State of Obvious

Today I am tired. Tired of dog food. Tired of bills. Tired of uncertainty and worries. I could go without seeing any more gray clouds. And I'm really over this dead grass in my yard. I am tired of the news, which always seems bad despite the news caster's smiling faces. Tired of housework. Tired of whining - even my own. I wish I didn't have to zip coats. Or make dinner. Or clean toilets. I wish the bed would make itself. And the floor would somehow suck up all the dirt without the vacuum in my hand. I'm tired of wearing the same clothes. And shoes. I am tired of thinking about packing. Tired of going through stuff we don't need. Tired of watching commercials on TV. Tired of the same songs on the radio. So many things to be tired of. So many things to be grateful for, too. Funny how that works.

The other day at Target I was in line behind some Twilight Moms. You know, those 30+ (I think these were 40+ but who's counting) women/mothers/teenagers trapped in adult bodies that read/obsess/break-down/buy-books-about/saw-the-movie-in-the-theater types. These particular Twilight Moms had the 'behind the scenes' book in their hands for purchase. And they were excited about it. I couldn't help but smile at them in sisterhood. I read on a blog the other day "I still don't understand why I should like Bella". Let me break it down for you. First, Bella is a young woman . Dare I say an immature teenager. As much as Stephanie talks about Bella as an old soul, she's still a 17, 18, 19 year old young woman. People keep reading the books looking for depth. There is no depth ! It's a love story, a book written from the perspective of a young woman in love. At 17, 18, 19 your thoughts were not deep and philosophical - especially if you were 

It's raining outside, a subtle tap-tap-tapping on my roof. I can hear the drips falling off the gutters, puddling up, waiting to pounce on my Sunday shoes tomorrow. Earlier the thunder was rolling as lights from heaven danced across the sky. Upstairs the wee ones are sleeping; little heads nestled into pillows and feet sticking out the bottom of blankets. The boy is breathing slow and steady - whish whoosh sigh - while the girl adds her more stacatto sounding snore to the mix. The shadows of the street lights play across their faces as they sleep soundly unaware of the rain's falling lullaby.

Have you met my husband? His name is Eric. OR you can call him Easy-E. Sometimes I call him Doug (that's his middle name). And now and then I call him honey. If you're really brave, try calling him Squat-y Body. He really might hurt you. Your first impression meeting my husband might be "I better move or he's going to run me over." Occasionally people think "Woah, he's a big fella." He has been compared to a wall before. A wall o' man. It's an especially useful quality in large crowds. Most people that know my husband think he's pretty funny. A tad crazy. He's extremely loyal and has many life-long friends. He usually catches people off guard with his warmth. Quite often people comment that he has amazing eyes. They are quite engaging. I like that. Eric is a great dad. He loves his kids a lot. He yells at them sometimes. He yells at me sometimes. But, afterwards he tries to make up for it. He never gets mad when I spend too much mone

You might want to consider coming up with your backstory BEFORE you come bouncing into the office with your long, curly black lashes coated in mascara. Because I'm not going to believe you when you say that your 10 year old big brother put it on you. Nope, not even a little bit. Just sayin'.

I am not ashamed to admit that today I ate 2 cadbury eggs. In a row. Not the little ones (those are also quite good, I might have had 1 or 2). The big cream filled ones that look like a real egg when you crack it open. Except it's not a real egg inside (that would be gross), its creamy, sugary goodness. And food coloring. I ate these eggs because stressed spelled backwards is chocolate. Okay, so maybe stressed spelled backwards is desserts. Chocolate desserts.

You want to know the worst part of moving? Finding a place to live! Oh, I know what I want and where I want it. The problem I am having is this little thing called Reality. I like to refer to Reality as the DREAM CRUSHER. "Oooo I like that one" CRUSH "That one has everything we need" CRUSH "We can almost afford that one" CRUSH "That one needs work" CRUSH, TRAMPLE, CRUSH {sigh}

AKA Chuck E Cheese on a Saturday afternoon. 1. Adults are weird and pretty boring . 2. Any excuse to take off your shoes is a public place is a good excuse . 3. Falling down is usually funny if Mom didn't see it happen . 4. Tickets are secondary . 5. If bigger kids are doing it, I'm going to try it . 6. I am brave , but I still want to see if Mom thinks I'm ok. 7. I demand a seatbelt in the Chucky car, it is clearly more dangerous than a real car. 8. Mice should not be life-sized.

I played with your heart Got lost in the game. Oh, baby baby... Wait, sorry, got sidetracked. I let myself get drawn into an argument again. A sparring of words, as it were. An argument where neither side is going to move. That is my favorite kind, if you don't count the throw downs me and El Ringleader Eric get caught up in. (Can you feel the sarcasm? Why don't they have a sarcastic font?) This really smart guy once said : When we believe or say we have been offended, we usually mean we feel insulted, mistreated, snubbed, or disrespected. And certainly clumsy, embarrassing, unprincipled, and mean-spirited things do occur in our interactions with other people that would allow us to take offense. However, it ultimately is impossible for another person to offend you or to offend me. Indeed, believing that another person offended us is fundamentally false. To be offended is a choice we make; it is not a condition inflicted or imposed upon us by someone or something else. Appa

1. I need to hop in the shower. That's right, it's 2:22 pm and I have not yet gotten dressed. In my defense, I am sick. Sick like I need to go to bed toot-sweet. The non-shower stank is secondary to this sickness. 2. Only 7 people voted on my poll. That was disappointing. I mean, 2 of the votes were from Eric and I! I chalk it up to 1 of 2 things: People don't like reading a wall of text OR People don't like reading my blog. Either way, Tamyrn's story won and so I'll be focusing some attention on her. Probably. A resounding vote of 6 is less motivating than you might think. 3. I have fallen off and am chasing after the "NO TO DP!" wagon. Since the Super Bowl it has pretty much been straight downhill. I am blaming it on the intense amount of stress I am currently under. (I also blame the stress for the ill I am under.) On the upside, my DP consumption is way down in comparison to pre-quitting so I am happy with that for now. And I haven't given up c

I went for a walk today, my kids on their scooters. Josh rides one that is silver and red, pushing smoothly along with his left leg. Push, push, glide. It wasn't always so easy for him, he used to tip the shiny scooter over on purpose and cry about how he just "couldn't do it!" But now it is almost as natural as breathing; push, push, glide. Carly rides a fancy 3 wheel scooter, 2 big wheels in front for balance, and pink all over with princess faces and a cheerful bell. Carly is not nearly so smooth, choosing a much more elaborate method of motion. Push, push, push, push, push. No gliding, no resting. After only half a block she is already tired and steps off her scooter to walk beside it. The wind is chill and crisp, slapping against our faces, bringing out the apple redness of our cheeks. Well, in the case of Carly I have a sneaking suspicion that underneath her silky chocolate she is the color of ripe apples, too. The sun and sky appear deceptively warm, w

Funny how when life is laid out before you, a feast of granted wishes suddenly at your fingertips, you hesitate . Surely it is not that easy. Roads are forked , not straight . Paths are rocky , not smooth . Dreams don't just come true one day, suddenly . Do they? And yet they do. Witness: A boy of 10 with eyelashes to make my mother-heart swoon, a boy who wants to know when the dog will "stop being in heated." Witness: A girl of three, impish and sweet in the same breath, with bouncing braids and enough sass for two. Witness: A husband of mine , imperfectly perfect, works to give me home. Dreams do come true, they really do .

aka Writer's Block Edition I tend to go through spurts of scribbling things down.  I have portions and sections of stories scattered through many notebooks.  I was going to take a picture of the chaos but I decided not to because that is like work.  And I'm not really a fan of the work.   Anyhow,  I have 4 stories I am playing around with.  I somewhat like these stories but I am wondering if anyone else does.  So this is the interactive part of the 4fer.  I'm gonna throw up a poll.  Over there --------------> If you take the time to read all four blurbs, please vote for your favorite.  I'm hoping that your feedback will inspire me to press forward with the chosen story.   Capiche?  Oh and please ignore any glaring examples of poor spelling and/or grammar.  Fixing it would be work.  And I already told you how I feel about that. 1. Josephine and Ama scrambled up, splashing cool water as they went. “What are you doing?” Mrs. Clara asked, her voice icy, her face hard.

My sister, aforementioned, asked me a long time ago what my enchilada recipe was. And I keep forgetting to give it to her. Because I'm good like that. So here it is: 1 lb ish of ground beef chopped onion - one small or half a large, optional for all you onion haters salt and pepper taco seasoning - to taste 1 package of grated cheddar cheese (I'm sure you can use one of those Mexican mixes but I prefer plain ol ' sharp cheddar) 1/4 c butter or margarine 3 tbs flour 2 cups of milk 1 small can of chopped green chiles - I'm sure you could substitute for a fresh roasted green chile , without seeds, if you can get one. oil, olive or canola are fine just whatever you have on hand 1 package of corn tortillas (12-15) - I try to find tortillas that aren't too thick, they are just easier to work with, but it doesn't really matter as long as they are corn and not flour Brown the meat and onion together, add taco seasoning to taste, salt and pepper. The meat doesn'

She asked, I'll answer. Q: What I really want to know is why with 100's of channels broadcast, there is nothing to watch? What was wrong with shows about families and making good choices - like telling the truth, loving others even though they are different, and telling jokes did not involve innuendo and foul language? A: I am not really sure why good, loving, happy shows aren't being made. I think it has something to do with car wrecks. You know that little high you get when you pass a car wreck? I didn't say good high. But your stomach does that little flip as you crane your neck to see what happened. You might even be looking to see if the person/people are ok. But you look. I'm sure there is some complicated formula involving demographics, shock value, sex and drugs. If you have the magical mix right, you either get your own show or a really disgusting cup cake. What I can't figure out is how they tricked us into paying for such a motley collection

Our little appreciation sessions have become my favorite part of the day. And when you consider just how much I love naps, that's really saying something. I think the thing I like best is that I am usually surprised by what my kids come up with. Joshua especially. He's growing up, he's becoming a thinker, he's breaking away from Mom's opinion. It's a fascinating, frightening, fantastic process. He's becoming a little man. On Sunday Josh told me that he appreciated how much I liked/talked about the dinner he made. That's right, he made dinner for us . (With a little help from The Ringleader). He locked me in Eric's office and conjured up a feast of taquitos, mini cheeseburgers, corn on the cob and fruit. Delish. Joshua's flair for recognizing the perfection of ordinary things got me thinking. It made me look around at things I take for granted, things normally unseen that are right in front of my preoccupied face. I'm grateful fo

You know what I want to be when I grow up? A good person.  An honest person.  A trustworthy person.   I want to be a friend, a wife, a compassionate caretaker, a mother, a listener.  I want to doctor small injuries to the body and fix the fissures of the soul.  I want to lend my advice when it's asked for.  I want to keep it to myself when it's not.   I want to be attentive and kind.  I want to be understanding and thoughtful.  I want to be full of perspective and yet morally narrow minded.  I want to know why I believe in what I believe in.  I want to share what I have with a thankful heart.  I want to accept charity and service with a smile.   I want to do harm to none. And I'm going to start by taking a Sunday ride with my family.

As a dutiful servant and follower I put forth: Things I like about myself Sometimes I say funny things when I actually meant to be funny. I can write a short story or story opening like no other. I love my kids. A lot. I am much better at keeping a clean house than I used to be. It's not perfect but I always try to keep it clean enough that I won't be embarrassed by a surprise visitor. I can usually sing on pitch. Or close enough that I blend in. I know my way around a computer. I like the color of my eyes, brown and green and sometimes in between. I'm not mean to my mom anymore. And that is all.

I think I am a reactionary person.  I let myself get all worked up and then later, when I'm not seeing red, I feel really bad.   And stupid .   Want to know something else about me?  Quite often, I avoid looking at myself in the mirror.  I regularly stick out my tongue at my reflection when I do look.  I examine pictures of myself to see if there is anything worth seeing.   I also talk a lot.  Not at first, when I don't know you, but later when I am comfortable.  I talk like I know a lot too.  But I don't know much at all.  I am good at making educated guesses.   I have somewhat mastered sounding smart without being smart. When people point out that I am good at something, or compliment me because I have done something well or lost weight, I avoid doing that thing again.  Because the attention is uncomfortable. I hate going into crowded rooms.  I dislike meeting new people.  The phone is the bane of my existence (which is kind of funny because most of my 'courtship'

Says Carly in a sing-song voice while examining her pink strip-ed sock: "It's got a hole, it's got a hole, now I can scratch it!"

Kid Questionnaire First answer is all Josh, second is all Carly, ( ) are my response 1. What is something mom always says to you? Do your homework Scare Carly, scare Josh 2. What makes mom happy? Doing what she asks Make dinner 3. What makes mom sad? Me being sad A prize 4. How does your mom make you laugh? Tickling me Like this ' ahahahahahhhah ' 5. What was your mom like as a child? Uhh always calling Cha Cha a German You kid was uh going to the school 6. How old is your mom? 32 ( He's close! ) 3 7. How tall is your mom? 5'3" ( Josh said 18 inches initially haha ! ) Big 8. What is her favorite thing to do? Play WoW Make macaroni and cheese 9. What does your mom do when you're not around? Probably watches TV with Carly Making schools 10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? Book writing ( Let's hope! ) I was a movie star when I was a little baby ( she didn't understand this one ) 11. What is your mom really good at? Being nice ( What a b

Oh the possibilities! Bursting out like tulips in March, spreading their petals in glorious worship to the sun! Falling like rain, gathering in puddles, reflecting the brightness and grayness alike! Oh the many chances we take! Going left, going right or sometimes even stopping short! Like trees with baby buds ready to unfurl, like morning light just peeking out through branches, like leaves flung away on seasonal winds! Oh the moments and dreams that trickle in with the tides! Caught up on high waves of emotion, crashing and falling, the ebb and flow of chances and choices! Washing away, leaving the world fresh and clean! Oh the possibilities of a world ripe with Spring!

I figured out how to solve America's economic crisis AND it's obesity epidemic all at once.  It's quite simple really - pay Americans to lose weight! No, no - think about it! Your everyday American wants to lose a little weight but with the economy being like it is, they can't afford those pricey diet programs.  So, Big Brother doles out a monthly stipend that continues until you reach your goal weight so long as you continue to make progress each month.  Once the 'employee' reaches their goal weight, they'll be so motivated to live life that they will get married, have kids, get comfy and gain back the weight.  Big Brother re-employs our comfy American, injecting money into the system and removing fat from healthcare costs in a never ending cycle. Am I brilliant or what?!