It's about time...

I know.  I know.  It's ridiculous, really.  But believe me, there are reasons.  I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I can relay all this information without this turning into an online novel.  I haven't quite figured it out.  Perhaps we'll have a multi-episode arc to work out all the details.

Right about the time that I had a new post brewing up, Peanut had a cough that was starting to get worrisome.  Long story short, we ended up in the hospital for 5 days while she fought off pneumonia.  Now, given my previous history with this same hospital about this same time of year 8 years ago with another daughter of mine, this was a pretty emotional event.

Peanut and I got home and started trying to reintegrate into our family.  Valentine's day came and went.  And then, about 3 days later, I got a horrible, horrible phone call.  CoKe called and told me that our sweet friend had died. And I remember not asking how, not asking when, but asking why.  He was not just my sweet friend, he was from my New Orleans family.  He was my soul sister's husband and she was, is, broken hearted.  And, as it turns out, I did not have clothes for any occasion at all.
I didn't have a stupid appropriate stupid black outfit to wear to his funeral.  He was a pretty dapper dude so I was chagrined to wear high water slightly too tight black pants that showed my crazy ass socks whenever I crossed my legs.  I know.  He didn't see me.  Maybe.  And it's not about me.  But it hurts.  I miss him. 

As I came through that, it was Angel's birthday.  And celebrating the 9th birthday that never was, it hurts.  I miss her.

After that was March.  Oh, sure, you say, March.  Like March just generally sucks for the population of everyone.  It's the weather, for sure.  It couldn't commit to spring OR winter so it was just this schizo layering nightmare and you were never sure if you were going to end the day freezing your ass off with all your layers of sweats and blankets or desperate to push the boundaries of what is "indecent" exposure anyway.  But that's not all March is around here.  It's the next step after the building up from Angel's birthday.  It's rolling into my mother's birthday.  Which, really, it isn't much her birthday anymore.  Not for a long time to come.  Because now, a year later, we are reminded that it's the day before her husband died.  Which means that the next day, it's the "anniversary" of the day he died.  It hurts.  I miss him.  And what is truly heart-breaking is that I have just come to the startling realization that it isn't just him that's gone.  There's a part of my mom that is gone with him.  It hurts.  I miss that part of her.  And then, it was Angel's "anniversary".  It's only just now as I share this with you that it occurs to me how woefully misapplied I feel the word anniversary is to these situations.  I'm going to find another word that is more appropriate.  Or make one up.  Anyway.  That day sucked.  And for the 8th year in a row, it's a total crap shoot as to how that day is going to play out.  There have been years where it felt like we got it right and it was cathartic and memorializing.  And there have been years where it felt like I was walking around, a big open wound and everything that came into contact stung, ached or pushed reality in a little bit deeper - a thorn of bitterness and utter desolation.  This year felt more towards the latter end of that spectrum.  It sucked.  It was all wrong.  Which actually is pretty right because losing a baby daughter out of the blue is all wrong.  A day that marks it happening and remembering it, an anniversary if you will, has got no business being anything other than all wrong at all.  The rest of March is really mostly just a recovery blur.  A stumbling bumbling hurling towards April because as we all know, if you can just get to the point where you are flipping a calendar page, it changes everything. 

In April, I went roller skating for the first time in likely 27 years.  A group of gals went out and did a whole roller derby theme and had a blast rolling along with kids who were very kind and supportive of us.  I also work Skunk's bike helmet which is essentially a plastic spiky Mohawk.  I'm telling you, I was a HUGE hit with that thing.

The Saudi moved out suddenly in February so April brought in another student.  For continuity, I will be calling the new student "The Saudi". It's because he's from Saudi Arabia.  He's a quiet homebody who likes to help out around the house.  He sweeps every night.  I thought I would be able to claim that activity and play it off like it was me doing it but Hubs caught on right away. 

Other stuff happened in April, but honestly, it was so long ago.  Sure, last month, right.  But still.  Because May begins a whole 'nother set of stuff going on.  May contains Hubs' birthday, Scooby's  birthday, and your humble blogger's birthday.  I'll skip over the first two birthdays and just talk about me.  Because this is my blog and it's all about me.  I hated turning 40 last year.  HATED it.  And, as self-fulfilling prophecies tend to do, it did suck good and proper.  But this year, I was determined to celebrate.  I survived 40.  And truly, there was some bare-knuckled, grin and bare it, hanging on for dear-life surviving it.  New year.  New start.  And Hubs rose to the task.  I got the girl's holy grail of bucket list items.  I got a blue box.  You know the one I'm talking about.  I also got Indian food for lunch.  And lots of attention.  My  soul, my needy, fairly materialistic soul was fed.  Not just because I got some jewelry but because of all the words that he said about why he wanted to do that for me.  Because I had friends who made a point of celebrating the fact that I exist and that I am in their world and they love that about me.  And then there was Mother's day.  And then there were soccer games and crisis moments in dear friends' lives.  And late fines.  And Go Cincinnati (fine.  I live in Cincinnati.  I guess we have progressed into that portion of our relationship.) And I managed to not drink for the entirety of a whole year. And then Hubs' mom called last weekend and told us that my sister-in-law, whom happens to have the same name as me and whom also has a May birthday that just happens to be exactly one week prior to mine, had gotten the news that she has breast cancer.  And honestly, I barely know what to do with that.  And that's just me, standing on the sidelines wanting to help and being 5 hours away and not knowing what to do.  That's not even her, with their two kids and her great sense of humor and humbling faith that has to go through it on a first person basis.  I can't wrap my tiny selfish brain around it.

So, that's a snapshot of where I have been.  What's been stealing me away from you.  I have defaulted to shopping and eating in dealing with this.  And you may well have had some even more compelling, crazy, catastrophic or chaotic circumstances in the past 5 months.  I am not trying to take that away from you.  It's all really just life.  And I don't know if it is truly just getting more complicated in general or if I'm just losing the tools necessary to deal appropriately as I get older.  But I have gained significant girth units.  I just still have no idea how to channel stress into healthy channels of coping.  I have yet to figure out an outlet.  My relationship with God is trying to thread itself back together.  I have decided to renew my resolutions using my entrance into the 42nd year of my life as the marker instead of New Year's eve.  My next post will be a reminder of what the already established resolutions are, an update on how those are going and random musings from my little slice of the world.  I hope you will consider re-joining the journey with me.  I have truly missed you.  And if there is one thing that I think has really started to burrow it's way into my super thick skull, it is that time is short.  We get one shot at this venue.  I get to share my life with these people, with you, just the one time.  And if I'm not making that count, if I'm not squeezing every ounce of life out of my life, what's the point?

Also, I figured out that I really, really like coconut.  Which doesn't have much of anything to do with anything but it happened while we were apart so I thought I would just mention it as well.

The rules are there are no rules...

I'm not sure what kind of research went into it, or what the criteria was, but I don't understand how the term “sick as a dog” was coined. Where do they get off being all sicker than the rest of the species on the planet? And around our particular household, when dogs get sick, they go eat some grass and work it out themselves and quickly. They don't lay around rolling from one side to the other trying to counter-act the nausea. Nope. So, two days ago I was sickER than a dog. I don't know the ins and outs of the entire malady as quite a few things were working against me. I don't want to bore you or gross you out with the particulars other than to say, I was throwing up a lot. You don't really want to get on the computer while this is going on, even if it is a desktop. Because if the urge hits and you don't react quickly enough, it may only be the keyboard that gets the business instead of the ENTIRE computer that is a laptop, but cleaning a keyboard to the degree of salvaging it is tough. And also gross. Probably that was more detail than I promised not to give you but now you really know why I have missed out on providing you the posts that you have so been yearning for. As for yesterday, I was in recovery. Throwing up is tiring stuff and makes my shoulders all tight from cinching up for the throwing up so I did a lot of lounging. Here's one more token throwing up before moving on the next paragraph.

So, here are a couple of updates for you.

Food: I bought some Christmas clearance candy again yesterday. I know. I know. Chocolate is sort of my go to at this point instead of liquor. I reach out for something that will be immediate fulfillment and instant gratification when I'm Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired (I'm adding in Mental – we will talk about that another time. The thing is that HALT works way better than HALTM. Or maybe it could be MHALT but then that makes me thing of malts which makes me think of chocolate shakes and ice cream and such).  So now I eat chocolate. I'm not sure if that is better, worse or the same as having a few hundred cocktails daily. Just kidding! It wasn't THAT bad! Both are sugar based empty calories. Both provide empty comfort. Both can leave you with a sick feeling when you have too much. You feel sluggish and have a headache in the aftermath of too much. Also, both tend to be secretive – one because it's shameful and the other because I don't want to SHARE my chocolate. Hmmm. The evidence is piling up in not substituting chocolate for liquor. On the other hand, one is legal to drive with in your system if you have some or a lot. One doesn't impair your judgment (you know, aside from feeling compelled to always, always buy it when it is 70% off and wrapped in seasonal colors AND comes in flavors that you can't get any other time of the year). One day, I will figure out how to defeat addiction all together instead of it transforming into a different version. One day. But here is some GOOD news.

Spending fast: There was some other stuff that was also 70% off. I didn't go for the boxes or wrapping paper or any of that. I did go for the Blokus board game. I LOVE board games. I don't even need to win. I love close games.  Those are my favorite.  So, like, (yeah, I'm a product of the '80s.  That's right.) I don't understand when Hubs is watching HIS team and gets ticked off that they didn't win by 35 points or more.  It's not enough that the team won.  It doesn't truly count unless they pummeled the other team.  Is that a guy thing?  I think a game that comes down to the last seconds is way more compelling.  Not that of that matters because I couldn't care less about sports of any kind and don't care how they begin or end.  Also, I don't care about the middle.  But we aren't talking about sports.  We are talking about board games.  And what I'm saying is that I'm thrilled to have a great competition and lose against formidable opponents. Also to win against formidable opponents. It's true. I play Words with Friends on my iPhone with several games going against a few friends and I win my fair share. Perhaps my opponents would argue that I win far more than my fair share. That's fair. But I think I'm making better players out of them. So, I guess you could say that beating them is actually a public service. Iron sharpening iron and all. But I have one nemesis who pretty much beats me all the time. And I don't mind a bit. It doesn't mean I don't try to win against her. I just love that I lose by trying my best. On the other hand, I played against one friend who played by adding one letter, maybe two, to the board at any given time. I won like 470 – 50 against him. Pretty hard to feel triumphant or proud of that one. It's like snatching a lollipop from a kid who hates candy or something. I don't know if it's like that. I've never done that and haven't fully thought through what that feels like. It sounded good at the time. Anywho, I have played Blokus exactly once in my life. And from that once, I have wanted to add it to the collection of games I have that no one plays with me. God love him, but Hubs is not into board games. He plays them with me about once a year because we have the games and he's not a fan of seeing us spend money on stuff that goes unused. Probably he does it for me a little too. Blokus is usually $25-$30 depending on the store and the time of year and what-not. That's not an appropriate price for a game that will only sit on a pile of other games waiting for the children to think the innards of the box are pretty or useful in their pretend game of anything and ruin the opportunity to play the game ever again. Because it's hopeless to try to buy property if you don't have the property cards. Or build houses on the property when you don't know how much they cost because you don't have the property cards. Or the houses to put on the property. So. Blokus was $9. And you know what I did? I texted Hubs and asked him about it. Of course, I was of the mindset that I wanted it and I would likely buy it no matter what he said. But he said okay. I think it's because he wants a Roku player and he could probably justify that cost a little more if he lets me win one here and there. Probably he did it for me a little too. But the point is that I checked in because board games are not edible (unless it's one of those chocolate ones they sell around Christmas time - but this wasn't one of those) and they don't clean anything (unless you are betting the bank on them and lose.  But we aren't the gambling type.  Because we don't have the money to gamble and gambling is addictive behavior.  And, as you may recall, we have established that I'm not so good with doing addictive stuff).  Anywho, I was true to my word and  talked (texted) through an extraneous purchase. I am now the proud owner of Blokus. Anyone want to play?

Cleaning: I'm doing laundry right now. Yes, I'm counting it towards the cleaning. Leave me alone.

I read this article about words that should be banished for the year 2012. I would like to point out that I haven't even used a lot of those words! Isn't that AMAZING? Mostly it's because I am too busy making up my own or slaughtering the ones that already exist. People have been doing it for lots of years. That's how Webster's stays strong - by having to add words that start out as slang entries but become part of the lexicon. Also, if I'm going to identify myself as a writer, I don't think that I should be limited to the rules of grammar and words that already exist. There get to be innovators in just about every field. People discover new uses for old stuff all the time. Scientist discover new species. Mathematicians come up with theoretical equations that can never been proven (how cushy is THAT job? I could do that job. I come up with math that doesn't make sense and doesn't add up all the time. I could just come up with some cockamamie letters other than x, y and a and b and call it a day – and a paycheck. Prove me wrong suckahs! You can't!). Astronomers or Physicists or whoever discover new solar systems and planets (Pluto). Also they undiscover stuff (Pluto). But as a writer, you are left with two things: your voice and the material and tools that everyone else has access to as well. That maybe turned into three things that a writer is left with.  I'll come up with an equation that justifies me calling it two and get back to you with that.  So, how does a writer stand out? I don't fully trust that my voice is strong enough or experienced enough to be to make my mark yet. So, to distinguish myself, I say to hell with the rules and regulations! I will rebel against the oppression and the tyranny of the confines of standard English. I will use fragments and run-on sentences and I will overuse commas.  Oh. I'll do it.  Also, do you know how many legitimate words defy the “all-knowing” spell check? Many, that's how many. Like “texted”. And it wanted to put a space between "I" and Phone. It won't even let me make that a lower case "I" to make my point!!  Apple should be outraged. So I say that language is flexible and I shall use and bend it to my whimwill. That's what I say. Speaking of which, that draws us to my next resolution.

6. Do something creative every day. When you don't win accolades or critical acclaim daily for doing something you love, it can dishearten you a little and make you a little uncertain about your abilities and talents. And by you, I mean me. And by me, I mean I. Because to insert me in the above sentence is lunacy and totally incorrect grammar. But it is correct in the spirit of the meaning. Now, perhaps one, and by one, I mean I, should actually submit various forms of creativity to be critiqued, judged and rendered brilliant. But then I would be subjected to critique and judgement and be vulnerable to hearing that I am NOT brilliant. And who wants that kind of heartache? It's way safer to believe in my brilliance in my own head and then cry in the middle of Jungle Jim's when someone sends me a personal message just to tell me that she thinks I'm a little brilliant in my writing as well. That's just good strategy for an uptight person.

Speaking of uptight, that's another reason why I am a little uncertain in my talents and abilities. In addition to being a writer, I'm a scrapbooker (another word that my spell check can't stand). But my best work comes from copying someone else's ideas. I look at other people's layouts or sketches and develop my page from there. Probably if you don't scrap, that sounded like jibber-jabber. But this is compelling information to enhance my point, I can tell you. I can't free-hand doodle. I look at all these amazing (sorry!!) doodles and it's become a real art-form. I try to do it and there is all this white space that I don't know how to fill. And then I get paralyzed looking at all the blankness and get doodler's block. When I'm cooking, it's more miss than hit if I just throw stuff together rather than taking a recipe and tweaking it. So the long and short of it is that I am not comfortable in inventing much from scratch. I'm less creative and more re-creative. Whether I write (by typing or with an actual pen because I hate pencils), or scrapbook, color, crochet, or take some time to fiddle around with my camera because I have no idea why there are settings other than automatic, I get happy. It truly fills my soul to do something re-creative, to refill a well that I believe God made in me to pour out into world for whatever purpose He sees fit. Remember, “The meaning of life is to find your gift.  The purpose of life is to give it away”.  I think when I get quiet and listen that voice within, I have the gift found. That means that the work is in the giving it away. So, here. This is for you, if you want it. I can now officially check off today as a successful day of working on my resolutions. I gotta go. I'm looking to earn bonus points by FINISHING the laundry. Stupid laundry. On the other hand, I'll most certainly eat some of that Christmas candy which would cancel out the bonus points. If I eat enough, I might even cancel out the points for this entry. I am my own most formidable opponent. I'll call it all a draw. Drawing is creative.

Coming clean...

I don't know if this is going to surprise you or not but I actually don't always know what I'm going to post until I sit down to do it. I'm not trying to scam you – I do have 12 resolutions to pursue this year. I may not know EXACTLY what they all are yet but I have a general idea of the direction I want to go in. Today I had two different things bouncing around in my head and I couldn't for the life of me figure out which one to pursue. And I'm going to be honest, I'm typing this right here and now and I'm still on the fence! I'll just start talking and we shall see where we end up.

I spent time with some gals last night that I like pretty good. Oh, who am I kidding? I straight up adore them! I couldn't be more lucky to have ended up in a group with them. I get to be vulnerable and uptight and gossipy and they love me any ol' way. One of the chicks was the hostess of the awesome New Year's eve par-tay that I had such a good time at. She had food left over and fed us and hosted us some more. Lamb is gross but somehow they make little lamb burgers that I am super happy to keep popping into my mouth. And she sent me home with the rest of them. Cookies are delicious and happy and fattening and delicious and happy. And she sent me home with the rest of them. And then there are little potatoes stuffed with gross but somehow rendered delicious in their capable hands blue cheese Or the gross light version of Roquefort – still delicious when made by this super star couple who loves to cook. Guess where those suckers are? In my fridge. For now. Until lunch. What I'm saying here is that I have food in my possession that I will eat and while I haven't committed as much to you in a formal resolution status, I do plan to eat better this year. Maybe by better I should just mean deliciouser. Maybe I'm being too uptight with legalities and definitions and what not. For the record, I'm not committing to that – to the whole eat better/go on a diet- scene today. That is NOT one of the two things I'm deciding on. It can't be because I have cookies and potatoes to eat. Hubs got to take the little lamb burgers in for lunch because he is the dominant carnivore in our house. And I'm nice like that sometimes. And as long as he was leaving me the cookies, he could pretty much have what he wanted for lunch. I had the cookies for breakfast. What? I was drinking coffee and what goes better with coffee than holiday cookies? Not cereal or oatmeal, I'll tell you that. Perhaps I ate a little whipped cream right out of a bowl as well. What? It wasn't cool whippppped product for goodness sakes! It was actual cream that I had to do something with before it curdled up and died in my fridge. I was being unwasteful. No. It wasn't organic cream. And I'm pretty sure that the cookies, potatoes and lamb burgers weren't organic either. BUT they were made and previously eaten BEFORE the new year started officially so I'm grandfathering them in. Yes. So that I can eat some more right here and now. Judgey.

My back took a nose-dive yesterday. I met with my friend CoKe for lunch. God love her. I got a deal o' the day site deal for a place (maybe I drove 5 minutes, maybe I drove 2 hours.  You don't know!!) we hadn't tried before. Yeah. We had no idea that it was vegan. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But when you are not expecting vegan, I think that it takes you aback. Not so far aback that we ended up out of the store. We were very brave. CoKe was even so brave that she ordered the Mac and Cheese. Which was so not cheese! It wasn't bad. Here's the thing about vegan. You don't know what you got until it's gone. Things that are different without animal by-products include but are not limited to lattes, Caesar dressing (and I don't just mean disgusting ol' anchovies), mac and cheese. We had a good time talking and such and then we perused the rest of the joint before I had to hightail it out of there to be late for picking up the youngest three of my kids. There was some super cool stuff there. I didn't buy a single thing, thank you very much! Woo hoo! Way to support local industry! Anywho, the whole time that I was there I was sporting a therma-care patch. And the whole time, it didn't do much. I still walked all funny to feed the meters. By the time I got home with a van load of people, I was done. I had to get back onto the couch and be still. Then Hubs got home and man-handled me in a novice home-schooled chiropractic way and loosened me enough to go be with my girls. But he didn't pamper and console and sympathize me quite the way I would appreciate (perhaps also in the wayunsubscribing to every newsletter and coupon situation known to man being emailed to me and deleting all the unsubscribe confirmation emails that come directly after that. Good grief. I'm breaking up with them already! Yes. I'm sure. I'm sure I'm sure. Even though it means that I will get virtually no emails on a daily basis because these are the extent of the correspondence I receive. Virtual clutter is still clutter. Sniff. It's fine, really. It's not me, it's them! I just need a moment...

In the mean time, my next resolution has started fleshing itself out. I know that because I've been avoiding it all day long. I gotta pick up what I'm putting down... no, literally... oy.

5. Clean. My. House. I can inspirational message it all the live long day but the long and short of my reality, as well as those I share space with, is I HATE CLEANING. I will do just about anything in the universe to avoid it. Okay. I take that back. The list of things that I will do to avoid it actually does eliminate a lot of stuff but still. I kind of don't even mind that Hubs gets frustrated and upset with me. So that's one thing that IS on the list – I will let Hubs get frustrated and upset with me to avoid cleaning. I know. That sucks. That dude works real hard at stuff I don't understand a lick to make things happen for our family. And this is my job. This is what I'm supposed to be doing to contribute to our situation. To society at large, really. I feel certain that the state of my home affects society, sure. I'll buy into that if it can make me change my ways. I wish I could reveal a strategy that I've come up with to make this resolution happen. I haven't. I have NO idea what to do to tolerate cleaning. In broad strokes, it involves having less to clean. Purge and organize seems like a good place to start. The trouble with that is that when I start looking at all my stuff, I remember what I bought it for, what I was going to do with it. I start getting all nostalgic about the best laid plans and the road to Hell being paved with good intentions. I start getting all down on myself about what kind of mom I became instead of the one I wanted to be – I was going to be all gung-ho and crafty and resourceful and such. We were going to play this board game and laugh and learn. I get all bummed out about projects that never got started or lay about half done. I look at the entirety and run away. I go to the store and buy more stuff to put on top of the other stuff. More stuff full of promise and ways to Hell. But I am on a self-imposed spending fast so I can't do that right now. I have committed to be more intentional with my life this year which means I can't throw money or products or clothes or TV at my kids and expect to have fulfilling relationships with them. Or expect them to overcome my example of sloth and turn out to be productive members of society. So, see! It does affect society at large! I can't tell my Hubs that I love and appreciate him and all he does when my actions are screaming out something ungrateful and selfish.

That's the stuff that has to happen and the why. And that is about as much as I have right now.  The how totally eludes me.  I don't know how to unprocrastinate. I don't know how to unselfish. I don't know how to clean. I mean, I do know how to clean – although, if I didn't, I could really use that to my advantage soooo... hmm... Alright, FINE. I do know how to clean. I can spray products on other products and wipe off. I just don't have a working knowledge of how to do that with regularity when EVERY fiber of my being resists it. And EVERY fiber of my being indulges me.

I have 9 rooms in my house – not counting closets. Or my basement. Which really should count as 15 rooms given the amount of stuff down there. So, I have 24 rooms in my house. And I have 51 weeks left in this year. I have 5 days of the week that I'm willing to do work on. I do stuff at my church one day of the week. Out of 4 remaining days of the week, I want to use one to build into my relationships. I would prefer two but I am willing to keep it down to one. I'm being rather magnanimous as we break this down together, no? So, I have 3 days a week with a solid kid-free 4.5 hour window. 13.5 hours to work in a room and purge and organize and make decisions that stuff will not make me happy. Not even the cutest scrap-booking embellishments in the universe. But I have to clean toilets that are not in most of the rooms that I am focusing my time, energy and resentment towards and that's not accounted for in the 13.5 hours so where does that time come from? Okay, okay, I think now, I have to dedicate 1 hour of each of my three days to household maintenance. Right, yeah. Okay. So, I still have 10.5 hours a week. That's still a lot of time. I think I can do this. Wait. I also have to feed people which requires ingredients. And, I don't go to the grocery store encumbered by people. Like ever. It's a mental health issue. And I have to spend some time scouting the discounts on my newly more expensive eating strategy. Okay. So that's probably a 2-3 hour grocery store run. Although if I break that down into two one hour runs, that frequency will allow me more access to marked down products. Yeah, that's good. Okay, so that's twice a week. Which means I'm down to 8.5 hours a week to make this work...

I'm done. I'm exhausted. We're both bored. Admit it. But now you see how I process all this and end up just quiting. I don't get it. I go to other people's house and they have kids AND jobs and church and relationships and charities and hobbies and exercise and clean homes. And tolerable kids. And smiles on their faces. And some of those people don't even drink coffee. Are they on Ecstasy? Or meth? What the hello kitty is the secret???

That's all I have to offer up on this one. I guess that you will see me flounder about the whole year trying to decipher the enigma of cleaning a home. Bet you never knew that it could be so soul-sucking, life-questioning, will-breaking to have a clean house. Oh. It can. On the other hand, it just can't. Blah.  

Back it up...

Where were you?? I waited all night but you never came, so I left. I've been worried sick! Are you okay? What? That was me? I didn't show up? Oh. Uhm. That is correct.

Yesterday I went to this killer grocery store extravaganza called Jungle Jim's. I may have driven 5 minutes to get there or I may have driven 2 hours to get there. You will not be able to hone in on my co-ordinates based on the information I supply to you. Nosy. Stalker. Anywho, I needed to stock up on Amish chicken breast. I put out an all-call on facebook as to whether or not that was a marketing buzz word for jacked-up hormonal cruelty chicken (yes, yes, vegans – I get it. Eating any animal is cruel. I know. I know.) or if it was a legit thing that would be a viable alternative to billion dollar a pound organic chicken. The first answer I got was that it was chicken raised without electricity. I don't know if she was being serious or funny but that is hilarious. And true. And hilarious. The next answer was a bit more informative and was the long and short of it. It's not mass produced by big business meat peeps. And that is a big deal. I'm telling you. Watch some of my recommended food docs and it changes you. Food, Inc. Wow. When I called up the Jungle Jim's meat department, they clarified that the Amish chicken they carry is antibiotic and hormone free. It's also gluten-free. Which I find very fascinating. So, Amish chicken – not made of wheat. I trucked it on up there (you don't get to know what kind of car I drive!! Nosy. Stalker. Also – I have like 17 kids and I'm a mom so do the math. Yes, it's a mini-van. But I am a COOL mini-van mom. Like the kind that puts reindeer antlers and a Rudolph nose on my car for Christmas but then I remember to take off the antlers but NOT the nose so I spend plenty of the new year driving around with a ginormous red nose attached to my hood. It's alright. I just pretend it's a clown car.). I bought about 12 packages o' Amish chicken because it was $2.99 a pound. A dollar more than my previous target price for chicken but I think that is a price worth paying. I've done my part to raise a few barns. My total for that trip was $165. Yeah. So what that means is that I have already spent ½ my grocery budget and we are only 4 days into the month. BUT I don't have to buy much in the way of meat for at least the rest of the month and a big portion of next month and here is why. Venison. I have about 2 deer worth of meat in my freezer right now. It's pretty guaranteed to be organic. The price was unbelievable. And it's fresh. I know that because it takes a lot to get used to the smell as it's cooking. I still have to mix in some regular mass produced ground meat to cut the flavor a bit when I'm making chili and pasta and such but I'm hoping that I can decrease the addition gradually as time goes on. The other reason that my food bill was so high is that I bought 13 boxes of Kashi waffles. Yes. 13. Because they were $1.49 a box and that is well over ½ off each and that's what Hubs eats for breakfast every morning – a peanut butter and jelly waffle sandwich- so we go through quite a few waffles. I'm playing it fast and loose with the expiration on those babies but it's Hubs eating it, not me. What? He'll be fine! I bought more fruits and veggies and plan on making juices and some kale chips with my goodies. Speaking of which, I thought I would include juice recipes with you as a public service. Last night the juice was made of fennel bulb and stalks, blueberries, strawberries, two golden delicious apples, ginger and Swiss chard. I enjoyed it very much! We now return to our regularly scheduled blog entry. Uhm, I also bought some clearance Christmas goodness. Look. If you saw a pistachio toffee bar made with Belgian chocolate, Wisconsin butter, sea salt and pistachios for .99 what would you do? What would you do? Well, if you would walk away, you are a far stronger self than I. I bought that sucker. I ate it too. And I'd do it again. Probably you would have walked away from the .99 Bahlsen gingerbread assortment cookie bag that made you nostalgic for when you lived in Belgium too. Pphtt. Whatever.

When I went to Jungle Jim's, I wore a pair of shoes that I don't wear much. I really like them but there are others that I like even more so they don't always make the cut. But I wandered around for well over 2 hours (what?? I'm a search and seize shopper!) and those shoes have NO arch support. Or heel support. Basically, their whole existence is based on being foot covering and nominally cute. I have been having MUCH back trouble lately and that did not help at all. One might say that in fact, it did more harm than good. I might say that. I am saying that. It killed my back. I've got to figure out something to do to have a better back. I think yoga would help. I don't have a foundation as to why that would be better than another form of exercise. I think it's purely based on the fact that you are nearly required to wear some of the most comfortable pants around while doing it. It says so right on the apparel – yoga pants. Also, it's a fairly relaxed atmosphere with no jumping up and down staring at the instructor who has every bit of business jumping up and down because she is all taut and tone and such. Yoga instructors look all taut and tone too but it's not as in your face as jumping up and down is. It feels more attainable to look like them. Even if it's not. Probably I should wear some more sensible shoes. Like today, I should be sporting a pair of Birkies, but I'm not. For one thing, I'm not a hippie or over the age of 60. For another, the only pair I own have all myriad color stripes. They don't go with my outfit. And finally, some might count this as reason three, but I don't- Hubs hates them. Like wants to throw them out hates them. That's okay. He has some apparel that I do not care for. Of course, it's apparel that I have moved to a different portion of the closet to see if he notices and looks for it so that I can take it a step further and just toss out already. So far, he hasn't noticed. Fingers crossed! Also, I get compliments on those shoes EVERY time I wear them. Compliments trump hate, every time. So, I've checked out orthopedic shoes and we have a problem. They are NOT cute. If you have foot or back problems, you are not allowed to have stylish or trendy shoes. And if you are allowed to have trendy or stylish shoes, it's because you severed an arm and a leg to pay for them. I might be reduced to buying a Dr. Scholl's product that compels men to proclaim that they are gellin' like a felon or some stupid non-nonsensical rhyming comparison. Anywho, I spent most of last night laid up on the couch trying to be still and trying not to burn myself with a heating pad. And playing Cleopatra's Pyramid card game on my iPhone. Because none of my Words with Friends friends are being too friendly. Ahem. Play your words, friends!! Quit acting like you have a life and such! Sheesh. Productive people are soooo... inspirational. Yeah. That's what they are. So, that's the scoop on where I was last night and why I didn't come out to play. Perhaps that was the perfect posture from which to write a blog entry. But I didn't do that. Because I was kind of still feeling sheepish about my day what with spending $165 at the store. And because of this next bit...

I also went to a store that rhymes with Appall-Mart. I hate, HATE that I need anything from that store. And if I take the time to really evaluate the situation, I don't NEED anything at that store. But from time to time, you can't buy some things at the grocery, not even at somewhere as awesome as Jungle Jim's. And I can't afford to shop at environmentally friendly (what IS that?? You have to be rich to love the planet properly. Slow down, one soap box at a time...), ergonomic, recycled from batteries and diapers, vegan store of home products. We needed a space heater for “the Saudi”'s room. He comes from a desert and finds our climates below the 120 degree mark a bit chilly. His space heater stopped working so, being the hostly hosts that we are, I needed to replace it. Now, I'm trying to hold true to that stuff in my "about me" box that says that I'm not here to judge. So, if that link embedded in my Appall-Mart reference just offended you, well, I don't know what to tell you. I'm merely showing you someone else's impressions of the situation and letting YOU judge. And really, if you are going to go out in public like that, you are just asking for it. I'm just keeping it real. Have you ever noticed when a thug, I mean a person, says that he or she is keeping it real, it's always about anyone and everyone but themselves. It's true. But, I'm here to keep it real, for real. I'm calling myself out. And it's not easy because I am no jokes ashamed of myself. I felt like the most appalling thing at that mart. Here's what happened. I heard a woman yelling at her kid. And, that is NOT stand-out behavior at the mart. People yell and curse at other people, including children, all the time there. Unfortunately, you let it become the soundtrack that you ignore as you speed through like a bat out of hell to get out of there already. But I happened to glance over and caught her spanking her little boy. We could have a HUGE debate on the merits and demerits over spanking. But this isn't about that. This is about the fact that after she spanked this roughly 3 year old little boy, she yelled at him more about being quiet. You know, because she was spanking him and humiliating him in public and he was crying because he was hurt. Then, she spanked him again and told him to walk right. I stood frozen. I wanted to yell at her. I wanted to stop her from hurting that little boy- because whether he was all weather padded and couldn't feel the spanks or not, if he wasn't feeling it physically, it was making it's mark emotionally. But I didn't yell at her. I didn't come to that boy's rescue. And it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it and it makes my soul ache to relay it. So, here is my next resolution:

4. Be a Stand-up Girl.  Did you know that there are people who put their lives on the line to rescue girls out of sexual slavery in India? They set up stings and try to fight a mostly fully corrupt police force to rescue girls so broken that they sometimes run away from the rescuers and return to the life they have resigned themselves to. These people work undercover with people who would happily kill them to protect a BILLION dollar industry. One of the men who worked with this organization is on staff now at my church. He heads up the initiatives that our church is doing to help combat this atrocity. I am in awe of Don and the things that he has seen and what he has put on the line to make things right. He has a wife and kids and they all lived in India while he fought for justice. And here I am, in my own neighborhood, looking at someone without his own little voice getting hurt and I'm being a coward. Why? Well, for one thing, the neighborhood I live in, it's not all the time safe. This mart serves one of the poorest areas in the city. As well as one of the most dangerous. Yeah. I was afraid that I would piss someone off that would hurt me. I put my life first. And, I think about the fact that I put Hubs and my kids first along with me. If that woman decided to hurt me, to some degree, that hurts my family. Would I really have been risking my life if I had called that woman out and told her to stop? Probably not. But I was too chicken to find out. Fear is the faith of the enemy. You can determine if that is the enemy of awful, disgusting people who prey on the innocent or if it means a far more looming darkness of the opponent of God. For me, they pretty much equal out to be the same. Either way, the same holds true. Fear is used to oppress and keep the status-quo, or to downgrade the status-quo to even worse. Bad people count on apathy, fear, and people burying their heads in the sand. God's call is to wake up and stand up and fight – especially for those who have no fight left or who have been rendered voiceless. We are called not to be worriers but to be warriors. It's not enough that Hubs and I are pouring money into our church to funnel out to fund homes where these girls can be rehabilitated. It's not enough for me to be careful about where I spend my money so that I am not supporting industries or countries or individuals who objectify, dehumanize and use people up and throw them away. It's not okay that I leave the voice to others. That I leave the back-breaking hard-core out in the field dismantling a hydra work to others while I shuffle around or straight up run away. God made me a warrior. If you know me, you know that I can be combative. If you are Hubs, you know that I am nearly always combative. I don't think that God made me the warrior that people in organizations like IJM and Invisible Children or so many other outstanding organizations are. And that doesn't come from a place of denial or fear. God makes all kinds of people in all kinds of ways. Some of us are supposed to be out in the field and some of us are supposed to be supporting them. But we are all called to say stop. Stop treating God's child this way. Stop treating my brother or sister of the human race this way. I don't care if you believe in God or not. Okay, I do care but that's a story for a different day. Whether you believe in God or not, you likely believe in a benevolence that we are all supposed to uphold to have a society. Whether you are Democrat or Republican or any color of the spectrum, we are all in this together. Me. I gotta take a stand. I have to start saying Stop. STOP!

So that's it for today. I have a back-bone to build. Smooch.

And then there was light...

I am so in the weeds.  I didn't do much in the way of starting the 2012 today.  Now, hear me out!  Did you know that the banks were closed and the mail didn't deliver today?  Seems to me I’m not the only one who is getting a slow start on the year!!

Hubs and I stayed up until 1:30 this morning.  I don’t have a good answer for that.  We were watching the second season of The League.  There’s some objectionable language and adult material but good gravy the writing is hilarious.  I’m a sucker for good writing.  So, we kept laughing and kept queuing up the next episode and then there were only two more episodes left and we figured “why not?”.  And you know why not?  Because it was flippin’ 1:30 in the morning when all was said and done.  Because when I finally decided to check the time this morning after falling in and out of sleep while children kept a rotating door of tattling, whining, fighting and being hungry, it was 11:15.  Oh my.  That will eat up a day.  So after doing the eating “breakfast”, checking facebook and email routine, I went to the grocery store lo about 1:15.  Along with approximately the entirety of the rest of the city.  I returned home at 4:30.  I think you see how it was tough to be all resolute in the midst of all that.   Against many odds, I still managed to be somewhat successful with my first two resolutions so I’ll do a recap/status update combo.

Resolution number one is to want less.  On the one hand, I still want stuff today.  Just in general.  Just stuff.  But remember, as part of the wanting less I added in the whole spending fast.  And you know what?  I did it!  Sure, okay, just for the first day but I’m still owning that and being all proud.  When I finally gained access to the innards of the store, the Starbucks clearance sign beckoned me and I nearly succumbed to the Christmasy to-go cup goodness.  I’m always up for to-go coffee cups that I can reuse until the cows come home.  I remembered my vow of poverty for the month (I say spending fast, I say vow of poverty.  Potato, puhtahtoe) and I didn’t even hone in for a closer look.  I just kept walking.  I gotta say, I felt a little liberated.  And did I mention – proud, baby!  After the grocery I schlepped over to another store to buy a rug for just inside the front door.  But it was because Hubs asked me to.  Not because I wanted it.  Proud, baby!

Resolution two is context eating (TM implied and express payment expected should you coin the term and pretend it’s all yours and stuff…).  As I mentioned just in the paragraph above this one, I went to the grocery store.  I spent some good time there doing some price comparison and intentional decision making about ingredients.  I bought very little that was processed and concentrated much more on having fruits and veggies to snack on.  I didn’t go completely organic but I did buy organic milk.  That’s a tough one.  We go through A L O T of milk.  Between kids who eat on average 1.72 bowls of cereal  EACH on every day of the week (I came up with that average based on the amount that makes it into their stomachs vs. what gets spilled on various surfaces vs. what a dog scams out of the situation – it’s all quite scientific really…) and Hub’s protein shakes that bookend the day, we go through a gallon an hour I think.  Half our household is of the female persuasion but there are hormones in all of us in various degrees and flavors.  I don’t really need funky milk hormones added to the mix.  I don’t need princess and peanut popping out mammary glands in their single digit ages.  Puberty is hitting earlier and earlier and affecting girls a lot harder than it used to.  Between soy being in nearly everything and hormones in chicken and cows increasing – it’s changing things.  And as a result, I clutched my $5 gallon of milk and weighed out the cost.  Clean cow milk and a more natural time-line toward womanhoodliness won.  I’ve found organic milk for cheaper and sure hope to again.  But I guess until more peeps demand that's the only way milk should be, well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  I spent about a hundred bucks.  I used very few coupons and bought quite a few items that had been marked down.  I mention the amount (in all it’s approximation) because I want to be accountable to the goals I’m setting forth.  Now you know my learning curve. 

That brings you up to speed and sets us up for another resolution.  I thought that I would reveal two but I don’t know how long-winded I am tonight so we’ll start with one and see how it goes. 

3.  Lighten Up.  I’m uptight.  I just found this out about a couple of years ago.  I have to admit, I remain a little surprised by this revelation.  Also a little surprised that I didn’t know before AND that it took so long to reveal itself.  You would have thought that the fact that “Lighten Up” is one of those phrases that pisses me off every time someone says it to me would have been a pretty big clue but somehow, it wasn’t.  And I’m defensive about being uptight.  I would probably deny it right here and now if you told me I’m uptight.  Even if you pointed at my computer at what I’m typing right this instant.  Oh.  I’d still deny it.  I’m also a control freak.  I mention that because I’m so new to this whole thing that I don’t know if all uptight people are also control freaks OR if all control freaks are also uptight people.  I don’t know how all this works, really.  But I am both.  As long as you don’t call me out on it.  And then I’m neither. Also, does anal retentive mean the same as either of those?  Because I'm that too. It's true.


I can act like a horse's back-side but I cannot consciously make a fool out of myself.  I cannot laugh at myself unless I'm the one cracking the jokes.  I am never relaxed.  For all the lounging around I do pretty much all day every day, it's never me "chillin' out".  I don't do that.  I have antsies in my pantsies.  I don’t know why I am this way.  I talk to my mental health conversationalist (MHC) and have some inklings as to where this might be coming from but I’m so Cameron Frye wound up that I could definitely produce a diamond out of coal.  It’s big.  It’s a large portion of why I drank so much.  It’s super hard to be uptight when you’re buzzing, so buzzing frequently gains serious appeal.  Like every day frequently.   However, buzzing frequently, like every day frequently, is expensive, unhealthy in lots o’ ways and verboten on a God-fearin’ scale.  He didn’t say don’t drink.  He just said don’t get drunk.  And so did Hubs.  And so did Scooby.  And I don’t have the capacity to drink without going all the way to drunk (aka buzzing – sorry but I’m not buying into those being different states of intoxication… and neither do the cops so take heed) so I had to stop altogether.  Mostly I’m fine with not drinking.  I still have those days.  I still get hit with HALT (Hungry Angry Lonely Tired).  But I’m 7 months in and I know that as long as I don’t start, well over half my battle is won.  And while all that may have come across as self-righteous look at me go, I mention it because I still struggle with finding a viable and healthy un-twist-her-up-per.  MHC says that I’m guarded, protecting myself.  Her.  With all her years of education and training and medical degrees and what-not.  What does she know??  Whatever this is, whatever the reason, it’s robbing me blind.  It’s keeping me from being fully engaged in any situation with any person all the time, every time.  It’s like a puzzle that starts trying to connect and is missing just this one lone hold-out piece.  I keep that piece locked so deep within me that I don’t even know where it is or how to ransom it.  And 2012 is the year this changes because I can’t be the woman I’m meant to be this way.  On my best days, I know I have something to offer the world.  Something unique and worth sharing.  But even on my best days, I don’t even know what the true potential is.  It’s time to find out.  I saw this excellent quote to whom I do not know to credit – “The meaning of life is to find your gift.  The purpose of life is to give it away”.  And there it is.

That’s all I can do for today. Getting all vulnerable poops a girl out! Get some rest.  2012 seems to start tomorrow with the schools and post offices and banks reopening… Smooch.

In the beginning...

Wow! How was that for a start? I don't know about you, but that is the best New Year's Eve I have had since – well, likely since the one where I got married. I was surrounded by special people, delicious food and a renewed sense of hope and expectation. But the healthy kind of expectation. Not the kind that always leads to disappointment. Sure. There are different kinds of expectation. We'll go with that.  Also, I looked kind of cute so that doesn’t hurt. 

So we begin with the day after - the official start to 2012.  Kind of.  It’s just that I am not fully invested in January 1, 2012 as the actual start of the new year.  I’m not trying to weasel out of the whole deal.  Look.   When you are up until midnight to make sure that the clock strikes 12 and the world hasn’t ended and you make sure to get at least one smooch in for the year, by the time you get home and settle in, well, it’s late.  Some of you whippersnappers don’t have issues with that but this past year ushered me into my forties and I can’t party like it’s 1999 anymore.  My point is that if I’m going to sleep at 1:30ish in a.m., I’m not well equipped to have a get up and go attitude for the next day (or same day, to be more precise).  It was about 10:30 when my day officially started after having to get up and quiet the kids and drive the sitter home and what not.  By 12:30 it was nap time.  I have a hard time imagining that it was much different for the rest of you all.  Maybe it was.  More power to ya.  For me – tomorrow is the new beginning.  So let’s talk about that means.

As 2011 ended, I realized that I had spent the entire year being a consumer.  Like in ALL meanings of the word.  I destroyed, devoured, used up, and spent.  If it was on sale, I bought it.  If I bought it, I stockpiled it.  I bought coupons (my bad. I bought  coupon services…) to save money so that I could buy more.  I ate lots –much out of boxes and cans and made out of plenty of sugar and chemicals.   And as much as I ate, I despicably threw much away.   I drank.  A lot.  And realized that whatever I poured in, I wanted more.   I burned through my life with useless time sucks as though it was a limitless resource.  And even if I don’t buy into doomsday predictions (which I don’t), I still know that time is finite.  I took it all in.  And aside from a considerable increase in trash, I contributed very little in return.  It was my year of entitlement and abuse of resources and blessings.  My theme for 2012 is Intention.  I mentioned yesterday that rebuilding doesn’t happen by accident.  It’s intentional.  If I want to ensure that I have a different year, I have to come off the sidelines and be ready to play the game.  I’m not going to wish the weight off or hope that opportunities for anything and everything fall into my lap.  Granted, some of my resolutions are the old stand-bys, but I’m hoping the details of how or why I’m pursuing them will keep things interesting enough to keep your attention. And mine.  So, without further adieu – I present resolutions one and two of my 12 for ’12.

1.  Want Less.  I have too much.  And I don’t even really know what all I have.  But I can already tell you that I’m loathe to be separated from it.  The flip side is that I am also so over the amount of stuff in this house.   It gets on my last damn nerve.  I don’t need another garment for anything unless I have to walk a red carpet on the fly.  That seems unlikely since no one, not even myself, has discovered some sort of singing, acting, directing or production talent in me.  So.  I have clothes for any season that will present itself.  In a myriad of sizes, no less.  Probably the same could be said for shoes.  I’m not as adamant about that yet.  What is that?  You know how many pairs of black boots I have?  4.  And you know how many pairs are just right?  0.  That’s so obnoxious!  And yet I still scan 6pm.com on a regular basis just in case they have the perfect pair of black boots.  It’s an illness – women and their shoes.  I own books that I don’t read.  Our library system is one of the top in the nation so if I don’t have it, they will loan it to me.  After I get my account out of hock.  What?   Let’s just say that I’m doing my civic duty to contribute to the operational costs of a facility that is great for the community.  In a completely non tax-deduction format called late fines.  So, I don’t need to buy books.   I haven’t purchased music since I don’t know when except to tell you that it was an ACTUAL CD.  We can’t fit furniture anywhere else in the old homestead.  I have my jewelry situation down to specific pieces that I wear all the time.  I am a scrapbooker that could potentially open a small store with my supplies.  A kiosk at the very least.  No crafting products need to be replenished.  I might need more purses.  I have a bit of a Coach addiction.  But to be fair, I scour thrift stores for that fix.  When I take the time, the evidence is overwhelming:  Not only do I have everything that I need, I have well beyond what I want.  And that is offensive.  As part of resolution number one, I will be doing something radical.  I am going on a one month spending fast.  If I can’t eat it or clean with it, I resolve not to buy it.  If I am tempted to buy it, I have to run it by Hubs.  If it costs a penny or $10, I have to tell him about it BEFORE buying it.  This is a big deal y’all.   I am a wee bit sneaky and have from time to time brought things into the house that maybe I didn’t mention at the time of purchase.  I’m also a big fan of the buy it now, return it later strategy of shopping.  This tends to go about the same way as returning books on time.  It’s far more expensive than late fees.  For one month I will abstain from both these practices.  I’m excited and nervous all at once.  I hope that if it reveals some icky stuff about myself and what I’m invested in, that can be countered with strategies of how to do it all differently. 

2.  Context Eating.  Something horrible has happened to our food.  People have been talking about it in different ways for a while now and I’m starting to really understand what the hullabaloo is.  Here are some documentaries that you can watch on Netflix (swoon – what an enabler that site is.  And a blessing.  And also a curse.) that will straight up rock your world:  Food, Inc., Food Matters, Forks Over Knives, Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead.  As a result of watching these movies, taking a hard look at my pantry and the grocery store and the changes in how our bodies look and act, I am equal parts horrified and angry.  Here’s what I believe – God whipped up our world.  He picked up some dirt and made a man.  He took a part of that man and made a woman.  He made water and land and animals to fill up both.  And he gave Adam and Eve all of it and said it was theirs to name and inhabit and tend to and what-not.  And Adam and Eve blew it by doing the only ONE thing God said not to do and got in trouble and got kicked out of paradise.  But their responsibilities didn’t change.  They were still supposed to tend to stuff only now it was supposed to feel like work.  They still had all the same vegetation and animals to eat on.  And whether you believe that story or one about a curled up cave man stumbling upon an ability to bar-b-q dinosaurs, here’s the same truth covered in both those ideas – food had a beginning.  A fruit fell off the vine and was ready to eat.  A fish flopped around close enough to a person to become sushi or tuna tar tare or some such.  Or smoked salmon if fire was handy.  The bottom line is that for ages, generations, a building did not have to be involved with the eating process.  I figure about the 1950’s is when things changed drastically.  Stuff had been put into bags and cans and boxes prior to that but not like this.  We needed food that was fast.  We needed t.v. dinners.  We needed convenience.  And it’s been a downward spiral since then.  Coinciding with that downward spiral is another in the state of the health of people.  We are tired and bloated and lethargic.  We are fat and diabetic.  We have heart problems and cancer.  And we seemed resigned to that just being a sign of the times.  Really?  Is this as much as we hoped for all along?  That we would make it this far but at the expense of being on cholesterol medication and addicted to carbohydrates?  I can’t believe that.  And riding right alongside the increase of convenience food which required all myriad of chemicals and additives to ensure that the food would be ready whenever it was called upon to be consumed and the decrease in our health is a shocking turn of events on farms.  As we all continued to make resolutions to eat better, we realized that red meat needed to be decreased in our diet.  We looked to chicken breast as the appropriate high-protein low-fat go- to meat for meals.  So you know what happened?  They started giving the chickens some sort of weirdo chemical that made their boobies so big that their own scrawny chicken legs couldn’t even support their own weight.  I don’t even have words for my reaction to that.

 My conclusion at this point is that the further our food winds up from it’s original context, the less nutritious and more useless it is.  If it has to have a preservative, a flavoring, a coloring, sugar – what is it’s purpose at that point?  I did a juice fast for two weeks a few months ago.  I wanted to lose weight and cleanse my body – and really, I did it to prove to myself that I could.  I was astonished that I was ready to do it for even longer but one of the juices made me hurl and I lost my appetite after that.  Also, I sort of forgot that part of being healthy is exercising and my muscles sort of started atrophying so I thought I should give it a rest already.  But I’m ready to do it again.  I looked better.  I felt better.  And I know now exactly which vegetables are truly disgusting and have no business in my home.  It’s all about the learning people.  But I was using fresh fruits and vegetables to clean my body out – to clear out all the residue from all the non-food.  I’m committing to conscious context eating (I’m pretty sure that I’m the first to use that term so go ahead and add a TM right smack there and I’ll cash in when someone decides to hone in on my genius).  This is the year that my food is consumed as close to the source as possible – which includes eating local and seasonal fresh fruits and vegetables, organic milk and animal products and a severe decrease in products that have to be opened to eat.  It’s going to cost more but I hold this truth to be self-evident:  everything costs something – time, resources, money, emotional investment, and I am not paying with my health any longer.  Whew!  That was one heck of a spew!  I have to go sort out my coupons now as most of them have become irrelevant and are going into the recycling bin.

Hubs has alluded to my being long-winded so I should wrap it all for today.  I have about 6 hours left to consume all the contraband in the house before the actual official start of 2012.  Thanks for taking the time to join me today.  I hope that your year is off to a fantastic start.  Smooch.

Viva La New Year's Eve baby!

Thanks for tuning in! I'm on the eve of going live and I just wanted to set up shop- set the scene a little and introduce you to the cast of characters and what this is all going to be about. My name is Jenny. And you are...? That's cool. You can tell me more about you later. I'll just monopolize the conversation a bit for now.

I'm glad to say goodbye to 2011. It has been a rough year but I'm not really going to dwell on the numerous numerous reasons why. Lots of reasons. Lots. I'm just going to leave the rubble and debris behind and rebuild. The thing about rebuilding though, is that it never really happens by accident. Someone generally stumbles upon the destruction, decay or discarded and sees possibility and begins one board at a time. So here we are. Surrounded by my boards and watching me make something new.

I don't always do resolutions. It's true – you can resolve to do anything at any time. And I'm not too deeply steeped in tradition so it's not mandatory for my new year to begin with goals. However, since 2011 kind of sucked and I really don't want to 2012 to suck, I figure that the resolutions can function as bullet points for my plan of attack. So that's what we are doing. 12 resolutions for 2012. Maybe I focus on one a month. Maybe I just mix it all up so that I'm not fully committed to any sort of schedule of having to report in on any specific goal at any given time. Look. I'm looking for a little flexibility. I like you. I like that you are here checking out what the what. But I just can't fully commit to being here for you daily. Which brings us to a little background about what my life looks like in addition to this little foray of blogging I'm doing here.

I've got 4 kids in house. Scooby is 10. He is equal parts pre-teen, awesome brother, ADD, sweet hearted and smart. He shoots a mean Red Rider BB gun and has a cool outlook on the world. Princess is about to turn 7. She loves beautiful and is pretty dang beautiful herself. She is also dang smart, fairly manipulative and is going to give her father a heart attack about the time she reaches dating age – which we have concluded will roughly be about 23. Big Stuff is 5. He is adorable. He is truly just a little boy in all sense of the word. He wants to play and pretend and be a superhero. His twin sister Peanut is obviously also 5. She is the most athletic of my children and has the best giggle in the universe. Shakespeare nailed her personality when he wrote, “and though she be but little, she is fierce”. Our fifth child is not in house. She died 7 years ago but remains a part of our family and our story. Angel will come up here and there as we spend our time together. We have a revolving door of international students that we host.  Presently we have a student from Saudi Arabia.  I will call him - the Saudi.  Finally, there is Hubs. Probably you think that is short for husband, but really it's short for hubba-hubba. We have been married for 13 years as of today. He makes me crazy. He makes me happy. I mention those in no particular order. My favorite thing about him is that he gets me. My wit can be dry as a bone and keep plenty of people guessing as to whether or not I'm kidding but he knows. And we make a wicked team. When the going gets tough and the tough takes a swing below the belt – we can beat anything together.  You may have noticed some measure of anonymity in my descriptions.  Or maybe not.  Maybe you thought that those were the actual names of the people in my life.  What is a little bit funny is that my kids do have unique names and it isn't too far a stretch to think that I named my kids thusly.  But I didn't.  I'm here to share my life with you, it's true.  But if I go around embarrassing one of the people I live with, I still have to live with them. So if one of the like dozens of people reading this make fun of them - well I imagine that could make things uncomfortable around here. 

As for me – I don't do much. Yet. But that's gonna change as of tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Slow down! Tomorrow I have to spend some important time with you filling in the blanks about what the big plans are – THE plans. The resolutions. So, I might not have time to start DOING the resolutions tomorrow. If we are going to go through all this together, I figure I owe it to you to let you know what we are doing. Anywho. The kids are all in school this year so I have an unadulterated 4.5 hours of time to be purely productive on my own. And, uhm, I am not good at productive. Or on my own. So. It's good that you're here. Except that I have to go now. We are attending a par-tay tonight and I don't get out with Hubs too much – have you priced babysitters recently? SHEESH! I gotta get all prettied up and such. You all go celebrate. It's a big night. Be safe. Let's start the new year right – alive and not in jail. Meander on over here tomorrow after your hoppin' john or hair of the dog or whatever and we can get down to business. In the mean time in between time, if you have something to say feel free.  There's a comment box just right there...  Smooch.