear she gets better and better. I know, those of you with icky teenagers or kids at some other funky age are going to laugh when I'm talking about how she drives me nuts and I wish I could legally lock her in the attic for a number of years. But for now, I mean it with every fiber of my being that she gets better and better, and each day I enjoy her more and more.

Oh, and while I'm writing, I might as well share something I've been thinking about the last couple of days. Single momdom. I want to give a major shout out to all the single mommies, all the single mommies, put your hands up, put your hands up. Seriously, any of you who are or have been at any time in your life a single mom, I salute you. And here's why. First of all, I have an awesome support system. Pretty much, when I need them, my mom and Kayla's father are there to back me up and take care of the kid when work does not allow me to do so. But even if you have this, it's the little day to day things that we do, that parents with partners can sometimes pass off to the other partner, that make me say SINGLE MOMS ROCK. Single dads, too, of course, but I'm coming from this particular perspective. Like, say you've had a rough day at work, and you really do not feel like dealing with bath time. Or wiping someone's butt. Or taking out the garbage. Or whatever. You don't get any passes. No passing this job off to the other guy, just for the night, just because you need a little break. It's on you, Mom, you're the only grown-up here, and it's on you.

Granted, having a kid who is able to do so much for herself now and who, in spite of the fact that on a recent day she earned three time-outs, is pretty much a super good kid, makes the whole thing a lot easier. She likes to get her dollies and play in her room, so she gives me plenty of breaks (hey, like the one she's giving me now so I can write this). And I never feel resentful of anything I have to do for her. I just get these flashes of being able to say, "Hey, how about you handle this, so I can get in an episode of my show from the DVR?" You know, stuff like that.

But at the end of the day, with it being just the two of us, I think we are closer than ever. And of course, I wouldn't have it any other way.

George

2009-07-15T21:19:00.000-07:00

I've not yet done a blog about moving. I'd planned to blog about the experience and the emotions and perhaps I will at some point. But for now I just need to do a quick post about George.

George is my cat. I guess I'll still refer to him in the present tense, even though I don't know where he is or what happened to him. I got George from work - he was one of several cats who had taken up residence in the back lot over the years. Many people fell in love with him because he was adorable and friendly. At the time I decided to adopt him, it was not because I needed a cat. I already had a cat, Chief, and I'd already had him nearly seven years or so at that point, AND I was pregnant. So what I really didn't need was trying to get two cats to make nice with each other while dealing with my pregnancy. But threats were being made that George would be taken to the shelter if someone did not take him in, so I took him.

The first little bit was bumpy. My other cat was not thrilled to say the least. And even four years later, I'm not sure they ever really became friends, and instead tolerated each other.

Shortly after we got George he got this gaping wound that abscessed. I can't even remember exactly where it was, but the vet had to put one of those wonderful cones around his neck. Ever work graveyards, be sick-as-a-dog-pregnant (this was before the doctor figured out I needed drugs for the constant nausea and vomiting), have a husband who travels most of the week, and deal with cat with a cone around his neck who can't seem to figure this out so he keeps on licking the cone? If you have never had this experience I don't recommend it. I think he had to wear that thing for at least a week. The longest week of my life, I'm pretty sure.

George was a hunter. He loved to bring home what he caught. Mostly birds, but sometimes mice. While I appreciated that he was in tune with his primal side, I was not a big fan of this. I had been spoiled by having a cat for years whose idea of hunting was looking for the best person from whom to beg. Though I'm sure George meant them as gifts, headless bird carcasses are pretty low on any of my wish lists.

He grew to tolerate Kayla - maybe he even liked her at the end. And even though he'd scratched her a few times she pretty much had it coming. She would tell people, "George doesn't like you in his face or he'll scratch you." And there was no comparing him to Chief when it came to the kid - Chief is like a dog cat and Kayla is nuts about him. He is extremely tolerant of her and loves the attention. But even now Kayla says, "My job is to take care of my kitties, Chief and George, except now George is lost."

And how did I feel about George? Well, shoot. It's like this: Even Chief got majorly redheaded stepchild treatment after the kid came along, and I used to act like he was my baby B. K. (Before Kayla). So George came right before Kayla came, and we never bonded the way Chief and I had. Also he was always outside, looking for adventure, so it just wasn't the same. But ever since I split from my ex, George had become more a member of the family. This is going to sound weird, but it's almost like he knew there was some kind of void, so he tried to be more patient and more loving or something.

And he was a really a good cat, basically. Even though he was often dirty and wounded and loud - oh gosh, could he meow so loudly, and it always seemed he was the loudest in the dead middle of the night - he was still a sweet cat. He had this funny way of moving his head around when he wanted some attention... This is what I keep picturing when I think about the fact that I'll probably never see him again.

One week and two days after we moved in, he was gone. He'd been in and out several times at the new place and had always come back. What bothers me is that he was so street smart, and he really did love us - in spite of our ability to fully embrace him like maybe we should have, he was happy for what he got from us, so I know that if he could come back he would. Which makes me think that something bad happened to him, either accidental or intentional. As much as I hate to think anyone would hurt an animal on purpose, I can't help but have it cross my mind.

It really bothers me that the memory of losing George will always for me go hand in hand with moving to this new house, which is kind of like starting my new life. But then again, this beginning is filled with endings, isn't it? I just don't like that just like that, he's gone, and he's part of the bad stuff that goes with the new start.

Things happen. Life is about love and loss. So in the end, this is just to say, George, we loved you, even if we didn't show it enough, and you'll be missed.

Motherhood, and How It Feels When You Don't Do It Right

2009-05-05T02:57:00.000-07:00

Is it really a good idea to blog about feeling like you're a bad mom at 2:56 in the morning? No, it's probably not a good idea, but I think I'm going to do it anyway, just because maybe it will make me feel better, and maybe someone will read it who's also feeling like they didn't have their best day at Motherhood, Inc., and will know they're not alone.

I don't want to go into specifics, because I'm too tired and the specifics are a little boring anyway. But let's just say that I felt like last night, when it came to my kid, I was a bonehead and a failure.

I feel like as a mom, I'm always supposed to know the right thing to do and when to do it. I'm always supposed to know when to hold 'em, fold 'em, walk away, or run. In other words, I should know those things to which I should react sternly, negatively, and hot-headedly (I know, it's totally not a word) and those things to which I should react with love, caring, and understanding.
And last night I felt like I dropped the ball.

The happy ending is that after I had the blow-up that I shouldn't have had, and wiped tears that shouldn't have come, I was able to bond with my sweet girl and make it all better. I'm lucky in that I have laid a pretty good foundation, and the kid knows I'm nuts about her. She knows I'm the one who loves her best and loves her most and always will. And even when she won't say it or she doesn't want to talk to me when I call her from work, badly in need of a Kayla fix, I know she loves me best and most, too. After all, I am Mommy.

You might not believe me, but right now I'm starting to cry. Heck, if you know me at all you know it's true. If for no other reason than you know I'm a little bit of an emotional wreck, so if you put that together with three o'clock in the morning and writing about the kid, ding ding! You've got tears.

After this little fiasco in parenting went down we had a wonderful evening of cuddling and giggling. So much giggling - I took one of her dolls and was patting it on his back, pretending to burp him and then having him say, "BURP," and the kid was practically rolling on the floor. Three-year-olds are hecka cool in that they are a very good audience for silliness, and when my three-year-old giggles with delight, well, frankly there's nothing better. But even though we had this wonderful evening, I am still kicking myself for being a bad mom, and wishing like anything morning would hurry up and get here so I could spend more time with her, showing her how much I love her, and trying to make up for being such a bonehead.

So in the meantime, I write. And I take consolation in the fact that I learned something last night and hopefully that will make me a better mom. As long as I keep trying to get better at it, at least I'm going in the right direction.

Coastal Hospitality

2009-04-03T10:28:00.000-07:00

I am a lucky person. I just returned from a wonderful, restful night away on the beautiful Sonoma coastline. Now, I don't get around much, but for my money, this is some of the most beautiful scenery one could ever hope to see.

I met my friend Cinnamon at Dispatcher Academy. Dispatcher Academy was this mostly fun place in Windsor, CA to which I got sent for three weeks to learn about dispatch stuff. The downside was that I was about seven months pregnant at the time, and if you follow my blog at all or remotely know me, you know I was sick the entire time I was pregnant. You might also know that the longest stretch I went without getting sick were the first five days I spent at Dispatcher Academy. I actually went from Monday morning until Friday night when I got home without a single puke. Amazing. If only the next two weeks could have been that way.

Pregnancy woes aside, the upside of Dispatcher Academy (in addition to all the stuff I'm sure I must have learned there) was that I wound up sitting near Cinnamon, and my other two good buddies, Janel and Adrienne. The further upside of this, aside from the fact that they are lovely, fun people, is that when either Janel or Adrienne are working the same graveyard shift that I am, it is nice to know there is company in what is sometimes misery. Also, Cinnamon, (who was a dispatcher until she got pregnant with Easton and put on bed rest) is married to Brandon, who, in addition to being a great guy, is also a Sonoma County Sheriff's deputy. His beat is 150 square miles of beautifulness, including the coast, and he is stationed in a lovely home in Timber Cove, on the woodsy side of Highway 1, up the hill from the Timber Cove Inn.

I have to come decide he may just have the best gig I've ever heard of. I am sure that others of you in law enforcement are thinking this sounds like a pretty sweet deal as well.

Though I was aiming for a 12:30 p.m. arrival time, I didn't actually make it until about 3:15. I know, shocking. And I can't even blame it on Kayla, because she was a little under the weather so I left her with Baby Daddy (who very graciously offered to come stay with her so I could go). I can't blame my tardiness on bad directions, either; I had ones I'd written down from Cinnamon, a Mapquest map, AND a brand new GPS (courtesy of Baby Daddy, someone paid for a job in GPS units so I was able to reap part of that benefit). Pretty much, if I ever have plenty of time to get ready to go somewhere, I am usually going to be late. Something perhaps I'll try to work on because I don't like it.

After greetings to everyone, including Cin's boys (Devin is 5 and Easton is 2, and they are a couple of cutie pies)....

... we took the tour inside and then checked out the view from her deck.

I know. Gorgeous.

As if all this beauty and good company weren't enough, Cin also has a Wii. I happen to be obsessed with the Wii, ever since I bowled and played tennis on it at my brother's house back in December. For someone who so clearly remembers playing games on the Atari 2600 and thought that the graphics in Pitfall were mind-blowing, this Wii is pretty much like magic. We got our bowling on, taking tips from Devin (quite the little expert), but I kept veering to the left. Here's Adrienne in action: I know I told her that her butt would be prominently featured on my Facebook page; not sure if I gave her the same warning about my blog, but she's a good sport! And a good bowler, she beat me by three pins.

We decided it was close enough to 5 for it to be cocktail time. Janel and Adrienne were quite chagrined to find that though they planned to make Cinnamon's favorite drink, a Midori sour, they had been led astray by the lady at the store. She told them some Midori and some bar syrup (I think that's what it was called) were all they needed for the drink. WRONG. Midori SOUR. Not Midori SWEET, lady. So without sweet and sour this drink really did not work for them. I think Adrienne settled on champagne, Janel had a beer with me, and I'm not really sure what Cin wound up with, as I was too busy with my beers. I was planning to enjoy some beer with Brandon. But the poor guy is on-call every single night through mid-April. This would be the downside of his sweet gig. I even brought three twelve-packs of his favorites and had to work on them all by myself. I did not drink three twelve-packs, not even one twelve-pack, but I did play Oktoberfest (as Brandon named it) and alternated among the three flavors (Corona, Pacifico, and Sierra Nevada).

Both Janel and I were pretty amped to see the sunset over the ocean. All of us decided to walk down to the Timber Cove Inn to check it out (though later there would be much debate about whose idea this was and whose fault it was that we endured a painful trek back, but more on that later). The trip, though a little longer than it seemed in the car and not a great one to make in the shoes I was wearing, was worth it,as we got some fabulous pics.

Yes, I know. More gorgeous. If we thought the walk down the hill was a little rough, we hadn't seen anything yet.

Umm, that's an 18% grade right there. May not sound like a high number, but imagine your body is at the same angle as that truck. And imagine you've had a few beers. And imagine you are carrying a lot more weight than you should. Then start walking. Walk. Ouch. Rest. Walk. Ouch. Rest. It was cold and windy, and poor Adrienne recently shaved her lovely brown hair off for charity, so she needed her hood. I'm sure the champagne in the red cup was helping to keep her warm also. Janel was pretty much as happy as a clam, because that's how she rolls.

Poor Cin was pushing a double stroller up the hill. No fun.

At least Brandon did show up... first rolling code two-and-a-half (that means really fast) down the hill, on his way to a call. Moments later he came back up the hill and rescued Adrienne. He could only take one person at a time because his dog, Odin, took up a space, but that was fine with me. I wanted the walk under my belt and I did actually make it up the hill. Eventually. Our reward was some of the yummiest lasagna I have ever had in my entire life. After that, we were all pretty tired so we hit the hay early. I was lucky enough to score a lower bunk in the boys' room (afraid to room with anyone else because of my snoring, which everyone reported the next morning they did not hear, excellent!).

Morning meant Cin was in the kitchen again. She cooked up what was literally the best waffle I have ever had in my life. Here's a shot of mine, covered in whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate chips.

And turkey bacon on the side. My hostess does not eat red meat. Was this the trip from Heaven or what? (Nodding head enthusiastically) Yes, yes it was. Oh, and the coffee I had as an appetizer was scrumptious, also.

I ate and ran, as it was almost 11, and I felt I'd better get home rather than keep Baby Daddy away from any more hours potentially making some money. We all hugged goodbye with promises to see each other real soon on Facebook and in person. On the way back home, I just had to stop. I mean, it was silly enough that I was only up that way for one night, I had to stop somewhere on the coast and get some shots. So I finally picked a little turnout at Gleason Beach.

There was some beautiful rocky coastline so I snapped a few pics:

While I was figuring out the best vistas to capture, I felt something on the back of my leg. I realized it was the bumper of my car, because I'd forgotten to put it into "park." So my advice to you is if you are going to get out somewhere and take pictures, and you plan to keep your car running, be sure to put it in "park," otherwise you could have a real problem on your hands, especially if you are standing near the edge of a cliff.

Girls, I had the best time. Cinnamon and Brandon, I cannot thank you guys enough for your hospitality, and I can't wait to take advantage of it again soon. All this beauty just a little over two hours away from me? Trust me, I don't plan on going two years before I see it again like last time.

One Singular Sensation

2009-03-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

Long time, no blog. Goodness gracious. I'm not sure if it's been laziness or lack of something to say. I always have something to say so it's gotta be the laziness. Didn't I say back in December that it was more that I didn't really want to share or talk about what was going on in my life? Well, that's probably still it, too, that and the laziness.

So I'm just firing off a quick post to say that I really enjoy being single. It's been eleven plus years since I could say I was single, and this time around it is sooooooo entirely different, in a good way. Well, in a good way and in a bad way.

Eleven years ago, I was twenty-seven-and-a-half, and felt like so many possibilities stretched out before me. I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up (I had a job, but it was most definitely not a career!), and I didn't know who I would marry, or if I'd ever marry, or what my kids would be like or if I'd ever have kids. I also weighed about one hundred pounds less than I do now, which is to say, I had more energy and felt better in general.

So now, eleven years and almost one hundred pounds heavier, I've found a career, and I have a completed marriage under my belt... glad that I do, it's for the best, but like most of us who get married, I kind of thought it was going to be an "until death do us part" sort of thing. That may be what bums me out the most - that I didn't achieve what I set out to achieve in spite of my best efforts.

Also, all these years later, I have this wonderful, fabulous, fantastic, awesome, amazing, funny, entertaining, brilliant, gorgeous daughter named Kayla. Had I not married who I married, I would not have won this fabulous prize. For this reason I'll never regret all those years that sometimes feel sadly misspent. It all happened as it should.

I never thought I'd have a situation in which I'd have to share my daughter. I am sad for her that she won't grow up with both parents in one house. But luckily, strange jobs and strange hours sort of accustomed her to the idea of having one parent at a time, and at the age of three, she can't really get the bigger picture, which is good. Actually, she may get it more than I think she does, but she doesn't seem to be any worse off for it. She has a mother who is happier than she was before, and I think this is probably the most important thing.

I do not like that I have to put the garbage cans out on Tuesday night and bring them in on Wednesday. But I do like killing my own spiders and changing light bulbs I have to get on a chair to change. I don't like being the only grown-up in the house at night, but I love spending that special time with Kayla, just the two of us, either reading a book in bed or watching a show or "playing dollhouse" or doing a puzzle. It has always been special to hang out with her, but now that it is really just the two of us, there is something extra special that is hard to explain unless you've been there.

The emptiness that being single brings is not the same when you have someone like Kayla around. With her, there is not much room for emptiness (or anything or anyone else for that matter!). Between Kayla, my job, and my wonderful friends and family, it is next to impossible to have that same sort of loneliness I felt eleven years ago. Somewhere down the line, possibly, I may want to find what I have been telling my friends would be a "once a month on Wednesday... friend." You know, for going to the movies or just chatting or whatever. Come on, people, I'm only human and though I've only been living as a single person for three weeks, emotionally it's been a very long time!

So now, at the ripe old age of almost thirty-nine, being single still means life is about the possibilities that exist, they're just different. And I'm quite okay with that.

The Christmas Post

2008-12-22T00:42:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a while. It hasn't been that I've had nothing to write about, so much as I don't want to write about anything that has been going on in my life. It's been... well, challenging to say the least. I am heartened by what that Nietzsche (yes, I had to look it up to spell it) dude said, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." So right about now I am feeling strong like bull.

That being said, I am still enjoying the Christmas season. I love everything about it - the lights, the trees, the decorations. This year has been fun because it will be the first year the kid kinda gets the whole Santa concept. The other day we had this conversation:

KID: Mommy, is Santa here yet?
ME: Umm, no, not yet...
KID: When is he coming?

The only way to answer that question was to take the calendar off the wall, show her what it day it was, and then show her all the days between that day and Christmas. I even drew a Christmas tree on the 25th's square. Then she proceeded to draw all over the whole month, so I'm not really sure she got what I was getting at. (The kid believes if there is something on which she can write, and a some kind of writing implement within her reach, it's fair game. She's going to draw on it.)

So, since it's Christmas, and near the end of the year, it seems an appropriate time to think about some of my favorite things. You know, like raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens? Well, of those, whiskers on kittens might make the list, but but we'll see. It just seems like a good time to think about the good things in my life, not just at Christmas, but in general. I like to believe that the glass really is half full. And who knows, maybe someone else who's down in the dumps will read this and be inspired to do the same thing.

So here it is, in no particular order (are you kidding me, that's way too hard; maybe only my number one will actually be the number one, but that's as far as it goes), some of my favorite things. Since Christmas is the 25th, and the ABC Family Channel is kind enough to have their annual 25 Days of Christmas deal, where they play all those stop-motion Rankin/Bass Christmas specials of my youth and corny Christmas-themed movies, let's just do a list of 25:

25. Facebook: Wow, Facebook is the shiznit. I have had so much fun connecting and reconnecting with old friends, looking at their photos, and reading and making funny comments. The only problem is that it is as addictive as crack. Well, as addictive as I have heard crack is supposed to be. I've never tried crack, crack is whack, after all.
24. My job: I dig it. Who would have thought that a girl who was (and kinda still is) afraid of her own shadow would wind up as a police dispatcher? Not me, that's for sure.
23. Round Table Pizza: I could eat my personal pizza with creamy garlic sauce and olives DAILY. And also, ranch dressing on the side, please. Remember my compulsive overeating blog? My life lately has not really been helping me with my goals, sadly.
22. Sushi: Tuna. Raw. 'Nuff said. Except that I can't believe my parents will not even consider trying it. Remember Green Eggs and Ham, I said. He would not eat it in a box or with a fox at first, and then he said he'd eat it anywhere, after he tried it! My folks weren't buying it.
21. TV and the DVR: Chuck, The Office, 30 Rock, and Burn Notice are a few of my favorites.
20. Seeing snow on a local mountaintop: Seriously, how cool is that?
19. The fact that my pigment and my facial fat has slowed the wrinkling process: Knock wood.
18. Blogging: Even though I haven't done it for a while, I really do enjoy it.
17. Mapquest and similar: How did I get anywhere before?
16. Beer: Hefeweizen, Corona, and Bud Light With Lime 'specially.
15. Wine: Reds 'specially, but I'm extremely not picky.
14. Waxed eyebrows: Have you seen my eyebrows prior to the fall of 1999? Why did people let me walk around like for 29 years?
13. Acrylic nails: The only way I can have fingernails. No hangnails, no peeling, no chipping, no splitting. And I like to have them painted with the same color almost every time, "Dark Secret." Wow, doesn't that sound so mysterious?
12. Books: I have always loved them and will always love them, even if it takes me one million years to read them sometimes. I was doing really well there for a while recently, and now I've sort of been in a non-reading mood. When I'm in kind of a dark place, books do not distract me well enough, so instead I wind up playing a bunch of computer games or watching TV. But I really do love to read.
11. The fact that my kid loves books: Soooo awesome.
10. My kid's hair: Beautiful curls and a beautiful color, I could not have planned it any better.
9. George Clooney: Just take a look at the guy. He keeps getting hotter and hotter. I am pretty sure none of his relationships ever last too long because he's waiting for me.
8. See's Candy: Please, do not put it within arm's reach. I'm begging you.
7. Singing: With Sassy Sisters, in the car, in the shower, by myself with the karaoke machine, wherever. As long as I can remember it has given me great joy and I hope it always will.
6. Christmas: See above, and add A Christmas Story, It's a Wonderful Life, Home Alone, get-togethers with family and friends, and driving around and looking for lights (and saying, accidentally, "HOLY CRAP!," and then a few houses later having your kid yell from her car seat, "HOLY CRAP!").
5. Movies: Even though I get to the theater almost never (unless a kid's movie is out), I will always love the experience of watching a movie in a theater, especially one with a lot of people with whom to laugh, gasp, cry, and applaud. Yes, I've applauded in the theater, and yes, I know the actors can't hear, but so what, sue me.
4. E-mail: The ONLY way I have managed to keep in touch with people, since I do not like to talk on the phone. I love e-mail so much, if it were a boy I'd marry it.
3. My friends: They kick ass. I'm a lucky girl.
2. My family: Especially Mom. I'm a super lucky girl. Knowing they are always there for me has carried me through a lot.
1. My kid: Wow. I've pretty much already written about how much I dig her. Unbelievable how she gets better and better and more and more entertaining. She knocks me out.

I'm sure that as soon as I get this posted I will think of all kinds of things that will be on this list and are not, but hey, I threw it together in like half an hour so I won't beat myself up about it too much. And again, it's definitely not in order. I love my kid's hair way more than George Clooney and See's Candy.

So think about your favorite things. Be thankful for them; go and do them (you know, if it's an activity, not a person, though in some cases that might be applicable... ), go and see them, send them a note, or give them a great big hug and kiss.

Merry Christmas, to all of you and yours.

A Change is Gonna Come

2008-11-07T00:01:00.000-08:00

I cannot believe that my daughter is going to grow up in a world where she will take for granted the idea of a person of color being President of the United States.

People of my generation have grown up with the notion that we could do anything to which we put our minds. It was the movers and shakers who came right before us and fought for civil rights, for black folks and women, whom we have to thank for growing up this way. But in spite of this, never, ever, ever did I think I would live to see a black president of this country. Not only did I not think I'd see it in my lifetime, but not even in my daughter's lifetime!

It was especially meaningful to me, having grown up the daughter of a black father and white mother, and sometimes not knowing where, if anywhere, I fit in, to see someone with the same racial makeup standing in front of this gigantic crowd of the most amazed, inspired, and happy people I have ever seen, giving his first speech as President-elect of our country.

Granted, Barack's dad was from Kenya, and my dad is from Nebraska City, Nebraska, so it's not as if we have much in common outside of our skin color, but still, you get what I mean!

Since I'd taken Kayla with me to the polling place to vote for Barack in the primary, I thought it only fitting she should be with me when I cast my vote for him in this general election. I was going to be working on election day, from 10 a.m. until 7 p.m., and knew it would be a struggle to get both myself and the kid out the door in time to vote before work, and with commute time and baby-pick-up time I'd have no time after work, so we decided to go to the Registrar of Voter's Office, one of which for my county is like 10 minutes from my house.

We get to the county building, which is huge and impressive-looking, and go up in the elevator to the 2nd floor. Anytime we have to go in an elevator, Kayla yells, "Pick me up, Mommy, PICK ME UP!" This kid, who sometimes seems as though she has no fear whatsoever, has this thing about elevators, I think about that little bit of space on the floor right at the elevator door, like she thinks she might fall in or something. Anyway, I grab her, get in the elevator, and when we get out, bam, the line is right there. So it was cool - we stood in line for maybe 30 minutes, during which time I chatted with a nice man behind me who let me borrow his pen so I could fill out my absentee voter application (since basically that's what we were doing, voting absentee only in person). I had no pen since I was trying to travel light with just my phone, my keys, my ID, my jacket (it was nasty cold and rainy when we went), and of course, the kid.

Mercifully, Kayla's patience lasted as long as it took us to vote. When we were done, this gruff sheriff's deputy working the counter gave me a large "I Voted" sticker that he'd been handing out to kids. But part of the top was ripped off (he wasn't the best sticker-ripper-offer guy), and I was like, "Um, could I have one that is not ripped, we want to be able to read it!" And he didn't even say anything, just gave me another one and then did not give me the little "I Voted" sticker for me, and I should have made him, but at the time the old shy Jen had taken over, and I guess I didn't want to push my luck. Anyway, here's a picture of Kayla holding her sticker (because she did not want to put it on for some reason), and of course, also holding Dolly Diego (not to be confused with Plastic Diego), because we do not go anywhere without him:

The next day after work, election night, I went over to my mom's to pick up the kid and watch the results roll in. I wanted to be there, with my kid, my (pretty much) liberal Democrat folks, to watch was hopefully going to be history in the making, and was I ever not disappointed about that.

I mean come on, have you ever seen anything like it? I was hoping by today I would be able to explain how I felt that night. First of all, it was exciting, no matter who you were pulling for, to see so many people amped about the process. But then, it probably wasn't as exciting to you if you were rooting for the other guy. Hey, I understand. This is the girl who voted for Dukakis and Gore and... geez, I always forget the other guy's name... John Kerry! That's it! So see, I know what it feels like when your guy doesn't win.

Mom and I were flipping back and forth between MSNBC and the networks, and at 8 p.m. sharp, we're watching NBC, and there's a picture of Barack against this dark background, filling the screen, and it says "BARACK OBAMA ELECTED 44th PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES," and no one is talking. And I look at my mom, and at the TV, and at my mom again, and I probably said, "Holy crap," as that is the appropriate thing to say when you see something like that. Then Brian Williams says "11 p.m. on the east coast, we're back on the air, and we have news... there will be young children in the white house for the first time since the Kennedy generation. An African-American has broken the barrier as old as the Republic. An astonishing candidate, an astonishing campaign, a seismic shift in American politics, you are looking at the 44th President of the United States, the celebration begins... "

Of course, I could have never remembered all of that, thank goodness for YouTube! And what about Amy Carter, though? She was small-ish when she was in the White House, but who cares! It was still beyond hecka cool when that announcement was made. I asked my parents, "Are we sure about this? I'm not going to go to bed with Barack as President and wake up and find out the other guy won, am I?" Once they assured me that would not be the case I felt even better about the whole thing.

The elation we felt that night, my mom and I as we looked at each other, then back at the TV, the elation that Spook and I felt as we yelled in each other's ears over the phone (just like we did back in '92), it was so much more than just, "Check it out, our guy won!" His win was truly a sign of hope, that things could actually get better, hope that many of us have not felt in a really long time. And as we all know, it won't happen overnight, but it will happen. A change is gonna come.

Total Drama DVR

2008-10-27T03:19:00.000-07:00

Seriously, sometimes something has to go. And last week that something was Grey's Anatomy.

I was up to my eyeballs in the show. At least two, if not three episodes leftover from last season, plus everything from this season, and the pressure was killing me. I know, it's just TV. Not actual brain surgery like McDreamy would perform.

One day last week I took a seat on my couch (sadly, one of my favorite places to be - I think my end of the couch is actually visibly lower than the other end, which is very, very sad), check out my DVR, and find it's about 97% full. I had a little baby panic attack.

Here it is, fall season in full swing, and I'm just not keeping up. One of the problems is that there is just not much Kayla-free TV time. So you don't want to watch a show like Grey's Anatomy, what with them cutting people up and all the blood and guts and stuff with your almost-three-year-old running around and telling you to get off the couch because she wants to jump in that spot, and ordering you to hold Dolly Deigo so that he can watch her jump. Frankly, when my TV is on, it's usually playing Charlie and Lola, Go Diego, Go, Wow, Wow, Wubbzy, Caillou, or Max and Ruby. All delightful shows in their own right, but sometimes when you're pushing forty you need something a little meatier.

But why Grey's, Jen? I'll bet you're asking, especially if you're one of those with whom I've talked about how good this episode was and how much that episode made me cry. I will always have affection for the show. I actually broke up with it before and started watching it again, so perhaps, down the line, when the DVR gets somewhat cleaned up, I'll let it back into my life. Right now, I just can't commit to it. Kind of the way that Meredith can never seem to quite commit to Derek (and please, can someone explain that to me, because while I know that she is even more neurotic than I am, and that is really saying something, I don't care how nutty I am, when Patrick Dempsey is all, "Marry me, this will be our house, I love you, love you, love you," sorry, but you wouldn't find me hesitating for a single second about whether or not I could commit to him), although the commercials I've seen make me think that maybe they are finally back together, but I suppose someone will clue me in on that at some point.

There were other shows that I could not even consider giving the old heave-ho: Chuck, 30 Rock, The Office, Ugly Betty, Kitchen Nightmares, Burn Notice, Pushing Daisies... these are some of my non-negotiables. And then there is a show like Life on Mars, which literally, I've only seen the first 10 minutes of the first episode, but now Don is watching it so that one has to stay. And then there's Life, about a cop who was framed for a murder he did not commit and was wrongly imprisoned. While this is certainly not the best cop show out there, I am into the storyline about who framed him which started with the very first episode of its premiere season last year, so I have to hang with that one to see what happens. I'm sure there are other shows I'm forgetting, and I could get up and go take a look at the DVR right now, but frankly, I'm feeling too lazy to do so.

Then there is Total Drama Island. This is a show on Cartoon Network, and yes, it is a cartoon. I accidentally started a relationship with this show. One night, in a zombie-fied state because I'd only slept a few hours within a span of nearly 30, I was looking for something to watch while I packed for a trip, and when I saw the title, I was intrigued so I checked it out. I think I came in part of the way into the first episode, and they showed a few more episodes that night. My mom was at my house, and she comes in my bedroom and is like, "What the hell are you doing, you zombie, you are supposed to be packing." Well, maybe it wasn't that bad but it was close. Then we leave for our trip to Reno with the kid the next day, and in the hotel room there are only a couple of "kid" channels, and Cartoon Network was one of them, and both nights we were there they played several episodes, so this is how I got hooked. It was as if it was meant to be. AND Kayla likes it, or at least does not tell me to change the channel when it is on, so it doesn't get much better than that.

I know what you're thinking: "Jen, I'm a grown-up person. Why on earth would I watch your silly cartoon with a silly name like Total Drama Island?" First of all, watching cartoons will make you feel young, and who doesn't want to feel young? Secondly, it is an extremely entertaining, amusing, and clever show. A satire of reality shows, especially Survivor, it is about 22 teenagers who show up at Camp Wawanakwa and engage in a series of totally absurd challenges (one was a "trust" challenge where a teammate was charged with preparing potentially lethal blowfish for a fellow teammate) and try to avoid being voted off by their teammates. During the elimination ceremony, marshmallows are passed out to team members who get to stay, and whoever doesn't get one has to walk the Dock of Shame to the Boat of Losers and "never, never, never, ever come back," as Jeff Probst-like host Chris Maclean takes an inappropriate amount of glee in telling the campers.

This is like Survivor meets Big Brother meets The Real World meets a Saturday Night Live spoof of those shows (well, back when SNL was funny). While it parodies these reality competition shows filled with people willing to do just about anything for their 15 minutes of fame (the fast-paced, very catchy theme song lyrics proclaim, "I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be famous!), it's way more entertaining than any of those shows could ever be (although that is not really fair of me to say because I only watched Big Brother the first season, one half of one episode of Survivor, and I've never watched The Real World).

Take my advice and check this show out. I've been watching previous episodes on Comcast's On Demand. If you are looking for some silly entertainment which will sometimes having you laugh off your you-know-what, you should give it a shot.

But if you get hooked on it and wind up getting a full DVR, don't come complaining to me. I've got enough DVR drama of my own.

I Guess They're Famous Because...

2008-10-25T00:38:00.001-07:00

Every time I see a picture of Paris Hilton, I think, "Why?" I know you're an heiress and your family has truckloads of money. So do other rich people, and I don't have to see them every time I open up a People or Us Weekly (if I'm at the nail salon without a book). Why must you take up any portion of any entertainment reports on Entertainment Tonight or Access Hollywood, or TMZ (how much do I love Harvey Levin, the guy who does the legal commentary for People's Court, when he is wearing a t-shirt and jeans and being all snarkily funny about celebrities? I am actually disturbed by how much I love him on this show).

Now, I know, this is all subjective. That is why this is my blog, so I can write whatever the heck I want about whatever the heck I want. This post is meant to be completely silly and frivolous, and you are not meant to remember it for one single second after you read it. It is meant to be like... well, like reading an Us Weekly while you get your nails done!

I mentioned this before, but I still don't understand why Ryan Seacrest is famous. I know he's the host of American Idol, and he's the E! News guy, but I told you before that if he becomes the permanent host of Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve I might have to boycott the holiday. But seriously, can someone tell me if they've heard him as a disc jockey and he was really, really, like totally awesomely super good? Because maybe that is why he deserves to be famous. Otherwise, the fact that they had him host the Emmy's last year, then co-host them (sort of, if you can call it that) this year makes absolutely no sense to me. On Idol (which in his defense, I do not watch very often), he just seems kind of weird and weaselly. Every once in a while he has some funny remark for Simon, but I guess what I'm questioning is why he is as famous as he is. Isn't there someone out there more talented than he is who should be where he is? Don't tell me - he was in the right place at the right time. Wow, lucky us.

I suppose I have a cornucopia of reality show "stars" whose fame I could question, but I would like to focus on one bunch of them - the cast of The Hills. Okay, here is where I really show my age. I don't understand what this show is. Is it a scripted show? Is it a reality show? I have never seen the show, just clips on The Soup. Is it on VH-1, MTV? The only reason I know it exists is because again, when I open up a the best magazine in the whole world, People (the subscription to which I cancelled because I decided it was too much of a luxury, so now my wonderful co-worker, Sarah, lets me read her hand-me-down copy), who do I see as soon as I start in with the "Star Tracks" (the first section of the magazine filled with pictures of celebrities, either posed at events or candid, like coming out of a Starbucks in West Hollywood cafe)? Lauren Conrad, and Heidi something and Spencer Pratt. Oh my gosh, I can't STAND these people. It annoys me to no end that I even know their names! I am so sorry if I am offending anyone, because if this is one of your guilty pleasure shows, more power to you, I have all kinds of stuff like that. I guess I just resent these people - the ones I just mentioned, for example, who seem to have zero talent - taking up space in these pictures instead of like, actual movie or TV stars or something. Oh, and Audrina Partridge - is she the other from The Hills? Yes, I don't want her in my magazine either.

Did I just get old? Is that the problem? I'm out of touch, I know this. I realize that since I tend to listen to talk radio or audio books when I'm driving, I next to never know about new songs or artists, unless one of my stepkids tells me about them, or maybe even a co-worker. Sometimes my husband, who while only four years older than me is mentally much, much, much older even turns me onto something new. And I know that the celebs who were all fresh and new when I was a teenager are now either all washed up, or in rehab, or they're busy raising kids or living a normal life. I mean, I do not expect to see a picture of C. Thomas Howell in the "Star Tracks" anytime soon. So I don't think it's that I don't want young people, I just don't want people who aren't famous for a good reason. Like, you know, they can act or they entertain us or something. So many times I think to myself, "What if that chick were a size 14? Would her picture be in the front of my (well, Sarah's) People every week?" And what is really funny about that is that I would KILL to be a size 14 again, while the people you see in these pictures or on Entertainment Tonight could fit into one side of a size-14 pair of pants with room to spare. So for me, that's not a good enough reason for me to consider you as famous, just because you look good.

And sure, models might fall into this category of "famous because they look good," but that is different. And there would be people who would be considered "personalities," maybe. Not really actors or musicians... and I can't think of anyone right now who falls into this category, but I can tell you right now that Heidi Spencer Lauren Audrina does not fall into this category, at least not for me. Did you know that if you Google Spencer Pratt you will get approximately 42,900,000 results? I hope you didn't know that because I hope you have not Googled him recently or ever. This is the kind of research I do for you, my dear readers. That number is so big I don't even know how to say it. If you Google me you will get 53 results. A few from this blog, a few from other things, but no where close to 42,900,000 results. So what does this Spencer character have that I don't? What is his "talent?" Seriously, someone tell me if they know! I am all ears.

I think I should clarify that in the great scheme of things, it doesn't matter what any celebrities are doing, or that the paparazzi caught a glimpse of George Clooney laying in the sun, all mustachioed for a role in his new movie, or that Ben took Violet to the pumpkin patch, or that Salma Hayek had her daughter, Valentina, with her on the set of 30 Rock while filming her guest appearance. But I'm sorry, I LOVE this kind of stuff. I like to see the stars glitzed and glammed up, or caught in some candid moment, or whatever, I really do. And I know other people could care less about that stuff (I can just imagine the look on my dad's face if I ran this last paragraph by him). But still, show me actual celebrities, not these youngsters whose only claim to fame is that they party at nightclubs and have perfect hair and complexions and bodies.

It occurs to me that this post makes me sound like a crotchety old lady, you know the one who yells at the kids who accidentally kick the ball into her yard. I hope I'm not that lady. I do have good news, though - the other night I finished two of Sarah's hand-me-down Peoples in one sitting and guess what? Not a single Heidi Spencer Lauren Audrina photo in "Star Tracks!" But I can't remember if they showed up in the rest of the magazine - I'm getting older and my memory's not what it used to be.

Compulsive Eaters Unanonymous

2008-10-18T12:30:00.000-07:00

So I looked up compulsive eaters on Wikipedia (every lazy websearcher's favorite place to go), and it looks like that's what I am. I've suspected it for years, but here, on the World Wide Web, in front of my huge readership of about five or six (and two of them are related to me), I'm owning it. I'm claiming it, I'm saying, hello, my name is Jen, and I'm a compulsive overeater.

You start to suspect that you are way past the "Let's go on a diet" or "Let's join Weight Watchers" (a program, which, by the way, is the best if you are a normal person) point when you are stopping at Adelberto's at 3:30 a.m. after work to grab a light snack of nachos covered with cheese and guacamole. Who needs to eat that at 3:30 in the morning? Pretty much no one. And, you are making that stop after spending several miles beforehand chanting to yourself, "I don't need it. Keep driving, just go to bed." Or you are never, ever, ever done with your meal just because you're full. There always seems to be room for one more bite. Or helping. Or meal. Hey, Taco Bell, thanks for that whole 4th Meal thing, you really have given me some good rationalization help with that one.

I'm not sure when my problem started, but let's just say I don't think that it helped that I fell madly in love with mayonnaise at age 7. Seriously, if mayonnaise were a guy, I'd marry it and have little mayo kids with it. I remember like it was yesterday the day my babysitter took us to Burger King. This in itself was a big deal, because in my house, we didn't eat a lot of fast food, and if we were having burgers they were going to be from McDonald's. So I got some kind of burger and and it had this beautiful, wonderful mayonnaise on it. My parents, being from the Midwest, were Miracle Whip people. They have since come to their senses and switched to mayo, but back then mayo was never in our house, just the Whip (and though I clearly prefer mayo to Miracle Whip, I must admit that its tangy zip is sometimes welcome on certain types of sandwiches or burgers). Anyway, one bite of that burger and the love affair began.

Fast forward to 1987, and I've got my own wheels and a job that pays me money that I can use on food. How many times did I get off at 11 p.m. and cruise over to Burger King for a Whopper with cheese, EXTRA mayonnaise? Way too many to count. Even though I still love mayonnaise way more than I should, I just don't have it in me to order anything with extra mayo. I don't want to be that fat girl that pulls around to the drive-thru window to pay and gets the look from the cashier that says, "Hmph. No wonder she wants extra mayo." I just always hope I'll get lucky and have Bob, the extra mayo slatherer back there making my Whopper with cheese (only now I order them hold the meat since I gave up red meat 13 years ago, which had next to nothing to do with health or cutting calories and more to do with the fact that after watching "Babe" I did not want to eat cute animals that I feared might have personalities, which is why is I still eat chicken, turkey, and fish [and yes, I do think baby chicks are cute but that is something with which I have to deal]).

It's not just mayo. I'll eat a whole bunch of anything, believe me. Salty, sweet, I don't discriminate, just depends on my mood. I will say the starchier the better, and if there is cheese and sauce involved, even better. Pizza? Could I ever have just one slice? Especially if it's from Round Table, with creamy garlic sauce and olives only? No, pretty much I eat as many slices as it takes for me to feel the fullness in the eyeballs. And that's the problem. Going past belly fullness into eyeball fullness. This I don't like.

So why do I do it? There's no time to lay all that out in this post. The reasons are various and sundry and have all been discussed with a couple of different therapists. Just the stuff that's gone down in my life in the past year alone has been enough for me to do more than my part in keeping Adelberto's in business. I will say that two of the big issues in my life that have contributed to my problem would be 9/11 and pregnancy.

If you were born in 1970 or thereabouts like I was, then you grew up in a world where, quite simply, really bad stuff didn't happen to us here. So for a whole generation of folks, watching those Twin Towers get hit, over and over again, shattered this completely idyllic world and false sense of safety we'd managed to keep for 30 years or so. So this horrific event made me less likely to make good choices when it came to food. Let's see... the world could end tomorrow, shall I order a veggie burger hold the mayo with a side salad, low fat dressing on the side? Umm, I DON'T THINK SO, PAL! How about a super burrito mojado with the works, please? Don't forget the guacamole and sour cream!

Then there was pregnancy, during which I vomited every single day, except for a wonderful 10 days early in the third trimester. Otherwise, it was get up, puke, go about my business, puke, go to bed, etc. So once pregnancy was over and there was no more of that, I pretty much decided to go on a food free-for-all. Well, the kid will be 3 at the end of December and my free-for-all is still happening.

I think the number 100 is also one more reason I feel so stalled and stymied. I would like to lose 100 pounds, and in all of my years of battling my food issues and my weight, I have never had a desire to lose a 3-digit number of pounds. I'd actually be happy with 90, so maybe I should just think of it that way and it wouldn't be such a mental stumbling block for me? I think I see that 100 and think to myself, "Dang, that's never gonna happen. (Munch munch munch noises) Would ya give me another cookie?"

And before you tell me I should exercise, I know this already. Believe it or not, there was a time in my life when I had to exercise every day or I'd feel weird. Seriously, it was as much a part of my routine as getting up and taking a shower and brushing my teeth. I loved to go to Jazzercise or do a workout tape at home (pretty much anything that let me shake my butt made me happy). I was into strength training, the whole thing. What happened to the girl? I think maybe I ate her. Now I try to walk 30 minutes at a time, and manage that 3-4 times a week, if it's a good week. Every once in a great while I'm able to find some kid distraction-free time at home to throw on a yoga video or something, but once in a great while only.

So why, as my brother would say, throw all of this out on front street for all five or six of you to see? Well, because maybe I'll actually dive into this book I've started reading, called It's Not About Food, which talks about how to (as the front cover claims) "Change your mind, change your life, and end your obsession with food and weight." Because it has been almost all about food for me (man, I didn't even get into planning my vacation activites around where I was going to eat!). And maybe the next time I want to stop at Adelberto's I'll think about how much better I felt just by getting all of this out. And maybe I'll think of something else to do rather than eat a burrito the next time I'm sad. Or mad. Or happy. Or awake. Maybe I will, you never know.

Proposition 8 Interview

2008-10-13T01:20:00.001-07:00

Hello, and welcome to a very special edition of Work In Progress. For the first time ever, I will be conducting a completely fictionalized interview with a completely fictionalized person, Mr. John Q. Heterosexual, about the very controversial proposition appearing on ballots in California in November, Proposition 8.

Remember, Mr. Heterosexual only exists within my imagination, therefore any similarities to any persons living or dead is not only highly unlikely, it would just be pretty darn weird as well.

Jennifer Michelle Moore-Skallerud: Mr. Heterosexual, thank you for agreeing to meet with me today.

John Quite Heterosexual: Hey, sure, no problem. I'm still getting paid for this, right?

JMM: That must be some other interview you're doing, since it's not like I get paid for this so I don't really have the budget to pay interviewees.

JQH: (Sighs with annoyance) Okay, whatever.

JMM: So, Mr. Heterosexual - or may I call you John?

JQH: Sure, yeah, why not.

JMM: Fabulous. So John, I have invited you here today so that I can talk to you about Proposition 8. Are you familiar with this proposition?

JQH: Proposition 8... Proposition 8... Let me think about this...

JMM: You know, it's the one about same-sex marriage?

JQH: (Nodding knowingly) Oh, sure. Yeah, I saw the commercial. That's the one where the girl comes home with that book with the two guys on the front called "King and King" or something, and she tells her mom, (in a "little girl" singsong) "Mommy, today I found out I can marry a princess!" All I know is, I don't want my kid learning that in school.

JMM: Okay, so you are familiar with it, that's good, and you bring up a good point. John, do you ever remember learning about or talking about marriage in school?

JQH: I know that I've heard people saying that if we say it's okay for gay people to get married, then they'll start teaching kids in school that this is okay, and we know it's gonna happen because that's what happened in some other state, too.

JMM: Hmm, well, as followers of my blog know, I'm not really known for having too much knowledge about, well, anything, so I don't know about that. But I'm asking you, John - do you remember how you learned about marriage? Do you even remember talking about it in school, because I don't, so I'm just wondering if you do.

JQH: Well, no, not exactly...

JMM: So, I'm just trying to... let's call a spade a spade, John. I'm just trying to shoot down this argument because it seems to be the one that the supporters of Prop 8 are putting all their money on - that people will get scared and pass this proposition because they are afraid that their kids are going to learn that gay marriage is okay, and, I suppose, that once they know it's okay, they will turn gay. What do you think about that, John? About this idea that learning that gay marriage is legal will make kids decide to be gay?

JQH: I don't think it's a good idea. Kids don't need to be hearing about that kind of stuff.

JMM: Seriously, John. Think about. Do you remember the first girl you ever liked? I'm sorry -I'm just assuming you like girls, what with your name and all.

JQH: Hell yes I like girls! I love girls!

JMM: Wonderful. So do you remember the first girl you liked?

JQH: Sure I do. I was in Kindergarten, and her name was... what was her name? Kirsten? Kristen? Christine? Something like that. Yeah, I used to try to kiss her at recess. Good times.

JMM: Okay, so I remember the first boy I liked. His name was Kevin, and it, too was in Kindergarten, and the thing is, I just liked him because I liked him. Like, no one taught me to like boys.

JQH: (a bit befuddled) Okay...

JMM: So I'm just thinking regardless of how you think that people become gay - I just can't imagine that if marriage had come up in school, and the teacher said that sometimes men and women marry each other and sometimes men and men, and sometimes women and women - that I would have decided to have a crush on a girl instead of Kevin. I liked Kevin because I did, because that is what I felt... does that make sense?

JQH: (suspiciously) Hmph. I suppose.

JMM: I'm just trying to be logical about it. Another one of the arguments for Prop 8, and for this I want to just get out my book, you know the one with the propositions in it, and all the other stuff we're supposed to vote for? (I start digging around in my pile of very important papers to locate the book.) Right here it says, in the argument for Prop 8, "... while gays have the right to their private lives, they do not have the right to redefine marriage for everyone else."

JQH: (thinking for a moment) Yeah, that's right! They don't have that right!

JMM: And I guess I don't get that.

JQH: What do you mean, I mean, what's not to get? Marriage means a man and a woman getting up in front of their family and friends and saying 'til death do us part and that. A man and a woman, period. That's marriage.

JMM: Okay, I mean, that's fine, but even if I think your definition is valid, if two guys get married, how does that affect you and your marriage?

JQH: Because then they're trying to make me accept a different definition of marriage!

JMM: But say you go to Home Depot.... is that a good example, do you go to Home Depot?

JQH: Of course I go to Home Depot!

JMM: Okay, so say you go to Home Depot. And you see two guys walking down the aisle buying... I don't know, hammers.

JQH: Okay...

JMM: So what does it matter to you - or, how does it affect your day if they are married or shacked up or just pals from the bowling league? How does that impact your day or your marriage or your life or anything?

JQH: Because... because uh...

JMM: I mean think about it - it's okay for gay people to be together and have, well you know, relations - all the advocates of Proposition 8 are saying they don't care if gay people are gay and do gay things and all. But the fact that these people want to make a legally binding commitment? You would think that people who are traditionalists and don't even like the idea of sex outside of marriage and everything would be all for this!

JQH: Well come on, now, that's not the same thing.

JMM: Okay, true enough. I know that they are talking about not having sex out of wedlock because it should only be for procreation, or whatever. But you know what? You know what this reminds me of? It reminds me of how in the not too distant past, a black person was not allowed to marry a white person!

JQH: Well, that's totally different. That's just racist.

JMM: Well, of course, we think that now. But do you know that some states had laws against interracial marriage until the late 60's? I mean, it's just crazy to think about now, but it's true, and maybe that is why I get all fired up, because I wouldn't be here if interracial marriage were against the law, and neither would my daughter.

JQH: Hmph, I don't know. I still say that's different. It's not like you can choose what race you are after all.

JMM: Okay, so even though I don't really think we can choose our sexual orientation, if you believe that is not true - that some people wake up and say, "Hey! It's a beautiful day out today, no wind, and I think I will be gay from now on!" - even if that's the case, I still don't see why it would be an issue for you if they made their union legal and all.

JQH: Why do they even want to get married anyway? They have all those domestic partnership laws and everything, why can't they just be okay with that? The can visit each other in the hospital and everything!

JMM: Well, John, why did you want to get married?

JQH: My wife said I had to marry her or she was going to find someone who would, who didn't have "commitment issues."

JMM: Okay, but that aside. Didn't you want to show the world how much this person meant to you? And pledge your love in front of everyone you knew (or at least everyone you could afford to invite)? You know, to make it official and solid and all of that good stuff.

JQH: Well, sure, yeah, of course.

JMM: So why should we deny that to anyone? No one, even the Prop 8 supporters, want to outlaw homosexuality, so why shouldn't homosexuals get to pledge their love in public and have certain health benefits, and have the kick-ass party to celebrate if they want to? I mean, I just want to know why. I just don't get it. That is why I brought you here today, John. I was hoping maybe you could explain this to me.

JQH: You know what? I don't need to explain it. We already voted on this and some crazy judges go and overturn what we wanted, so we shouldn't even have to defend this proposition at all!

JMM: You know, I do get that, I understand that people would be miffed if they voted for something and then all of a sudden they have to vote again. But I'll bet at sometime people were like, "We already decided black people can't vote! We shouldn't have to vote on this again!" Or they were thinking, "We already decided that black people can't marry white people, why should we have to even consider this!" Or, "We already decided that black people should be slaves, what's all the fuss about?" John, sometimes the people need to rethink stuff. Or they're just wrong.

Wake Me Up on Election Day

2008-10-08T12:27:00.000-07:00

So last night I watched the debate. Or as much of it as I could with interruptions from Kayla, who was "having a mood," as she likes to say. And all I can say is zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh my goodness, how BORING! Maybe since Saturday Night Live has been doing such a good job with their send-ups of Sarah Palin interviews and the Biden/Palin debate ("You just got schooled BIDEN-STYLE!"), it made watching Barack Obama and John McCain go at it seem as exciting as that time you were in a hardware store watching two guys discuss the merits of one wrench over another. Well, just pick your favorite boring subject and then picture two guys talking about it in a really, really boring way.

Now of course, I'm interested in the world. I live in it, after all. But maybe it's just that the debate sounded to me like this: "Blah, blah, blah pork barrel." "Blah blah blah earmarks." "Blah blah blah this country." "Blah blah blah that country." "Blah blah blah economy." And I guess all I kept thinking is that who in the heck is going to be able to fix any of this stuff?

At this point in the game, what I have to go on is my party affiliation, for starters. Like I've said before, I have always been a Democrat, and I turned 18 right before the primary in '88 in which I got to vote for Dukakis. Then sadly watch him get defeated. Then in '92 I voted for Clinton and turned cartwheels when he got elected not once but twice (and I kind of wish I could vote for him again because in spite of everything, he's still my favorite). I can still remember calling Spook (or Spook calling me) on election night and I think we just screamed at each other because we were so excited.

The other thing is personalities. I don't like McCain. I don't like Palin. These are people I would not invite over to my house to play Scattergories or Trivial Pursuit. Barack, this guy I'd invite over, though I'd ask him to loosen up a little bit and not be such a smarty pants with the Trivial Pursuit. He's a smart guy, that's obvious. So when someone says, "What about the fact that he hasn't had experience doing x, y, and z?" I think to myself, this is one smart cat and he will hire people who know about these things.

On a purely selfish and vain level, it is cool to have someone running for president who is, like me, a mixed-race American. That is cool. So I know that I like Obama better than McCain (because for one thing, like Gene Burns said on KGO last night, I think McCain's demeanor in the debate was "snarky"), and I liked him better than Hillary, but considering I voted for him in the primary and will vote for him in November, I wish I knew more about him. That is my fault - I'm by no means saying that he is not telling us about himself, I have just not paid much attention, but anyone who read my first blog knows I'm just that way - oblivious. I'll keep being honest about that, in spite of the fact it makes me look like an idiot. At least I have his books on my list of stuff I want to read, and as soon as I read this really entertaining stuff I'm reading right now I'll move on to that. Before the election even, I promise.

I have to say, cheers to these guys for wanting this job. Seriously, I think it sucks. Never in a million bajillion years would I want to be president. Think about it. It would be like... I can't even think of a job to compare it to! But then I'm the kind of person who, while a control freak, doesn't want to be in charge at work. I like being invisible-ish and being able to pass the buck up if I need to do so. Don't get me wrong, I want to do a great job at whatever I do, I just don't want to be the boss. So to be president and be boss of like, the whole country... the thought of the paperwork alone makes my head hurt.

But back to why I think this whole campaign is so... blah blah blah to me. Really, who can fix us? Who can fix the economy? Who can make all these countries who hate us and want to obliterate us from the face of the earth not want to do that? Who can change the fact that we have been at war for so many years spinning our wheels as countless lives are lost? Who can give me hope that one day we will again have that innocence I feel so lucky to have experienced as a kid... back when we didn't seem to think Russia was going to nuke us anymore and reports of terrorists were few and far between? Any of you born in 1970 or thereabouts know what I'm talking about. Heck, that was back when we could walk all over town without grown-ups and not think anyone would kidnap us, either! How do we get back to that? What human on this planet can make it good like that again?

The answer is no one. Do I trust one or the other of them to get us closer? Sure, that's why I'm going to vote for Barack. But do I wish I could write in a name like "Superman," or "Batman," or... I can't even think of any other good superheroes. This is way out of the league of say, an Aquaman or Green Hornet. We need someone who can fly and deflect bullets and turn back time, if needed. Or we need someone who can make a movie and project it into the sky so that everyone can see it, and it would say something like, "KNOCK IT OFF!" Just those words, so that everyone on the planet could see them and say, "Why yes, we are being rather silly about everything, aren't we, and it would sure be a lot better if we could just all make friends with one another since we all have to live on this planet together."

Does anyone else have any other ideas? I'd love to hear them.

Saturday Night Lives

2008-10-05T02:28:00.000-07:00

At least it is a pretty drive. Over the bridge, I look out and see the greenish-blue gentle waves of the Carquinez Strait as the sun sets on the horizon. If only I were going, say, out on a date, maybe to a nice restaurant with a lovely bay view where we could watch the sunset while we eat something really tasty. I'll bet those people in the car next to me are on their way to do something just like that. That car over there has got five youngsters in it, and by youngsters I mean they are under thirty. I'll bet they are off to the City to paaaarrrrtttaaaaay. I wish I'd done a lot of partying when I had the chance.

But how could I have known that my standard Saturday night destination was going to be work? I have, for about the last 2 years, been a weekend night shift worker. Much of that time was spent working 5 p.m. to 3 a.m., and now it is usually 7 p.m. to 7 a.m.

So when I am on my way to work, you are going out to visit friends. Or going to San Francisco for a night on the town. Or you might be coming home from Lake Tahoe or your grandma's house. And I am doing my best not to hate you. Or wish that I were you.

I knew what I was getting into when I took the job. Well, sort of. At the time I decided to get into the police dispatching biz, the dispatchers at my agency seemed to eschew the weekday day shift, instead opting for weekend and graveyard shifts. After all, who wanted to be in the building when Administration was there breathing down your neck? Well to me, this sounded grand! You mean to tell me I could have a cool job like police dispatcher and work normal hours like I'd been doing since 1990? Amazing. While I did get to spend about six months on just such a shift, after that the tides turned and all of a sudden weekday day shift was the place to be! Being one of the lower people on the totem pole, that meant that I got what was leftover, and that meant weekend nights. (Though I did enjoy an all too brief interlude working 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday. Let me just take a moment to remember how cool it was to wake up with no alarm and have a Sunday off and feel like a normal person... okay, I'm done now.)

But for all my kvetching about my hours, I have found that after spending all this time being a weekend night owl, I kinda like it. Do I like that everyone else I know is off weekends and that in order to see them they have to go out on "school" nights? No, I don't like that part. Do I like that I have no days off with my husband? Well, sometimes that is not such a bad thing, but it would be nice to have one day off together without one or the other of us having to take time off. And it would be great not to have to take time off to go to weekend parties and get-togethers and see friends that live too far away for school-night hanging-out.

I'm also not thrilled about the fact that on Mondays when I get off, I don't necessarily have the option of sleeping. It just depends on my husband's schedule and the kid's sleeping/nap (in her opinion naps get a great big "BOO!") schedule, and don't even ask me why she doesn't go to the sitter's that day, because the sitter is 30 miles away, and it's a long story.

But I have to say, I definitely dig commuting against traffic. That is super swell. I feel so grateful as I zip through American Canyon and come out on the other side and see all those poor souls stuck in that messy area where 680 merges with 80 and people are trying to get off to get onto Highway 12 (for the love of God and all that's good and holy, please, put another lane in there, that area is ridiculous!).

I love what the sky looks like at 7 a.m. Sad to say, I'm never up that early unless I am just getting off work, because I get up when Kayla does on our days off, and she has been liking to sleep in, which is fine by me!

I love being able to go to Target on the weekdays. At my Target in Fairfield, if I go before noon, I have the nicest lady whose line we always get into, and she has been my checker of choice since back when I was pregnant with Kayla. One of these days I'll devote a whole post to the friendly people of Fairfield. Anyway, it is wonderful to take care of any kind of business on a weekday. Granted, the stores and businesses aren't deserted by any means, but it is better than dealing with weekend crowds.

I don't like that since my body clock does not know if it's daytime or nighttime, sometimes on my days off I wake up in the middle of the night and cannot go back to sleep for an hour or more because I feel like I should be up. But I do like when I'm at work and it's a certain time of the morning and the sun is just starting to come up, and I can go to the window and take a look and take in the stillness of the street below.

I don't like that on my days off I sometimes feel so tired, that I think if a group of travelling carnival people came by looking for a cute kid to put in their show, I might just offer up Kayla if the price was right and it would mean getting a nap. And I mean a real nap, not a nap that consists of 10 minute intervals of sleep followed by someone opening up my eyes with their little fingers and saying, "MOMMY, WAKE UP, OPEN YOUR EYES!"

I do like that just like the song says, the freaks come out at night. It's true. You get some nutty stuff going on at night that you just wouldn't see in the daytime. At the same time, it's mellower at night, because all the people who want to call up and yell at you about something in the same way they'd complain about a meal they didn't like in a restaurant and think that somehow you should be able to schedule crime so they could be guaranteed a particular time time at which they could speak to an officer - those folks are sleeping, which is nice.

So, if I ever get the choice in the near future of working this shift or working a weekday day shift, which one am I going to choose? Commute traffic. Getting up early. (Let me tell you, no matter how much sleep I've had, it's always easier to get up at 4 or 5 in the afternoon than it is to get up at 5 in the morning. Always.) Getting the kid up early and out the door. Arrrgghh.

I guess I'll need to think about that one.

Fast

2008-09-27T03:27:00.001-07:00

Don't stop and smell the flowers or appreciate the gentle curves of a rolling green hill. I mean really, smelled one flower smelled 'em all, right? They smell all floral-like. Hill, schmill, you see them on the way to work every day. Don't you dare stop to appreciate any of nature's beauty because you had better hurry up and get to wherever you are going, and I mean RIGHT NOW!

That means if you have to cut someone off on the freeway or not wait for a pedestrian to cross the street or make a passing move that is not quite safe, it's all for the sake of getting to where you need to get just a little bit more quickly.

How did we get here?

Don't get me wrong. I don't like to meander down Interstate 80 any more than the next guy. I love that working odd hours keeps me out of commute traffic for the most part. But come on, where are we all going that we need to get there so fast?

When I see a carload of teenagers swerving in and out of the lanes and speeding and tailgating and doing all sorts of crazy stuff, don't tell me they are trying to get one of the passengers to the emergency room because his appendix has burst. Or that they all work at the same place and are late. Or that they are undercover superheroes on their way to save the day. I'm not buying it.

No, they just want to get there before everyone else. And the sad part is that I do, too, even though I always remember something from a book I read. I think it was in Don't Sweat the Small Stuff that the author talked about the fact that you could just chill and drive the speed limit and stay in your lane and you'd get there at the same time as the crazy guy doing all the crazy stuff. In my head I know it's true, and believe me, I try not to ever exceed the speed limit by more than 5 miles, but I still get aggravated when someone is in front of me going exactly the speed limit. I will literally yell and use bad words (if my kid is not in the car) and wish my car was equipped with machinery to remove the car in front of me off the road if that car is going 64 miles per hour when I would like to continue at my steady pace of 67. Who cares? Really, who cares? Even when I do not have to be somewhere at any particular time, I'm like this!

Which brings me to another problem. I think I might always be rushing because I have taken too long to get ready at home. No matter how organized I think I am or how I have all the time in the world to get ready, there is a always a snag. And strangely enough, it seems the more time I have to get ready, the better the chances I will be running late. Something always comes up that throws me for a loop and extends my getting ready time. For example (and this is pretty common), I get too hot. Invariably when I'm getting ready I wind up getting really hot and this slows me down. I don't want to sweat so much that a) I can't put on my makeup or b) I sweat off the makeup I've put on or c) I get stinky. I have always been the hottest one in the room (and I mean that quite literally and not at all figuratively), and carrying around 100 extra pounds makes me even hotter (again, literally).

Of course, if I am trying to get Kayla out of the house with me, we can throw countless variables into the mix. Let's just make a list:

1) She doesn't want to take a bath. For the longest, this was never a problem. Recently, however, it seems that she is much too busy to be bothered with bathing. No matter how I try to sell it (Bubbles! Play with your toys! You'll be clean and shiny and fresh!), we wind up going back and forth and back and forth until she relents or I throw her in kicking and screaming.

2) She does not want to go where we are going. Now this is kind of an unusual one. She is usually game to go wherever it is we're going just for the sake of not staying at home. But sometimes she will decide she doesn't want to go to such and such a place, so I figure out a way to sell the place as the best place she'll ever go, so she will allow me to continue to get her ready to go to said place.

3) She throws a fit... about anything and everything. Wow, my least favorite delay-causer by far. She can go from a perfectly content and angelic place to an evil, awful, horrible place in about 10 seconds. For example, I'm getting ready for work. I have the light on so that, oh, I don't know, I can see what I'm doing. Kayla doesn't want the light on. Why? You would have to ask her. Have you tried to reason with a 33-month-old kid lately? So much fun it should be illegal. And very time consuming. Especially when you try to roll Super Nanny style and get that kid to stay on the Naughty Chair for the entire length of the timeout she earned for a) screaming, screaming, and screaming, and b) hitting Daddy.

4) She is too busy. As in, "Kayla, let's get dressed." "Mommy, I'm too BUSY!" She tells me this all the time. "Would you like to have some lunch now?" "Mommy, I'm too BUSY!" Where did she even get this? What does she know from busy? She's not even three years old! If she is this busy at this age, just how fast is she going to be driving on the freeway one day?

Kayla taking time out to enjoy the great outdoors with Dolly Diego.

The next time you are taking a walk and your kid stops and says "This is a beautiful pink flower, Mommy," and proceeds to smell it, I suggest you do the same.

"Watch me, Mommy, watch me! Watch me run in circles! Mommy, run in circles with me!" Yes, it is just a kid running in circles in your kitchen. But one day she'll be driving, on her way to college or her job, no doubt in a hurry because she's running late, and I can pretty much guarantee she will not be asking you to watch her run in circles anymore or to chase her.

Don't think I wrote this post for all of you. I mean, I did, but I also wrote it for me and I hope I'm listening.

The Thank You Post

2008-09-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

A million thanks to Vanessa, a childhood friend with whom I have recently reconnected after twenty years plus. Were it not for Ness and her kick-ass blog (http://www.beetgoeson.blogspot.com/), chances are I would not be doing this now. It might have happened, but not until I was blogging about retirement and grandkids.

Ness is the little cutie in the middle. The cutie on the left is my bestest bud,
Spooky. The one on the right is me. This was taken at our 20-year reunion by Jeanie. I know, we do not look old enough to be out of high school 20 years.

Thanks to Mom, for coming up with the title of this blog. I called her for advice when I was trying to think of a title, because basically, I call her for advice about everything. I keep trying to get out of her how I will get to the point where I know everything like she does, but she will not tell me. I guess I will have to figure this out on my own. Also thanks to Mom for everything else, and I do mean everything.

The Big Lie of Omission

2008-09-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

So it's not a lie. It's just that people do not tell you the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway. No one, and I mean no one, tells you how hard it is to be a mother.

They do not tell you that should you decide to procreate, you will in fact be signing on for the hardest, most grueling, and most thankless job on the face of the earth.

No one can explain this to you. It is not that they have not tried, it is just that you probably caught them on a day when their kid was good. Their kid had probably not said on that particular day "I want a NEW mommy!" or "Mommy! Be quiet RIGHT NOW! SHHHHHH!"

The fact of the matter is, they could not tell you how hard it is, because there is something inside of all of them - all of the mothers and fathers who came before you - that wants you to suffer right along with them. There is a reason someone came up with the phrase "Misery loves company." It's because it is true.

Also, think how the world would be if every prospective parent knew the real deal? The good thing is that stores would be less crowded. You wouldn't have to change your dinner plans on a Saturday night because you are starving, there's an hour wait, and not even a spot at the bar so that you can forget all about the fact you are starving. The bad thing is that if you are single, you'd have a lot fewer eligibles from which to choose (and it's slim pickin's enough as it is, or so I hear).

No one tells you that even though you survived the days when you had to make sure anything your curious toddler would want to put in their mouth was out of reach without incident, one day at the age of two-and-a-half-plus you'd look up and see their teeth are purple because they decided to try eating a crayon. Or they'd managed to find a yogurt-covered raisin in the couch that is God knows how old but they are munching on it contentedly anyway.

No one can give you a clue, not even Super Nanny herself, about how hard it is to carry a 30-pound, kicking and screaming child from the middle of the mall to the car, as sympathetic parents look on, because they did not get to spend enough time at Play Town. You also do not get briefed on the whole potty training thing, and how much urine you'll be trying to soak out of your carpet, as if you've just brought home a new puppy, and you find yourself wondering how your family room would look if you covered the entire thing with plastic.

The other thing that none of these mothers and fathers can adequately prepare you for is the way you feel as though you have so much love for this new person in your life, you think you need another heart to contain it all. They don't tell you that finally, you will get just how much your own mother loves you.

They have no way of explaining that almost immediately after the kid arrives, everything makes sense. All of your missteps and foul-ups and bad choices and really, really, really bad choices all seem to make sense, because they all brought you to this point in time, the one in which you are getting a big hug and kiss from your kid and hearing them say, "I love you, Mommy." And even if they played a recording for you, you would not be able to understand that hearing their laughter is like being immersed within joy itself, if that is possible.

It's the ultimate paradoxical situation. Nothing will make you feel more like you are losing your mind than being a parent. Nothing will leave you feeling more beaten, battered, and forsaken. But nothing else will give you as much laughter, entertainment, warmth, and fulfillment, either.

I wish I could tell you the truth the right now, to make up for all the people who will not tell you later. But I just can't write it as bad or as good as it really is.

Frienemies and Emmy's

2008-09-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

I really don't think I have much to say about "frienemies," but I absolutely love this term. It is one of my favorite of all time. I think I first heard the expression "frienemy" when watching a show called Miss Guided, which was an Ashton Kutcher-produced venture on ABC last season that was around for about eight episodes before it got the boot. And that was a shame, because for mindless entertainment it was quite entertaining! Anyway, frienemies... such a lovely, evocative word. I think almost everyone has them. I'm sorry, I should stop and define this word before I go on, in case you've not heard it and don't know what it means from the way it sounds. The urbandictionary.com (love it) has several definitions, but it basically means someone who is at once a friend and an enemy. I know, it's silly, but these people exist!

For example, there is the "friend" who is always kind to you when they see you, but who spews all kinds of crap about you behind your back. I would have to say that for me, this is the basic definition. There is also the person you can get along with just fine, and have casual conversation with... perhaps a co-worker. However, you think everything they are about is ridiculous and you have no respect for them whatsoever. Also you think they are a complete idiot.

As for my first definition, we will always have friends about whom we have something to say. You could think your friend was like a better person than Mother Theresa, but wonder to yourself whatever possessed them to wear that shirt with those pants. Or think that they should have handled a particular problem in the same way you would have. That's normal, and that person would not count as a frienemy.

No, a frienemy is someone who could be totally hardcore awful, either to your face or behind your back (a frienemy's favorite place to be), but then be sweet as pie to your face. And these people I do not get. I just don't understand. I would rather have friends and enemies, and no frienemies. If you want to be evil when I'm not around, I'd pretty much rather you be evil when I am around. Or at least don't sign your e-mails with big fat x's and o's and then start plotting what you could do to make my life miserable. That's just silly.

I figured I'd better speak my peace about the Emmy Awards, since they were just on last night. I know, you don't care. I read that the audience for the Emmy's was the lowest of all time or something. But I DVR'd them and watched them today, and first of all I would like to say that whoever thought it would be a good idea to have five reality show hosts do the hosting duties is an idiot. I guess it sounded good on paper, but then they got up there and started talking, and the opening bit is pretty much the most painful thing I've ever endured. I'd take the false labor pains I had in Las Vegas and recovery from a C-section combined over watching Jeff Probst and Howie Mandel try to be funny. Perhaps they are funny in real life, but together they were as funny as doing your taxes. Meanwhile Tom Bergeron (I love the guy) and Heidi Klum stood around looking uncomfortable, and I'm thinking, "Okay, this is part of the bit and at any moment it's going to get funny... " but then it never happened. Sheesh, I can't even remember who the fifth guy was... oh, gosh. Of course, the omnipresent Ryan Seacrest. Is there anyone else who is not happy with the fact that it seems he is being primed to be the next Dick Clark on New Year's Rockin' Eve? I have spent like the last 30-plus years with Dick, and the thought of spending the next 30-something with Ryan Seacrest makes me want to boycott New Year's Eve entirely. Please, if someone can explain to me why I should like this guy, feel free. I am open-minded and willing to listen to your reasoning before keeping him on the list of People Who Are Famous And Just Shouldn't Be.

On the bright side of the Emmy telecast was the fact that 30 Rock won, and so did Tina Fey, for Writing and Best Actress, and Alec Baldwin for Best Actor. Say what you will about his personal life, dude is funnier than hell on this show, and if you are not watching it, please do. It's freaking hilarious and Tina Fey is my idol. Oh, goodness, and Josh Groban. I did not get this guy before. And what I mean by that is that I did not get why he was so famous and so adored. But after his medley of TV theme songs, I was ready to marry the guy. He was adorable and the medley was so much fun. Mad Men won for best drama, which caused me to ask myself for the bajillionth time why I am not watching this show. One day, at least a year ago, I watched bits and pieces of several episodes during a marathon while I cleaned house and loved it (the show, not cleaning the house), but have never made it a staple on my DVR, and I think I need to change that. And House, I need to watch that show, too.

Oh goodness, THE highlight of the Emmy's... the Ricky Gervais/Steve Carrell bit. Laughed off my you-know-what!!

Say what you will about its defects, but I will never be one of those people who do not watch TV. Every time I hear that, I feel a slight of pang of jealousy, which quickly subsides and turns into "What the hell is wrong with you?" There is a heap of good stuff on TV. Do I like the fact that it takes time away from reading, writing, or my kid? No... but let me think on that some more after the season premiere of Dancing With The Stars.

Why? And also politics.

2008-09-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

First of all, why?

Jen, you will all undoubtedly ask, why do you need to blog? The most obvious answer is why the hell not? But seriously, it is because for close to 30 years, I've thought that maybe I have something I need to say. Or more importantly and egotistically, I have something to say and I need people to hear it. Or read it, or whatever. I cannot explain why this is the case. I cannot explain why I want people to know what is inside of my head. Even as I write this I think that the contents therein are probably truly best left where they are, to fester and ferment. But I'll try to leave the ones that fester and pester there, and instead share the ones that entertain and delight. Wow, I can't believe I just said that, because I am only setting myself up for failure. I will change that now and say that instead of trying to entertain you, I am just going to say whatever the hell is in my mind that day, and do with it what you wish.

I have had a motto for several years that goes something like this: "I feel the reason I'm here is to entertain and be entertained." Seriously. This seems like a silly, meaningless, empty sort of motto to have. I disagree. Life is short. I think we should spend as much of it laughing and smiling or making people do the same as possible.

This is also my motto because sometimes I feel I don't have much else to add. For example, do not ask me about politics. I know I'm a Democrat, have always been and will always be. This is about where my knowledge begins and ends. I do know that they always seem to be the ones who want more teachers and libraries and everyone to have equal rights, regardless of skin color or with whom they sleep, so it makes sense that I belong to this party because I think these are good things. Also, if you watch the conventions, you will see that obviously, the Dems look way more like they would be fun at a party. Even the most conservative Rush-Limbaugh-loving Michael-Savage-adoring of you know this is true. If you were trying to throw a really fun party you would totally invite the crowds from the Democratic convention and not the stiffs from the other one.

So I will not debate you on the issues. I know what I know (which is very little) and I feel what I feel in my heart (which is a whole lot). This being said, I have made it my goal to start paying way more attention to what is happening in the world and become super educated about politics, current affairs and whatnot. I think I will start by watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, as both Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert make me laugh any time I see them, and yet I do not watch these shows. I believe I need to start my education about issues by getting them in heaping hilarious, satirical, comical doses from, of course, left-leaning hilarious guys. Then perhaps I will move on to some real news, the stuff I try to avoid because it super bums me out and gets in the way of me being entertained.

As I have told countless folks, especially the one (because there has only been one so far who has been so blatant about it) who accuses me of burying my head in the sand, if something really important happens, I have a whole bunch of friends and family members who will let me know. Also I will catch a blip about it when I sign in to Yahoo! to check my e-mail.

And the title of this blog, Work in Progress? It's because it is and so am I. For the love of all that's good and holy, I really hope I am.