Average Tuesday Night

Tonight was a typical Tuesday night.  I cleaned a bit.  I cooked up some walleye and brought it to Ken at work.  Now I'm occupying myself in front of the computer while waiting for A2 to call for a ride home from work.

Yes, my desktop is a mess.  I'm catching up on the Bachelor on our iPad while surfing the forums on GOMI.  I'm trying out a box of the new Girls Scout cookie, Mango Cremes, and sucking down a bottle of Coke (regular, none of that diet crap for me).  The cookies are okay.  Good but it's strange having mango as a cookie flavor.  Other random things on my desk are my phone bill, a paper flower that the Primary children passed out last Mothers' Day, the book French Women Don't Get Fat by Mirelle Guilano, and the DVD Minion Madness.  Clutter, clutter!  It's not too bad though.  Most of it will be gone by the end of the night.

Have a great one, everybody.

The Story of Us: My Coach Likes You

Ken and I, about 9 months after we started dating

When Ken and I met, the last thing on my mind was getting married.

The summer I turned twenty-six, I was pretty depressed.  Basically I just went to work, exercised, and drank.  I went through a string of men that I met at bars.  I believe I was just so desperate for human touch that I was willing to do anything to feel close to someone.   These random hook ups did nothing except make me feel more lonely than ever.  It wasn't what I wanted.  I knew that I wasn't living my life the way I knew I should.

Once September rolled around, I decided I was going to focus on what was important to me.  I started going to my niece's and nephew's soccer games every Saturday morning.

Ken was A2's coach for a 9-10 year old team.  My nephew was also on his team.  I noticed Ken and how good looking he was.  I just assumed he was married because what kind of single man coaches soccer.  So I pegged him as a nice piece of eye candy that I could check out occasionally while cheering on my nephew.  One day, after a game, we did actually talk to one another about our hometowns and where he went fishing.  More like a good teasing than actual talking.  That was our only interaction until the end of the season.

The last game day was on October 21st.  I decided, since I had been out late the night before, that I was going to just sleep in.  It was a good plan except the phone rang at 7:00 am.  My sister was calling to tell me to come to the last games.  They were playing the championship tournament and I should be there because I had gone to all the other games.  I still balked at the idea of going.  Then my sister said, "[Your nephew] has something to tell you."  Since I couldn't convince her to tell me over the phone, I told her I would be down there as soon as I could.

I was a hot mess.  I don't even know if I washed off the makeup that I forgot to wash off the night before.  I threw on this horrible faded Trix (yes, the breakfast cereal)  tshirt that belonged to my little sister, a hoodie, jeans, my raincoat and a scarf.  Add on top, a Matt Kenseth baseball cap and I was ready to go.  My niece's game was at eight and I would be about five minutes late.

When I arrived, I bought a hot chocolate and searched for my family on the sidelines.  As soon as I walked up and said hello, my nephew whipped around and, with a big grin on his face, said, "My coach likes you."  I didn't know what to say.  It's not everyday that I  have a nine year old attempt to find me a date.  Not to mention that I was embarrassed.  Why embarrassed?  I have no idea why.  Probably because I like to keep my love life hidden from my family.

After my niece's game (a loss), we had about a half hour before my nephews game started.  I decided I was going to play with my niece and started chasing her around on an empty soccer field.  Ken must have really wanted to talk to me because he came over by us and started teasing my niece.  My sister then called her away and I was left standing there with Ken.  Awkward doesn't begin to describe how I felt standing there, not knowing how to talk to a man that I knew nothing about except that he went fishing in Rhinelander and didn't like driving through the town I went to high school in.

We talked a little bit.  I can't remember what we said.  Probably just getting to know you type stuff.  Then he looked at his watch and said, "I have to go coach the next game but will you wait around for me after the game?"  Obviously I assented or I wouldn't be telling this story today.

Two games were played back to back.  My nephew's team won both of them.  I cheered loudly as any good aunt should.  In between games, I remember that my sister said something along the lines of, "Don't worry about who that woman is.  It's just his ex-wife."  I wasn't even looking at Ken then but there was a short, blond woman talking to him.  I didn't care.  My sister was pretty keen on making sure I knew that he was absolutely single though.  

Once the game was over, I talked with my sister's family a little bit before they finally left.  Ken finished putting away equipment and then came over and talked to me.

Remember how I said I only put a raincoat on?  Big mistake.  It was freezing and I was shivering and trying desperately to not let my teeth chatter.   Ken was talking on and on, asking questions and I don't remember a thing he said.  Later, he told me he thought I wasn't interested in him because it seemed like I just wanted to leave as quickly as possible.  I did, but only because I was freezing.  Finally, he brought our conversation to an end by saying he needed to get A2 home and check on A1, who went home earlier with a migraine.  He then asked if it would be okay to call me?  Of course.  We exchanged phone numbers and thankfully, I could finally get into my nice warm car, head home, and take a hot shower.

A Dog That Slowly Learns How To Talk

Just about everyone knows that we want to have another baby.  Crazy, right?  Especially since we are just over two years from no longer being legally responsible for our current pair of boys.  

Despite our impending freedom, we just aren't ready for that phase of our life to be over. 

photo source

Before A Fall

Ken and I only wear our wedding rings when we go out.  Usually it is he who forgets to wear his ring and I remember to put it on.

Of course, we joke that when we wear our rings, we remember to be married.

The last few times we've gone out together, I've been the one to forget while he has his on.  My standard joke is that it looks like he's cheating with me.

Today we were headed out for a day of shopping.

Me: Oh, look.  I forgot to be married today.

Ken:  Not me.  (holds up his beringed hand)  You look like a home wrecking whore.

Me:  That sounds horrible.  Why would you say that?

Ken:  'Cuz you say it when you forget to wear yours.

Me:  You're right.


These are typical conversations that don't even phase me anymore.  On the other hand, I got myself a few pretties today.  A bracelet, dangly earrings, and sunglasses.

I also picked up a pair of nude pumps (once again, late to the dance).  They have five inch spike heels and an inch high platform.  I love them and they don't pinch.  Of course, my poor feet are in agony after wearing them for ten minutes but that is long enough to get from my car to a seat in church.

I decided to walk around in them since my usual shoes tend to be much more sensible than these.  A little practice is always good when one is no longer used to wearing stripper high heels.  I walked around in my dining room and then headed upstairs with no incident.  I put together an outfit for church tomorrow and tried it on with barely a wobble.

You know what's going to happen, right?

I decided to ask Ken what he thought of the outfit.  I stepped out into our upstairs hall and felt something inside one of the shoes.  So I lifted my foot and leaned over to pull off my shoe and remove the offending irritant.

WHAM!

I landed on my backside.  Surprisingly, I only said ow because I bumped my elbow on the hardwood floor.  Apparently I can not balance like a stork in stripper heels.

Ken's response:  He yelled up the stairs, "If you hurt yourself, I am never letting you buy heels again."

Then he decided to play Nice Husband and asked if I was hurt or if I needed help up.

I can now walk properly in them.  Luckily the only thing hurt was my pride and vanity.

Looking for Greener Pastures

Right now I am pretty dissatisfied with my job.  It really isn't hard work and I enjoy the clients I have.  I guess it's because I have no stimulation.  I do the same things day after day, week after week.  There is nothing that stimulates my mind and I find that very important.  I also drive fifteen miles one way to work only two hours.  It doesn't seem like a lot but when you drive a gas-guzzling Blazer, my pay only amounts to about $4.50 an hour. 

I want to quit so badly.  I don't quit because I like getting out of the house and I like earning the little bit of money I make.  I have been looking for something closer to home but things have not been panning out.  I just need something part time that isn't going to be every weekend. 

I feel guilty admitting this.  I feel guilty feeling this way.  So many people do not even have a job to complain about.  I have a husband who works a job he isn't happy with because he has to support the family.  He has to provide insurance for his often ill or injured wife. 

I think my main problem is that I know what I want for a career.  I gave that dream up when I started seeing Ken.  I don't regret that part.  I knew right away Ken was the man I was going to marry.  It's not his fault we have to live where we do, hours away from the closest school that offers my preferred program of study.  Maybe, in a few years if we don't have more children, I can live away from home the four years required for the degree I want. 

For now, I continue to look for something that is a better fit for me.  And I realize how blessed I am to be able to pick and choose the job I want and that I even have the option to quit altogether. 

Have a great day everyone.

Rest Easy

I'm sure you have heard.

Guido is back home.

If you're not a Brewers fan, he is the Italian sausage in our beloved racing sausages.

Apparently, he was forced to join some seedy underbelly of society that kidnaps meat products and takes them barhopping.  Well, the seedy underbelly doesn't exist but he was taken from his home and taken to a tavern or two.


Read more about it here.

That's Guido in the lead.

photo source

Once Again, I'm Late To The Ball

So I just finished watching the Oscars tonight and I have just a few thoughts.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I am a few days late but I had to work Sunday night.

First off, I hated Seth McFarlane as host. I never liked him to begin with and this gig just cemented his status as total @$$hat.

Secondly, the show was boring. Of corse it was long, but it just seemed even more so with the aforementioned host and horrible jokes. Old Bill Shatner really didn't add anything to it either.

Third, I kept getting distracted by the girl in the wedding dress in the front row every time they panned over the crowd. If you're thinking of Jennifer Lawrence, you're wrong. Amy Adam's dress practically went across the aisle.



If that's not a wedding dress then I'll sell my husband's first born.



Another thing: Why does Kristen Stewart's eye makeup always look like the morning after a slutty drunken night out?



It doesn't look as bad in this photo. However, every time they showed Steven Spielberg I just wanted to take a wipe and clean that up. A smoky eye is fine but she just goes to far under her eye with it.


Lastly: Jennifer Lawrence.

I love her. Her fall was a misfortune but she just handled it perfectly. I wish I could put a video on here but I'm posting this from my iPad and don't know how. I loved her comment when they gave her the standing ovation. She is the kind of girl I want to be friends with.

That's all and have a great night.

Holy Hip Pain, Batman!

I often say things that sound downright inappropriate when taken out of context.

For example, the other day Ken and I were heading out of a restaurant and I just said to him, "I'm awfully tight.  I need you to loosen me up."

His response: "Why would you even say that in public?"

Cue the snickering couple right behind us.


That conversation happened to refer to my hip flexor on my left side.  It's so tight that I am in almost constant pain.  I've been doing stretches, yoga, and physical therapy exercises to loosen this up but it doesn't seem to be helping.  After five days of this, it actually seems to be getting tighter.

So of course, I hit up Dr. Google because that's what hypochondriacs do.  I'm not a hypochondriac but Ken claims I'm one.  Just because I self diagnosed carpal tunnel syndrome does not a hypochondriac of me make. 

I actually found some modifications of stretches and exercises that I'm already doing.  Hopefully they work because I don't really want to go to the doctor so he can refer me to physical therapy so I can pay out the whazoo because our deductible is pretty high.

Hope you all have a more pleasant night than I will have. 

Right Outta My Hair

I have a client who is a smoker.  It doesn't bother me when I am around her but I sure notice the smell on me once I get in my car to go home.  I swear I have taken more showers in the last two weeks than I had taken in the previous month. 

Don't judge!  I get very dry skin in winter.

So every evening when I wash the stank out of my hair, "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair" from South Pacific runs through my head.

I hope Ken doesn't think my singing is any reference to him.

A Small Step

(I know, I've already missed a day writing here.  But just because you have three slices of chocolate cake doesn't mean you just quit dieting all together.)

Today was the first time I have gone to church in quite a few months.  I think the last time I went was in September.  I had wrote about why I haven't gone here. 

I started a new job and work every other weekend.  Since my client lives in the same city where I go to church (about 15 miles away), I figured this was a good reason to go back.  I guess reason is the wrong word.  It gave me a push to go back today.

I felt weird wearing jeans to church since I haven't worn pants to church in about ten years.  Once I arrived at my meetinghouse, I just felt right.  I knew I belonged and I knew what had been missing.  I was nervous about socializing with people but because I was leaving early instead of staying the full three hours, I knew I could handle it.

Even though I usually sit near the front, I sat down in  a back pew because I didn't want to noticeably walk out in the middle of a talk.  It was nice to say hello to people that I truly enjoy seeing and even love.  Admittedly, I was feeling a bit like a cornered animal after ten minutes of hellos and small talk. Social anxiety really sucks.  Even more so because I have no logical reason to fear being around my fellow church members.

I really wish I could describe the sense of peace that overtook me during the first hymn.  Such an amazing feeling!  Then when sacrament was passed, I just felt like burdens were lifted and that I was not going to handle my difficulties alone.  I truly believe that through Christ's Atonement, he not only took on the burden of our sins but also of the hardships that are sent our way.  It was the same feeling when I was little and my parents would kiss my owwies.  It didn't take away the pain but comforted me more than any medicine.

My friend gave a wonderful talk that put tears in my eyes.  Much like learning a new skill, faith and testimony are often gained in increments.  I wish I paraphrase what she said better.  That is what I took away from it.  It definitely left me thinking and was a nice note to end my time at church today. 

Have a great week!

30 Day Journal Challenge

I have always wanted to document my life.  I try to start journals and after a few weeks, writing in them is completely forgotten.   I guess this is why I attempt to blog.  I have no problem sitting in front of a computer and typing out silly things from my life. 

However, I really like the idea of leaving behind something that my grandkids will stumble upon in a dusty old box and find out what I was really like.  That's why the act of writing out my thoughts, feelings and activities appeals to me.  It's a record of who I am in a certain period of time.  I just wish I was better at carving out a chunk of time to write.

I still really admire people who can document their lives on actual paper though.  I just wish I had the determination to make it a regular habit.  Since I read that it only takes twenty-one days for a new habit to stick, I decided to start a journaling challenge that would last for thirty days.  A 30 Day Journal Challenge.

I've put some thought into pursuing this.  Since I consider blogging a form of journaling, I will post something new everyday.  I will also do a printable guided journal page each day.  The third and hardest part will be writing daily in my very pretty journal that I purchased over a year ago.

I look at these pictures and realize my photography skills are crap.  Oh well, you can tell that that is my journal and a few guided pages.  I'm ready to get this started.

What inspired me to do this challenge?

One of my favorite blogs is Making This Home.  Katie makes these wonderful prompted journals under the name Gadanke that I still haven't purchased. (They're on my to-do-list.  I promise.)  I'm having a hard time deciding which one I want.  Her website was really the driving force behind this challenge.  Every single person has a story.  She wants to make it easier to record.

Katie sells her journals  here.   Just so you'll go take a peek, I'm going to borrow a few of her pictures so you can see how beautiful and funky they are.

The she Journal  is great for documenting the essential things that make you who you are.

Wedding Card Scrapbook

 I'm swooning over that wedding card scrapbook.  I should really locate where ours are kept so that I can get this one and finally have a nice way to put the story of our wedding together with the cards.

Anyways, go check out her store and her blog.  Seriously.  Like now.

Since I wanted to start this challenge now, I decided to google "printable journal prompts".

I came across these lovely guided journal pages by Christie.  She has fifty (FREE!) printable pages that have quotes and different prompts.  The one I filled out for today asked me to describe something beautiful that I may have overlooked and list "3 snack foods that make my day".  Of course there are other things on them but you will just have to check them out for yourself.

According to my calendar, I should complete this challenge on March 24th.  This will definitely push me as I'm much better telling a story through speaking than writing.  I'm up for it though.

Mature Mormon Men

I love facebook ads.  For the most part, I just get ones for stores or makeup and the like.  The ones that I hate are for all the baby stuff, which are because I like pages regarding infertility.  Seriously, I think not being able to get pregnant would preclude you from ads for Pampers and Enfamil.

And then I get these little gems...

Another one geared towards an infertile woman.  Yeah, those are pretty standard.

The real diamond is Mature Mormon Men. 

Yes, I'm LDS.  I liked the pages for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and Mormon.org.

I don't know why I would need to meet "Handsome latter-day saints men near [me]." 

And let's face it.  That man is not Mormon.  A Mormon dating site would not feature a man wearing a Hanes undershirt that shows off a huge tattoo.  No good Mormon girl would go for that.  She wants a nice returned missionary who looks nice and clean cut.  Not to mention that tattoos are verboten and modesty rules in the LDS world. 

This is what a woman expects from a single adult man.

Not the Google image of some generic "sexy" guy. 

Speaking of Google image, my search results for "return missionary" returned a lot of shirtless men.  Not kosher.

Lest One Should Actually Have To "Conversate"

picture source

Okay, before anyone gets butthurt and wants to point out that this isn't a real quote, I don't care.  I don't know if it's a real quote. I didn't feel like taking the time to verify it.  The image just fits well with my little post today.

About a year ago, my little sister and I went out to eat at the Olive Garden.  Two tables over was a mother and daughter having lunch together.  Sounds nice, doesn't it?  They never talked to each other.  The entire meal was spent on their respective cell phones.  I had to just shake my head sadly.  If I am taking the time to go out to eat with someone, they deserve my attention.  

When Ken and I were dating, we had a no cell phone rule when we went out to eat.  We (gasp!) turned them off for the duration of our meal and conversed* with each other.  Whoever felt the need to get in touch with us was put behind the person we were with in real life.  Whoever was calling or texting could wait an hour or two until we finished our meals.

We don't need that rule anymore since we got rid of our cell phones.  But if we decide to get phones again, those same rules would still apply. It's also nice when the person you are with has your undivided attention and vice versa.

We have friends who thankfully ignore their phones when out with us.  If they must answer, they make it quick and get back to the people they are with.  I really appreciate this.  I can't understand seeing a group of friends out with at least half of them checking their phones every five minutes.  I think that just says to your companion that whomever is on my phone is more important than you. 

I understand an if it's an emergency or if you are waiting for an important phone call.  But if I have to listen to you comisserate with a friend about how expensive something is or telling your spouse exactly what to purchase when he/she goes to the store tomorrow, I'm going to think you are rude.

Let's face it.  

If someone is important enough to spend time with in person, they are important enough to give your undivided attention. 

And that means not answering every little buzz or ringtone.

*Yes, the word is converse, not conversate.  During my weekly visit, I converse with my parole officer about cats. Last Tuesday, I had a conversation with my parole officer about cats. Just because a few musical artists made up the word to fit in a few songs does not make it acceptable to use in actual life. 

My Husband is a Sucker for a Pretty Face

We have a wonderful cat named Puddin'.  Of our three cats, she is the baby.  She's also the prettiest.  I rescued her from the street.  My girlfriend and I were outside one day (back inthe spring of 2010) and she came running up to us, purring and rubbing up against our legs.  She has a gimpy back leg that looks like a club foot.  My gf's neighbor was going to take her to the pound but I couldn't let her go there and possibly not be adopted.  After all, who's going to pay over 100 dollars for a malformed kitten.  So I brought her home, locked her up in the bathroom, and posted on facebook that I had a free kitten. 

Let it be noted that I had no intention of keeping her.  In fact, my sister called right away and said she wanted her but couldn't pick her up for a few days.  Ken came home and had a conniption.  "We are not getting another cat.  Why do you always bring animals home knowing you're going to get attached and want to keep it?  Yada, yada, yada."  I quickly reassured him that my little sister was going to take her and that she was going to stay in the bathroom for a day or two. 

As the night progressed, Ken went to the bathroom a few times.  Every time took a little longer.  Finally, we were both in bed, me reading and him watching tv, when he got up to use the facilities again.  He comes back in and this is how our conversation goes:

Ken:  How badly do you want to keep her?

Me:  Well, she's pretty sweet.  I'd kind of like to keep her.

Ken:  Fine.  But you can't bring home any more animals.  If you do, I get to buy myself a $500 gun.

Me:  Okay. 

Ken insists that I was the one who decided to keep her.  I believe she worked her witchcraft on him and his cold, insensitive heart.

We have been the proud owners of this cuddly girl since then.  (It's a good thing because my sister got another kitten and left it with her loser ex-boyfriend when they broke up.  I hate the idea that Puddin' would have been his.)  I have been prevented from bringing home other animals because I don't want my husband to spend money we don't have on a gun.  I did let him get a bow though.

That's our baby girl!

Puddin' has been a wonderful addition to our little family.  Okay, I'm lying about the wonderful part.  She's a temperamental little thing.  She is great at doing the whole "you cuddle me and I'll kiss you and then I'll bite you" thing.  She gets crabby whenever we pick her up.  If I accidentally kick her because she's sleeping by my feet, she will bite my toe and hiss at me.  She stalks and attacks (gently) our old ninny of a cat. 

She's so witchy that when we sent her to be fixed, the people who picked her up thought she was a feral cat. 

She does have her good points.  She is about three and a half years old and still looks somewhat like a kitten.  She plays well with my cat.  She loves treats.  If I'm eating candy with foil wrappers (think mini peanut butter cups), she comes over and gives those poor-pathetic-love-me eyes.  She knows I'll end up making her a little foil ball to bat around on the floor.  She's a little cuddle bug.  If you are sitting or laying down, she will find her way into your lap or curled up behind your knees.

She's also Ken's favorite color.  Camouflage.  Or as normal people say, tortoiseshell.

Best of all, she absolutely adores Ken.  She loves me but Ken is her person.  Ken always says that I have spoiled her with cuddles but he is the one who actually does.  If he is laying down on the couch covered with a blanket, she will jump up to cuddle by his legs.  He will then pull her under the blanket and cuddle her like a baby.  So now, whenever anyone is laying on their side covered up, she will push her way under arm and blanket. 

But I'm the one who has spoiled her.

Ken (in the camouflage hat) and Puddin' sleeping one afternoon

I really did catch her sleeping like this.  Ken didn't want to be in the picture but that is his arm she's laying on.

I told you I wasn't the one who spoiled her.

And just because she looks so cute, here's Puddin' looking adorable this last Christmas.  If you look closely, you can just make out her gimpy leg stuck out next to her tail. 

Not the best picture but she looks so cute under our tree.

Have a great day.

Free Fonts I Currently Love

I love Pinterest.  I admit it.  I like to scour the site for pretty fonts.  I even have my own board dedicated to those pretty typesets.  Can they even be called typesets?  I decided to make my own very basic (keyword: basic) little visual for others to pin.  These are currently a few of my little darlings. 

 

Barrelhouse   A Yummy Apology  Burton's Nightmare

Coventry Garden  Little Lord Fontleroy  Elegant

Airplanes in the Night Sky

 

Bon Appetit and Save the Liver!

I admit that I have a small girl crush on Julia Child.  She is fascinating.  I remember watching her on PBS when I was little and watching Dan Akroyd's famous sketch on Youtube.  I've never cooked from her cookbooks or read any books about her.  Shame on me.  Cooking just seemed too time consuming and I never remembered her when at the library.  I watched Julie and Julia and was not that impressed with the movie.  Mostly because Julie Powell irritated the piss out of me.

I was at the library two weeks ago and picked up Dearie: The Remarkable Life of Julia Child by Bob Spitz.  Despite my annoyance with Spitz's writing style, I could not put it down.  I devoured this book.  Here is my opinion (though not very well written).  Before I was finished with this book, I went to the library and checked out Mastering the Art of French Cooking and My Life in France, Julia's autobiography.  I paged through the cookbook, which is incredibly thorough, and thought the recipes looked incredibly complicated.  So I decided to hit Youtube.  I watched her first episode of The French Chef, the Boeuf Bourguignon episode.  And it looked easy.  So I watched her quiche episode (watch it here), and that looked easy, despite the complicated recipe.  That's just it.  Her recipes are not that complicated.  They are written so that every step is fully explained for the beginner.

I felt inspired.  I wanted to cook something.  So I made a quiche.  I wish I would have taken a picture.  It turned out beautifully.  We were starving though and wanted to dig in right away.  It made a very nice light supper (and was excellent for lunch). Ken surpised me by saying it was good.  He doesn't like "fancy" cooking.  The only thing he said was that it would have been good with something more added, like tomato or bacon.  I just added sauteed onions and Muenster cheese.  I enjoyed it too.  A2 just said it was okay.

Find her Quiche Lorraine recipe here.  

Just in case you want to watch it, the Boeuf Bourguignon show.

And because Julia loved to show people this, I have to share it.  Sadly, I couldn't find one to post directly here but here is a link.   It's a classic.

Bon Appetit!

11 Random Things That Might Make Me Seem Crazy

Just for fun, I thought I would post some random yet awesome-ish things about me.  Oh, and  I'm breaking out the bullet points because I can.

•  I have never once lived in a town with more than 10,000 people.  Small town, through and through.

• I have the loudest sneezes of anyone I know.  I often get bless yous from people in different rooms and once someone yelled it to me from outside.

• I often narrate myself when cooking just in case Food Network gives me a call.  I have to know how to talk in front of people.  But I never do this when anyone is around.  Don't want them to think I'm crazy.

• I'm convinced my cat has a psychic bond with me.  I don't have one with her.  I'm not crazy.   She knew when I was pregnant.  Every time I've gotten knocked up, she gets all lovey dovey with me, even when Ken isn't around.  (She's very jealous of him and needs to let him know I'm her person.) 

• I will often walk up to Ken and just lick his cheek.

• I am a statue molester.  Mostly just touching butts but I do have a picture where it looks like I'm kissing a man who is desperately trying to get away.

•  I often keep one or two Christmas decorations up the entire year.  I forget them when putting away everything else and am usually just too lazy to put it away after the fact.

• My first kiss was from a boy who had just cut his leg open with a hatchet.  My dad drove him to the hospital for stitches.

• I had a bridezilla moment in Walmart directed at the photo lab employee.

• My husband was pulled over for speeding the night before our wedding while I was threatening people with scissors.  These people are still good friends.  And this was the second and last of my two bridezilla moments.  Don't want you to think I'm a psycho.

I just realized I really need to blog about my wedding.  I can't just talk about being a bridezilla and not explain.

Have a great Thursday. 

Inviting Cartoon Characters Over

I love this show.

It's freezing (like -14) and I don't want to watch the Badgers lose again.  So I'm spending way too much time on the internet.

Thanks to Jenny at The Bloggess for turning me on to this particular video.

Happy Tuesday you all.  (I'm not Southern so I don't do y'all.)

The Hardest Sins To Forgive

I came across the greatest sound bite on forgiveness today on Mormon Channel's Facebook page.


My sisters and me



The person that I struggle with forgiving is one of my own siblings. I'm certain I also need forgiveness from her too. We have struggled for years with our relationship because of this forgive and forget attitude I (and I assume she does also) think is supposed to be best. So we had periods pretending and trying to be the close sisters that you read about in books and see in movies.

But the strain could always be felt underneath all this sisterly affection. The hardest sins to forgive are often from the ones you love the most, for they often leave the deepest wounds.
About two years ago, I made the choice to forgive my sister for the things that have hurt me. I won't forget them. I also will not carry the hurt and pain. That has made a huge difference in my feelings towards my sister. I no longer feel anger or resentment when she pops up in conversation or my own thoughts.

Even though I love my sister, part of my forgiveness process is keeping her presence in my life to a minimum. It makes me sad to have my own sibling essentially a close acquaintance in my life. But, and I know this sounds awful, she brings very little into my life that is positive. I cannot go through life feeling the need to walk on eggshells every time she is around.

I love my sister. I choose to forgive and then keep her at arm's length so that I can continue to love her.

New Workout Plan

I completely dropped the ball with 30 Day Shred.  Let's face it.  I injured my hip and couldn't do it.  Then the stress of the holidays hit in.

I'm ready to get back in the saddle though.

Not with 30DS anymore.  I came across a blog written by a dancer, Back on Pointe.  You know those neat little workouts on pretty backgrounds that you see all over Pinterest.  She has plenty of those.  They vary in intensity, type, and amount of time it takes.  So you can mix and match workouts to work for you no matter what you have going on.

Plus she has a workout schedule for each month.  She also has a beginner plan and a plan for students that fits better with a student's schedule. 

I'm coming in late in the game but I'm going to follow this workout plan.

I printed out two of each type of workout and just have to pull one or two out each day.
These are the two workouts I'm going to do tomorrow.

Now hopefully this is a workout plan that fits my life.  I think it will be.

Why I Sleep In On Sundays

I have been struggling to share this for a while now.  Forgive me if it isn't very eloquent.

 














I don't actually sleep in on Sundays.  This is why.

I am LDS (or if you are unfamiliar with that term, Mormon).  If you know something about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, you may also know that everything that is done revolves around member participation.  During sacrament meeting (our church service), different members will be asked to give either the opening or closing prayer or one of the three talks (like a sermon).  We do not have a pastor who does all the speaking.  During the other two hours which consist of different classes, members are again expected to open or close with prayer and to participate in discussion.  Teachers are called to lead these classes from the general membership.  Before and after church is a time (unofficially) to catch up with those you know.  Overall, it is a very social occasion.

I suffer from horrible anxiety.  I hate being in social settings.  It is so bad that I rarely go anywhere unless my husband goes with me.  Sometimes, I have panic attacks just from thinking about going places where I will have to interact with others.  So I stay home out of fear, even if I really want to go to some event.

The irony is not lost on me that I am a member of a church that is dependent upon member participation.

One of my goals this year was to attend church every Sunday.  It's only two Sundays in and I have already failed to attend even once.

The reason I decided to write this is because of a recent encounter.  I was asked by the missionaries why they hadn't seen me in church lately.

How do you tell two young men who are serving the Lord full time that you don't go because of what is essentially a mental illness?   I have a hard time sharing this here.  To say it aloud to two young men who may not understand is almost impossible.   So, I left them feeling like they felt that I am losing my faith and that is the reason I no longer come to church.

I am not losing my faith.

The last year has seen my faith strengthened tenfold.  I have started studying my Scriptures instead of just reading them.  I have been making it a point to pray often and daily, which is something I tend to find difficult to remember to do.  I have learned so much about my faith and myself.

Yet I can't go to church.

I prepare myself to go to church.  I study the lessons being covered in classes that week.  I pray for the strength  to overcome my anxiety.  I plan out my outfit.  I do everything to make sure I have no excuse not to go.

Yet on Sunday mornings, I lay in bed, paralyzed with fear that I will have to talk to someone, be asked to give a prayer, or just sit in my seat and have people I know and truly love look at me.  On the mornings when I do get up to get ready, I often end up hyperventilating or crying because I'm so overwhelmed.  And I stay home.

Because home is where I feel safe.  Nothing bad will happen to me at home.

These experiences leave me feeling so incredibly guilty.  I feel like a failure.  Because of my anxiety, I have failed to serve well in the few callings I have been given.  Yet I know, because I have trouble being in social situations, I will have extreme difficulty serving  callings in the future.

I know I should talk to my bishop about this.  Yet I don't.  I feel like if I just prayed more, fasted, etc. etc., I could overcome this.  I'm afraid that this is the advice I would be given.  And even though, I have prayed and fasted, I still have this problem.  And that makes me feel unworthy of asking for help.  (Yeah, suffering from depression does not help my situation at all.)

I wish I had the ability to write everything that I feel.  That would take up more words than I wish to share.  I can only say now that anxiety will no longer be my secret shame.  I have no reason to feel unworthy, even though I know I will continue to struggle with those feelings.   So while I have not said everything I wished to, I hope that what I did write conveys even a little bit of what I struggle with.

This is me and a small part of my story about my struggles, not with my faith, but with anxiety.

photo source