The following is Inspired by Jennie and her idea to offer writing prompts every Wednesday for interested bloggers. Here's my response to her call to "Start any story with, 'I wouldn't say it was my best idea,' and go from there."
I wouldn't say it was my best idea, but being 16 and the most "sexually experienced" of my friends, I felt it was my duty to pass along the knowledge I had gained in having my first serious boyfriend. When I say sexually experienced, I mean soared past first and second base, hoovering on third and eyeing home. Because you know, it was very important to help usher my friends into the game. There had been timid chatter around the rally room about bj's and how to give them, how to end them and what do with the stuff after it was all over. Spit? Swallow? Cry?
I had no business sharing what little information I had, but we were honor students, overachievers and despite the fact I wasn't on the school newspaper staff, I felt maybe a phamplet would be the perfect way to discreetly pass on my knowledge to my eager, yet naive, friends. I started laying out the tips I had to share on a tri-fold piece of yellow notebook paper. I was even contemplating a logo . . . it was all perfect. I had no idea how or where I would photocopy the brochure of sophomoric tip-of-sexual-iceburg tips, but then, I hadn't even thought that far ahead.
Whether it is something to be proud or ashamed of, I was definitely the most precocious of my friends and naturally, since I was the first to try everything, I was also the first most of my friends shared their sordid secrets with. To be entrusted with their blushing transgressions was an honor and now being the first to marry, I'll be the one to help usher them all into marriage too. Tear!
But I digress. The phamplet wasn't anything seedy enough to end up on Nerve.com, but it was definitely not something that I would ever want to fall into the wrong hands. Like say . . . a parent's. And it did. My own. Whether my mother was snooping or putting away laundry or snooping while putting away laundry, she did find it in my room. I didn't really attempt to hide it; I didn't think it would be in danger of being found sitting out in plain sight.
My mom, for all the crap and grief I've put her through in my adolescent years, is awesome. She didn't run to my father and pull him into the conversation. She quietly sat me down and discussed what it all meant about my sexuality and why making something like this was a terribly awful idea.
She was right. That same year, my friend Kate had become friends with this girl Dehne and somewhere they came up with a Lil' Kim album. Being the hardcore white girl thugs we were, they would bump up and down the streets of Vancouver, blaring songs talking about guys going "downtown" and other less than appropriate topics. At some point, Kate made me a copy of one of the songs and even I drove around in my Nissan 240X, feeling quite empowered and hot. But when Dehne's mother found the cd, she squealed, blaming the cd purchase on Kate and naturally, her parents were called.
It was something external, it didn't involve any of us girls, except for whoever acutally purchased the cd in the first place. I can only imagine what my handmade with love phamplet would have done to all of our freedom and independence and budding love lives.
I never mentioned the incident to my friends. Actually, this is the first I have pretty much mentioned it to anyone. Butecause it did start out, one day, probably in Algebra, as a good idea.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
When I took a good look around
You spend far too much time planning your wedding, for as quickly as it flies by. I mean, I feel bad when I spend an hour making a dinner that is eaten in about ten minutes, so you can imagine what spending nearly 11 months planning about a 7 hour party can do. It soars by. You lose track of time and when you hear what time it is, how far into it all you are and how little is left, it is a bit heartbreaking. (of course, there did come a point in the night when it was only 10 pm and we were both exhausted but were determined to spend the rest of the evening at the party). Looking back a year later, here is what I remember of the day.
* I hit the snooze button that morning on my phone. Even on my wedding day, I wanted a few more minutes of sleep.
* I was instructed to wash my hair that morning and blow it dry. Here is a photo I snapped of myself before we took off for the hair appointment.
* The girl at the tanning salon next door (where I had a small account with to even out my tan lines) asked if I would want to pop into the bed after I got my hair done for one last tan before the ceremony. I found that strange.
* Mom and I had bagels at NW Bagel Deli and I remember sitting there wondering if anyone else there knew what an important day it was for me.
* My friend and makeup artist was 45 minutes late to getting there to do my makeup. She kind of copped an attitude with me, but my makeup was beautiful and she did my mom for free too.
* While sitting in the chair getting my makeup done, I saw Lindsay Whareham and Josh Schwartz walk into the mall, probably head down to Macy's to get our wedding gift and leave again. I never called their attention, but would later see them at the wedding.
* Standing in my parents kitchen, somewhat pacing as I ate a ham sandwich about a half hour before I had to leave for the church.
* Text messaging Mike, much to his surprise. He didn't think that he would have any contact with me that day.
* Driving myself, alone, to the church. I got impatient and didn't want to wait any longer for her to get there. When I arrived at the church, there was only one other car there - Mike's. He and his brother were the first ones there. Darrick had to help me bring things in while Mike waited downstairs.
* Using the same restroom at the church I had used all of my life. I grew up that church . . . it's strange how the mundane and the extremely rare and extraordinary can mesh together like that.
* Trying my hardest to get into my Spanx and strapless bra without help. I finally had to call one of the girls into help hook things up correctly.
* Doing what I could to still play "photographer" that day. I managed to snap about seven photos before I realized that it was a moot point. But knowing that I would not be able to snap my own photos of the day did nag at me for quite a while leading up to the wedding.
* All of us girls huddled around the mirror trying to curl our hair, again, since something in the air that day made it impossible for any of us to hold what was originally put in.
* Helping Aja with her eye makeup. I always want my friends to look amazing.
* Having a small heart to heart with Jasmine about the fact that she wasn't going to get a basket of petals to sprinkle down the aisle. Instead, she'd have a pretty bouquet to carry.
* Getting to see Mike for the first time . . . it's one of those moments when time kind of feels like it will stand still forever.
* Jenn coming into the Bride's room to say hello. We were both in tears . . .
* Standing there, waiting for my father to walk me down the aisle, my heart racing with a bittersweet mixture of excitement and anticipation and the realization I wasn't going to be his little girl anymore. I was now going to be someone's wife.
* Walking down the aisle, I only saw Mike and my mother. . . I know other people were there, but those two were the only ones I saw.
* During the first prayer, a renegade tear ran down my face, off the tip of my nose and met my lips. I had one hand in Mike's, the other wrapped through my father's arm and holding my bouquet. I didn't know how to wipe that without disrupting anyone. So I let it stay there till it dried.
* Jumping for joy when the minister announced us as Husband and Wife. Finally.
* Getting into the limo to head to the Hilton . . . it was white and as we slid into the back, the radio was playing Billy Idol's "Love Stinks". I had to laugh.
* Noticing the cake was missing the cake topper I'd spent weeks searching for online. I asked Kate to find out where it was and the next time I looked up, it was there, perfectly in place.
* Sitting there, listening to our brother's, friends and father's toasts, knowing I wouldn't remember them but trying my best to hear what was said well enough to recall something. All I really remember is Kate and Aja mentioning how since we'd all met in high school and hadn't met as young children, I was probably their first friend by choice.
* Dancing with Mike. Him dipping me the first time, beautifully and nearly dropping me on the second dip.
* Dancing with my father and though we'd learned and practiced the waltz together, we never factored in my massive bustle. We had to throw the waltz out the window and just dance as we always do together at weddings.
* My brother being the first to come dance with me during the money dance.
* Running into Jenn and Sarah Steidl in the restroom. I just came in for some air.
* Stopping for a bit and just sitting alone with Mike at the head table. Someone snapped this pic of me as we just relaxed for the moment.
* Dancing with Jasmine. I can remember being little and wanting so desperately for the bride at any wedding we went to, to pay attention to me. If Jasmine was feeling anything like that, I wanted to fulfill that dream for her.
* Going with Mike up to our room, still in the heels I'd worn all evening. I never changed into my extra shoes. Those last few steps were a struggle, but I made it.
* Falling asleep next to my husband, the first of thousands of nights to come.
* I hit the snooze button that morning on my phone. Even on my wedding day, I wanted a few more minutes of sleep.
* I was instructed to wash my hair that morning and blow it dry. Here is a photo I snapped of myself before we took off for the hair appointment.
* The girl at the tanning salon next door (where I had a small account with to even out my tan lines) asked if I would want to pop into the bed after I got my hair done for one last tan before the ceremony. I found that strange.
* Mom and I had bagels at NW Bagel Deli and I remember sitting there wondering if anyone else there knew what an important day it was for me.
* My friend and makeup artist was 45 minutes late to getting there to do my makeup. She kind of copped an attitude with me, but my makeup was beautiful and she did my mom for free too.
* While sitting in the chair getting my makeup done, I saw Lindsay Whareham and Josh Schwartz walk into the mall, probably head down to Macy's to get our wedding gift and leave again. I never called their attention, but would later see them at the wedding.
* Standing in my parents kitchen, somewhat pacing as I ate a ham sandwich about a half hour before I had to leave for the church.
* Text messaging Mike, much to his surprise. He didn't think that he would have any contact with me that day.
* Driving myself, alone, to the church. I got impatient and didn't want to wait any longer for her to get there. When I arrived at the church, there was only one other car there - Mike's. He and his brother were the first ones there. Darrick had to help me bring things in while Mike waited downstairs.
* Using the same restroom at the church I had used all of my life. I grew up that church . . . it's strange how the mundane and the extremely rare and extraordinary can mesh together like that.
* Trying my hardest to get into my Spanx and strapless bra without help. I finally had to call one of the girls into help hook things up correctly.
* Doing what I could to still play "photographer" that day. I managed to snap about seven photos before I realized that it was a moot point. But knowing that I would not be able to snap my own photos of the day did nag at me for quite a while leading up to the wedding.
* All of us girls huddled around the mirror trying to curl our hair, again, since something in the air that day made it impossible for any of us to hold what was originally put in.
* Helping Aja with her eye makeup. I always want my friends to look amazing.
* Having a small heart to heart with Jasmine about the fact that she wasn't going to get a basket of petals to sprinkle down the aisle. Instead, she'd have a pretty bouquet to carry.
* Getting to see Mike for the first time . . . it's one of those moments when time kind of feels like it will stand still forever.
* Jenn coming into the Bride's room to say hello. We were both in tears . . .
* Standing there, waiting for my father to walk me down the aisle, my heart racing with a bittersweet mixture of excitement and anticipation and the realization I wasn't going to be his little girl anymore. I was now going to be someone's wife.
* Walking down the aisle, I only saw Mike and my mother. . . I know other people were there, but those two were the only ones I saw.
* During the first prayer, a renegade tear ran down my face, off the tip of my nose and met my lips. I had one hand in Mike's, the other wrapped through my father's arm and holding my bouquet. I didn't know how to wipe that without disrupting anyone. So I let it stay there till it dried.
* Jumping for joy when the minister announced us as Husband and Wife. Finally.
* Getting into the limo to head to the Hilton . . . it was white and as we slid into the back, the radio was playing Billy Idol's "Love Stinks". I had to laugh.
* Noticing the cake was missing the cake topper I'd spent weeks searching for online. I asked Kate to find out where it was and the next time I looked up, it was there, perfectly in place.
* Sitting there, listening to our brother's, friends and father's toasts, knowing I wouldn't remember them but trying my best to hear what was said well enough to recall something. All I really remember is Kate and Aja mentioning how since we'd all met in high school and hadn't met as young children, I was probably their first friend by choice.
* Dancing with Mike. Him dipping me the first time, beautifully and nearly dropping me on the second dip.
* Dancing with my father and though we'd learned and practiced the waltz together, we never factored in my massive bustle. We had to throw the waltz out the window and just dance as we always do together at weddings.
* My brother being the first to come dance with me during the money dance.
* Running into Jenn and Sarah Steidl in the restroom. I just came in for some air.
* Stopping for a bit and just sitting alone with Mike at the head table. Someone snapped this pic of me as we just relaxed for the moment.
* Dancing with Jasmine. I can remember being little and wanting so desperately for the bride at any wedding we went to, to pay attention to me. If Jasmine was feeling anything like that, I wanted to fulfill that dream for her.
* Going with Mike up to our room, still in the heels I'd worn all evening. I never changed into my extra shoes. Those last few steps were a struggle, but I made it.
* Falling asleep next to my husband, the first of thousands of nights to come.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Beginning of the celebrating
Our first two anniversary cards in the mail - from my brother and one from my parents.
Andre's and Sunny D. Klassy mimosas.
A small gift from Mom
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
In need of some Rockstar or Redbull
I found this interesting entry on Kymberli Q's blog and thought I'd take a turn at it. I've got some time to kill anyways. . .
This is how the game works:
Use Google image search to answer each question. Then, out of ONLY the first page of results, choose your favorite or most random image. It's kinda weird, but fun. Let me know if you do it so I can see who you ARE!
Age:
A place I'd like to visit:
My Favorite object:
My Favorite Food:
My Favorite Animal:
My Favorite color:
A Favorite place:
The Town Where I was born:
A past love:
My Screen Name:
(My Flickr icon)
One of my bad habits:
What I am doing right now:
Monday, July 21, 2008
Three years ago
Today marks the three year anniversary of my life beginning the changes that have led me to today. Three years ago today, I signed up for MySpace. Yeah, I am sure that you are scoffing "So what? Big deal. It's Myspace." and to a certain degree, I would have to agree. I can remember the first time I logged on and looked around, i was less than impressed. I really didn't know anyone on here and didn't do anything with my page after signing up for several weeks.
Before I'd ever signed up, the only person I knew who used Myspace was a former friend (we've just lost touch) who was a pretty active swinger. I quickly assumed that MySpace was like LavaLife or AdultFriendFinder and wasn't all that interested in meeting horny men looking for a third to spice up their flailing marriage. But after a co-worker and friend who wasn't a Swinger kept encouraging me to sign-up, I did. And then my page sat for about three weeks, unused.
Since really getting into it, I have made several amazing friends on here, who have changed my life and made it so much richer, grander than I thought it could be. You meet amazing women like Sarah Costa and all the friends she has brought into my life in the last two years and I cannot help but wonder what my life would be like without her in it. Of course there is that small chance that I would have met her somehow, in some way, since we both live here in Vancouver and it isn't that big. But we met here, on MySpace and I proudly add her to my list of closest and dearest friends.
Obviously, the biggest change that Myspace brought into my life was that Mike, my husband and I met on here. Despite the fact that we'd gone to middle school and high school together, we'd never had a class together and would both graduate and move on, only to find each other on freakin' MySpace. Actually, Mike found me. And continued to pester me for a week or so before I relented and started to really talk to the guy . . . and of course, the rest is history.
Three years ago today, I sat bored at my desk at work, in between applicants and data entry and answering the phones and started www.myspace.com/betsylou24. Who would have ever known that something that has been deemed to "ruin lives" would make mine so grand?
Before I'd ever signed up, the only person I knew who used Myspace was a former friend (we've just lost touch) who was a pretty active swinger. I quickly assumed that MySpace was like LavaLife or AdultFriendFinder and wasn't all that interested in meeting horny men looking for a third to spice up their flailing marriage. But after a co-worker and friend who wasn't a Swinger kept encouraging me to sign-up, I did. And then my page sat for about three weeks, unused.
Since really getting into it, I have made several amazing friends on here, who have changed my life and made it so much richer, grander than I thought it could be. You meet amazing women like Sarah Costa and all the friends she has brought into my life in the last two years and I cannot help but wonder what my life would be like without her in it. Of course there is that small chance that I would have met her somehow, in some way, since we both live here in Vancouver and it isn't that big. But we met here, on MySpace and I proudly add her to my list of closest and dearest friends.
Obviously, the biggest change that Myspace brought into my life was that Mike, my husband and I met on here. Despite the fact that we'd gone to middle school and high school together, we'd never had a class together and would both graduate and move on, only to find each other on freakin' MySpace. Actually, Mike found me. And continued to pester me for a week or so before I relented and started to really talk to the guy . . . and of course, the rest is history.
Three years ago today, I sat bored at my desk at work, in between applicants and data entry and answering the phones and started www.myspace.com/betsylou24. Who would have ever known that something that has been deemed to "ruin lives" would make mine so grand?
Depression hurts everyone
I've been home nearly a week already and in some ways, I am just trying to catch up with life. I was out of school the entire week before my trip back East, which proved to be very helpful at the time. I was packing late into the night Tuesday night, but not nearly to the point that I have in the past. But you take a girl who's been out of school for two and a half weeks and then throw her back into an 11 hour day at school . . . well, for a short week, last week was a LONG week.
My parents stayed behind for a second week on the lake, visiting longer with my aunt Jean and uncle Rob and their children and grandchildren, as well as my grandmother who lives here in Vancouver, but was back East visiting as well. They return tomorrow and while they have been gone, my best friend Kate has been housesitting for my parents, staying in their home and caring for the family dog, Sparky.
Sparky isn't doing so well. The last week, he's been spinning more and more into a doggie depression and is making me start to wonder if I should look into Wellbutrin for him. I mean, seems like everyone is taking it these days, or some form of it, so maybe that would be what Sparky needs to get out of his funk.
The thing is, Sparky is getting pretty old. He's going to be 11 years old in September, and he is not as energetic or funloving as he was when he was two or three. But the changes in his behavior in the last two weeks have been massive. When I have gone to visit him, I haven't been able to get him to even take his favorite treats and he didn't do his happy excited dance when he first saw me. I realize in the entire structure of the family favorites by Sparky, I rank about fifth in our family of five (Mom, Andy, Dad, Grandma and then Me) but you'd think that after a week of not seeing anyone who has been familiar in the last week and a half, I would have gotten a squeak hello.
They are coming home tomorrow night and I am hoping to see a happy, rejoicing dog when they walk through the door. I've tried several times to cheer him up by talking to Mom on speakerphone, but it did no good. He still had that sad, far off "I'd be better off dead" look in his eye. To say the least, its a bit heartbreaking.
My parents stayed behind for a second week on the lake, visiting longer with my aunt Jean and uncle Rob and their children and grandchildren, as well as my grandmother who lives here in Vancouver, but was back East visiting as well. They return tomorrow and while they have been gone, my best friend Kate has been housesitting for my parents, staying in their home and caring for the family dog, Sparky.
Sparky isn't doing so well. The last week, he's been spinning more and more into a doggie depression and is making me start to wonder if I should look into Wellbutrin for him. I mean, seems like everyone is taking it these days, or some form of it, so maybe that would be what Sparky needs to get out of his funk.
The thing is, Sparky is getting pretty old. He's going to be 11 years old in September, and he is not as energetic or funloving as he was when he was two or three. But the changes in his behavior in the last two weeks have been massive. When I have gone to visit him, I haven't been able to get him to even take his favorite treats and he didn't do his happy excited dance when he first saw me. I realize in the entire structure of the family favorites by Sparky, I rank about fifth in our family of five (Mom, Andy, Dad, Grandma and then Me) but you'd think that after a week of not seeing anyone who has been familiar in the last week and a half, I would have gotten a squeak hello.
They are coming home tomorrow night and I am hoping to see a happy, rejoicing dog when they walk through the door. I've tried several times to cheer him up by talking to Mom on speakerphone, but it did no good. He still had that sad, far off "I'd be better off dead" look in his eye. To say the least, its a bit heartbreaking.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
She's Miss America and I'm Just the Girl Next Door
You said if I really worked at losing the weight, I could be skinny and hot like Julia DeMato. Every week you would grumble as "American Idol" started but your eyes never left the television screen when she was performing. I would look at her and see perfect makeup, perfect nails, perfect skin and a perfect size 4 body and those images would flicker back into my head as I stood bare and naked in front of the mirror before showering. I was no Julia DeMato.
You said I have a face much similar to Debra Messing of "Will and Grace". If I got skinnier, my red hair would make me look just like her. Though it would be sad to lose my boobs, because she has none. You even had hoped if we broke up that we would stay close like Grace and Will did on the show, except you wouldn't have to be gay. Gays were not your thing - though maybe I could find a girl to bring home for a threesome?
Sometimes, if I stared long enough at my face in the mirror, it would grow to be grotesque and unfamiliar. Trying to smile would only add to the awkwardness of this shield that was my face. But I had the nails of Julia DeMato thanks to weekly fill ins with Patti. And I had access, daily, to a makeup counter. For my face, much like Debra Messing's. And I tried. I so, so tried. For you. If you had your American Idol/sitcom star look-alike girlfriend, maybe we'd go out more? Maybe you would want to show me off? I loved you, you were attracted to her, maybe if I looked like her, you'd still love me.
Nevertheless, I would search those celebrity magazines for my body models, my ideals and glue them into my journal. Being very visual, I figured if I could see it, I could be it. I could be thin and striking, I could be desired.
It was in the shower that I found my solace, my comfort. the hot water and the enrapturing steam would fold over me like a blanket, hug every curve, every inch, non-judging. Your comments, though short and sparse, were sharp and clung to me. And soon I found myself fearful in my own home that I wasn't living up to the Hollywood standards you bestowed upon me. As things grew more and more sour between us, I'd spend more time with my lover, the steam. It didn't care if I cried. It loved it when I'd dye my hair every week trying to capture that signature Debra Messing red.
Long after we were over, I still couldn't smell the shampoo I used back then. It reminded me of how ordinary and fragile I really am.
I did sort of look like Debra right after we broke up. I couldn't eat and if I did, my body didn't want it but my clothes hung loose and my hair was long and red. Julia DeMato was still another 30-40 pounds away but since she'd long ago been voted off the show, my daily comparison with her had ceased.
I asked if could you believe that Ruben won, since I thought surely it would be Clay. Months had pass from our breakup and I was slowly putting a little weight back on but we were still talking on the phone. Our conversations were rarely enjoyable, more often catty and uncomfortable. Not at all like "Will and Grace". You said hadn't watched the show since I left, nor did you care who won. You'd never like anything about the show and only watched because I had made you. You didn't give a damn about "American Idol".
Even Julia DeMato? I asked.
Even Julia DeMato.
You said I have a face much similar to Debra Messing of "Will and Grace". If I got skinnier, my red hair would make me look just like her. Though it would be sad to lose my boobs, because she has none. You even had hoped if we broke up that we would stay close like Grace and Will did on the show, except you wouldn't have to be gay. Gays were not your thing - though maybe I could find a girl to bring home for a threesome?
Sometimes, if I stared long enough at my face in the mirror, it would grow to be grotesque and unfamiliar. Trying to smile would only add to the awkwardness of this shield that was my face. But I had the nails of Julia DeMato thanks to weekly fill ins with Patti. And I had access, daily, to a makeup counter. For my face, much like Debra Messing's. And I tried. I so, so tried. For you. If you had your American Idol/sitcom star look-alike girlfriend, maybe we'd go out more? Maybe you would want to show me off? I loved you, you were attracted to her, maybe if I looked like her, you'd still love me.
Nevertheless, I would search those celebrity magazines for my body models, my ideals and glue them into my journal. Being very visual, I figured if I could see it, I could be it. I could be thin and striking, I could be desired.
It was in the shower that I found my solace, my comfort. the hot water and the enrapturing steam would fold over me like a blanket, hug every curve, every inch, non-judging. Your comments, though short and sparse, were sharp and clung to me. And soon I found myself fearful in my own home that I wasn't living up to the Hollywood standards you bestowed upon me. As things grew more and more sour between us, I'd spend more time with my lover, the steam. It didn't care if I cried. It loved it when I'd dye my hair every week trying to capture that signature Debra Messing red.
Long after we were over, I still couldn't smell the shampoo I used back then. It reminded me of how ordinary and fragile I really am.
I did sort of look like Debra right after we broke up. I couldn't eat and if I did, my body didn't want it but my clothes hung loose and my hair was long and red. Julia DeMato was still another 30-40 pounds away but since she'd long ago been voted off the show, my daily comparison with her had ceased.
I asked if could you believe that Ruben won, since I thought surely it would be Clay. Months had pass from our breakup and I was slowly putting a little weight back on but we were still talking on the phone. Our conversations were rarely enjoyable, more often catty and uncomfortable. Not at all like "Will and Grace". You said hadn't watched the show since I left, nor did you care who won. You'd never like anything about the show and only watched because I had made you. You didn't give a damn about "American Idol".
Even Julia DeMato? I asked.
Even Julia DeMato.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Bittersweet Truths
~ I probably packed too much. Chances are, 20 shirts for 7 days is a bit extreme. But who knows what I will be feeling when it is time to get dressed or change. And to be fair, all of the tank tops that I have packed can and probably will be layered.
~ This family reunion probably will not play out like all those family reunion movies we see, where everyone meets up, gets along, gets a little too personal, have some huge emotional break-down/break-through the final night of the reunion and leave feeling some huge sense of resolution and better understanding of themselves, their lives and the direction their family/life is going. Chances are, it will be a day of traveling, a day of hanging out with family I haven't seen mostly since I was 10/14/17, three days of lots and lots of family time with aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins, mostly getting to know them as you would a friend of a friend at a 4th of July bbq, another day of hanging out with family and then another day of traveling.
~ I will not return home as tan as I would like to think I will. Sure, I'll be more brown than when I left, but I doubt I will be even half as dark as Sarah is already.
~ I will not have as many profound blog posts to share as I hope I do. Or if I do, I will not have enough time to sit down and write/type them out.
~ I will be leaving my husband and therefore, my laptop, here in Washington. I don't know if my brother will be bringing his, but chances are, he'll be leaving his as well, so I will be not posting much while I am gone. But I will be sending pics from my phone to my Flickr account and they will automatically update on my page, so be sure to check throughout the next week. And those of you who have my cell number, text me to take another pic if I haven't taken one in awhile.
~ I am looking for readers who may be interested in posting a guest blog for me while I am gone. Let me know ASAP if you are interested and I'll connect you with Sarah, who will be posting them for me.
~ Sad to admit (really, really sad to admit) but I am going to feel a bit lost without Myspace for a week.
~ This family reunion probably will not play out like all those family reunion movies we see, where everyone meets up, gets along, gets a little too personal, have some huge emotional break-down/break-through the final night of the reunion and leave feeling some huge sense of resolution and better understanding of themselves, their lives and the direction their family/life is going. Chances are, it will be a day of traveling, a day of hanging out with family I haven't seen mostly since I was 10/14/17, three days of lots and lots of family time with aunts, uncles, cousins and second cousins, mostly getting to know them as you would a friend of a friend at a 4th of July bbq, another day of hanging out with family and then another day of traveling.
~ I will not return home as tan as I would like to think I will. Sure, I'll be more brown than when I left, but I doubt I will be even half as dark as Sarah is already.
~ I will not have as many profound blog posts to share as I hope I do. Or if I do, I will not have enough time to sit down and write/type them out.
~ I will be leaving my husband and therefore, my laptop, here in Washington. I don't know if my brother will be bringing his, but chances are, he'll be leaving his as well, so I will be not posting much while I am gone. But I will be sending pics from my phone to my Flickr account and they will automatically update on my page, so be sure to check throughout the next week. And those of you who have my cell number, text me to take another pic if I haven't taken one in awhile.
~ I am looking for readers who may be interested in posting a guest blog for me while I am gone. Let me know ASAP if you are interested and I'll connect you with Sarah, who will be posting them for me.
~ Sad to admit (really, really sad to admit) but I am going to feel a bit lost without Myspace for a week.
Making it "official"
I'm going to add a link to this and you can check back to see if/when I have updated it to see how correct I am (or incorrect). My blogger fav Jenn at She Likes Purple announced that she's pregnant today and I am already getting girl vibes.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Somewhere between miserable and happy
Okay . . . so in the last few weeks, I have somewhat come to be more comfortable with how I look. Obviously, there are areas that I would like more toned, more slender - less fat, but all in all, I have become far more "okay" with my body. Also, I have been building a base tan and that has helped me look a bit less thick or I at least like to think so.
But then I met a new friend on the 4th of July and she posted some pictures she took of that day and tagged me in a few. That damn one dimension flattens you out and gives little imagination to your curves.
I know I need to step it up more, get back on the treadmill and get back to counting my points. Same song, same lyrics . . . repeat chorus.
There is this really cute store in the Vancouver Mall (gasp! What???) and not only are their clothes cute, they are affordable and I could sooo see myself wearing about 80% of their stock, if I would just shed the last few pounds that need to go (few? Who am I kidding? I need to drop at least another 20 to really look good in those clothes.).
I really have no excuse, no decent reason to not be losing. I can at least be proud that I am not gaining at school (that seems to be the norm at beauty school, apparently) but I could definitely step it up a bit more and actually see some real results.
And honestly, it is only me that is pushing myself so hard. My husband is unbelievably content with me at this size (or even when I was twenty pounds heavier) but supports me losing to whatever (reasonable) size I want.
I just keep wondering what is it going to take me to get back on that wagon and get my butt into gear. I miss feeling good about myself.
But then I met a new friend on the 4th of July and she posted some pictures she took of that day and tagged me in a few. That damn one dimension flattens you out and gives little imagination to your curves.
I know I need to step it up more, get back on the treadmill and get back to counting my points. Same song, same lyrics . . . repeat chorus.
There is this really cute store in the Vancouver Mall (gasp! What???) and not only are their clothes cute, they are affordable and I could sooo see myself wearing about 80% of their stock, if I would just shed the last few pounds that need to go (few? Who am I kidding? I need to drop at least another 20 to really look good in those clothes.).
I really have no excuse, no decent reason to not be losing. I can at least be proud that I am not gaining at school (that seems to be the norm at beauty school, apparently) but I could definitely step it up a bit more and actually see some real results.
And honestly, it is only me that is pushing myself so hard. My husband is unbelievably content with me at this size (or even when I was twenty pounds heavier) but supports me losing to whatever (reasonable) size I want.
I just keep wondering what is it going to take me to get back on that wagon and get my butt into gear. I miss feeling good about myself.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Up in Smoke
Okay . . . so I understand that July 4th is our nation's biggest holiday because it is the anniversary of our independence. I get the fanatical colors and parades and bbqs and all the other festivities that take place, because we are just expressing our joy for no longer being a part of jolly ol' England. But what I don't fully understand is the massive amounts of money that people dump into fireworks each year.
Especially when you live somewhere like here in Vancouver, where we annually have the largest fireworks show West of the Mississippi River. 40-ish minutes of choreographed fireworks, set to patriotic music after an entire day of festivial activities. It is something I look forward to in one part or another each year, whether I watch the fireworks at home on tv or on the riverfront or on a blanket in the park. We have this amazing display that is put on for us each year, and yet for the two weeks leading up to the 4th, nearly every single open corner of a parking lot in Vancouver has a makeshift tent peddling out thousands of dollars of fireworks.
I don't want to knock it too much, because there definitely was summer in high school where the cheerleading squad earned money for our new uniforms by working one of those stands and it was a lot of fun. My brother used to work for one of the tent companies, setting up and keeping those stands stocked, sometimes putting in 16 to 18 hour days, but also making enough money in those two and a half to three weeks that he did not have to work his entire schoolyear and was still able to keep up on his car insurance and gas and other necessities.
But why do people spend so much money on fireworks? They literally are just burning money for a few seconds of pretty lights. My parents would occasionally buy a few, but I guarantee you they have never spent over $100 dollars collectively on all the little firecrackers and sparklers they got us as kids. My brother-in-law and his family buy one of those huge packs each year and while it was a bit of fun last year to just set off fireworks with them, I still kind of shake my head in disbelief.
I know that people have the right to spend their money however they choose - whether it be on fireworks or expensive accessories or concert tickets or drugs or exotic vacations. I just kind of cringe every time I hear a neighbor set off a pre-holiday firework.
Especially at 5:45 am. Seriously . . . I know we should let freedom ring, but before 7 am??? Come on!
Especially when you live somewhere like here in Vancouver, where we annually have the largest fireworks show West of the Mississippi River. 40-ish minutes of choreographed fireworks, set to patriotic music after an entire day of festivial activities. It is something I look forward to in one part or another each year, whether I watch the fireworks at home on tv or on the riverfront or on a blanket in the park. We have this amazing display that is put on for us each year, and yet for the two weeks leading up to the 4th, nearly every single open corner of a parking lot in Vancouver has a makeshift tent peddling out thousands of dollars of fireworks.
I don't want to knock it too much, because there definitely was summer in high school where the cheerleading squad earned money for our new uniforms by working one of those stands and it was a lot of fun. My brother used to work for one of the tent companies, setting up and keeping those stands stocked, sometimes putting in 16 to 18 hour days, but also making enough money in those two and a half to three weeks that he did not have to work his entire schoolyear and was still able to keep up on his car insurance and gas and other necessities.
But why do people spend so much money on fireworks? They literally are just burning money for a few seconds of pretty lights. My parents would occasionally buy a few, but I guarantee you they have never spent over $100 dollars collectively on all the little firecrackers and sparklers they got us as kids. My brother-in-law and his family buy one of those huge packs each year and while it was a bit of fun last year to just set off fireworks with them, I still kind of shake my head in disbelief.
I know that people have the right to spend their money however they choose - whether it be on fireworks or expensive accessories or concert tickets or drugs or exotic vacations. I just kind of cringe every time I hear a neighbor set off a pre-holiday firework.
Especially at 5:45 am. Seriously . . . I know we should let freedom ring, but before 7 am??? Come on!
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