After a long day at work and attending to these doggone cats the minute I walked in the door, I settled onto the couch with my laptop to figure out what I was going to have for dinner.
Only my 2nd day on Weight Watchers but I have figured out why I think it works as well as it does for so many people. WW is more about what you CAN have, as opposed to what you can’t. You have points to ‘spend’ and what you choose to spend them on is your choice. Nothing is off limits, the question is – do I want to use my points for that?
I was perusing food choices and points values when my son passed behind me and went into the bathroom. Nothing unusual about that, and I continued to debate the idea of something frozen vs. possibly cooking something. You get kind of excited about the idea of getting the most bang for your buck so to speak, in picking your meals.
I will spare you the details of what happened next but suffice it to say – the word vomit does not adequately describe what went on it there.
So I may not be using all of my points today. Somehow eating just doesn’t hold quite the same appeal as it did when I came home.
E-e-w-w.
**Edited to add: Contrary to what Andy thinks - he IS sick. He let me go out to get him some Gatorade. That's proof, he generally doesn't let me take care of him.
But back to the award. It’s the True Blue award and I am thrilled! I find there is very little loyalty these days in places where there used to be such as the workplace or the neighborhood. But holy cow is there loyalty in the blogosphere! Readers are so genuine and supportive I am constantly amazed and glad to know there are a lot of good and kind people out there. If you start to lose faith in things – your readers will help you find it again. If you are feeling low they will prop you up. And if you need support - or want to share your joy – your readers are right there and willing to laugh or cry with you.
So I appreciate what this award stands for, thank you Stimey! Very much.
I’m not sure if this award came with rules but I am making up my own anyway. I want to give this award to those of you who continually come back and read my blog, who comment and make me smile. You are all so appreciated and have made me feel so welcomed when a year ago I didn’t really even know what a blog was!
I’ve had good days and bad and silly and stupid and you have been there to share it with me, so all of you who keep coming back should take the True Blue badge and display it proudly because – YOU ARE! True Blue, that is. And I thank you.
I turned on the tea kettle that already had water in it (for me not the cats) and cleaned up the cat puke Riley had left for me in the utility room before I started getting their food. It seemed like the thing to do.
The other cats were being patient, winding round my ankles trying to trip me and then going to their assigned places where they knew I would put their plates down shortly. We do it every day.
Riley decided he couldn’t wait and made a leap from the floor to the stovetop on my right knocking the tea kettle backwards and attempting to walk through fire to get to his food. As soon as I felt him hit my side and heard the kettle I whipped around and grabbed him knowing he had just jumped into the flames.
It all happened so fast that I’m not sure if I saw the flame or just assumed it was there but by the time he was on the ground I saw one last lick of fire near his chest and I continued to smack him a few more times until I was sure it was out.
Then I did what anyone does who has a child who almost runs into the street in the path of a car – I yelled at him. “You DUMMY!!!” Yeah, that’s me, Miss Articulate. And poor Riley, he was just bewildered. I had grabbed him and simultaneously beat him while unceremoniously dumping him on the floor and then I yelled at him. I’m sure that’s how he saw it, and he still didn’t have his food!
A quick inspection while he was eating (the only way to get him to stand still) revealed one leg singed, some of the fur on his chest as well, and his whiskers curled on the ends. I have no hair left on that hand and you can just imagine how the kitchen smelled! Nice.
But he just about gave ME a heart attack!
I’m glad the award is not based on my beading because I haven’t created anything new in at least a month if not more. I sold something this weekend in spite of myself because I have not been putting any effort into it at all while my bead room is slowly moving forward. Apparently this award is based on my sparkling personality and that’s so much better anyway, isn’t it? (am I hiding my shame well enough?)
The first wonderful and talented lady is Jo from Gem Heaven. She has so much talent when it comes to creating jewelry I would wear everything she creates. Every. Single. Piece. Seriously. Gorgeous jewelry with incredible handmade beads and beautiful silver! If you want to see what a true jewelry maker can do, please check her out. Thank you Jo!
The second lady to give me this award has a different type of beading blog. Her name is
Both of these ladies bestowed upon me the You Make My Day Award! How fantastic is that? I appreciate it so much. I’ve met some terrific people through blogging and they never cease to amaze me. I am not worthy. *see me bowing down* Thank you Jo and
There are rules and regulations and guidelines to follow when it comes to awards and I am afraid I am rebellious when it comes to these things. There are times when I follow all of the rules and times when I follow none. I think I am too tired to follow the rules right now. I apologize. Or not.
:) But believe me when I say - you, ladies, have made MY day!!!
THANK YOU!!
Yesterday my son and I spent 5 hours on the road driving to my daughter’s university to see her performing in The Vagina Monologues. 3 of those hours we spent listening to coverage of the shooting at
The play was wonderful, very funny, very poignant and meaningful. Dani did a monologue about pubic hair, oh I’m so proud. :) And I am. She was very good; she was funny and has such a flair for the dramatic. Her 2nd monologue was done as a 6-year old girl whom of course I found quite adorable seeing as I remember her at that age myself. Up on stage perched on a stool, swiveling and kicking her feet she was the picture of sweet innocence. Did I mention that her performance was fabulous? No? Well let me tell you, she was fabulous!
The sobering part of the evening was Dani’s boyfriend Tony telling us that one of the students shot at NIU earlier in the day is a young guy who lives just down the street from him at home. He was hit with shotgun pellets while trying to shield his girlfriend. He was treated and released but will have to have the pellets removed at a later date.
Dani had some frantic moments earlier in the day trying to find out if one of her close friends who attends NIU was okay, finally reactivating her own Facebook account to see if she could find news about her friend. She was relieved to discover he was fine.
When Andy and I arrived we went to the theater with Tony and settled into our seats. Looking up at the stage there was a black curtain behind the performers during the play and it was difficult not to picture someone stepping out from behind that curtain to confront those on the stage and in the audience. For the most part I was able to concentrate on the play in front of me but I will admit to feeling a bit unnerved by the comparison.
So very sad.
It was over all too soon and Andy and I needed to turn around and drive 5 hours back home. And listen to 5 more hours of coverage of the NIU shooting.
There was something surreal about seeing my daughter onstage, enjoying ourselves and laughing, sandwiched between the sad events of the day. Did I mention Dani was fabulous? Yeah, she was. Andy too. He spent 10 hours in the car with me to spend 3 hours with his sister. I love my kids and what happened yesterday was one of those reminders to hold them both a little closer, to enjoy them, and to appreciate them for who they are.
And they are fabulous!
Stimey had an incident yesterday that left her feeling a bit bruised and battered in the parenting
sense, and I know we’ve all had things happen that made us feel less than the perfect Mrs. Brady. And the ones who think they are the perfect Mrs. Brady? They’re kidding themselves.
We do the best job we can as parents but kids don’t come with a manual and we make mistakes. Things happen when we’re tired and overwhelmed but for the most part we don’t damage our kids. They are resilient and generally grow up just fine in spite of our blunders.
The good far outweighs the bad and we forgive ourselves for our missteps because we are human. Then because we blog, we tell our stories and we laugh because the kids are wonderful in spite of the things we do sometimes.
When my son Andy was in 5th grade we got a note from his school saying he had failed the eye test. Really? Not a big deal, he’s probably having a little trouble seeing the board in class. We took him to the eye doctor for a complete exam and sure enough, he needed glasses.
Andy always sat close to the TV but I thought it was a kid thing; don’t all kids want to practically press their noses against the screen? When he held a book he held it up and in front of his face instead of looking down at it in a relaxed fashion like most kids do. I thought that was a quirk carried over from when he was a toddler. He learned to read at 2 and a half and I figured the way he held a book was simply a habit from early on that just “stuck”. I really didn’t think too much of it.
When they were ready we took Andy to get his glasses. It seemed so uneventful. Andy was not a kid to make a big deal out of many things. He let the technician check to make sure the glasses fit well, answered her questions about how well he could see, and waited quietly while she made a few adjustments and we were on our way. Again, no big deal.
In the car on the way home Andy started reading every single thing he could see through the car window. His voice was getting higher pitched and louder and frankly it was getting a bit annoying. I was about to ask him to ‘knock it off’ – but before I had the chance - in a voice filled with excitement and awe he asked “WOW. Does EVERYBODY see like this?!!???”
Okay? Worst Mom ever.
So what have you done that made you feel like the worst parent in the world?
I would like to take my coat off when I walk in the door before you start yelling at me. Do you think you could manage that?
It would be nice to walk across a room without one of you following me. Why are you are absolutely sure that whatever I am doing has something to do with you?
Riley, what does it mean when you sit and stare at me making that annoyed sound in the back of your throat like Marge on the Simpson’s?
Abby, do you think I could walk past the back of the couch without you trying to bite me? Just once? I don’t have to let you live here you know.
Norah do you get points if I trip over you?
If I let you crawl under the covers with me at night, don’t you think I deserve not to get bit simply because I move my arm?
Just what is it you smell on the carpet that makes you sit with your mouth open that way?
Why is it if I were to purchase the most wonderful cat bed in the world, each and every one of you would still rather sleep on the stack of clothes sitting on my bed?
How come the minute anyone dons black slacks – one of you has to rub up against them? Are you so opposed to black pants that you must decorate them with a thick layer of hair around the ankles?
Is there a reason that if I bring home a plant it will turn out to be poisonous and you Jake will immediately eat some of it?
What’s the deal with an empty box? Does the world look better from inside it?
And Jake, I know you only want to drink out of the faucet in the bathroom. I accept that. But does it really only taste good when I am in the bathroom with you? Sitting on the toilet? With my pants down?? You check before you drink, don’t you?
When I wrote about the fog and breaking my ankle I forgot to mention an important part. I mean, really important. Probably because I didn’t tell about what happened beyond calling for help.
Of course there was the ride to the hospital and trying to get someone’s attention in the emergency room. Standard stuff. There was the nurse peeling my sock off and exclaiming “oh my
God!” Not good to hear from a medical professional. And then hearing “I can’t get a pulse down here…” that was scary too.
But laying on a gurney with people bustling around and hearing them say to me “okay, we’re going to need to cut off your jeans” brought on more reaction than the pain! "NO-O-O-0-0-0-0-0-0-0!!!"
I was wearing clean underwear, could not have cared less if my legs were shaved at that point, but those jeans? My favorite pair. My favorite pair of jeans that fit me and actually looked good on me, and they were telling me they were going to take a pair of scissors and cut them from waistband to hem.
I needed pain medication for that part more so than when they set the bones. Arg-g-h-h-h!!
The snow drifts were huge
I love the walk to the house, the snow is piled as high as the kids!
Yes, pictures were still black and white back then. And so was the TV! Wanna make something of it?
Buried cars in Chicago, Lake Shore Drive and Foster Avenue.
People dug their cars out and started to get around, but mostly still on foot. One of my favorite memories of that snowstorm was once we went back to school there were fabulously high snow hills all along every street and on either side of every driveway. I have no idea whether the sidewalks were shoveled because we kids didn't take that route anyway. We climbed to the top of the snow hills and walked up there - sometimes falling through, rolling off, or stepping down onto driveways and scampering back up in the other side. I don't recall ever being tired or out of breath - or even very cold for that matter. It was a terrific time to be 8 years old!I haven’t walked in the fog since a February evening about 8 years ago. No, 7. Whatever. It was a wonderful night; there was a light misty rain and lots of melting snow on the ground and puddles on the sidewalks. And ice. Did I mention ice? Yeah, ice hidden under the water in the puddles.
Walking is the best form of exercise for me and I had gotten away from it somewhat. I was disappointed in myself and that night I pulled my car into the driveway when I got home from work, got out and started walking. Not sure if I even went in the house first.
I wasn’t going far, and while it was foggy and misty, dark and wonderful out, it was still winter. February in
Suddenly there was an awful noise, the sensation of falling and total disbelief when I found myself sitting in the puddle with my foot bent at about a 45 degree angle from my ankle. When I moved my leg the foot just stayed there – frozen in that oddly abnormal position. There was no thinking at that moment, there was just action. I did what anybody would have done. I reached down and bent that foot back into place ignoring the crunching sounds it made as I did it. After all, if it looks normal, it IS normal. Right?
Uh uh. Looking around I realized I was all alone in a puddle in the freezing rain without my phone or another person in sight. At night. The house directly in front of me was completely dark. There was panic and nausea and the realization that I had to move. Trying to stand was a treat. Somehow I did get up but when I tried to put weight on my foot – there was no support in my ankle. It was like the foot was not attached anymore and indeed, when I lifted the leg – the foot just flopped, there was no control.
Down I went back onto the ground where I turned over onto all fours and proceeded to crawl up a wet icy driveway scattered with stones, dragging my foot. The people were quite surprised when they answered the door and found me sitting on their porch telling them my ankle was broken and asking to use their phone. Not a nice way to end a lovely walk in the fog.
It turned out I had broken all 3 bones in my ankle so there really were no bones attaching it to my foot at that point. There was surgery and pins, screws, and a plate. And 6 weeks on a recliner
watching Court TV. Every day. All day.
I still love the fog. Driving home this evening was great, and feeling the damp on my face walking to the car and to the house was wonderful. But these days? These days when I hear the fog calling my name? I ignore it!
I am the first one to tell you that housework is not my first priority so that gets done last. Then of course there is my jewelry making which has been sadly neglected lately in favor of living vicariously through all these wonderful people out there who let me peek into their lives on a daily basis! Or not so wonderful people, sometimes those blogs are interesting too.
My kids are old enough now that my reading blogs doesn’t take anything away from them, but really, like I told someone the other day – if I had had access to all this connectivity when my children were little they would have been raising themselves. No Mommy awards at my house if that were the case. I’m just glad I didn’t have that temptation at the time and I admire any of those Moms out there who blog and parent with balance.
Since I never ever never ever (really really) read blogs at work, ahem, my day job never suffers one iota. Ever. Really.
A huge casualty has been how much I comment on all the blogs I read. As the number of blogs I have subscribed to has increased, the number of comments I make has decreased. I used to try to comment every time someone commented on my blog. Or at least hop over to their blog and leave a comment there. But I find in reading so many, I tend to be governed more by my mood, or to be honest - the amount of posts I have to read vs. the amount of time I have.
A rant? Oh, I don’t feel like a rant today, I’ll mark that as read and move on. Funny? Okay, funny is good but I’m not really relating to this. Move on. Emotional? Oh, I feel bad but I really don’t know what to say, off I go. A post that makes me laugh that I can relate directly to my own experience? But, oh look, they already have 45 comments, there is simply nothing left to say that someone else hasn’t already! A post so incredibly clever and witty that every comment left is better than the next? I wither under the intimidation factor, lets face it I’m just not that funny. Off to the next. And on it goes.
But I feel bad about it. I enjoy all the blogs I read, but I will admit the sheer volume makes commenting on all - or even most of them impossible. Does it make anyone else feel bad to read and hop from blog to blog without commenting a lot of the time? How do other people manage it? Do they cut down on the amount they are loyal to? Do they only comment when they really believe they are contributing or do they comment because they feel they should?
What do you do?
