Personal Diet Coke Revelations

I started drinking Diet Coke in Junior High. For a couple of years there, I thought a Diet Coke and a candy bar were the ingredients for the perfect lunch. If I'm honest, I probably still think of Diet Coke and a candy bar as the staples for survival...

I've done the "no caffeine" thing--it nearly killed me when I was pregnant. I tried drinking everything (caffeine free DC wasn't available yet) from root beer to water. Nothing was as appealing... My current goal is to keep my Diet Coke (with caffeine) consumption to one serving per day. By serving, I actually mean 12 oz, not that humongo bottomless big gulp size. I think a daily 12 oz serving is respectable. Don't you?

Anyway. I've recently been doing a lot of traveling. I've been disappointed to discover that more and more locations are choosing to serve Pepsi products. In desperation, I've ordered Diet Pepsi a few times. I always ask for LOTS of lemon and it's been more tolerable than I would have believed it could be.

So, for the past year, it's been Diet Coke here, Diet Pepsi there... And I've discovered something. I'm not as much a die hard as I though I was... It turns out, I do still like Diet Coke better than Diet Pepsi if it's a canned beverage. I don't like either beverage if it's from a plastic bottle. And I like Diet Pepsi better than Diet Coke if it's a fountain drink. Is that weird?

I guess that means we'll have to rethink the old standby invitation of, "Let's go get a Coke." We'll decide if it'll really be a Coke product or a Pepsi product when we see how it's going to be served! And as for the Diet Coke v. Diet Pepsi thing? I can't say that we have a clear winner. I guess we'll have to call it a draw.

Utterly Confused

Some of you read my post yesterday and decided that I'm unintelligent. I'm aware that many of you can't fathom my confusion about spring. Truly, I am trying to understand the concept of this "mild" month. But the definition of spring, and more importantly, what to expect from spring, continue to allude me.

Maybe these photos will help explain my confusion.

Yesterday..

Today...

Yesterday...

Today...

Does that help you understand my confusion?

Hello Spring--Glad to Meet You.

I'm confused. Does the commencement of spring coincide with a certain date, an awaited event, or a specific temperature? I have to admit, I'm a little perplexed about this whole spring thing. And because of my location, spring's arrival is at best, tentative. So that makes identifying this elusive season even more tricky.

Today was a warm day (relatively speaking--as opposed to the blizzard of two days ago). It felt just a little like spring. It even looked a little like spring. The sun was out, and actually turned on. The warmth flooded my car as it sat at the curb near the soccer field. In fact, although I needed my coat for the soccer game this morning, by afternoon I had to shed it to avoid wilting in the sunshine.

Another clue that it might possibly be spring is the anxiety in The Mister's voice. He is becoming marginally frantic. He is rifling through piles of files in preparation of our annual appointment with The Tax Man... And the pastel-infused palate of spring is apparent in catalog photos, shop windows, and M&Ms.

If we're looking at the calendar, it would appear that spring has sprung. Pictures of flowers and blossoms abound. Puppies and kittens are the iconic figures of the current month. And yet, somehow, I still find myself unsure.

Maybe I just don't understand spring.

I know summer. That's when you put on shorts and flip flops and daydream about swimming pools. It's when the grass grows green and the bees buzz and the wind is more of a welcoming breeze.

I also understand fall. That's when the kids go back to school and the sweaters come out of the closet. The colors change, the wind has a bite, and the fireplace is a great place to gather.

Winter is easy. Snow, boots, coats, and pink cheeks. Sniffles, goosebumps, and shivering... It's easy to recognize winter.

But spring? I guess the consensus is that this is, in fact, spring... But I'm still wearing my winter sweaters. I'm still temped to bask in the warmth of the fireplace. The precipitation from last week came in the form of flakes instead of droplets. The wind still has a bite which is very reminiscent of fall. And the thought of swimming pools just evokes visions of polar bears...

Even though I'm still not convinced of the arrival of spring, I may be ready to do some spring cleaning. But I think I'll draw the line there. I'm not sure I'm prepared for the rest... I'm not ready for light cottons. I'm not ready for picnics or barbecues. I refuse to wear flip flops until the snow melts. I know April 15 is looming, but receipts, statements, and W-2s will just have to wait. So, spring? If you're really here, Welcome. I look forward to getting to know you.

What's the Number?

Phones. They are one of modern civilization's most important innovations. Just ask any teenage girl--she'll certainly agree with me! Think of all the ways that this modern form of communication enriches our lives. Remember back when we had to walk both to and from school, uphill, in a snowstorm, in bare feet, in gale force winds? Phones were different then. For one, wireless was an absurd idea. Who would have thought that our daughters would be stepping out on the porch to get out of earshot for calls with the cute boy. Who could have imagined driving down the freeway while making reservations for dinner. How did we function without the ability to check in when running late for curfew?

And that just addresses the advances in actual telephonic advancements.

Now we have Wi-Fi. We can surf for movie times and purchase tickets. We can take photos of our kids and forward them to grandma. And text! I can contact my son, while he's sitting in class, without disrupting anyone (of course, I'd NEVER do that!).

So, here's my complaint. I have this newfangled, high-tech, full qwerty equipped, Wi-Fi enabled, photo-taking, voice-recording piece of technology. And I find myself having difficulty dialing a simple phone number. Isn't that supposed to be the basic function of a phone? To dial phone numbers? Did I miss something? And the sad part is that it's the most simple phone number that throws me. I always remember it. I never have to look it up. I'm sure you dial similar numbers, but how?

The number I continue to struggle with is this: 1.800.COMCAST. I also struggle with numbers like 1.800.Get.Help or 866.BUY.HOME. These numbers are fabulously easy to remember, but oh, so difficult to call. If I were to dial these "word numbers" on my phone, it would look something like this: 180080M8#4T and you'll just have to trust me when I tell you that I most certainly won't be connected with a Comcast Service Rep.

So, if anyone out there is more informed than I. Please share. Is there some secret dialing application to download? Is there a discreet cheat sheet embedded in my phone's memory? Am I just to unintelligent to dial from a cell phone? Please, tell me that isn't the case!

Until I find a way to figure out this dialing dilemma, I guess I'll just have to call from home. But if you have any information to help me, I can be reached at 800.I.AM.DUMB...

Is Anybody In There?

I've been exceedingly busy today. In fact, I've been working on a little project that has been ongoing for the past few months. By "ongoing" I mean I've been wishing someone would step in and take care of it for me... But I've decided that it's time to finally get serious and actually do something proactive about it.

Here's some background... I have a moderately sized room in my house. It's a largely uninhabited room. I consider it to be dangerous and largely uncharted terrain. And I have a plan to conquer it.

My children (at times) have found this room to be one of intrigue, brimming with fascinating items. I find it to be not unlike the Bermuda Triangle--things go in, only to never be seen again. I feel that the only safe way to traverse the topography of this room is with the help of a good GPS unit and a locating beacon. I would also recommend the use of quality climbing apparatus, including harnesses, grappling hooks, and tethers. Entrance to this room should only be undertaken after the proper waivers have been signed, releasing me from responsibility for any unforeseen (and unfortunate) events that may occur.

I've been known to get lost in this room for hours. The Mister is good to organize a rescue party to retrieve me from the disarray. The Mister is sensitive to the fact that this room needs to be tamed. He supports my quest for domination and even attempts to assist in the task. The most unfortunate fact about this room is that it has a purpose. It's not some storage room, tucked away under the eaves... No, this dangerous room of lost items and delayed returns is, in fact, my closet...

I decided that today was going to be the day that I conquer the discombobulated mass of my self-created textile labyrinth. And I am pleased to say that I am nearing the summit of my adventure. I have braved the cashmere towers. I have tackled the profusion of shoes. I have scaled the shelves to relocate the seldom-used to points more befitting... And with much sadness, I boxed up the bulky sweaters to make room for the freshly unearthed cottons of spring.

The end is in sight. I have only some minor tidying to do. I've culled the bedraggled, and eliminated the offensive. The highest precipice is within reach. I stand upright. With confidence. In triumph. I've conquered it! I will show my accomplishment with all who care to see. The flag of honor, waving from the pinnacle of the mountain is mine. I've earned it.

Now, where did I put that cute blue purse???

Fat Jeans

I'm living in a highly offended state of distress. All I wanted was a really cute pair of jeans. Is that too much for a girl to ask? I've been on my quest for the perfect jeans for a while now. I have even gone so far as to order custom-made jeans from an online company. I measured, answered questions, told them about my problem areas... And I just got my jeans in the mail. YAY! Or, not so yay. As it turns out, my custom-made, designed-to-fit-only-me jeans don't fit. Or, to be fair, I guess they do fit, at least as well as any other pair I own. But they're a little tight in the thigh, and they gap in the waist, so why did I have to humiliate myself with all the measurement disclosure? For these???

So--I'm on the prowl again, hoping for success this time.

I heard about a little store in an out-of-the-way location and decided to take a little excursion... They had all kinds of cute jeans. Pocket flaps, no pocket flaps, colorful stitching, no colorful stitching, long lengths, capri lengths, you name it... And ONE pair of jeans in my size...

Now, I'm not saying that I'm shaped like a super model. I am at no risk of having Tyra Banks request my presence on America's Next Top Model. But seriously, I'm not barn sized... You would think, in this diversity-tolerant state of acceptance in which we currently live, that a curvy, womanly-shaped person like me could buy a stinking pair of jeans!

So, after buying the ONLY pair of jeans in my size, I took to the Internet. Ah. The Internet. My homeland. My Utopia. The only place on earth where a person can find anything they desire--and some really odd things as well...

I jumped online and checked out Nordstrom. Everyone (especially me) loves Nordstrom. I clicked on the "denim" tab and surfed away. Cute pockets! Love the wash! Gotta have those trousers! oh. hmmm. It would seem that Nordstom is in on the conspiracy to keep ample bottoms out of the cute jeans department. Their sizes stop just short of the size I require. hmmm. bummer.

Undaunted, I decided, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. And I clicked on over to the Plus Size department. Hello--I'm new here... Don't judge me... And I began my quest. Yay! Cute pockets! Funky washes! oh. bummer. The smallest size is one size too big...

Really? Why would Nordstrom subscribe to this twisted conspiracy? I feel unfairly targeted. I'm too big by one size to buy regular jeans. I'm too small by one size to buy plus size jeans. Who came up with this?! Where's the justice in this denim sizing system! Who decided that MY butt would not be adorned with fun pockets!? I protest!

Next, I checked out the "premium denim" sites. Guess what. They make really cute jeans for nearly everyone! I found adorable jeans for toddlers (you know they will outgrow them in a week, right?). I could buy cute jeans for my pre-teen daughter (and wouldn't she think I was the best!?). But they only carry jeans up to the size right below my size. If I went down one stinking size, I would have a plethora of choices. But no... Nothing in my size...

So, here I sit, in the ONLY pair of jeans in my size known to exist in the state of Utah. I'm sure that them being in that little store is an anomaly. I'm sure it was an oversight to deliver anything sized correctly to embellish my behind. I'm sure the Denim Police are looking for me right now. But I don't care--I'M WEARING THEM AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!

The problem is, I know I can't wear this one pair of jeans every day for the next 18 months. I know I need at least a second pair of jeans. I am going to have to make a decision. Up a size? Or down a size? And so, the dilemma... Starve for two weeks, or eat doughnuts for breakfast for two weeks. Hmmm. Hard choice. I'm still thinking about that. I'll let you know when I decide which way to go. But in the meantime--Look at my Butt!

Transplants and Mourning

I'm contemplating organ transplantation. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not thinking about donating anything (at least not in the short term). I'm just wondering if it would be possible to upgrade a few of my own parts. Does anyone have an ethical problem with that?

What got me to thinking about this is the impending demise of my beloved iMac. We took it to the MacDoc yesterday--the prognosis isn't good... He says we may need to do a hard drive transplant. Would that be the equivalent of a brain transplant or a heart transplant? I'm really not sure...

Anyhoo--I will be checking in for an update with MacDocs later today. I will be really sad if poor iMac awakens with a new brain and can't remember anything. Of course, a case of amnesia will give me the chance to reinvent myself. Hopefully he will no longer recall those pictures of me in my swimsuit at the lake. Oh! This could be good. If those photos no longer exist--they never happened, right??? Hurray for Brain Transplants!

Guilty Pleasures

I have a confession. This is my favorite time of the year. Why? Well it's not exactly because of the weather. And it's not the longer days--it's really hard to get everyone to bed on time when the sun is out later. It's not the threat of pollen in the air--even though I adore the resulting bursts of color. Let me tell you why this is my favorite time of the year... It's Easter time!

When I say it's Easter time, I'm not talking about Sunday services. I'm not giddy about floral embellished bonnets. Bunnies and duckies don't do it for me... No, for me, it's all about the Easter candy!

I was at the grocery store yesterday. Have you seen the Easter isle?! Some of my very favorite treats are only available at this time of the year.

I bought these...

And I bought some of these...

And these are the best!

Now here's a little advice. If you've never tried any of these, then I suggest that you don't! They're highly addictive. So, in an effort to save you from succumbing to this insidious addiction, I will charitably volunteer to take these items off your hands. This is what you do: buy them, repeat to yourself, "I will not eat these" while delivering them to my house. Drop them off, and walk away. Seriously! Walk Away! I will dispose of them and your skinny jeans will thank me (although mine might not!).

I Looked Out the Window...

...And what did I see? Well, it certainly wasn't popcorn popping on the apricot tree!

It's snowing. Again. And it's drifting across my street. The snow plow driver has been here at least twice today, and it's already bad again.

I'm beginning to wonder if I didn't pay attention to the weather unit in elementary school. Isn't it "in like a lion, out like a lamb?" Was there a second verse? Something that involved white-out conditions and horizontally blowing ice crystals that sting your face??? Yeah. I don't really remember that verse at all... Let me know if you remember the words to that verse...

Last week I enjoyed the sun on my face, and even the beginnings of a sunburn. Today, the only burn I'm likely to get will happen in the kitchen.

So, for those of you who have a tanning bed tucked away in an upstairs bedroom. Don't use it. If you do, you'll certainly look like a tourist when you come to visit. Because all of us locals? We're still digging out from the latest snow storm!

Flashback

Do you remember Junior High? My experience defines it as a time of insecurity and self doubt. It was a time fraught with uncertainty and clumsy encounters. There was concern about fitting in with the right group. And hoping that you weren't going to be left standing against the wall at the dance. And while it seems as though my experience was wholly unappealing, it did have a few memorable moments.

I remember the excitement of a Friday night. The giddiness of a first crush. The sense of expanding freedom. The thrill of being noticed (for something positive, of course).

Those were the days of bluest skies and darkest storms. There was never a time that was as much of an emotional roller coaster. The high of getting a certain invitation. The low of being passed over...

I'm having a bit of a junior high flashback. Last week I was living in the Twilight Zone, I didn't know what was going to happen. Today, it's more of that giddy uncertainty of my teen years.

I remember when "the new girl" transferred to our school. I'm sure she wondered... Will anybody like me? Am I wearing the right thing? Does my butt look fat in these Jordache jeans? I'm feeling a little like the new girl right now. I find myself in an uncertain situation. I'm excited about the prospects. But nervous about making a good impression.

So all I'm asking is this... be a friend... and please, tell me the truth about these jeans!

Things you didn't know and didn't need to.

I got tagged on Facebook and decided to post this here.

25 Things About Me

1. I have an opinion about everything. Want me to share my opinion about something? Just ask! I love to share!
   
2. If I can't do it the right way, I won't do it at all. There will be no negotiation and no compromise.
   
3. I believe in quality, not quantity--in almost everything. Luckily, I got both with my kids.
   
4. I'm stubborn. If I don't want to do it, you will never be able to make me. The Mister finds this trait incredibly frustrating.
   
5. I have an inexplicable fear of losing my teeth. I really don't know why.
6. I talk in my sleep. I also snore--but I won't always admit to that in public.
7. I love to read, but I can't stand self-help books. I also don't like books that blatantly try to teach me something.
   
8. I love to cook. But I hate to wash dishes (even though I have two dishwashers in my kitchen).
9. I really love to bake. But none of my recipes work at the altitude where I currently live.
10. I once lost weight by eating nothing but chocolate. I had a headache for a week.
11. I used to have an entire kitchen cupboard dedicated to making hot chocolate. It contained hot chocolate mixes, flavored syrups, sprinkles, candy canes, etc. I now only have one shelf dedicated to hot chocolate. It's sad.
12. When I was pregnant with triplets, my doctor told me that all the embryos could split and I'd end up with sextuplets. I banned him from speaking to me again for the rest of the night.
13. I literally gag while drinking water unless it is a certain brand of bottled water. I like to drink my water at room temperature... I let the bottle sit on the kitchen counter.
    
14. Little kids stress me out. And I have several of them.
15. I grew up with great parents and only one sibling. I miss Tom, a lot. I think my family is changing.
    
16. I don't get anything done if I stay barefoot at home. I am much more motivated after I put on my shoes. But they have to be real shoes that require socks.
17. I'm a technology junkie. I love gadgets--I'm a closet nerd.
18. People seem to think I'm outgoing and friendly. I don't see it. I'm a homebody.
19. I'm a homebody who likes to travel.
    
20. I'm a germophobe. I have special fears about hotel rooms and airplane lavatories. I have twice flown across the pond without making a single trip to the airplane lav. That's a really long time to "hold it."
    
21. I drive too fast and once had my license suspended.
22. I claim to be at least 5 years older than I really am.
23. I'm a foodie who hates to exercise. It isn't a pretty combination...
    
24. I want to write a book, but I'm still waiting to find the right story.
25. I'm really excited about k.
    

This is Me.

It's a long story. I'll tell you about it sometime.

Glorious Spring!

Despite my great love affair with winter, I'm actually looking forward to spring this year. Last year I was out of town when spring actually sprung! When I left, my neighborhood was enrobed in drab browns and grays. Upon my return, I was greeted by trees, topped by an ebullient green haze. And slender blades of grass, just poking through the newly thawed ground. It was glorious!

The past few days have been such a welcome reminder of the restorative powers of spring. The sunshine warms as it heals the wounds of winter. The wind blown trees are standing a little straighter. Even the weeds look appealing as they cheerfully spread across the barren ground.

The thick blanket of winter conceals. It softens shapes, soothes harsh angles, hides the spent. And as winter progresses, there is something desirable in that. But with spring, there is truly a magical sense of renewal. Spring always emerges with an unrestrained sense of exuberance. Those soft, rounded shapes of winter are suddenly thrust into the spotlight and pulled into clear focus. I restlessly await the blossoms on the plum and pear trees. I yearn for the upheaval of spring bulbs, bursting from the ground with their cheerful yellows blooms. I long for breezes, full of the fragrance of new growth.

Spring is coming, I can feel it in the air--and I can hardly wait! Welcome Spring!

So You're Having Triplets

People often ask me what it's like to have triplets. How do you answer a question like that? It's not something that anyone can ever appreciate unless they have experienced it for themselves.

I've been pondering the transformation of our family since the addition of our triplets. More accurately, I've been thinking about the deluge of changes that a set of triplets create for a family. Don't misinterpret my thoughts here, I'm not looking for a new home for any member of my little litter. But for the past six years, some unimaginable changes have occurred... And those changes, minute at first, become significant.


Finding out that you're having triplets is like going shopping at Costco. You pull into the parking lot knowing you want a certain item. You wander the store picking up things you never knew you needed, but which you suddenly can't live without.

You get to the item you were originally looking to purchase. Oh, no! It only comes in a multi-pack. You really only need one of these things. You really only desired one of these things. But now it's get three of these things, or forget it... You buy the multi-pack (of course!). You are, after all at Costco, what did you expect?

Usually this scenario works out ok. You have to store a few extra bars of soap. You make room for additional bottles of shampoo. You stash bonus pairs of black socks. You just hope you get around to eating the jumbo sized container of strawberries before they all go bad... But for the most part, it usually works out--so why should a couple extra babies be so different?

These are the things you think about when you first discover that you're expecting the unexpected. But with the actual arrival of the trio of bundled squirminess, the profound changes begin.

So here's my advice to anyone awaiting the arrival of a set of triplets. Resign yourself to the fact that you will no longer be able to fit your entire family into a two-door sedan. (Needless to say, you probably won't fit into those cute jeans again either.) Last minute vacations with little or no planning--not an option. A quick dash into the grocery store? Forget about it... But shopping at Costco? Even more necessary now. Buy diapers by the case. Formula by the pallet. And Maximum Strength Excedrin by the barrel (for mom and for dad). And those extra bars of soap, pairs of socks, bowls of berries, bottles of shampoo? Trust me--with all these kids, you'll blow through those before you know what happened!

So, you want triplets? Renew your Costco membership now. You're gonna need all those multi-packs! And get some extra sleep, too. Because I can personally guarantee that you won't be getting enough for the next three years (at least). And seriously--gear up now for all the kindergarten homework--it's a killer!

But the most important thing I've learned? Although I'd never wish the struggles on anyone... The outrageous numbers of poopy diapers... The 2am crying stints (both mom's and the babies')... The hospital bills... The grocery bills... The necessity of buying everything in triplicate--car seats, high chairs, cribs, clothes... It's the best thing ever! Seriously. I highly recommend it.

Which way to the Twilight Zone?

I'm living in a Twilight Zone, and I didn't even know it. It's crazy how you can live your life thinking that your daily decisions affect only you. Actually, each decision you make can affect your friends and family, too. What I find really interesting, is how you can make a decision and not see its full effect for years... Maybe even decades. And by then, the effects are rippled through family, friends, and even out to strangers.

That is the Twilight Zone that I am living in. I'm feeling the ripples from past decisions. It's not necessarily a bad feeling--those ripples that cause the surface of my life to undulate--but it's certainly unexpected. And I'm not entirely without fault in disrupting the calm surface of our (my family's) existence. It was one of my own past actions that brought this most recent incident to fruition. It was a seemingly small thing... And long forgotten...

I think of myself as a planner. I like to know where I'm going, and how I can best get there. I Google maps. I MapQuest directions. I test alternate routes... But in the end, you can't always predict every eventuality. Tires go flat. Engines overheat. Sometimes, despite your best planning, you simply take a wrong turn and get lost. But have you ever noticed? Sometimes, those moments of misdirected effort take you somewhere better than where you were planning to go. I'm hoping that's where I've just found myself.

I didn't plan this trip. I don't know the details of the events that have brought me here. I'm hoping that there is a happy ending to my own personal episode of the Twilight Zone. But if you see me stranded along the side of the road--throw me a map, preferably one that includes directions back to normal life. And just maybe I'll be bringing someone back with me to share the ride.

What's Her Face(book)

I hate Facebook. I know that hate is a really strong word. I'd use another word, but that one sums up my feelings rather accurately. And yet, somehow, Facebook has become a necessary evil of sorts. In fact, the only reason I signed up was to access my high school reunion photos. And since that induction into the world of Facebook, I have been inundated with superfluous information about people who I may or may not even remember (and may or may not have even ever met!).

I recently had a friend request from tweenage daughter of a girl with whom I attended Jr High. Really? I'm just not sure that I need to hear about her latest spelling test or how awesome she did on the math quiz. I also received a request from a girl who insists we went to High School together. If I don't remember her (at all!) do I really need to know that she's eating Corn Flakes for breakfast this morning?

Can someone please tell me how Facebook has evolved to the point where it's essentially taking over the world? Facebook knows just about everything. And what it doesn't know, it surmises. Seriously, Facebook is like that gossipy friend (I use the term friend loosely) who just can't keep anything to herself. And the innuendo that is attributed to anything you do is just outrageous! Facebook recently announced to me (and the rest of the world) that Sarah and David were just married. That's interesting, since they've been married for years and have at least one child.

And then Facebook announced to the world that I had become friends with Bryan--I guess the fact that we knew each other all through school doesn't account for anything.

And maybe Facebook knew more than we did when it announced that Jeff was gay and looking for a partner. I'm sure that was interesting information for his wife and kids! No, I think that was just a gossipy error... But did Facebook apologize? No, no it did not...

So here's the real question. When did we decide that the appropriate way to proclaim our news was to post it on Facebook? My friend Olivia just found out her friend had died--is this really information that we want disseminated by Facebook? I'm almost afraid to log in some days--what if I log in and discover that I've been diagnosed with cancer.... Could that happen? The Doctor says,

Don't worry about calling the office. I'll just post your results on Facebook.

Hmmm.

And nosy questions from former friends who have transitioned into semi-acquaintances--do you really want everyone to read those prying questions? And then how do you go about answering them?

So, here's the deal. I check Facebook because I feel it has become a certain obligation. I participate as I feel is necessary. But don't ask me to join your mafia. Don't send me potted plants. I don't want to hang your ornament on my tree. I have no desire to be kidnapped. I don't even want to know which 80's movie defines me.

Does this antipathy make me odd, unique, weird, unacceptable? Maybe. But I'm really OK with that. If you want to say hello, drop me an email. Pick up the phone. Text me. Send smoke signals. But please don't ask about the big hairy growth on my behind on Facebook. (That is not an actual situation--that was used for demonstrative purposes only.) And if you'll respect my privacy on Facebook, I'll forget all about my plan to post that nonsense about your latest escapade. Although, it was a really entertaining story and it would be fun to disseminate it to the masses!

The Hazards of Clean Laundry

I love laundry. I don't love the perpetual piles, always waiting to be washed. And I don't relish the thought of folding all the clean laundry. I'm not even especially fond of putting away stacks (and stacks) of folded laundry. And ironing??? LOL, yeah, ask when I last did that!? So, now you're wondering if I was serious when I said I love laundry. And yes, I was.

Specifically--I love having more than one clean shirt from which to choose. I love stacks of neatly folded t-shirts. I love crisp jeans hung on a hanger. I love warm, fluffy towels after a shower. I love the clean smell of fresh linens on my bed. And the fragrance of clean laundry is the topic of this post.

Occasionally, I will catch a whiff of clean laundry in the neighborhood. As the dryer vent releases warm, damp, and highly perfumed air into the vicinity, it seems to linger enticingly. Once, (only once) I knocked on my neighbor's door and asked my startled neighbor what dryer sheets she was using... I couldn't help myself! As I walked by her house it just smelled so good! I know. I'm weird--but I'm super sensitive to fragrance, and I really appreciate a good one.

Recently, I discovered a new dryer sheet. I love the fragrance, and I have been happily tossing dryer sheets into load after load. Once again, in the midst of my ordinary day, I came upon a distressing label.

Seriously, I don't just wander my house looking for weird labels, but do you remember this? And now look what I've found! Today I was doing laundry and this caught me eye.


Caution: Avoid Overdosing. Are they serious? I'm not sure which label is weirder: septic-safe toilet paper, or cautions against poisoning from smelling too good in your jammies!

So, for those of you who use two dryer sheets per load for those extra fresh smelling pillowcases--watch out! You may end up committed to a treatment center for overdosing. Can you imagine the conversations?

So, you ODed, huh? First time in rehab? What drug are you hooked on?

I'm so embarrassed. *sniff* I'm hooked on Snuggle. I've tried to quit--but I just can't! *sniff*

Seriously!

How'd I Get Here?

Remember when you were in college and you just knew where you'd be by the time you hit 30? I knew I'd be married. I knew I'd be making loads of money. I knew I'd be traveling the world. I knew I'd have accomplished enough to be interesting.

What happened?

Here I am, finding myself closer to 40 than 30, and I'm feeling a little disconcerted. I'm not a powerful attorney. I haven't published an amazing manuscript. My last paycheck was before the real estate market fell apart. Yes, I've traveled, but I'm not sure I'm exactly what you'd call well traveled, nor would I say I was particularly interesting.

I always had this idea of how people viewed me. I've always seen myself as creative, responsible, reliable, dependable, and although most of those things sound boring, I really did think I was at least somewhat interesting. Now days, I wonder where my head has been!

I've become too busy to feel creative. I have fleeting moments of irresponsibility (did you hear about the day last week when I fell asleep and the school bus driver called to see if I was coming to meet the kids?). Reliability--I'll try to remember to get back to you on that (but don't hold your breath!).

So, all I have left is "interesting" and I'm not sure I'm faring so well there, either! I post about getting my hair colored. I blog about going out to dinner. I call friends in excitement when I find a new recipe--is that interesting?! No, I didn't think so.

So the burning question is this: What do people do when they need to shake things up a bit? I think maybe I need a hobby. Any suggestions? Photography? Skydiving? Anyone? Bueller?

Table for Eight

The Mister and I went out on the town last night.... OK, maybe we just met friends for dinner... But we had the best time! I had forgotten how fun it is to meet up with friends and reconnect. The Mister and I have been socially abstinent for a while now, so it was good to schedule a little "no children allowed" time.

It's funny how hard it is to schedule a night out. The Princess is attending a weekend dance clinic and The Boy is staying with a friend. It was just the The Buddies at home for the evening. But those Little Buddies are the monkey wrench in our works! It took a bunch of calls to get a sitter for the evening.

But all scheduling and phone calls aside, it was worth it. We had so much fun. And to the instigator of the evening out--THANKS FOR INVITING US! Let's do it again, soon!

Requesting Vegan Recipes

I'm looking for some tasty vegan recipes. I'd also take vegetarian recipes, although vegan would be better.

Before you misinterpret my request, I have NOT given up on Frozen Yogurt, nor have I turned my back on a beautiful Filet Mignon.

Subsequent to an enlightening conversation with The Mister, I read an article in Reader's Digest. Due to the conversation and the information in the article, I have decided to take on a little experiment. For the past week, I have been eating a vegan diet from breakfast until dinner. At dinner, I am free to eat whatever I choose. I have already lost over 4 pounds! And I find this to be easy--better yet, it makes me feel incredibly healthy.

So, since I'm not very creative, I'm getting tired of the same old thing for lunch. If you have any great ideas or recipes, please share!

I'm Going to Rome

I hear the groans of everyone who shared an opinion about my trip. I know, none of you think Rome should be my destination of choice--but I just can't go to Italy and not see all the famous sites of Rome. I love seeing all the history! I just have to do it...

We just booked our flights for our trip and that was the last detail. We already have hotel and resort accommodations in Greece. For our time in Rome, we're renting a very cute little apartment.

I'm still looking for ideas and suggestions. If you want to share, feel free!

More than Words

I hear the language. The perfected delivery. The cultured voice. Each phrase is measured and controlled. The words create one more facet of a flawless package. But I have to wonder. What hides beneath the glossy exterior?

Give me raw. I want to feel something. I want to see the flaws, the truth, the ugliness. I long for the uncontrolled tumble of jagged, emotion-filled words. Look me in the eye, with damp cheeks, and hand on heart. That makes me believe.

It's not that I can't appreciate a commanding presence. It's not that I don't respond to a dignified stance. I know the value of effective authority. But I want those attributes to be tempered with genuine warmth and compassion. With human emotion. With something I can feel. I don't want arrogant rhetoric. I want thoughtful and intelligent and heartfelt. Is that too much to ask?

Dance Sucks

The dance world is a fickle place in which to live.

Some judges may have their impartiality tainted by the interference of others.

If studio policies exist, they should be shared with those they involve. Those policies should apply equally to everyone, without exception.

No dancer should be given preferential treatment. Not because she is a favorite. Not because her mom complained.

Preferential treatment is not to be confused with earned opportunities.

Dancers should earn special opportunities through dedication and hard work. No single dancer should be "given" an opportunity that she did not earn. Especially at the expense of another dancer who actually did earn the opportunity.

All dancers should be encouraged to compete for any scholarship or opportunity for which they are qualified. Dancers should not be asked to step aside and give up an opportunity for another dancer's sake.

Dance directors and studio owners should never do anything to handicap any of their own dancers to benefit someone else, even if that someone else is another one of their own dancers.

Dancers and parents put their faith and trust in studio directors and owners and expect that their dancers will be promoted and encouraged.

Studio directors and owners should never intimidate their dancers into submission.

Studio directors and owners should never do anything to thwart the advancement or opportunities of one of their dancers.

Studio directors and owners should remember that without tuition-paying parents they would be out of business.

And now I'm done.