No more ass rags and sweat. 'Someone' wants to GTFO.

After the outcry against the disgusting bodily function posts, I thought I'd tone things down with a lighthearted post about 'someone' I know and his/her big time troubles with the Church.

Before you go and assume it's me, keep reading. It's not me mofos. I'm not saying that I'm going to be at church on Sunday either. I have yoga.

 I'm jussayin' that I'm not the 'I' in this post. I'm talking about 'someone' I know. Ok? I'm not ready to share with you people what I want to do or what I even believe anymore. It's a friggin' process, and I'm still going through it. 

So, enough about me. On to the 'guest' post.

I have a secret.  

I'm a calling-fulfilling, temple recommend-holding, highly active member of the LDS church, but I don't believe Joseph Smith was a prophet.  I never have.

I wanted to.  How I wanted to!  This church seemed so right, so perfect for me.  But there was something that always felt wrong about Joseph Smith to me. Luckily, I had the book of Alma in the Book of Mormon telling me that I didn't need perfect faith--only a desire to believe.  That was enough, and if the thing I desired to believe was a good and true thing, it would grow into a testimony.  So, I held onto that desire and hope for dear life.  For more than 15 years I have been trying follow the teachings of the prophets, while pushing to the recesses of my mind the nagging thought thatthat one prophet--the supposed most important one--was a fraud.

I did the things I was supposed to do to overcome my doubts and my seeming lack of faith. I read my scriptures, I prayed sincerely, I fasted, I went to the temple and sought some sort of answer.  It never came.

About a year ago I had the thought that maybe if I got to know Joseph Smith better, I would be able to gain a testimony of him.  We're taught to do that with Jesus, so why wouldn't it work for Joseph Smith?  And that's when the Pandora's Box of church history was opened.  All those years I'd just had a feeling that something was not right with Joseph Smith, but suddenly I was confronted with numerous pieces of evidence that my feeling was correct. So, I did what all good Mormons do when confronted with so-called facts that seem to go against what the church teaches--I read the apologists. I tried to find reasonable explanations for these things that I'd read about Joseph Smith.  Some of the alternate explanations were reasonable and I was able to accept them.  Some of them, I could not.  But I wasn't ready to leave.  I basically chose to ignore the questions and doubts I had and soldier on.  

But then as the past year has gone on, more and more questions have arisen.  More things about the church--things beyond Joseph Smith--have nagged at me.  These aren't things brought to my attention by "anti" sources.  These are things from the Ensign and other church publications.   Things from our church leaders.

And so, I have lost my faith.  Not in God.  Not in Christ.  But in the idea that this is Christ's restored church on Earth.  I do not believe it to be the case.  

I do believe that God has a hand in some of the things that happen in the LDS church. I think blessings that are given are very real and do work.  Not because the person giving it happens to hold the priesthood, but because usually the person giving it truly believes that he is following the one true church, and is trying to be Christ-like, and has faith that God will use him as a tool for the blessing.  A kind and loving God (which I do firmly believe in) would not deny such faith just because the founder of said church was a fraud.  I believe that often we do feel the Spirit in meetings.  Again, not because we have been given the gift of the Spirit by priesthood holders after our baptism, but because we have faith and are open to it, and because the basic principles taught by Christ are (in my opinion) true and therefore worthy of being testified to by the Spirit. 

I believe, for the most part, that the people in the LDS church are good and striving to do their best, and I like being among them for that.  

But there are enough things in the church that I believe to be not of God that I want out. 

I don't want to leave because I've been offended, or because I want to sin.  I didn't smoke, drink, take drugs or even drink coffee before I became a member.  Before I joined,  I'd had a grand total of one sexual partner, and it happened to be someone I was certain I would marry (though I did not).  I didn't cheat or steal.  I tried to be honest.  I served others when I could.  Really, with the exception of sustaining the church leaders, I probably could have passed the temple recommend interview with flying colors before I ever even knew what a Mormon was. 

So those are not the reasons I want to leave.  I want to leave because by staying, I'm pretending to be someone I'm not, and that wears on one's soul after awhile.

But then I look at my spouse, and I look at my children, and I wonder if I should stay for them.  I wonder what will happen when they know I've lost my faith.  I wonder if it makes me as big a fraud as I believe Joseph Smith to be if I let them continue on not knowing the things that I've come to know. I wonder if I could live with myself if I allow them to believe that some people are not as worthy in God's eyes due to things other than what's in their heart.  And then I wonder if it would make me a monster to shatter their happy oblivion.

And that wears on my soul, too. 

What's next?

Ever since Jesus attacked me the other day, I have been so curious about what the 'next blog' is. Saturday, it was photographers. Sunday, it was mostly foodies. I got a super yummy looking recipe for coconut banana bread with candied ginger on top. I can't wait to try that one. Today, it's paper crafters. Stamps and cards and shit (snore). 

I found an odd fucking blog on Sunday. This person reused old t-shirts. OK, there's  nothing wrong with that. I have used an old t-shirt for a spit rag, window cloth, shoe-shiner. There are many things one can do with  an old t-shirt.

Did you know that you can make your own ass rags with old t-shirts? Yeah! You can just cut them into squares or strips, and put them in a basket on the back of your toilet with a spray bottle. When you need to wipe yourself after le poo, just spray and wipe. I guess you should put a dirty basket somewhere close by so you don't end up re-using the same cloth. That could get gross. 

Also! You can make snot rags out of old t-shirts. Once again, make sure there exists the proper receptacle for the besnotted rags. The blog author was sure to point out that in her family, they use white rags for the snot, and dark colors for the bum. Good idea.

Ya know, because who wants to get an ass full of snot?

Hot and Sweaty

I'm not a sweater. I don't like sweat. I think sweaty bodies are disgusting. For me, there's no faster way to kill the mood during sex. Don't touch your sweaty body to mine. Yuck. I can just barely handle touching my own sweat. Thankfully for me, I don't sweat much. Not usually. 

Until last week. 

Monday, I started Bikram yoga. What the hell is that? It's yoga that you do in a hot motherfucking room. 104 degrees to be exact. You do a series of 26 different poses. This is unlike any yoga I've ever done. No sun salutations. No upward-facing dog. Not even a warrior. I hate it and love it at the same time. It's hard, hot, and drippy. The yoga. Get your mind out of the gutter. 

I bring a beach towel with me to put on top of my yoga mat. By the end of class, the towel is soaked. Completely. I'm still amazed at the amount of liquid that pours out of my pores each time I practice. I drink tons of water all the time outside of class just so I don't die. 

It's a good thing that I've gotten over my whole belly thing, because most people (myself included) only wear a sports bra and shorty short yoga shorts. My bikini time in Hawaii prepared me for Bikram. However, in Hawaii, I didn't bend forward and scrunch and squish my flabby belly and excess skin. I stood/sat up tall and sucked in all the time. I still have it sucked in, but there's so much twisting and bending and "look at your belly" and "tuck in your chin" and "touch your forehead to your knees" that no amount of sucking in will help. So, I've let it go. Had to. 

I've also gotten over touching sweaty bodies. At least mine. I am the only one I touch during class. But I'm not just touching my hand to my sweaty leg. That would be easy. NOOOOOO, I'm touching my face- my entire pretty little face- to my legs. My 'dripping with sweat so much that it's pooling at my toes' legs. Like, when I look at my knees because that's where they want me to look, and I see the sweat, I have to make a decision -  get the most out of the practice and do what they are telling me to do, or, hell no those are some sweaty-ass legs and there's no way my face is going to bathe in sweat. But I do. I touch my pretty little face to my sweaty-ass legs, and the sweat drips into my mouth. And I don't feel grossed out at all. I'm actually amazed that it doesn't taste gross and salty. I let myself rejoice in the amazingness of my body and allow the sweat to help me move into deeper postures. 

I'm four classes into my first month, and I am pretty sure that I'm going to have to keep going forever. Or at least until I get bored and find something else to do instead. 

Can someone please explain this to me?

For at least ten minutes, I clicked on the 'next blog' button on the upper-left corner of my screen. Why was every single one of them Christian themed? I just counted - 21 clicks = 21 Jesus blogs. WTF? At least two of them were Mormons. How could I tell from the first glance? 

1. The guy was living in Utah, and his name was Jarom. (why do people do that to their kids?)
2. The family of 20+ spanning multiple generations was wearing matching outfits and blogging about the baby's blessing. 

I was clicking on 'next blog' to find something trashy. Not Jesus-y. Why else would I be on the internet at 10:30 at night?

Caught up - III

Want to know what fucking sucks?

I had the entire third part of my post ready to publish. All I had to do was move one line to the end of the post, and it was done. Guess what I did? 

I DELETED THE WHOLE DAMNED THING!!!!!

Fuck it. Here's the summary:

• Mel was confused because I kept everything inside because I took the church too seriously and felt super guilty that I had let him down and therefore was a terrible and unworthy mother and wife.
• He was relieved when I finally broke down the truth to him.
• What started out as 'rebellion', has turned into an incredible spiritual and intellectual journey for me.
• Once you learn something, you can't unlearn it. And once it's substantiated with reliable sources and facts, you can't pretend it's not true. 
• It wasn't rebellion. 
• I'm not the only one in the world who is going through this. 
• Shit! I'm not special. 
• I might not be special, but I do have a good ass. 

Sex Sells- look at my pictures!!

Giant three-legged sea turtle.



This is not the same mofo.



Post-snorkeling at sharks cove. Mel loves my duck-face. (You must click the link and watch the video. It's hilarious)



WTF? I guess it got lost in the translation.



8,000,000 points if you can guess where this is.



Sometimes you have to go down a dark and dirty road



to be able to enjoy and appreciate the awesome beauty of nature.

Can't fall to sleep

I'm having a hell of a time getting to sleep these days. I guess I just need to lay down. In a dark room. With the TV off. That might help. 

You know something I figured out the other day after I got off the phone with Brandi? It's much easier to be an asshole to her on the computer. She's so nice on the phone. I feel bad being snarky to her over the phone. I guess it's best for our relationship if she's my texty-buddy. That way we can cuss each other out and  no one ends up feeling guilty.

I don't do well with guilt. And by that, I mean that I don't really feel guilty. Ever. And if I do feel guilty for some reason, I usually get over it pretty quick. I'm awesome like that. 

It's time to get off this stupid computer. I have to be well-rested for tomorrow. I am going to my first Bikram Yoga class in the morning. I'm so excited!!

Don't bug me about pictures. I'm trying to decide which pictures I want to post. The ones of the beautiful scenery? Or the ones of me looking so hot I get turned on when I look at them? Decisions, decisions, decisions.

I'm home!!!

After what seemed like an eternity on the plane form LAX to BWI - over-fuckin' night with two babies taking turns screaming for 5 hours - I"m here. Safe and sound. Did I mention that I was sitting next to a big-ass man? He wasn't fat, he was just a big guy. He was all muscle, and did I mention that he was huge? I was so uncomfortable sitting next to him. I don't like touching or smelling strange people. At least he smelled good. He smelled like clean laundry. So I guess it could have been worse. He could have been huge and smelly. Smelly like the woman who sat next to me on my way from Hawaii to LA. Praise the Lord that we had a seat separating us. And I am equally grateful that I didn't start to smell her until I had a little less than an hour left in the flight. Because everytime she moved, I smelled her, um, odor. It was frikkin' naaaaasty. She smelled like a combination of old lady crotch and armpit funk. EW.

Next week will bring photos of the trip. I have a crazy-ass weekend planned. It's one of those things where I'm sitting here right now asking myself, "What the hell was I thinking?" Here's a hint: someone I know is turning 15 on Sunday. 

the food

First up- the Puka dog. It's a polish sausage stuffed into a delicious bun that's filled with fruity relish and fruity mustard and this garlicky yummy sauce.



See that brown crispy stuff next to the dog? That's because they impale the bun with this hot dildo looking thing to toast the inside of the bun. This keeps all of the sauces from leaking through the bun.



On Saturday, we traveled to the North Shore for some turtle watching and snorkeling. (I'll tell you about that another time. This post is all about the food.)

After much research, we decided to eat at a shrimp truck for lunch. They are so plentiful up there, each one claiming to be the best and the freshest. My friends on urbanspoon helped us decide on Romy's.





We both got their famous garlic shrimp. Good thing, because there was so much garlic! Neither one of us would have been able to be around the other.



Sunday and Monday we got breakfast and lunch here.



There were two rows of yummy baked breads, treats, breakfast sandwiches, quiches, everything!!! Quick and easy!



Monday night, we ate the Addingtons. No- wait! We ate with them. Naika and Mike treated us to dinner at a yummy Filipino restaurant named Max's. They are famous for their fried chicken. That was good. So was everything else that we had.



The aftermath.



Dessert. It looked better than it tasted in my opinion. Mel liked it though. My favorite part was the leche flan.

That's it! I haven't eaten anything so far today. I know there's spam in my future. I'm hanging out with Naika today.

I've been eating some 'awesome' food!

I'll tell you all about it and all of the wonderfully relaxing and beautiful things I've been doing later. We just got a camera last night, so I'll be taking better pictures than what my iPhone can take. 

Our plans for today:

• snorkle
• try not to get attacked by killer sea turtles
• eat shave ice and get a t-shirt from Matsumoto's
• eat something delicious from some yummy restaurant
• eat puka dogs for dinner

Don't be surprised if I am 20 pounds heavier the next time you see me. 

My white belly

It has been in hiding for at least 16 years. Yesterday it greeted the sun. I'm not totally convinced that it should have been brought out to play. Having four kids hasn't been kind to my middle region. Not to be confused with nether-region. That part is fine.

It doesn't help that there are tons of cute, skinny Japanese women everywhere I turn around. I don't think I would be as self conscious if I knew I was the best looking MILF around. They don't have awesome muscle tone like I do. Or asses. So, I guess I shouldn't be distracted by a little extra skin.

Ok. I feel better now. Thanks for cheering me up. You mofos are great.

Happy 15th Anniversary!!

Our story is crazy. Fifteen years ago, I was huge and pregnant and about to pop. I hate that saying- about to pop. It's gross. It's vulgar. Nothing pops. EW. Anyways, back to our story. 

We didn't want to get married just because I was pregnant. Then he came down on orders. We were both in the Army, so the only way we could both be stationed together was if we were married. So that's why we did it. So our family could be together. Ironic? 

So, for our tenth anniversary, I got a baby. Vivian the Great was born. What else is there to say? For you mofos that know her, you know that she truly is great. Her personality is gigantic. She is the most outgoing person I know. She is best friends to every single person she meets. She loves animals, singing, the color pink, candy, her bicycle, her silly bands, her friends. She loves life and is a crazy monkey. My nickname for her is stinkleberry. She giggles every time I call her by that silly name. 

As luck would so have it, Mel had to take a trip to Hawaii for work. He was able to work things out juuuuust right so we could go for our anniversary. I'm happy about this. Don't get me wrong. It's great. But you know what's funny? It's kind of a cheap present. Lemme break it down.

1. Frequent flyer miles = $200 for my ticket. 
2. Army is paying for the hotel.
3. Army is paying for food.
4. Army is paying for rental car.

But, I'm happy. I'm looking forward to it. I'll get 8 days without my kids. I'll be able to sunbathe, knit, read, plan, knit, sunbathe, chill, eat, drink, surf, snorkel, have quiet time.Yeah, it's ok, I guess. Don't be mad Brandi. Don't be jealous. Stop calling me a bitch. It's not MY FAULT, ok?! I can't help it. My husband is better. He's only spending $200 on me. It's not that big of a deal. 

He's too dang sensible

I shouldn't be annoyed by this fact about my husband. But I am. I just want him to see things the way I see them, and feel the way I feel about them. He's too level-headed. Too objective. Too fair. He thinks things through. He weighs his options. He makes well-thought-out decisions.

I'm not trying to make any decisions. I'm still processing, learning, and figuring out. He makes me think critically. That makes my brain hurt. It's much easier to be emotional and impulsive. Not better. Easier.

It's a good thing for me that he is how he is. I'm thankful for that. He's probably reading this and smiling and shaking his head.

I love him.

MILF & DILF

I just found this out 'fer sure today. It kind of mortifies Patricia that her classmates think her dad is hot. And that her mom is smokin'. "It could be worse," she said, "at least you're not fat. That would be totally embarrassing."

Shallow? Honest? Both? 

Caught up - II

That summer was one of the best and worst I can remember. Best because I met my sister*, Mixee. We all loved her. But I love her the most. We are kindred spirits. But back to the story:

So, all of us girls in the neighborhood would hang out in the afternoons while the kids played. We'd chat, laugh, discuss, bitch, gossip (in a nice way). Mixee really was the most open (wiiiide open, KWIM?) one of us. Even though I knew the other girls longer, I connected with Mixee best. We both have white mothers and black fathers. She was the first black friend that I had since I joined the church. Go 'head. Read that last sentence again. I think I have to. I don't think I realized that until now. But the point of all this is that she brought out something in me that no one else up until this point has. I was so drawn to her because through her, I felt like myself again. My other sister*, S, pointed out that I was a totally different person around Mixee. I was raw and real and dare I say, fun.

It was the worst because I realized that the glass house I had been living in had some very serious cracks in it. Looking back, I thought I was above certain temptations. I am not going to go into details about that part. I'm not trying to create any mystery or excitement. What I will say, is that I had lost who I was. I had forgotten what it was about me that made me happy. I felt like I was trapped in my life. As a result, I stopped eating, smiling, socializing. All of it. I was depressed. Most of you might remember that. You know, the month where I lost 25 pounds? It ended up lasting for close to three years.

During that time, I felt overwhelmed and trapped with being a wife, mother, caregiver, manager, decision maker, all-a-dat. I wanted to escape. But I couldn't. I loved my fantastic husband. He really is amazing. I did't want to hurt him. I was committed to my children. I didn't want them to grow up as children of a mother that ran away. Those two things were really non-choices.

While in the course of therapy, I had an epiphany. As I was crying and discussing my situation and beliefs, the topic of religion came up. Here's how the conversation went:

Therapist: So right now, Patricia is being raised Mormon, right?

Me: Yes.

T: But as she grows up, she might choose not to continue to be Mormon. So, would that be ok?

Me: Ummmmm, yeah, I guess so.

I can't say that I believed what I had said. I knew that the answer I gave was the 'correct' answer. I knew that I was 'supposed' to say that she had a choice. You all know as well as I know, that there really IS no choice. It's expected. It's a given. Up until that point, I had always assumed that she would grow up and marry in the temple and have a million kids and be an active member of the church. I never asked her what she thought about this. I never even entertained the thought that she might want to do something else.

And then a couple of weeks later it hit me. Like a fucking ton of bricks! I DO HAVE A CHOICE! I can choose to go to church or not. I can choose. I mean, I do have agency, right? But I fought it. I doubted myself. I felt guilty. Like I was being selfish. Like I was letting my family down. Like Satan really had a grasp on me. I hated Sundays. I hated going to church. I hated having to see people and put on a show. I hated my life again.

What made me really stop going to church was the four hours of alone time in my house. Really. No one offended me. I didn't find out terrible things about Joseph Smith. I just plain didn't wanna. That's it. I kept up the illusion of going to church by only attending sacrament meeting. But I knew I wasn't fooling anyone. Not anyone who really was paying attention anyway. It was easy to stop coming to church all together when we changed wards.

I tried to attend for a couple of weeks. I really did. I intended to start anew in our new ward. It wasn't the same. I didn't want to have to be on my best behavior for people I didn't know or care to get to know. I didn't like to be the newcomer. I'd skip RS to go to my friend's house. Her backyard is adjacent to the church parking lot. (Psssst! wanna know a secret? Once, she wasn't home, and I stayed and talked to her husband. ALONE!)

That's the gist. I've skipped stuff. When I went to Hawaii, I had my 'first' coffee. I'm pretty sure it was on this day. It was an iced vanilla latte. I remembered quickly that I don't like milky sweet coffee drinks. I'm a black girl. (pun intended) It took me almost two years before I could get a cup of coffee and not feel like I had to sneak around. I've had alcohol. I like it. I haven't been shitty drunk once. Really Brandi. I wasn't shitty. Just a little buzzed.

So, why am I telling you bitches all this? It's my blog. So I'll do whatever the hell I want. That's why. There's more to this story. Like why I think I'm not just rebelling. And why I most likely won't go back. And why I am thankful for people who can present information in an unbiased, educated, respectful way. I'll tell it another day. Oh shit!! I forgot to tell you about one more really important thing!!!

It was a conversation/lesson in Sunday school that took place before I moved. I don't remember what it was about, but the person said something about being converted by the social aspects of the church. That eventually that goes away, and the person is left with nothing. She hit the nail on the head for me. Hence the title.

I'll finish this story but not tonight. I have to get up early to take my daughter to seminary.

*Let the records show: I do not have any blood related sisters. The aforementioned 'sisters' are my bestest girlfriends. They have held my hand and heart through the toughest times in my life. I love them with all my heart.

Caught up

Looking for something to make our already awesome family and marriage stronger, my husband and I opened up to the possibility of church. I was 7 or 8 months pregnant with Trystan and fresh out of the Army. He had a Mormon coworker. They discussed things about the church during work. In turn, he would come home and relate them to me. The things he told me about the church sounded great. But I just wasn't sold on the whole no coffee and no alcohol thing. I was still nursing, and I COULDN'T WAIT to have a beer. After 9 months of abstaining, I missed my pal, Sam Adams. Hell no, I wasn't going to join a church that forbade beer!

The missionaries came, they taught, they kicked ass! Those were some great girls that we grew to love. I went to church for the first time on my birthday. It was boring, but the people were so kind. I enjoyed hanging out with the other nursing moms in the tiny mother's lounge. There were like 8 of us that had boys within weeks of each other, so I enjoyed making new friends. After church, we planned to go out for lunch. Imagine our surprise that they 'didn't do' that sort of thing. What were we supposed to do? We were hungry. Oh well.

There were tons of nice people and fun things to do. We had instant friends. Until this point in our lives, we didn't have a friends. We had coworkers. We had a few people we could call if we needed a favor. But we didn't have people to hang out with. You bitches know me, I love hanging out. I love my girlfriends! This was awesome! The people in the Laurel ward were so great. There was one family that we loved more than the others. You know who you are. We are still great friends with them.

Soon after we joined the church, we moved several hours away. Mel was working a very demanding and stressful job. I was virtually a single parent for four years. It was the friends I had in the ward that helped me and held me up during that extremely difficult time in my life. It was there, that we became part of a family. Our adopted famly. They are grandma, grandpa, aunt, uncle, cousin, sister, brother to our family. They are crazy, loud, open, honest, bossy, annoying. We love them, and they love us.

We eventually moved back to our old area. Although we were slightly disappointed that we weren't within the same boundaries and couldn't attend our previous ward, we soon discovered that the ward we were assigned to was perfect. I was called served in YW immediately. I loved my girls. I still love them.

As I sit here and type all of this, I am hesitant. I cannot say that I have had any bad experiences with the people I know. Maybe fake people stay away from me because they think I'll see right through them. Maybe it's because I'm oblivious to things that don't directly affect me. Remember? I don't gossip. I don't know or care to know other people's shit. I have my own, thankyouverymuch. I tend to gravitate toward nice people, so I generally have good experiences.

So, what went wrong? Why am I 'done'? Life was pretty good. Things were going along relatively smoothly. I was living in a bubble of sorts. Looking back, I realized that I had gotten pretty selective (picky) with whom I would associate. I hung out with my nonmember neighbors, but I bristled every time they would light a cigarette, or cuss, or drink beer. These people were good parents. They had great values. They were honest, kind, and helpful. They were everything I loved about my Mormon friends. If only they didn't ________. Fill in the blank.

As I spent more time with my nonmember neighbors, I realized that something was missing. Something was 'off' about our relationship. More on this later.

Then I met Mixee. Our kids had been friends for a couple years. She moved in across the street, and I finally got the opportunity to know my other sister. One of our first conversations after she moved in went a little something like this:

"Ummm, I don't want to offend you by asking you, so you can say no, and that's fine. But I thought I'd ask you anyway, just in case you'd like to come. I'm having an 'adult' toy party tomorrow night, sooooooooooooo......?"

"Yeah! Sure I'll some. I'm not offended. I have sex. Welllllll, I'll have to see. I need to make sure Mel is OK with it. Hmmmmmmmm. I'll have to get back to you."

Now don't start thinking that because I touched a dildo, that's what started me on the road to hell. That conversation is just one of the first of many conversations that, upon looking back, made me realize that I had become so uptight, judgemental, and boring. Mel wasn't OK with it. I went anyway and got some dumb ass coupons.

There's more to this story. I'll continue it tomorrow perhaps. I have been ignoring my monkey for long enough.

I'm starting to hear scratches on the blackboard

**I wrote this on Friday and for some reason I didn't post it. So here ya go**

You know how you can deal with annoying things for a little while, then you finally get to a point where they start to drive you crazy and you feel like your head is about to pop off? I'm there today. Like, SO there.

One of the greatest things of the whole summer happened on Tuesday. THREEOFMYKIDSWENTBACKTOSCHOOL!!!!! (cue Ren and Stimpy's "Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy) Running errands hasn't been this easy since June. There's no one arguing. Vivian doesn't have anyone teasing her, so she's not constantly whining. Life is sounds great, right? I mean, my last post was about how awesome my life is. I've been high on life all week.

Remember how I said that no one has been here to bug Viv? Yeah, that also means that there is no one else here to talk to her. Or answer her questions. Or play with her. Or listen to her stories about blabbity-blah. My head is about to explode. Her cute little voice is starting to sound like shrieking monkeys.

She'll start preschool next Wednesday, so my ears will start to get relief. We've decided to homeschool for kindergarten this year (blah, blah, blah, state cutoff dates for starting school, blah, blah, blah, missed it by seven fucking days, blah, blah, blah). I figured, why the hell not? We are going to be here. It might make my life easier in the long run. Ha ha ha.

Shit! I knew that high wouldn't last.

things that help me know my life really IS awesome

1. people that get me. right away. without any explanation.
2. mel.
3. when my teenager is sincerely appreciative.
4. when my three youngest kids are kind to each other for no good reason.
5. friends that go out of their way to hang out with me.
6. not feeling like 'the maid' when i clean my house.
7. yoga.
8. when my friends from different circles like each other.
9. when vivian plays by herself all afternoon.
10. an ass that makes me smile when my eye catches it in the mirror*.

what helps you know you have an awesome life?

* gratuitous ass comment

Because I don't want to pick paper out 'ma girl

All day, I've had at least three different topics swirling around my brain about what I would blog about today. First, I was going to compare and contrast Charmin toilet paper and Scott Tissue. Then I really struggled about whether or not to share my latest recipe for toaster leavin's. Then I had an awesome afternoon with my two favorite fellow yogis, and discovered a pose that was nearly orgasmic, so I thought I'd share. But then, I read Tia Becky's blog, and decided that I would expound on her thought-provoking question.

Then I decided not to.

Like, just now.

Just like that.

And as I am writing about how I'm not going to answer her blog. I just realized that I just answered it. Blogging is important because it's ALL MINE!!! I can do whatever the hell I want and you can't stop me!! Ha Ha Ha It's the first amendment, bitches!!!!!

That's some awesome shit right there! Just think about it- All damn day, we have to do what everyone else needs. It starts when we get up early to wake up the kids for school. Then we feed them breakfast, help them pack lunches, make sure they catch the bus on time, clean the house, play with little kids, run errands, be here when the big ones get back to school, make them do homework, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, get them in bed. And if we are still coherent, we have sex with our husbands (or not), and go to bed so we can do it all over again the next day.

But when I blog -or not blog- I do whatever the hell I want. I get to make all the choices. I don't have to have a certain number of vegetables in my blog. I don't have to make sure it's on time, I don't even to have good language on my blog. It's whatever, wherever, however I want.

It's my selfish, dirty, indulgence. Aren't you glad you came?

What is wrong with women?

I went to a baby shower yesterday. It was my first one in at least a year. I avoid them. They are stupid. They are boring. I don't go because I love babies. I don't. I'm SO OVER babies. I don't want to look at one. I don't want to hold one. If you have a baby and I hold it, feel special. Really. Feel even specialer if you have a toddler and I pay it any attention because I dislike toddlers even more than infants. I'm not even sure that I like my own kids, but that's another story.

Oh yeah, back to the shower. I decided to go because this girl is sweet. Not sweet in a fakey way, but in a sassy, honest, and nice way. She works with my husband and has known him for several years, and I have hung out with her a couple times. I mostly just wanted to see her because I haven't seen her since she found out she was preggie. I knew she would be a cute preggie, and I was right. She looked adorable.

So there we were, a group of women (and a couple men), sitting around at a baby shower. Take a wild guess what these ladies start talking about? BIRTH STORIES!!!

Now on to my point: Why do women feel like they need to out-bad each other's birth experiences?? I seriously hate when women who have experienced childbirth feel the need to tell a first time preggie/never been preggie woman how horrible it is. As if she's not already terrified of the unknown, you want to tell her that it is worse than she ever imagined it would be!!??!?

Instead of allowing it to continue, I promptly asserted,"This baby shower is a bad birth story free zone." My beautiful, clueless, scared, preggie friend looked me straight in the face and thanked me. The other women stopped. The party continued. A good time was had by all.

But why do women feel like this is ok? It's not helpful. It's our responsibility to offer encouragement. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. These women need to feel empowered. They are already overwhelmed, they don't need to know about your episiotomy. As much as I'm so over babies, I love talking about positive birth experiences. It doesn't have to be scary, or tense, or unbearably painful. It doesn't have to be managed and controlled and regulated. God made us to have babies. If you want to talk to someone who will encourage you and help you feel like you can do it, talk to me!

I know that everyone's experiences are different. All four of mine were. I know that some people have risk factors that others don't. I respect your decisions to do what you feel is right for you and your baby. Just remember who your audience is when you are recounting your story about being in labor for 48 hours. K?

New? Or just new to you?

You might have read yesterday's post and thought something (either good or bad) about the 'new' Marianne. I just need to let you all know something: THIS SHIT AIN'T NEW! This is me with my ass hanging out! This is the me that has been hiding under the past 12 years of pressure to be a 'good girl'. I've been holding the hell back for far too long. I'm done.

I am happy. Happier than I have been in a long time. I am free. I feel like I have real connections with people. I'm done putting on a happy face and having superficial conversations. I am finally getting to genuinely know people I have been acquainted with for years.

I guess this seems drastic to some of you. For others, it's no surprise. Understand it or not, it is.

Ok Assholes - the remix

I wrote and posted and deleted all within the space of a few minutes last night. I'll leave the 'why' up to your imagination. However, I will give you a hint. Shiraz was involved. So here's another try, bitches! (oh yeah, and the hard Marianne cusses. A LOT. get used to it)

Yesterday, was my son's birthday. You all know him, right? He has been alive for 12 years and one day. This information is important. Remember it. Mel and I had decided on his name months earlier. We didn't know if it was going to be a girl or boy, so we picked out both boy names and girl names. We were prepared. Or so we thought. One thing we didn't discuss was how we were going to spell the names. I figured that since his first and last names were pretty straightforward, it wasn't necessary to collaborate on the spelling. WRONG!!

He spelled my son's name with a 'y'. A damn 'y'?!? WTF? That's a fuckin' gay-ass way to spell a boy's name. T-r-y-s-t-a-n. That's not how you spell it. It's supposed to be T-r-i-s-t-a-n, dummie. But I got over it. I'm ok with it now. Partially.

People usually misspell it the first time they write it. When this happens, one of three things will happen. 1. I correct them on the spot. 2. I make sure they get the chance to see the correct spelling so they know. 3. I do nothing because it's not important. Almost always, I do nothing. People spell names wrong all the time, and it's not a BFD.

Except, if you are a member of the family. There are some things people should know. How to spell your grandson's name is one of them. In my case, there are only two grandsons. My kid was the first one. Not only that, but he was the second grandchild born into this family. So why the hell does his grandmother consistently spell his name T-r-y-s-t-o-n? I am sure that she has been told how to spell his name. He's 12. She has had 12 years to get it right. What's the problem?

I blame my husband. It's Mel's stupid fault for fucking up the spelling in the first place. HMMMMM, now I know where he gets it from.

I do it when...

I have something to say. I think you bitches need to know what's happening in my life. Sometimes. You care, right? I don't like to tell you all about stupid stuff.

That's why I don't write all the time. Because, frankly, my life isn't that great. I don't have interesting experiences. I don't take beautiful pictures. I hate typing recipes. And I most certainly can't lie and pretend that my life is all rosy and my children are perfect, and my husband is the best. Well, my husband is practically perfect, but that's beside the point.

I noticed that over the past three years, I have been writing less and less. When I wonder why, I think it's because I was depressed during at least two of those three years. For the past year, I have felt pretty good-ish. Maybe I have been enjoying life. Maybe I have been taking more time to do the things that relax me (knitting), and I haven't been able to blog. Or maybe during those morning hours that I used to blog, I have been sitting in the sunroom drinking coffee and being myself instead of wishing I could be somewhere else or be someone else entirely.

Tia Becky has this thing going about writing hard. I've been holding back because of social pressures. I know who is reading this blog, and frankly, I don't want to hear their shit about it. Dammit, tomorrow that's all going to end. I think. Maybe.

what is it about me?

The other week, I was having a conversation with a good friend about me. Yeah, I was talking about myself. Specifically, why people think I don't like them. I don't know if we really nailed down the reason(s), so I figured that it would be a good idea to ask you all. I can take it. Whatever you have to say. Really. I wouldn't ask unless I wanted to hear what people thought. So go ahead- I can handle it.

But before you tell me about myself, I need to let you in on a few bits of information:

1. I don't gossip. If you do something that I don't like/don't agree with, I'll either tell you to your face, or I will keep it to myself. If I talk about you behind your back, it's to say something kind, or ask about you. I don't talk dirt.
   
2. I don't dislike anyone. There are some people I click with better than others. There are some people I don't click very well with, and that's normal. If you know that we don't click very well, please refer to #1.
3. If you ask my opinion, I'm going to give it to you. Occasionally, I'll give it to you even if you don't ask for it. The honest one. If I ask your opinion, I expect that you'll give me the honest one. (otherwise, why would I ask?) I'm sorry in advance if I'm tactless. Some people have the gift of being able to filter their thoughts before the words escape their mouth. I am not always blessed with this gift. (understatement)
4. I am sarcastic. However, I am not mean spirited. I do not mean to hurt your feelings. If my sarcasm is too much for you to handle, please tell me. I'll stop. Or at least make a super good-faith effort to be less sarcastic to you.
   
5. I am bossy. GASP! BUT, I can take orders too. I like to be bossed around also. And convinced to do things. I don't have to be in charge. If I boss you, and you don't want to be told what to do, just tell me NO. I can take it!
6. I don't have to be the best. I mean, I do know I am awesome. But just because I am freakin' awesome, doesn't mean that I don't think you are freakin' awesome too. I enjoy my friend's successes. I am truly and genuinely happy for you when something awesome happens to you. I like to tell my friends how proud I am of their accomplishments. I like to tell my friends about my accomplishments that I'm proud of. If I do a good job at something, I own it (Thursday at Bowie State-I rocked my presentation). If I suck at something, I own that too (The swim event during my first and probably only triathlon-it really was embarrassingly awful and slow and awful).

That's me in 6 paragraphs. I know those things are what makes me "Marianne". I mostly love myself, so I don't plan to change who I am. I just want to improve my relationships with you bitches.

MWAH!

optimism

(actual conversation)

Random Trainer: I gotta make sure I get paid for these people I trained. I know it's not a lot of money, but this is my drinking money.
Tall Black Man: I thought you didn't drink.
RT: I do drink, but not nearly as much as I'd like to.
TBM: HA! As much as you'd like to? I don't think I've ever heard that one.
RT: Just make sure I get paid ok? Each person is worth one drink.

tight ass...

...and shoulders, and back, and hamstrings, and...

That's what happens when you don't work out for a while.

"But you are a personal trainer. You work at a gym," you say.
"I'm LAAAAAZY!" I whine, "I don't always WAAAAAANT to workout. It HUUUUURTS."
"So what kind of example are you setting?" you ask.
"A bad one, " I reply, "I don't care. So get off my case. I'm not the workout police."
"Jeeez, quit being such a bitch," you say.
"Don't call me a bitch. I'll punch you in the throat if you call me a bitch," I respond.
"I didn't say you were a bitch, I said you were being one. There's a difference," you explain.
"No there's not," I argue.
"Yes there is," you reply.
"Is not," I insist.
"Is too," you insist.
"Is-" PUNCH!! "GASP!!!", I gasp.
" Is too, BITCH!" you say.

Fine, I'll stop whining now. I have to go workout.

The fascinating belly button

Vivian sat here for ten minutes trying to get to the inside of her belly button. She tugged and pulled and dug around, but to no avail. Good thing. That could have been messy.

It made me think of my own belly button. I hate mine. I have always been unhappy with my BB. It used to be hairy (GAH-ROOSSS), until I started waxing it. Now, after four kids, it's all stretched out and misshapen. It's saggy. It's sad. The BB along with all the stretch marks from the first kid, make for a less-than-desirable midsection. I was going to post a picture to prove it, but it looks much worse in picture form than in person. I'm too vain.

At least my ass is tight.

Don't be alarmed!

It's just me checking back on my blog. I've changed it again. I'm going to be better at updating it. I promise. I have made changes to encourage me to visit my blog more instead of Brandi's. I think that if I look at my month old post long enough, I'll want to update more often. Whatever it takes, right?

some funny things happening right now:

• Trystan playing with the dog (boxer) and getting punched in the face. BY A BOXER!!
  
• The dog running in circles chasing his tail. He's a boxer. He has no tail. It's like me trying to wear pigtails. Have you seen my hair lately?
• Mimi's pancake fail. I guess you have to learn how to make pancakes somehow, right?

My plans for the week:

• Go to Costco for greek yogurt. I MUST HAVE MY GREEK YOGURT!!!!
• Tune up my bike and ride at least 45 miles (not necessarily consecutive).
• Take kids to park for picnic and playgrounding. Yes, you are invited. Llamame.
• Try not to watch the season 5 finale of Weeds yet.
  

WOOO-frickin'-HOOOO, right?

My week is gonna be a blast!

outta touch

have you ever been in a room full of beautifully delightful people who you enjoy spending time with, only to realize that you are sitting on a chair in a corner by yourself talking to no one?

and when you realize this fact, you find someone to talk to and discover that you have nothing to say?

so you just leave?

---

how about when you think things are going pretty well, only to find out everything was a lie?

and there are so many of them, that you can't ignore anything, and you're totally overwhelmed at the task of addressing, correcting, and preventing?

---

ever wake up thinking about how many more hours before you can go back to bed?

---

what about when your darling spouse invites you out for lunch, and you turn him down because you "hadn't planned on going out" today?

---

yeah, i'm a lil' bit depressed right now. don't ask why. just make me feel better by telling me how fantastic i am. k?

anyone up for a run to the liquor store?

Most of you have driven down rt. 175 in Jessup, right? And you've seen Mel's liquors, right? I just read this on How Chow.

I think I may need to take a trip to the liquor store.

Everything's not always horeshoes and donuts, ya know.

Sometimes the tigers eat cat food, and then you have to clean it up. The worst thing is when monkeys and elephants take their avocados to bed with them and the avocados don't sound like jelly beans when they chair.

That's what Kelly sounded like last night. I hope she gets help. Soon.

BGW-11

I want to go and have BGW-2011 with my Aunt Becky . Who else is in?

hanging up the towel

there are lots of things i do everyday because i have to. i get out of bed in the morning to fix my kids breakfast. i wash dishes and clean the house everyday. i go to the grocery store and run errands. these are things that i have to do because i have an obligation to my family to take care of these things that need to be taken care of.

there are also lots of things i do because i love to do them. i knit everyday because it relaxes me. i snuggle with vivian because she is the best hugger in the world. i go to the gym to workout because it makes me feel strong and healthy and fabulous.

but today while i was swimming at the gym, i realized that i don't love swimming. i don't even really like it. i suck at swimming. don't get me wrong, i can do things i suck at. i don't have to be great at something in order to enjoy it. i enjoy the process of improving myself, especially when it's something i like to do. swimming is not it.

swimming is boring. you can't talk to anyone. you just swim back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. inhale, blow bubbles on the exhale, inhale, blow bubbles on the exhale, inhale, don't choke before you come back up gasping for air.

so, i decided that maybe the triathlon thing isn't for me. even now as i'm typing this, i'm trying to figure out how to be able compete, because i really did enjoy it. maybe i'd love swimming if i had someone to swim with. (not that we'd be able to talk)

what do y'all think? anyone want to come swim with me? (and kick my ass)

child safety 101

don't blame me. blame mel. he is the one who showed it to me. it's like a train wreck. only worse.

Safety Tips for Kids!

Let's Go Team Tex, Let's - Go! (clap clap)

I'm going to do it. I'm organizing a triathlon club. scary


First it was a knitting club, now a triathlon club. What's next?

BTW, Knit Click is on 5/10 at 1PM

I'm not really a triathlete..

...but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. (really, I did stay at one)


Here's the quick and dirty:

The swim sucked. No, sucked is an understatement. I sucked, coughed, sputtered, inhaled, swallowed, choked, and drank a good amount of Lake Anna. It's not that I wanted to quit, because quitting never was an option I gave myself, I truly thought I wouldn't be able to finish. I pretty much did the whole thing on my back. The swim was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. It is a totally different experience swimming in a lake than a pool, and I learned that the hard way. (30:43/750M/166th)

T1 was fine! I was glad to get the wetsuit off and put on shoes. I was beyond exhausted, but I think 2:17 was decent for my first transition.

I already planned for the bike ride to be a recovery. For the first couple of miles, I caught my breath, re focused my mind, and hydrated. I really enjoyed the bike ride. It was like an easy version of what Mel and I did the week before on our 13 mile ride around Crownsville. I played leapfrog with two other guys, and when we all finished our bike ride, we discovered that we were 'neighbors' in the transition area. (51:13/12 mi./138th)

T2, I got a minor calf cramp when I took off my biking shoes. It took me almost two minutes to change shoes though. That's kinda a long time. But whatever!

I ran with/paced Jason, one of my 'biking buddies' for the better part of the run. This run consisted of two things that I hate: grass and trails. So, by the time I got out of the trail, my legs had loosened up a bit, and off I went! I guess I had a decent pace. On a good day, I run about a 8:20-8:40 mile. My normal 5K time is under 26 minutes. My goal was to finish it in under 30 minutes. So was Jason's. I think I helped him get through the first half of the run. About halfway into the second half, I lost my concentration, and slowed way down because of the hill. The dude left me behind. I finished the run under my goal though! (28:34/5K/71st)

Total time: 1:54:35/145th place overall. I wanted to finish in under 2 hours. YAY ME!!

I don't know if I'll do another one. I'd like to. I think. I am sure that I didn't practice swimming enough. Since that one is the hardest for me, I avoided it the most. If I decide to do it again, I will really emphasize swimming.

I would like to put together a team and train together and possibly compete together, either as individuals or as relay teams. If any of you think you'd be interested in this possibility, tell me so we can brainstorm about how to make it happen. I have some ideas already floating in my brain. (Remember where I live. If you aren't close enough to participate, don't tell me you'd like to unless you're going to come here and practice. OK?)

p.s. I didn't piss myself until I was less than a hundred yards from the finish line. I just did a little bit, but I was on the verge of letting it all go. I really did have to go. I didn't even catch my breath first. I went straight to the bathroom (on a toilet) before I did anything else. (Happy Brandi?)

the next time you see me...

I'll be a triathlete!!

I'm so excited I could pee my pants which I will probably do because that happens when I run. About a mile into my run, when I overcome the intense feeling of quitting, my mind gives up and lets my body take over. I'm on autopilot. It's exhilarating! It's great! It's when I feel like I could run forever!

Unfortunately for my shorts, my pelvic floor muscles decide that they don't need to keep up the pace, and take a break. Not a long break. It's more like a mini-smoke break. Just enough to get quick nicotine fix, but not enough time for a whole cigarette. That's what my bladder does. It's pretty annoying when it happens because - well, because I don't like the idea of pissing myself. I've been potty trained for more than 30 years, and I kinda like it that way.

I've tried everything I can think of. I've tried the most logical choice: pee before running doesn't work. I've restricted my fluids: risk of dehydration. Kegel exercises: great muscle tone for other pelvic activities, but not so much for this one.

At least I'll be wearing padded shorts. And I'll already be wet. Maybe it won't matter. Maybe I should just accept my pissypants for what they are, and be OK with them. Maybe I should get off the computer and pack my things together so I'll be ready to go when it's time to go.

I think I'll go do that.

I'm outta here!

What I Haven't Been Doing:

1. blogging
2. knitting
3. working
4. cooking

What I have been doing:

1. having mini-panic attacks about open-water swimming
2. being talked down from those panic attacks by the best friend in the world, Suzan. (Sorry Amy, your level of expertise is nil on this one. She wins the BF category in this arena)
3. running (under 26 minutes/5K)
   
4. biking (Love it!!)
5. swimming? (That belongs up there. Refer to #1. Avoidance is the best answer, right?)
6. gardening (Hey, I have to do something instead of swimming, right?)
   

The triathlon is happening in four more days! Who wants so skip church and cheer me on?

T Minus 16

I ordered my wetsuit yesterday. I'll need it. As of yesterday, the water temperature in the lake where I'll be swimming was 56 degrees. That's FYTO cold!!

I'm getting on my bike every chance I get. It's great! I love love love riding my bike. There's only one drawback: I now have huge manly quads. I have man-thighs! Aaaaaaah!! I think I'm at the point where I'll have to stop putting my jeans into the dryer. My jeans are tight!! BUT!!!! My ass? Fab-u-lous!! I love it!!

I am excited, nervous, and scared all at the same time. I can't wait until April 18th.

AND THE WINNER IS........

...but first let me tell you how many stitches were involved.

285 in the actual bootie. BUT!!! The strap had an additional 16 stitches. Total: 301 stitches.



Monique, I'll be putting them in the mail today.

To everyone else who participated, call or email me and we can 'work something out'. That would be considered the pregnancy discount.

There's also a COT discount. So, if you fall into that category, you can still get in on the action!

Contest ends at 23:59:59 tonight

So submit your guesses! Who's gonna win!?!!?

Free giveaway? Did someone say Free?

Be prepared to spontaneously gestate......or at the very least be compelled to steal someone's baby just so you can put this on chubby feet.

These will be the giveaway. Answer this question correctly:
How many stitches did it take to create this beautiful display of baby-wearable art?

Rules:

• contest ends 3/29/2010
  
• you must be pregnant (be prepared to prove it if I ask)
  
• you may submit one guess each day until the contest ends
• you must guess in the comments section of this blog post - for everyone to see!!!
  
• just like the price is right, the person who guesses closest to the actual number without going over, wins!
  

If you don't want to pay for some, come to Knit Click on April 12th and learn to make them yourself.

Otherwise, they'll be $15 for one pair. It's made of 70% merino wool, 20% alpaca, 10% silk. This is quality stuff here. So, get to guessin'.

For My Non-Facebook Friends

(Why does one look bluish and the other gray? It's supposed to be gray like the first picture. Help me, photography friends.)

I guess you all should be able to experience my awesomeness too. Scroll down a couple of posts to see the bib I made.

Mother Nature can suck it!

Doesn't she know that she's being terribly mean to me right now?

The weather right now is perfect to go run a couple (3) miles. Or ride many (15-20) miles on my bike. The birds are chirping. The sun is shining. It's crisp and clear and absolutely perfect. Only there's one problem: my period. My Aunt Flo from the Red River Valley is passing through. That 'ho dropped by last night and plans to stay for a few days. She's brought gifts too! Cramps, fatigue, upset stomach, grouchiness! What more could a girl who is training for a triathlon ask for?

I'll tell you what- do the freakin' math. In approximately 28 days, I'll be swimming/biking/running in Virginia.

She had better be nice and give me more good weather when my Tía Flo leaves. That's all I'm sayin'.

Two things

1. I think I have found a new favorite girl group. You can listen to them aqui. They sound kinda like another girl group I like called Company of Thieves. Have you heard of them? Tell me what you think.
2. I'll do a contest for a baby bib. I'll have to make it first. Look for the contest next week.

*I've never done a contest. How does it work? How do I choose? Quick!! Tell all your friends. I want some competetion on here. Monique likes competetion!

taking a break

I know someone who is having a baby, so I decided that I'd make something for her baby. It's a bib. I am going to make another one the next time I need a break from my sweater.

I am making a cuddly bunny blankie too. I'll finish that tonight and post pictures tomorrow. I started both of these projects last night. They have taken a couple of hours to make. Who's having a baby?

craaazy skillz

I just held the yarn.

Clique? No, click!

You know, click. Click, click, click, click. The sound aluminum knitting needles make when you are busy knitting. We had our first Knit Click meeting today. It was so much fun!Ariella and I spent some time teaching everyone how to knit. Doesn't Tiffany look so focused?She was so focused, in fact, that she was totally ignoring her screaming child. That's ok Tiff, we understand. Slavka can't even stop knitting while she's feeding her baby. It's THAT much fun!We even got football-girl, Shelly to knit. Doesn't she look cute? Yes, that's a ball of garden twine I am knitting with. SSSSH, it's a secret project for a friend. Don't tell her. I didn't take any pictures of all the kids that were here. Let's just say that Marianne isn't used to so many toddlers all in one house at a time. I'll get used to it. Next month's Knit Click meeting is April 12th. Everyone is invited. Even toddlers.

i guess it's time for an update

• i've been knitting
• i've been hanging out with ariella in her living room chatting and knitting
• i've been looking up patterns to knit
• i've been learning new knitting skills
• i haven't been training for my triathlon like i should because i want to stay home and knit
• i've gained the weight i wanted to gain because i have been sitting on my ass knitting
• when i wear certain jeans i have a muffin top, so i don't wear those jeans anymore
• my ass looks AMAZING!!
• i want a new job
• correction to above: i want to start my own in home personal training biz
• i also want to start holding boot camp classes at my home
• i think i might call them 'torture with tex'. do you think people would want to come?
• i need some people to train. who's up for it?
• i'm an awesome trainer. seriously. i am worth it.
• this is the longest list of bullets EVER!!
• are you all still interested?
• i'm being a brat now
• you're still reading
• i love you all
• MWAH!!

It's Brie's fault...

that I have size 10 knitting needles semi-permanently attached to my hands and I can't blog.

Too bad, because some pretty cool things have happened to me that I'd like to share with you. But I can't. Because all I can do is knit. My yarn and needles are crying out for me right now. I gotta go take care of them. Bye!

FYNO snow

I didn't get a picture of it, but my dog couldn't even take a pee this morning because the snow was up to his- you know what. I have a picture of Mel in a snowdrift that is up to his- you know what. And Trystan is F-ing his N's O right now.

Poor guys.

Snow Schmow

I don't like it. That's about it.

the definition of marianne

- The girl you always want to get with but never seem to meet her standards. She is a tease, and keeps you wanting more. If you do end up with her (LUCKY BASTARD), she is an amazing kisser. This girl dreams big and knows what she wants.


Go to urbandictionary.com and type in your name. Post your definition in my comments.

Hey- Does anyone have an extra $1,000?

Because that's about what it's going to cost me to be able to do this damn triathlon. I have to get a bike, bike shorts, rent/buy a wetsuit, water bottle/holder, biking shoes, cleats, pedals (thankfully my friend is giving me those), running shoes (already bought). I feel like I'm missing something, but I don't know what. There's a lot of stuff to buy!! It's friggin' expensive.

So, who wants to sponsor me? Or buy special limited edition triathlon jewlery? How 'bout some triathlon cookies? Harmony - I could sign pictures of my ass and you could auction off prints of it and we could share the profits.

Ok, not really. Well, maybe kind of .

things you should know

• i have callouses on my thumbs because i have played waaaay too many hours of my new game.
• savasana works. really. it worked so well for me last night that startled myself out of sleep because i was snoring.
• you are an official member of the yoga geek club if you didn't have to click the link to find out what savasana means. (tell me who you are, and i'll send your card in the mail)
• if i don't stop eating and gaining weight, i'm going to have to buy new clothes. who's up for a thrift store run?
• if it's still snowy at my house on tuesday, you people are invited over for a potluck/sledding/playdate at noon. bring a sled and some food to share. if you need the address, call me.

That's all.

FINALLY!!!!

It's taking every fiber of my being to not wake Trystan up so we can play this game right now. (it's almost 11pm) Because believe me, he'd wake up. And we'd play it all night. Until we had blisters on our fingers.

But I won't. I'm going to go to bed now so I can dream of Mario and Luigi and the adventures that await us ALL DAY LONG tomorrow.

Like, DU-UH?!

Who would have thought that eating regularly and exercising regularly would make such a difference?

Me. That's who. I mean, I AM a fitness professional and all. But just because I know something, doesn't mean that I'll do it. Until now.

For the past 7 months, I've been stressed, unhappy, and slowly wasting away. You see, when I get stressed, I don't eat. Then, I get depressed because I'm not fueling my body, then I don't want to eat, then I lose weight because I'm not eating, then I feel bad about myself because I'm too skinny, then I get depressed, then I don't eat because I'm depressed, then I stress out, BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. Do you see the cycle? That's why I went on zoloft. Well, the zoloft was for PMS, but the PMS just made everything 1,000 times worse.

Then, one morning in the beginning of November, I had the following conversation with my dear husband:
Him: Babe, I was looking at you earlier, and you are starting to look scary skinny.
Me: What? Really?
Him: (very seriously) Yes. You look pretty bad actually.
Me: Wow. Ok.

So that was my call to action. You guys know my husband. He's a great guy. He has never said anything negative to me about my weight. Whether I was soft and squishy after having a baby (let's call that the 20's), or fit and trim like I am now. So for him to say that I looked scary was my reason to take things seriously. I went out that day and bought a little black spiral notebook. You all may have seen it sitting on the counter during BGW. I wrote down everything. What I ate, what I drank, what type of activity I did. I'd weigh in each week to track my progress.

Honestly, it was just as hard to gain weight as it was to lose weight. I've been on both sides of that coin. I'd gain a pound, lose two. Gain three pounds, lose one. Lose two pounds. Gain one. This went on till I finally gained 5 pounds from the original and kept it on. I hit a plateau. I couldn't gain more. (really? is she serious?) So then, I stopped exercising. Like, really. I went from 6 or 7 days per week to 1 or 2. That's what did it. Well, that and BGW.

I have gained the 10 pounds I needed to gain. So now, I am eating all the time, and that's a good thing because I am training for a triathlon. I am going to be working out 6 or 7 days per week again. My pants are fitting me again. My bras aren't loose. Even in a sports bra, I'm not totally flat chested.

The best part?!!? I really feel like ME again. I am creative again. I'm cooking - no - creating great recipes. (I'll share them eventually) I'm being crafty again. Ariella and I are knitting. I'm still doing jewelry. I am being more creative at work with clients and with my own personal workouts. I even am enjoying my kids. I'm not always searching for ways to escape my house. It's great. AND!! I'm not taking zoloft anymore.

That's it. Now comment on my blog and tell me how great I am and how happy you are for me.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Karma. It's real. I'm living it. It's the 20-year curse rearing its ugly head again.

• 20 years ago, I was 14.
• 20 years ago, nothing my family did was acceptable.
• 20 years ago, I didn't want anything to do with my siblings.
• 20 years ago, my mother was the meanest, most selfish bitch in the universe.
• 20 years ago, I had such a bad attitude about anything that was outside my sphere of existence, that all I could do without spewing nastiness was sleep.
• 20 years ago, I knew everything.
• 20 years ago, I was the sh**!
• 20 years ago, while I was being yelled at/arguing with my terrible bitch of a mother, I vowed that I would NEVER say/do/think/act that way.

The only saving grace is that in 20 years, I'll be able to enjoy when karma rears it's ugly head again. On Her.

Growing up and letting go...

SUCKS! It sucks BIG HAIRY ONES!

Where do you draw the line? How much freedom is too much? How do you let your kid have experiences and develop her sense of self, and demonstrate that you have taught/are teaching her well? How do these things happen without causing wrinkles/ acne/ gray hairs? How do you shelter your kid enough so she can still be safe without causing long-term damage?

I don't want feedback from you unless you have or have ever had a teenager. I'll even accept your opinion if you still are a teenager, or just past teenager-hood. Or if you can remember a specific example of how your parents handled this situation when you were a teenager.

But if you have little kids, and you are giving me your 'I think this is how I would handle it' opinion, I don't want to hear it. Seriously. I need actual, proven advice here.

"Pick number three, m'lord!"

What movie is that from? Ten million points to the one who guesses right.

I know yesterday's post was crappy, but you have to remember that I'm so out of the habit right now. I am doing well to just be sitting down at my computer. Be patient. I'll get into the swing of things soon. I'm almost making this blogging thing a habit again. Soon, I'll be posting pictures and writing witty commentary about the world around me. I just might become the next Brandi. (heaven help us)

two in a row

I don't know if there's really anything to say, but I'm just happy to post something two days in a row.

Doesn't my blog look pretty?

I have to get ready for work now. Aren't you glad that you wasted these three minutes of your life? You'll never get them back.

Brat!

Pet Peeve about BGW women

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah..... I had a great time and all of that junk at the BGW-2010. Here's my peeve with all of you girls. Well, not all. Just the ones that have asked me for recipes.

The recipes were on the kitchen island all weekend. IN PLAIN SIGHT. I didn't make any attempt to hide them or even discourage anyone from seeing them. If you wanted the recipes, you could have taken a look and copied down the recipe for yourself. You could have been proactive about it and gone home with the recipe in hand. Ashley did. So why didn't the rest of you?

I hate to email recipes. It takes time. Time I don't really want to spend copying a recipe. I don't usually use my desktop, so to write a recipe on my iPod is excruciating. I won't do it. I am not going to email any recipes. I'm just not going to do it. If you live near me, you may come over and I'll photocopy the recipe for you. If you have my phone number, you can call me and I'll tell it to you over the phone.

You girls know me. You know I love all of you. I'm just a brat.

Ashley, I will buy a cookbook from you when you publish it. Just remember, I am a contributor. I won't pay full price.

Genius

Viv: (screaming and rolling on the floor) But I don't WANT to go to bed!!

Me: oh! You don't have to go to bed right now. You can come brush your teeth first, then go to bed.

Viv: (calmer) But I still don't want to go to sleep!!

Me: OK. You can just lay in your bed till you fall asleep. You can just stay awake until you fall asleep. Ok?

Viv: (with a triumphant smile) Yeah! Ok!

And she trotted into the bathroom to brush her teeth, go potty, and got her PJ's on and got in bed.

Thank you, zoloft.

Dear Brandi,

I rejoice in my weenieness. I'll stop being a weenie head when you stop being so stubborn.

Love,

Marianne (AKA - weenie head)

good news, bad news, good news, bad news

good news:

• no joint pain
• no muscle pain (can't believe I'm not sore)
• asked a friend that i train if she'd train for the triathlon with me and she said yes

bad news:

• registration for triathlon closed yesterday

good news:

• don't have to rush to see if the 'ol ankle can handle running. i can take my time and do it gradually
• my training friend is going to do one in the spring, and i will probably do a different one with her then
• i have a month to see if the ankle is good or not

bad news:

• i'm pretty underweight, and am trying to gain weight (yet another reason for Brandi to hate me)
• this isn't really compatible with triathlon training because i need to be focusing on muscle building and de-emphasizing cardio.
• so, even if i end up not doing the triathlon, i still have to cut back on my 1 or 2 hours of cardio per week
• you all probably hate me now. keep your hatred to yourself. i don't want to hear about it.

Today I ran...

...and I LOVED IT!!!!

It felt SO good!

I did a little warm up, 10 minute mile, and cool down. 15 minutes in all.

And barely broke a sweat.

The trick is keeping my ankle happy.

I want to do the stupid Triathlon now, I just have to keep sweet talking my ankle into participating.

Wish me luck!

I can't believe I'm actually considering this

Yesterday while I was talking to one of my BFF's, Suzan, she mentioned that she is doing the Iron Girl Triathlon . She had the nerve to ask me if I wanted to do it with her.

Me??!! A triathlon? You want me to run?

I don't run. I made a vow not to run after I got out of the Army 11 1/2 years ago. I can't go back on that vow. Not to mention that I have a screw in my ankle. Not to mention that I hate running.

So, why am I considering it?

I guess because I already cycle (in a class - a controlled environment), and I swim (i can make it 20 minutes if i'm lucky), and I'm in good shape (kinda on the skinny side). So why not?

My Halloween wasn't PC either

Yeah, that's Mel's impromptu version of a 'wife beater'.

So what, it's just another year

October 1981, 6 years old

So, I guess it's my birthday today. I am a little less that enthusiastic about it this year. It's not because I'm 34. That's cool. I think I'm a pretty hot 34 year old. I'm not happy on this birthday mostly because I'm having a suckish fall.

I'm discovering that I miss my girlfriends. By girlfriends, I mean those few girls out there who know everything (ok, almost everything). I miss hanging out. I miss chatting on the phone. I miss running errands together. I miss being catty and gossipy together. I miss giggling. I am definitely a girl's girl, and I want my girlfriends back!!

So, I'm mostly feeling sorry for myself today. Ok, not just today. The whole weekend. Help me out of this funk. Please.

It's October now!

1. Sweaters and jeans are everyday items now
2. It's chilly in the morning when I leave for work
3. That sucks
4. It's going to get worse before it gets better
5. I wear my snuggly bathrobe and slippers whenever I'm in the house
6. Summer is just around the corner (positive thinking)