Exchange Students

I know I'm terrible about updating my blog on a regular basis, but I figured it was worth noting two significant events: Lu left in July to Brazil for a year as an exchange student, and we are getting an exchange student from Denmark for the school year. It will be our first time ever to have a BOY in the house. How weird is that? :)

Alex is 18, and a guitarist. He's coming to live with us because we are moving to a house near the Salt Lake School for the Performing Arts, where Violet currently attends. So we'll get singing and guitar playing happening all the time. :)

Memo

To: Mother Nature
From: Me


Dear Mother Nature:

It has possibly escaped your notice that today is the 24th of May, and therefore well into springtime. I understand that you may have procrastinated last season and didn't get out as much snow as you wanted to, but it seems that waiting until now to dump it on us is a bit much.

Please have pity on my poor garden plants and send rain instead.

Sincerely,
Me

Google Searches

I like to check every so often to see what search phrases put my blog in the Top 10 on a Google search.

You will find me if you go searching for "watermelon butts". Seriously, who knew people actually searched for this?

My current favorite search that lands you here is: "warped sense of humor". Oh, yeah baby!

And finally, my public service announcement is number two on the charts: noreply-comment@blogger.com. If you haven't already fixed your email so I can respond directly to you, I would love it if you would do so!

I'm still very busy with Real Life, but will probably be back to mere normalcy once school starts. Maybe.

Summertime

Summertime means no time to blog. Or read blogs. So as far as the blogging world goes, I suck all the time during the summertime.

But today I will leave you with a summertime moment in my house:

Me: (getting ready to slice the end off a watermelon)
Me: Kayla! Come here!
Kayla: (comes into the kitchen and sees what I'm doing)
Kayla: Yay! You know I love the butt of watermelons!

Skinny Grandmas

I was talking the other day with my best friend Carol. She recently had a baby, and has been losing weight and skinny-ing down very nicely as of late. We talked about weight, and how our bodies aren't so inclined to drop it easily, etc.

She was telling me about how she had put on those extra pounds to begin with-- her hubby, nice guy that he is, would bring home all kinds of yummy ice cream for her. And the weight creeped on. And it started me thinking-- my hubby does the same types of things whenever I drop weight. Ice cream. Desserts. Fattening foods.

I am wondering now if there's something unconscious in a guy's brain that wants to fluff up their women a bit.

Women, when they start to reach middle age, begin to plump out naturally. The body is trying to make more fat cells in preparation for menopause (fat cells can convert and send out estrogen to the body).

Then I realized something-- skinny grandmas look weird. Bony grandmas tend to be an anomaly. Grandmas, by nature, should have soft padding for grandbabies to snuggle up to.

Society tells us a different story. Something is wrong with you if you aren't a size 8. Trying to reach that "goal" is probably more harmful to my body than helpful at this point (low estrogen levels suck). It's much better to concentrate on eating healthy and exercising regularly, and allow my body to naturally move to where it wants to be.

So today I am happy to report that the way things are currently headed, I will NOT be a skinny grandma. :)

38

I’m 38 years old right now.

It’s a good age, I think, old enough to not make the same old mistakes (mostly), and young enough to still have many good years left (to make new mistakes). I have many plans for the future, including going back to school, traveling the world, and holding grandbabies someday.

When I was a young 20, my wonderful brother-in-law was 38. I expect he felt the same way about his life as I do now. However, at 38, he had a major challenge put in front of him-- he was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

The last time I saw Don was when the nurse shaved all the hair off his head, in preparation for the surgery to remove the invasive tumor. He never made it off the operating table alive. I would never again see his easy grin, his even easier laugh, and experience his gentle demeanor.

38.

So young.

I received word yesterday that a good friend I worked with for many years had passed away.

She was 38.

After over 10 years of sobriety, she succumbed to her alcohol addiction. Her body could no longer handle the ravages of alcoholism.

The last time I saw Jenny was while she was still sober. She had just finished with her Bachelor’s degree, had lost a significant amount of weight, and was ready to take on the world. I will never receive another hug from her, have her make me laugh until my sides hurt, or see her beautiful smile again.

38.

So young.

Today, I contemplate my 38 years. What have I done with them? What do I want to do with the years I (hopefully) have ahead of me?

Life is short.

Love.
Experience.
Give.
Receive.
Cherish.
Make a difference.
Stop to appreciate the little things.

May we all lead long and interesting lives, full of happiness and good things.

Heads UP

My neighbors down the road seemed to have a bit of a problem the other day:


Notice the size of the car and the house next to the tree... yes, it was really that big. And that's not the amazing part:


Yes, that's a LIMB of the main tree that came crashing down. And, yes, that's a full-size telephone pole in the photo next to the tall, tall tree...

Forgiveness

Yesterday's lesson at church: forgiveness.

Some lessons you hear over and over again at church-- and I think those are the ones we need to pay attention to the most. Forgiveness is definitely one of those.

Things I've learned about forgiveness over the years:

• It's not about them. It's about you.
• If you cannot forgive someone else, how can you expect the atonement to work for you?
• Most people on this earth are reasonable people. If you are wronged in some way, it was most likely by a reasonable person. So ask yourself-- why would a reasonable person do this? After all, we've done our fair share of hurting others without meaning to.
• Forgiveness is a process. Plant the seed, and nurture the growth within you.
  
• Forgiving is not necessarily forgetting. As a friend of mine once stated, "I choose not to be around that person so they will not have the opportunity to sin against me again." :) You can forgive, yet still protect yourself from further harm.
• We judge others based on their actions towards us. We judge ourselves based on our intent. We need to give others the benefit of the doubt and assume that their good intentions didn't work out the way they had planned.

This was a good lesson, given at a time I desperately needed to hear it again to work through some issues with my ex-husband. Even though he committed suicide almost 3 years ago, I can still forgive him for the aftermath he left me to deal with. It is time to really work on letting it go.

I am tenderly watering the seed that was planted yesterday.

I Want These SO Bad!

Pink Flamingo Lawn Ornaments

But the kids whined that they'd like to have friends over sometime...

Someday, dear neighbor.... someday.

Open Letter to My Neighbor

Dear Neighbor,

Thank you so much for coming over tonight to chat with me regarding my failure to maintain my yard to your exacting standards. Yes, I am extremely aware that you spend somewhere around 46,752 hours a week keeping your yard perfectly manicured, and that compared to yours, mine looks a bastard step-child.

Regarding your inquiry as to what my plans were for my yard this year (which obviously, as my neighbor, you have a God-given right to know), they will be pretty much the same as last year: attempting to improve the hard-pack clay bed the poor lawn sits on, eradication of weeds, and keeping the grass alive.

Your complaint about that you’ve now “…lived next door to [me] for 8 years, and the yard hasn’t changed” isn’t quite valid. I actually have more crabgrass this year to get rid of than in previous years. Your apparent need to point out its current height means you did notice the difference this year, the same as we have. Since the crabgrass loves our poor soil, it has lived through three poisonings since last month. I am terribly sorry, neighbor, that this is not sufficient effort for you, and your demand to know the exact weed killers we have used was part of your ever-so-kind efforts to be helpful.

I will take into consideration your advice to mow and water and throw chemicals around my yard as you do. However, dear neighbor, it seems to me that you’re failing to realize that we live IN A DESERT. And also, dear neighbor, it seems that you might have possibly missed the notices in our neighborhood, right next to the drains, embedded in the concrete, that our runoff water empties directly into the waterways where fish and other aquatic wildlife live.

So therefore, my concerned neighbor, I will continue to water infrequently this summer, keep my grass high to withstand DESERT heat, and use as few chemicals on my lawn as possible. Do not be overly dismayed at my crispy lawn—it is not dead, only dormant. It will revive in the fall when the DESERT heat leaves. I think the local fish will appreciate a little more water, and a few less chemicals invading their homes.

And as far as your parting remark about the “clutter” in my yard, I will be sure to let my children know that their bikes and skateboards and wagons and scooters are a horrible eyesore in this community. Heaven forbid that those items should be seen in a yard that has a family with children.

Once again, thank you for the visit this evening. And regarding your own personal description of yourself as “anal” about yardwork, I can only wholeheartedly agree with you.

Sincerely,

Your Neighbor

P.S. Would you happen to know where I could purchase some pink flamingo lawn ornaments?

Big Hair

Last night, I was eating dinner when a rerun of "That 70's Show" came on. I totally laugh at the hair, remembering my foray into the Big Hair debacle. Then, my friend and I watched American Idol together a little later, smiling and commenting about the people who are starting to wear Big Hair again on the show.

I've been growing my hair out, mainly because I have no clue what kind of haircut I want. So it's in the annoying inbetween stage, where it really won't do much of anything. This morning, just for fun, I decided to style it similar to Big Hair in the 70's, with the whole feathered back bangs look. Ron and I have been laughing about it.

Then I'm in the kitchen, getting lunches ready, and Lu walks around the corner. "Boo! I scared you!" she says, as she heads into the family room to collect her school stuff. I waited about 5 seconds, and then started in with the "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!! Aaaaaaaaahhhh!" to humor her. :) Then Ron says, "Wow. You really scared your mom-- look at what it did to her hair!"

I start giggling helplessly, while Ron just chuckles at me. As I'm giving him a hug, and we're laughing together, Lu is watching us with raised eyebrows and critical teenager eyes.

Big sigh from Lu. "And to think that I have to live with these people." Cue eyeroll.

Microwaves

As I nuked my syrup in the microwave this morning, I took a moment to enjoy the wonderfulness that is instant warm food. Aren't microwaves the best invention? Love the things.

It reminded me of the first microwave my family got when I was about 7. My dad worked in a furniture store, so he was able to get one for less than $1000 when they came out. It was a behemoth of a thing, sitting there resolutely on our countertop.

I was fascinated by it. The food went in cold, and came out (seemingly instantly) hot.

The next day after school, I was hungry. We had some rolls left over from dinner, and I thought it would be really yummy to heat it up in the microwave and put some butter on it and have it melt. Mmmmmm....

I put the roll on a plate, and carefully placed it into the microwave. My 7 year old brain then calculated that it would most likely take 20 minutes to heat up. I set the timer, pushed start, and then went off to play.

After the fire alarm went off, my mom found a black hunk of charcoal in the microwave. Her new toy, not even a full day old yet, now had smoke and burn marks all over the inside.

The amazing thing is that it didn't kill the microwave. Mom had that huge box on our countertop for close to 20 years, permanent burn marks and all.

Random Tuesday Thoughts

When I was a kid, my mom used to torture me by making me take all kinds of vitamins. I thought she was some kind of weird Health Nutjob. Then I grew up, and now I find myself taking vitamins and the like because it makes me feel better. Now my kids think I'm a weird Health Nutjob.

I really hate that manufacturers don’t have to disclose on the packaging that their product contains sucralose (Splenda). I guess since it’s “modified sugar”, the FDA thinks it’s fine to just list it quietly in the ingredients. I have to very carefully read labels so I can avoid it, since all artificial sweeteners taste horribly bitter to me (and give me headaches).

I had a weird dream that something was attacking me in my sleep, but I used Super Cool Ninja Moves on it, and killed the Mean Thing. But I woke up to smacking poor Ron in his sleep. I think I scared the crap out of him.

And then the next night, I dreamed that we had this sleep-over work party. One of my managers said, “I get to hold Suz tonight,” and proceeded to snuggle up to me when we were going to sleep. Weird.

Last night, we went to my parents’ house to pick up our new dishwasher (stupid old one died)(it was only 7 years old!), as my dad very nicely went and found us the Best Deal yesterday with all the sales (Ron and I both had to work). Ron and I were talking to my mom, and she mentioned that we probably wanted to get going. Ron replies TO MY MOM, and I quote: “Yeah, so Suz and I can get home and have some wild sex.” Are you supposed to say things like that in front of your mother-in-law?

Time to Move In!

We got the official OK to start moving our stuff into the basement yesterday. So I thought I'd better take photos before we fill it up with crap! :)

Family Room:

Office:

Hallway:

Violet's green bedroom:

Bathroom:

Lu's Oriental-themed room:

Science Fair

Today, I was a judge at my kids' school science fair. It actually was a lot of fun scaring the bejeezus out of talking to the kids about their projects, what gave them the idea, etc.

The best project, in my opinion, was a math-oriented one. The girl had overheard her father and uncle talking. They are both in the real estate business, and had made the comment that the median home price in American has doubled every 10 years since 1950.

This got her thinking. So she figured out the median family income from 1950 to present, and the median house price from 1950 to present. Then she calculated, in graph format, using current trends, to make a prediction on what the median average house price would be in 2040.

1.6 million dollars.

Maybe you California folks aren't too shocked, but I was floored.

The worst part is that if wages keep going how they are, the average median income family won't be able to afford to buy a home in 2040.

Sobering thoughts on a Thursday afternoon.

Almost Done!

The basement is almost done! The carpet is being installed, even as I post...

At work, I'm trying to remember how to do something...

Me: (wondering out loud) What am I missing?
Co-Worker: Paint fumes?

Yeah.

But it's almost done!!!

Painting

We're in the process of getting our basement finished. I've been spending all my free time this last week (ha!) painting.

See the photo of Violet below, in the not-yet-done bathroom? It's the current painting project. We've finished just about everything else, but I am SO tired of paint fumes.

I'll post some photos of the finished work. Maybe tomorrow. If I'm not still painting.

If You Could Only See Yourself As Others Do

For the past year or so, I've been fairly unhappy with my approaching-middle-age-body. I've put on 40+ pounds since I was married 2 1/2 years ago (long story, but hormones are a huge player). I feel like a whale next to my skinny, wiry Ron. I think we look like Jack Sprat and Wife in photos.

So I had this very interesting experience happen to me the other day, while I was buying a new bus pass for Kayla. As I stood at the counter, waiting for someone to bring the pass, I had been looking up at the top shelf of various leftover Christmas items. My eyes caught the sight of a monitor, and I curiously looked at it to see who was being monitored.

I noticed a woman standing there, and the thought came unbidden to my mind, "She's pretty." Nice figure, not too skinny, not too fat. Cute hair.

And then it dawned on me.

It was me I was looking at in the monitor. It was one of those monitors that flip the image around, so the camera will film what is really happening, not a mirror image of things. And since I've only ever seen myself in a mirror image, the recognition of me didn't immediately happen.

I've been thinking ever since. That image in the monitor is how everyone else views me. How I'm really seen by the world. The person who looks back at me from the mirror is only how I see myself.

Since then, I've been reframing my mind to try-- really try-- to see myself as others do. Not just my physical appearance, but also my deeds, actions, and words. I learned a powerful lesson that afternoon-- and am now endeavoring to silence my inner critic that wants me to see what the two-dimensional mirror reflects back. I am far too multi-faceted to confine who I am to the reflection I see every morning.

It is time to break free.

Girl = Under 18

I swear, if my male co-worker answers the phone just ONE MORE TIME with "Hey, girl!" when I call, I will march right over to where he is sitting and shove the receiver down his throat with much perverse pleasure.

I wish I were quick enough on the retorts to say, "How's it going, boy?" to him when he does that. But my automatic "hello response" just kicks in, and then I quietly fume on the other end of the line.

Grumble.

Sledding

I'm currently being bombarded with holiday stuff, family stuff, snow stuff, and back-to-work stuff. Which means I don't have time for blog stuff. The world is so unfair!

I did get to go sledding a few days ago, though, and managed to kill my back thoroughly. But dangit-- I caught AIR off that jump! Lots of air! I took a can of Whoop-Ass to my brothers and FLEW!!! (Of course, there was that one run when my brother and I doubled... we rocked down that slope until we crashed spectacularly into the powder...)

And I have learned a New Truth... if you invite your step-daughter to go sledding with you and your family on a day that is Not Officially Your Holiday Time, you are apparently participating in ruining the Other Mother's life.

I just so don't get girl politics.