GTT-Call me a chicket shit ONE.MORE.TIME

The things I will probably never do, although I'm pretty sure they would all be awesome if I had the balls:

• Skydive-My heart would probably be in my stomach the entire time, I would make weird animal sounds, and I'd pee my pants, shit my pants, puke, or all of the above. I'll pass.
• Bungee jump-See above.
• Go scuba diving-I have this odd issue with being in the water with fish. I want to be able to swim with the fishies, appreciate the beauty underwater, but I get all nervous and batshit. Pass. 
• Go real-life mountain climbing. I'm not a wuss, but I'm also not that badass.
• Go hunting w/ my hubby. Now, this is a tricky one. See, I really don't want to shoot and kill an animal, especially a deer, but I guess I sorta see the appeal for my hubby. I just wish I could share in that with him, I guess? I don't know. This one's just meh. Pass.
• Run some sort of marathon, 5K, etc. I walk several each year, but I would love to be able to just run the entire time. 
• Tell my mother-in-law what I think of her shitty attitude towards her son (my hubby), myself, and everyone related to me. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. This one is a death sentence. Not gonna happen. 

What about you? What are you too afraid to do?

{W}rite of Passage-Beta version

Mrs. Flinger has created this kick-ass site, {W}rite of Passage, where writers can write, be critiqued in a safe environment, and read some wonderful stuff from other wonderful writers. (Could I use the letter w anymore in one sentence??) I was so excited to receive the invite, and I tell ya, once I am not up to my damn ears in final projects and final exams and getting AT&T to realize that I fucking hate them for all of the stupid shit they have put me through the last 2 weeks (Seriously?? How f-ing hard is it to GIVE ME A TELEPHONE NUMBER THAT WORKS!?!), I will be spending a few hours (read: several dozen) reading everyone's Beta posts and squeeeeing at all the wonderful writers I am surrounded by! In the meantime, here's my Beta post, about my most embarrassing moment:

Really, haven't I posted several embarrassing things about myself? I mean, do we need to re-has the time I pissed all over myself in the office bathroom because I had a sneeze attack while trying to hover over the toilet? Or how about the time I had the.worst period EVAH in my new office (different job than the hover/piss job) and I actually bled through a tampon, a huge diaper pad, and my damn pants within an hour of arriving at the office? By the way, I had to actually run to the stupid Walmart by my office and buy not only a pair of undies, but a damn sweater to wrap around my waist to cover the uhhh, spot puddle on my pants? TMI?

Okay, so I was about 8 months pregnant, and I had a court hearing for work downtown. Parking sucks downtown. I always ended up parking like 9 blocks away, stuffing the meter w/ all my dimes and nickles, and running to the courthouse. Except, I was 8 months pregnant, so I pretty much waddled. I also wore flip flops to walk those 9 blocks, since my feet looked like mini boats.
So, I waddle to the courthouse, and get there like 2 minutes before the hearing is set to begin. I pull my snazzy professional shoes out of my purse, shove my flip flops in there, and head up to the 3rd floor. I get there, the judge looks at my feet and gives me this look. What?? Dude. Anyway, all goes well, but as I'm leaving the courtroom, something runs down my leg. What the fresh hell is going on???
I walk outside, and it continues. Lucky for me, I'm wearing flowy skirt that goes mid-calf. But I'm panicking. I call my good friend Kristy, who says she will go to the emergency room with me. I call my office to let them know I won't be back just yet.
Kristy and I go to the emergency room. I waddle my ass up to the maternity ward, get undressed, etc. etc. Apparently they have these thin little things that look like those little oil absorbant sheets you use to wipe the gross oil off your face? But it goes down there, and it tells you whether your water broke. So...yeah.
And guess what??
Yeah, uhhhh, my water didn't break.
Apparently? All those blocks I walked? With a baby pushing on my bladder? Yeah, uh...?
Yeah, I peed myself.
In the courtroom.
I go back to the office, and everyone wants to know what the hell it was if my water didn't break. Seriously?? Sigh.
So, if it's not bad enough that my whole office knows I pissed myself, I go to court later that week, and the DA is all "So....I guess your water didn't break? So...did you piss yourself?"
FML.
*******
PS. I am fully aware that this post is like a full 2 weeks late. I am so behind people. Soooo behind.

On living here

Sometimes I think I live on Wisteria Lane. Things are just too perfect-looking on the outside: perfectly manicured lawns, bright blooms, sweetly trimmed bushes, wrought iron enterance gates, a few dozen Lexus', Mercedes', a Porsche, sweet little doggies who wear bejeweled collars & sweaters. 
I have a neighbor who uses a leafblower on his entire yard every damn morning. He is adamant about blowing all the leaves, dust, dirt, & grass off of every square inch of his driveway, walkway, & backporch areas. 
I have a neighbor who walks briskly several times a day with her dog, who is not on a leash. She never smiles, she never chats, & her dog is odd. 
I have a neighbor who is the host of a popular sports radio talk show, who lost his wife last year. I never see him. Sometimes I wonder if he exists.
I have a neighbor who is nosey, bossy, & a bit of a Nazi about EVERYFUCKINGTHING. She tells you what to do. She corrects you about things that she finds wrong. She sends emails to all of the homeowners about random things that she really doesn't need to be bossing us about.
I have a next door neighbor who has Alzheimers. I never see his wife, who cares for him, but he walks to the mailbox & to the end of the street for fresh air every day. He smiles brightly & gives me a salute.
The neighbors on the other side of me are not so friendly. They complained about my dogs barking last year when our home first flooded. Really?
Did I forget to mention that this neighborhood is small, with under 50 homes in it? We are the youngest couple in the neighborhood, with 2 other couples being in their late 30s, but childless. My girl is the only child, other than 2 teens. All of my neighbors own other homes in other states, have children in college or our age, have more money than time, have fancy things & beautiful homes. Several of the homebuilders live in this neighborhood, as well as the actual developer. One of my neighbors has a bumper sticker on his car that says "Impeach Obama". All my neighbors are conservative and W.H.I.T.E.

I don't fit in.

I am loud. I am liberal. I voted for Obama. I have a 4 year old. I don't always bring in my recycling container from the curb right away. I don't switch out the flowers in my beds every month. I don't drive a Lexus (although I did, but HATED it). I don't have a second home. I don't put clothes on my dogs. I enjoy things that are not by & large part of the conservative point of view. I cuss. I don't put a shock collar on my dog (although we did buy one for Max, but we are returning it). I don't care about the homeowner's association drama, or the dues, or what time the gates open or close. I don't have a fit if people walk with their dogs off of their leashes. I don't care if someone drives more than 10mph down my street. I could care less if you park your damn car on the street.

But I am kind and friendly and I try my hardest to pick up my dogs' shit when we are walking around the neighborhood. I say hello and try to make small talk. I bite my tongue when something is said about healthcare reform.

I like to think that all of my neighbors have a ton more going on than they let show. They are more than their manicured lawns & perfectly placed holiday decor. They are deeper than the car they drive, than the amount of money they make. I hope that they are dysfunctional in their own ways, like all of us. As I drive or walk by each home, I imagine what is going on behind closed doors. I giggle when I hear that leafblower first thing in the morning, because I know he's got issues.

I don't fit in. I want a neighborhood with people our age, with children my girl's age, with neighbors that come over for dinner, or to hang out in the backyard after work. I want a house where my girl & I can scream as we play a silly game, and not have to worry that someone hears us & thinks something random or erroneous. I don't want to compete with these people. I don't want to feel out of place. I don't want to disappoint my husband or look like the white trash of the neighborhood. I don't want to live on Wisteria Lane.

Yeah, I've got one-what's the big deal?

There are many things in my life that I have had to give up, for better or worse. Some were not so difficult: I didn't drink an ounce of alcohol while I was pregnant. I can give up candy or ice cream for the 40 days of Lent each year. I gave up watching The Bachelor (there was some withdrawal there) with hardly a tear.
Other things were more difficult: Burying my childhood dog, Victoria, who lived for 14 long, lucky years. More recently, losing my old man dog, Kooter. Burying my grandparents. Kissing my partying life goodbye when I decided I wanted to have a child. Saying goodbye to kids on my caseload, whether I wanted to or not. Agreeing to getting a fake Christmas tree, when I really didn't want to agree at all.
It's still difficult to deal with the fact that I no longer have the buff, strong, firm body that I had when I was 17. It's unpleasant to come to terms with the fact that my husband and I are not the same teenagers we once were (although we like to think we are sometimes, when we tie one off). I had to say goodbye to little tiny onesies and cute baby outfits, when my girl stopped being a baby. That's a tough one!
I've had to say goodbye to friendships. I've had to say goodbye to people I really cared about, bonded with, felt a connection with.
I've had to fight for (and sometimes lose) things I really believe in, and fight with people I love about those things.
But, the thing I cannot say goodbye to is.....

...the blanket my grandmother gave me when I was a very little girl. It was something she ordered in the mail, after collecting proof-of-purchase's. It is the Jolly Green Giant & Little Sprout. It is currently in my lap as I type this. Go ahead, laugh. It is warn out, faded, threadbare, see-through, and covered in dingle balls, all at the same time. But, it is soft, comfortable, cuddly, (somewhat)warm, and MINE. I love it. In high school I used it for warmth. In college-ditto. Now-ditto. But, it has been a source of comfort too, during difficult times in my life, when I am worn out, stressed, tired, sick, sad. And now, I have a 4 year old who says 'I want my mommy's blankie' when she is tired or cold. Oh hell, I have a blankie, and I'm 31. So can I really ever say anything about her little tiny blankie, when mine is full size? (See how threadbare it is? My hubby makes fun of it all the time)

It's not just that it is all of the above, but it is also that it is from my grandmother, who I truly adored, who is gone from my life in the physical sense. Except, not when I have this blanket. Then she is here, with me.

So tell me people-does anyone have something they cannot say goodbye too, embarrassing as it may be??

For the love of all that is just and holy, shut the holy hell up!

Two things are keeping me from a decent night's sleep:

[Please excuse the darkness, the fact that I can't figure out which light switch goes to the outdoor light (hi-i've lived here almost 2 years), & the shitty visuals. Sleep.deprived.]

Squeeeee!

If you are like me, you enter contests on people's blogs fairly regularly. And, if you are like me, you never win. Last summer I won a prize package from Fiona Picklebottom, and then hosted one of my very few contests, where 10 people commented, and 10 people won. Except, I am pretty sure I never sent Just a Girl her prize, but I'm hoping I will make it to Austin before the end of the f-ing century, and I can just give it to her in person.

Anyway, so this time? This time I actually won!!! Royal Jewels rocks because she sent out my package on Monday from San Francisco, and I got it on Wednesday. Squeeeee!

So, here's what I got:

[I'm having issues with Blogger-it's pretty difficult to move pictures around on the post once I upload them, and you might be able to hear my scream across the country] So, bear with me. I can't seem to put any descriptions between the pictures. So!

-The first picture is probably my favorite thing in the entire box-it's a teeny tiny flask! With a little key chain thingy on it! Portable alcohol! Handy and teeny and omg, sweet!

-A little package of incense, a teeny elephant incense holder, and 2 pretty flower candles. These are going to work with me ASAP.

-Spray hand sanitizer and a little page holder. And yes, my camera blows in comparison to other bloggers' bad-ass cameras, but the page holder has a little whale and a beach inside.

-The next 3 pictures are of little soaps shaped in symbols #&$@? and flowers. And I am so smart that I thought maybe, just maybe, the flowers were actually candy. So I opened them and lightly licked one. Not candy. Soap. Thank GOODNESS I didn't bite into it.

-Gum that I'm hiding from my kid, because she thinks anything in my purse belongs to HER.

-And lastly, things I will share with my girl: A little San Fran cup, teeny fireworks, and sidewalk chalk (the death of me).

-And not pictured: A CD that she made. I can't wait to hear it and report back. You know I love my music!!

Thank you, thank you Jules! I am so excited to have won a contest (even if I did get soap in my teeth)!

I will be hosting my own contest soon (to keep in the spirit of Swistle's Pay it Forward Contests), and will post details next week.

Is it really only Thursday?

Bullets, again, because I am tired, in la-la land, and WANT to be creative, but just can't find the energy:

• The Professor from Hell last night was...well, NICE. WTF? She's sorta grandmotherly, smart, experienced, and well, a bit crazy too. I did address the fact that I emailed her four damn times in a week's time about getting assignments & the syllabus, and her response was 'Oh, I hardly check my email. No worries!' Is she f-ing kidding me? I mean, I stressed about this crap, and she HARDLY CHECKS HER EMAIL?? Lovely. So not only did I stress about something all week for no damn reason, but apparently she didn't worry too much about what I missed, so why should I?? Anyway, I trust her as far as I can throw her, and as I said, she's a bit crazy: She kept talking about safety last night. Oh, we must be SAFE when working with all types of clients and 'How many feet away from your car are you before you automatically unlock your doors?' and don't give ANYONE your cell number and YOU MUST HAVE BOUNDARIES WITH YOUR CLIENTS and on and on AND ON. It was a beatdown, to say the least.
• There were some nasty storms here last night and today, and Professor from Hell (which I may have to rename Crazy Grandma Professor) wouldn't let us leave. I'm talking eerie green skies, menacing clouds, horizontal-falling rain, bad-ass lightning, thunder that shook our old-ass building, flickering lights, pea-sized hail......'Oh, well, we will be fine up here' ON THE THIRD FLOOR. Lucky for us, my house and family fared well while I was stuck in class, other than my mother's fence falling down and my hammock getting caught in a tree.
• My internship professor is driving me a bit nuts too. I really promise I am not a judgy type of person or someone who makes fun of EVERYTHING. I mean, I'll make fun, but I'm not particularly mean or malicious. I just have little patience for certain people this week, and I don't know why. So, anyway, my internship professor is ALWAYS RUSHING and ALWAYS BEHIND. For instance, today: We were to meet at 12:15 with my co-interns to have our weekly supervision meeting, go over what she wanted from us for the next week, ask questions, discuss clients, etc. It was supposed to be done at 1pm. I get there at 12:05 and she's missing in action. Fine, sure, I'll wait. 12:20-one of my co-interns & myself are sitting in an empty room waiting on her. 12:30-Prof shows up and asks where the other two interns are. No idea. She starts calling their cell phones. Finally, at like 12:38, she decides to go ahead and start with us. And........talks like two words per minute, I swear. I was soooo frustrated. Seriously? You start late as hell, talk slow, and it's over stuff we could have just CHATTED ABOUT ONLINE, ON THE PHONE, OR YESTERDAY after our hours were up for the day?? Gah. I wanted to rip my hair out. So, I got back to the office a full hour later than I had planned. So, I'm behind on work (fairly simple stuff, but STILL!), behind on blogging, behind on the stupid mother of all shitty things: Google Reader, and could I complain a little more?
• Sure, I can. My scalp is stilllllll itchy. I've tried the stuff Biddy suggested, I've been using Selsum Blue, and now I'm going to buy that T-gel stuff from Neutragena, but I may just ITCH MY DAMN HAIR OUT. My mom says she heard that an itchy scalp might be a symptom of diabetes, and I've been tested before because of other annoying symptoms (the worst dry mouth EVER, almost all the time), but also? If you saw my tweet, I have a hive or possible shingle on my ankle, under my tattoo. And for the past 2 summers, I've gotten a shitty case of the shingles that my primary doctor tries to say ISN'T THE SHINGLES until he finally gets so sick of hearing me say it that he does the damn blood test to see that OH, I DOOOOOOO HAVE THE SHINGLES, thanks. He claims that I am having an allergic reaction to SOMETHING but who the hell knows what? Anyway, the past 2 summers, it has started in the same two places: my ankles and my neck. Guess what else is itchy besides this hive/shingle/patch on my tattoo? Yep. My neck. Shit shit shit.
• So, I'm popping so much Lysine that I think I'm pooping it in pill form. I'm upping my other vitamin intakes as well, and eating blueberries by the pint daily. Please, please PLEASE don't come visit me this summer, Mr. Shitty Shingles.
• I have seriously got a dozen posts ready in my head and heart, but I just don't have the time! Frickety frick!! It took me a damn hour to type up this shitastic post at work between filing, phone calls, the cleaning lady asking me if I was pregnant (WHAT THE FUCK? PEOPLE? Seriously?? Will that question ever stop??? Oh, and she asked me that after she asked me why I had a cold in the summer? "Maybe you are pregnant?" NO, damn it shit. I wish I was, but NO, I'm not. Gah. Now I need alcohol and a few dozen cupcakes to feel better about that question.), & a phone call from my mother. And with no interruptions, I would be able to type this shitastic post in a good 5 minutes. Sigh.
• Well, just know that I've got FANTASTIC BLOG FODDER in my head. Isn't that good enough?
• In the meantime, may I shamelessly talk about my other blog, that may or may not make you blush, but just makes me giggle nine times out of ten? (That tenth time? I sigh, gasp, or go "ooooooooooo, NICE.") Go check it out, and seriously, do some anonymous boobie sending, will ya?

Kinda Like a Big Deal*

So last week I mentioned that I was going to a book signing this week, and I was super-excited about it. I am, still, in fact. If you look over to the sidebar on the right ----------> , I have a little area about books. I am not good about updating it like I should, but let me tell you, I wouldn't leave a book on my list if it wasn't worth reading.
About two months ago, I ordered How to Be Lost by Amanda Eyre Ward. I was so excited to read it, yet...it sat on my counter for a few weeks because school stuff got in the way. I couldn't resist any longer, and read more than half of it in one afternoon, between my two classes. I actually thought about skipping my afternoon class to continue reading it; it was that good.
I can't do the book justice by writing a review.....but it's a heartful story about a woman who goes on a journey to find her long-lost sister, a sister that disappeared when she was only 5 years old. The family is torn apart by it; the two remaining sisters have a thicket of guilt crammed in the middle of their relationship. The story is suspenseful, humorous, and heartbreaking. I don't want to tell you much because I am one of those people that LOVES to be surprised in a book (think: My Sister's Keeper & The Myth of You & Me, both brilliant, on my bookshelf, & in my heart).

When I got to the end of the book, I actually threw it across the room. I was upset because I wanted to know more. My husband told me to email the author and ask her for more. I laughed, but!!-Lucky for me (I hope), Amanda addresses the ending of the story in the Reader's Guide, stating that she cut out several hundred pages in the final draft of the story, and she can tell readers what happened to the characters.

This evening, Amanda will be doing a book signing at Legacy Books in Plano. When I found out, I was all "SQUEEEEE!" and my husband was all ".....", until I told him I am totally going to ask her about the characters in the book, and then he was all "oh" (Yeah, he's not much of a book whore like me, but I guess I'll keep him). I am hoping I don't look like a nervous groupie when (if) I meet her. I am in awe of her storytelling capabilities, and also? I feel a bit of a kindred spirit, only because I've had a novel growing in my head for the past 5 or 6 years, and omg, she actually published 4 awesome books, and could that possibly be me one day?
I started Forgive Me last week, and let my mother borrow Sleep Toward Heaven, so I can't speak for either of them yet. I'm totally buying Love Stories in this Town today, and going to try to finish all 3 before my internship starts June 1st. I'll tell you all about them when I'm done. Until then, you should pick up How To Be Lost. Make time to get lost in a book for a few hours. You won't regret it.

*By Clipse & Kanye West (Not trying to steal Jonniker's cool way of titling posts with songs, but omg, this song is stuck in my head, and the title fits the situation, so, yeah. Thanks, Jonniker-you rock! ) (Also? Give the song a few minutes. It seriously can get stuck in your head when you are working out, right about 1:03. Also? He says alligator souffle, and that just makes me giggle.)

Deep breathe in, deep breathe out

My good friend Kristie invited me to try out a yoga class with her Wednesday night. I was excited because I practiced some yoga in college, and definitely did it while I was pregnant. But after this class, I can say that I haven't really ever done yoga.
OMG. It was so advanced and fast and sweaty and.....jeez, I felt so out of shape and off-balance! I can't tell you how many times I teetered like an infant learning to walk. Also? I knew several of the poses, but there were some crazy-ass complicated ones that I just am not flexible or strong enough to attempt (the hammock? the crane ??) My boobs were in the way, my muffin top was in the way, my feet kept falling asleep, and omg, my hips-they failed me miserably. Ever since I had my girl, my hips are so tight and stiff and I feel like they belong to a 95 year old.

What killed me though, besides the twinge of jealousy at seeing these lean, long women do headstands and outrageously limber things with their limbs, was the woman who let one rip when we were doing some rocking move. She was right behind me, and omg, I just lost my shit. I tried so hard not to laugh. My whole body was shaking, so hopefully that hid the fact that I was in tears, I was laughing so hard. And in my head, I could see my mom doing that. Or better yet, my mom being there with me, dropping to the ground in a fit of giggles and tears.
I know these things can happen, but seriously, it's my first ever yoga class and that happens. I'm tearing up just thinking about it!
Afterwards, I was soaking wet and weak. I drove home feeling more limber than I had in a long time. I took a shower, spread out on the bed, and passed out. I slept like a rock last night!
This morning, I woke up stiff, sore, and limping.


But I totally want to do it again! I'm hoping to take a class this evening, or at least on Saturday. I think that maybe this is the key to strengthening and stretching my hips. In the process though, I will look like a stiff, old lady pretzel.

Updates and anxieties

Well, last week I mentioned that I am a 90 year old crab-ass with a failing body. I went to the doctor about possible gallstones (??) and jeez, that was just frustrating. Can I just say GAHHHHHHHHHHHH, what a waste of my time.
I fasted, but no one drew blood. My doctor was on vacation, so his associate saw me. Although I plainly said several times that this did not feel AT ALL like heartburn, no, NO, I am not burping up acid, NO, it is not reflux, she still managed to convince herself that I may indeed 'have some acid reflux going on'. Then, she suggested I buy longer-lasting antacids (HELLO??? NO HEARTBURN HERE). Her ultimate diagnosis: She thinks I have a haital hernia, which is where a part of your stomach pushes up above your diaphragm, into your esophagus. It is aggravated by caffeine, chocolate, spicy food, and high carb meals. When I explained that I have one or two caffeinated drinks A WEEK, and the same for chocolate and high carb meals, she basically ignored me. Then I told her when it happened last week, it was immediately after eating a f-ing salad.
So. My Rx is to stay away from the above, eat slower, and take longer-acting Tums. Lovely.
She said if it feels the same in 2 weeks, I can come back and do the barium swallow study, to confirm the hernia. HOW ABOUT YOU JUST STICK ME WITH THAT NEEDLE THERE AND TAKE SOME BLOOD AND FIND OUT IF IT JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE MY GALLBLADDER??? No? Oh, okay. No problem.
*******
I'm leaving for Vegas Thursday evening. Going with my hubby, his friend C, and his wife, W. And guess who else is going? My hubby's friend B, and his wife, H, the one that went after my husband so many times. I know, I know. Look, I didn't plan the trip. The guys are all friends. I can play nice, as long as she sits nowhere near my husband the whole weekend. I'll let you know how it goes.
While there, we plan on going to see the Cirque du Soleil show 'O'. My husband has a long weekend of golf and gambling planned with his BFF, while I am bringing three books, have scheduled a massage, and plan on doing some shopping. Vegas' food options might make me FATTER than I already am, but ZOMG, the gelato, the buffets, the alcoholic drinks, the candy, the PASTRIES......
*******
While I'm on that subject, can I just say how VERY PAINFUL it is for me to admit that I weight ALMOST as much as I did when I was 9 F-ING MONTHS PREGNANT with my girl???? Oh my gosh, I can't even begin to tell you how disgusting I feel. And I've been eating great!! Other than 2 nights a week, where I'm sure my meals are high-calorie. But other than that, I do great. I know I need to drink more water, and I need more exercise, but HOLY BATSHIT, throw me a BONE, will ya???? A couple of pounds? Please???
And related, I am doing the shred, and all I feel is that my arms are getting bigger. I need them to get SLIMMER before they get ripped. Ffffff...............none of my cute spring shirts fit in my arms.
I am seriously considering hiring a personal trainer this summer. I just don't see how I could do it now, during the spring semester. Until then, I'm going to continue with Jillian and her f-ing jumprope & jumping jacks, and throw in some more Wii Fit, biking, and running.
********
Packing for Vegas is challenging. Let me just say that I want to be comfortable, yet sexy, yet COMFORTABLE (read: able-to-hide-the under-estimated-over-consumption-of-40,000-calories-in-pastries). Did I mention COMFORTABLE? Anyway, I feel pressure to be sexy, because of the bitchface that is going. Like I said before, she is pretty, and she hits on my husband. I may just have to make a trip to Victoria Secret tomorrow... (like THAT is going to fix all my body issues. Pffft. You will be able to hear the ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG, GAHHHHHH all the way around the world).
*********
And while we are in Vegas, my girl is staying with my husband's parents. She adores them, and I care for them, but I have to be honest: I would be much more comfortable if she was staying with my mom. She has a great connection with my mom, and my mom has shown over and over just how much she adores my girl and wants to spend time with her. My in-laws, while I know they love her, don't put forth much of an effort to see her, even though they live 45 minutes away. Even though I always say 'You can see her anytime'. Even though they bitch, moan, and whine about how they never see her and 'oh, it's soooo unfair that she likes your mom better'. I want to scream FUCKING GROW UP ALREADY, WILL YA??? But that wouldn't do much for the marriage or the relationship with the in-laws.
They have not proven to me that they would bend over backwards to spend time with her. Driving to my house on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and only playing with her in her room for 15 minutes DOES NOT show me you want to really be an active part of her life. Going on a 7 day vacation in Mexico with her and NEVER ONCE getting in the pool with her, or sitting down in the sand with her to build sandcastles, or dancing with her after dinner in the dark, or EVEN ATTEMPTING to engage her in something remotely enjoyable for a toddler.....didn't quite convince me you want to be active in her life.
YET, every time you do see us, you complain and cry ACTUAL TEARS that you 'never see her' and she 'doesn't love you', but you do nothing about it. I am at a loss here.
My hubby made the decision to ask them if they would watch her. He did it out of guilt, I am pretty sure; he hears what his mother says to me every fucking time, and they were also pissed that I just CANNOT COMMIT TO ANOTHER 7 DAY VACATION THIS SUMMER WITH THEM. So, he tried to give them this gift. And while I know she will be safe, I am worried about their pool, their excessive smoking, their drinking, their ability TO ENGAGE HER IN SOMETHING FUN, their ability to put her to sleep, or to even get to know her likes/dislikes/preferences. I am worried. Just typing this is getting me all anxious. Shit.

Filler Friday (Can I honestly call it 'filler' when I haven't been blogging on a regular basis?!)

I listen to all different kinds of music: country, alternative, rock, classic rock, swing music, coffee house/easy listening stuff, rap, and hip/hop. Yes, rap and hip/hop. I'm sure that makes several of you cringe.
So, in my jeep, I listen to satellite radio sometimes. I love the variety. I can listen to Frank Sinatra if I want to, or NPR, CNN, or classic rock. I stumbled on this station, and now I listen every day, when I can.
I used to spend my afternoons listening to Russ Martin. Again, that might make some of you cringe. He's a jackass, but omg, he made me laugh. Sometimes I wanted to throttle him, but most of the time I didn't take anything to heart that he spoke about. So I am pretty sure that is why I am addicted to Shady 45's afternoon show, The All Out Show. I full-out laugh at some of the things Rude Jude says. He does not put any icing on the cake, let's just put it that way. He is crude, rude, but also brutally honest, and pretty fair about his statements.
That being said, I must admit that I am all 'Swooooon' over Rude Jude's voice. I can't even explain. Just listen to the beginning of the link....he's the one dropping all the f-bombs at the beginning. (I know, I know) It's all raspy and sexy and stuff....

So, how do I make a smooth transition from that to the following? Aw, hell, who knows.

Voices that make me all Swoooooooon (sound clips attached, just to prove to you what a f-ing nutcake I am):

Sir Mix A Lot
Ludacris
Common
John Legend
Josh Turner
Just this song by Dwight Yoakam & Sheryl Crow
LL Cool J
this song by Johnny Cash
this song by Social D
probably my biggest swoon: everything by Blue October

Swooooon.

Whose voice makes you swoon? It doesn't have to be a musician, that's just what I'm drawn to. Tell me. Join my nutcake party.

That's IT.

So, what was the breaking point for me in Springtown?

Was it the meth lab across the street? The tree that mysteriously caught fire? Was it the time lightning struck my neighbor's barn, sparking yet another fire, which burned about 5 acres of my property, while I wasn't home?

How about the time I woke up to gunshots, and saw a truck slowly creeping by the far end of my property, and the shadow of a man running towards my house? Or, was it finding out that the man had shot a deer on my property, right behind my house, from his truck on the road?

Was it all the tornado warnings, watches, and power outages? Was it the flooding? The take-over of the black widows and the snakes? The time I opened up a box in the garage to find a mama mouse's nest full of blind little babies? Was it finding out that my normal neighbor's dog had mysteriously disappeared? Was it all the time I spent out there alone, while my husband busted his ass building his own business?

It may have been all of those things. Or none of them. I cannot say that I regret any of those experiences, because they are part of me now; part of my history, and they have shaped me.

But I can say that one truly defining moment for me in Springtown, one short span of time that was drawn out in slow motion, really made me think, "Why the hell did I want to live in the country?"

One night my husband and I had just gone to bed when the usual event of headlights filled our bedroom. We heard the vehicle stop, and knew without looking that it had stopped in front of that damn cursed meth lab/trailer down the road. The brights flickered. Then, we heard the car's engine rev, and it started speeding down the road. As this was happening, we heard the undeniable sound of gunshots. And not from a deer rifle.

As the car sped past our house, we continued to hear gunshots. At some point, my husband jumped out of bed, and suggested that I 'get on the floor'. Seriously? Like I live in a rough neighborhood?

I jumped out of bed and hit the floor, my nose tickled by dust bunnies. My husband did not hit the floor, (because he's a man, where man=hard-headed, stubborn IDIOT), but looked out our window, and then grabbed his gun. (Yes, yes, we must be rednecks to live in the country, right? GUNS. My favorite thing in the house. Blech.)

Nothing came of it. We don't know who it was, we didn't find bullets or a crime scene or shell casings. We don't know who it was, or what exactly they were shooting at. But let me tell you, I was fired up. I had cows. I had a baby. I had two dogs (who slept through the whole damn scenario) and a crazy-ass husband. Who the hell did they think they were???

That, my dear reader(s), was my breaking point.

Advice, oh wise ones

1. I desperately need to do something about the state of my face. I am so damn pale! My whole body is, and I'm thinking of doing some tanning again, but I just cannot tan my face. Ever since I had my girl, when I tan, I get a ton of freckles and brown blotches. It's awful. I don't mind freckles so much, but the blotches look hideous.

I use all sorts of stuff for my face, including bronzer. But I am looking deathly pale these days, and even that isn't cutting it.

So, here's where all you beauty buffs come in:

I need a tinted moisturizer. One that doesn't make me look orange. What brand do you suggest? What works for you? HELP!!!

2. My mother in law turns 60 on New Year's Eve. Don't get me started on this, but I am going to be the big girl, and have suggested that we take her out to eat for an early dinner, to celebrate. If we don't do SOMETHING, she will pout. More than she already does. Another post for another day, I promise you (and it's brewing, let me assure you).

This woman likes to garden, sit outside in her backyard, drink, be the martyr, and...that's about it.

What do I buy for her? Something nice, something heartfelt. Help me out here!!!



3. Jeans. Jeans that do not give me saggy ass syndrome. You know what I'm talking about: they fit great when you get them out of the dryer, sometimes even a little snug. But after an hour or so, not only are they loose, but they are falling off, sagging in the ass area, with your muffin top bubbling out over them. Disgusting. So...HELP!

I've heard 7 Jeans are great. Also Joe's? Any other suggestions that will not cost me a coupla $100???? Seriously.

4. More make-up issues. My eyeliner blows. It looks like hell. Halfway through the day, I look like a damn raccoon, or like someone beat the shit out of my face. It's all smuggy and just gross. I need a good eyeliner (again, one that doesn't cost me a shitload). Also? How about some mascara suggestions? Mine has been all clumpy lately, and it's annoying the crap out of me. Noticing a trend yet?

5. Okay, here's a biggie. And it requires some background drama. Get comfortable.

The problem: I need a new hairdresser, AGAIN. I had one for a good 16 years, but she works 3 days a week, has a huge clientele, and it takes a good month to get in to see her. So...about 2 years ago I went where my mom was going. Met a lady there that I went to high school with. She cut my hair awesome. Then she moved. Right next to the little town I had just moved from. I wasn't about to drive 45 minutes to have my hair cut. So then I moved on to my mom's lady. Then she moved. She had her 6th kid, and left (no, really). Then I just stopped getting my hair cut for awhile. Then I went to this spa a few minutes away, and cut 12 inches off my head. I loved that girl. But guess what?? She moved. And apparently, at this spa, the clients belong to the spa, not the hairdresser. So anyway, then I moved on to the lady with the (attractive) boobs at the same spa. Loved how she cut my hair, even if I was uncomfortable about her boobs in my face.
I called today, and guess what????? Mother fucker, she's gone. Moved to Florida. Okay, so I desperately need my hair cut. It's grown a good 2 inches. I no longer have the sexy Spice Girls hair cut. I need a cut, BAD.
So here is where the drama comes in (oh, you thought I was done?).
This girl, H, is a hair dresser in a snooty spa close by. She is married to B, who is friends with my husband. The first time I met H, she had just met B, and was talking about how she went home with another guy the night she met B. She then proceeded to get drunk, take her belt off and spank my husband (left bruises), and then pour a drink on his head. But wait: she then proceeded to lick the drink off of his shaved head, down his forehead, down his nose, and was stopped before she got to his lips, by B's sister-in-law (also a friend of mine). I was inside the house when this happened, and they were all outside. I go back outside, and my husband is sitting perfectly still, staring off into space, looking like he just saw a ghost. He then proceeds to tell me, "I didn't know what to do. She's fucking nuts". And my friend assures me that my husband was not condoning this at all, which I totally believe. But.
H continues to flirt with my husband. On several different occasions, in different settings. She marries B after a couple of months of knowing him. I get pregnant with my girl, and become everyone's designated driver. She gets hammered one night at a restaurant with some other of our friends, and I'm about 7 months pregnant at the time. My husband gives me sexy eyes across the table, and gets all excited. I'm confused, because I've done nothing. I look under the table, and H has her shoes off, with her fucking feet in my husband's crotch area. I then put my feet up there, my big, fat, swollen, prego feet. She puts them down, and makes no eye contact. She later tries to squeeze by everyone at the table to go to the bathroom, and 'accidentally' falls into my husband's lap. By the end of the night, she tackles him in the parking lot, lays him out, straddles him, and kisses him. B and I are both there, and B sees nothing. I am too pregnant to kick anyone's ass, and I also hate confrontation. But I do yell at him across the parking lot, and before that, I see him pushing her off of him, before she even tried to kiss him. Again, this is her, not my husband, I promise. He is in such a bad position, because B is his friend, and has been for many years, and he really can't say 'Hey B, your wife is being a whore'. It's just a bad situation.
Anyway, this was several years ago. About a year or so ago, B's sister in law (my friend, K), goes to get her hair cut by H. And H proceeds to tell her that she doesn't understand why I don't like her. So K tells H why I don't like her. And K tells me that H gets all red-faced, and says she doesn't remember any of this, because she was drunk each time.
Okay, so I buy it. I have seen her many times, in different social settings, over the past year. I have always been nice. Her son is only 6 months younger than my girl. She's pretty, she's funny, and honestly, minus the whole whore situation, we have a lot in common. So, I try to be nice. I don't avoid her. But she avoids me, and has never said anything about what her and K talked about.
Sooooo....have I lost you yet?
H is a great hairdresser. She's goooood. I mean, really, really good. So my question is this: Do I trust her enough to cut my hair? Am I admitting any defeat by allowing her to cut my hair? Do I bring up the issue of my husband? Am I fucking batshit crazy to ask her to cut my hair? I mean, the woman did molest my husband, for cripe's sake. She licked his forehead. She left bruises with a belt the first time she met us.
On several occasions, K, B, and my husband have suggested that I go to her to get my hair cut. Just in the course of the conversation. But I just don't know.
Help.

And you thought your life was dramatic.

The Hard Sell

I've been thinking about this for awhile, and haven't really said much to anyone, until recently. What's funny is that some of my bloggy friends knew before my IRL friends.

I totally have baby fever.
Bad.

My girl will be 4 in July. I didn't want my children to be so far apart in age, but I'm sure it will be fine, no matter how it works out. My brother and I are 10 years apart in age. That made of interesting Christmas mornings. I mean, by the time he was 'getting' the concept of Santa, I didn't believe anymore. I was a nice sister, and totally played along, but still.

When I was little, and still lived in New York, holidays were different. Everyone went to my grandparents' homes, and I saw all my maternal cousins. The house was full of running and giggles. It was glorious.

When we moved here, I lost that. And I had siblings for awhile, when my parents were foster parents, and it was wonderful. But it just wasn't the same. Which is okay. It was just different. But I made the decision early on that I wanted to have at least three children, and I wanted them to grow up together. I wanted a house full of running and giggles, for Christmas Day, and every other day.

I've had baby fever for about 6 months. But, as some of you know, I have no health insurance. And yes, we are financially stable, but that could change pretty quickly, and also? Paying for the prenatal care and birth of a child is super expensive, damn it. Plus, with my heart issues, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to be uninsured during a pregnancy. So, the economy has put off Baby #2, which sounds ridiculous, but I've got to be sure that I can financially take care of my first child before I bring another one into the world.

************************

Christmas Day was nice. We ate all day, we relaxed, we laughed. My daughter got lots of individual time with almost everyone she loves. But something felt off (besides the lack of alcohol for me-I just kept forgetting to drink!!). The next morning, my mom called me, and asked me if I felt like something was missing. I told her that I guess that might have been what I was feeling-something was missing, not off. She said she kept thinking about it, and finally realized what was missing: the sound of children.

And she's right.

There's a sadness for me that comes along with realizing this: My children will be older by the time they have cousins (my brother's only 20, my sister is 12!). And, again, it's okay, but it still sorta sucks. My girl doesn't know what she is missing. She has cousins on her dad's side of the family. Cousins she has never met. 2 uncles, one she has met ONCE, and another that she has never met. (His side of the family is not close at all) It makes me sad that our families are not close. Why aren't my maternal cousins involved in my life at all? Why has it been 10 years since any of my maternal uncles have talked to me? Why can't my girl have the sense of a large family like I did when I was little? Although, look where it got me. They were in my life when I was little, but now they aren't, and all it does is bring me sadness, so what good is it?

I think this is probably why I try so hard to spend time with my close friends who have children. My girl loves all of them, and is so very happy when she gets to be with them. Her face lights up, her eyes shine, and she acts like a silly little girl. It's wonderful. It's not the same as having cousins in your life, but all of these children are family to me, and to my girl. That's all that matters.

And I hope the next child (and maybe #3?) will feel the same. I hope none of my children ever feel that their family is small, loosely-tied, cold, or missing something. I will do all I can to keep my children close to one another, no matter how many years apart they are in age. I will continue to encourage the sense of family between Grace and my friends' children.

*************************

I am probably becoming one of those nutty wives. I have brought up babies several times the past couple of weeks. I have begged, pleaded, bargained. I have talked calmly and rationally. I have tried to suppress these feelings, but I really can't any longer. 2009 needs to be the year of baby #2. And I do realize it will be hard, since I'm in grad school and my husband is a workaholic.
I have seen him roll his eyes at me. I have heard him sigh when I say anything even remotely baby related. And it's not that he doesn't want more children. It's just the insurance thing.
I really don't want to be the wife that does the hard sell, and beats her husband down about it soooo much that he just lies down on the bed and says 'Have at it-get yourself knocked up.'
But I feel strongly about expanding our family.
Does that make me nutty?

Take THAT, Bah Humbug!

I am my mother's daughter, in many ways. I love Christmas. I love to buy things for others, and I really believe that it is better to give than to receive. I don't wear Christmas sweaters (my mom has one that she wears any time she gets cold, regardless of the season) and I gave up my Christmas socks a very long time ago. I love to decorate my house, inside and out, but I don't cover my front yard in Santas, deer, snowmen, etc. I don't listen to the Christmas station non-stop, but you can find me humming a Christmas song.

My husband is Bah Humbug. I mean, REALLY. Christmas is always interesting in our house, because I'm all jingle bells, trim the tree, ho!ho!ho! and he's all f- this, if another needle falls off that tree I will shove it out the back door, who the hell needs presents anyway?


It's really quite interesting, let me assure you.


Anyway, several years ago at work, an old lady Bah Humbug was in the office directly across the hall from mine. She said she loved Christmas, and even put this stupid motion-sensored wreath on her door that scared the living shit out of me when it would start bouncing against the door and sing The 12 Days of Christmas or whatever. Actually, come to think of it, she decorated her whole office.

But she was still so damn crabby.


While I appreciated her decorating efforts, it drove me crazy to hear her mumbling and grumbling about her clients and 'f- this' and 'what the hell?' that. Not that I am all fa-la-la during this time, because I too get stressed (I am far from done with my Christmas shopping right now-Ack!), but come on.


So here's what I did, and I really urge you to do it sometime, because- Squeee! So.Much.Fun. :


I took all the little papers from my hole-puncher, and everyone else's hole-puncher in the building, and I filled her umbrella with them. She always bitched when it rained, and always grabbed her umbrella. I put it back where I found it, by the back door, and waited.


I actually wasn't there the day she whipped it out and dumped 100,000 teeny tiny circles on her head. BUT!!, the next morning, when I got to the office, I saw them all over the ground around the back door, and I laughed until I cried. And a co-worker, whose office was right next to the back door, saw it happen, and said that her reaction was classic-she cussed and yelled and stomped off to her car, covered in those circles.


That morning, when she got to work, I heard her making her way down the hallway to her office, grumbling about something. When she got to her office door, I asked her if she liked her 'snowstorm' the day before. As I tried to keep my giggles in, she walked in her office, slammed the door, setting off her motion-detector wreath.

My hubby being a good sport and letting me photograph him in antlers & a Bah Humbug sign!

Karma is a bitch, but a stupid one

I was standing in the school parking lot Wednesday night chatting with a classmate. I glanced towards my jeep, and saw something lying in front of it. We walked over, and what could it be? A million pieces of broken taillight from someone else's car. Someone had backed into my jeep. The damage is so minimal-a couple of teeny scratches on the bumper. It's not noticeable, or even worth mentioning. So why, you ask, am I mentioning it?
Well, for one, it's the Social Work parking lot. Meaning, someone with a kind soul and a need to cover their ass took off without leaving a note. I realize I just said there was no damage, but come on-at least leave me a note, saying " I'm sorry I was a dumb asshat". Although, I don't need a note to tell me this, fellow social worker.
As I was discussing the fact that I would be driving around the parking lot next week with my eyes peeled for a car with a broken taillight, I realized:
Karma is a bitch.

See, several years ago, a friend and I (and it was the 'love-to-get-drunk-with' type of friend, not the 'if-your-world-falls-apart-tomorrow-I-will-be-there-to-hold-you-up' type of friend) went out for drinks. We went to a local bar a couple of miles away that kept business going by catering to truckers (what with the titty bar next door) & to poor drunk schmucks like us, by serving $.25 'you call it' shots. I loved that place. I could spend $5 on one beer and a tray full of tequila shots, dance on my chair, and call it a night. So that's what we did.
Except, we had no one to drive us home.
So, dumb asshat schmuck that I am....I drove.
Please don't alert MADD or DADD. I assure you that this was one of the only times, and the last time I drove drunk (just typing that gives me the chills).

I drove home rather well, if I do say so myself: didn't run any lights, drove the speed limit, followed all rules of the road. All was well until we turned into our neighborhood. There were two ways to get to my house through our neighborhood, and I intended to go one way. However, we both remembered that if we went the other way, we could drive by the drunk assholes who always hung out in their driveway, screaming obscenities at everyone who drove by. Seeing as we were drunk ourselves, we figured we could beat them at their own game. We were feeling feisty.

Here's where the true drunk intellect comes in:

I was already going one way. So, instead of pulling into someone's driveway, backing up, and going the other way, I decided that I was going to put it in reverse, in the middle of the road, without looking to see if anyone was behind me. Lucky for me, no one was behind me. However, the car parked along the curb did not fare well when I backed into it. Going like 20mph. I looked back and said 'What did I hit? Oh, the curb."

I did not even see the car.

We survey the damage after we pull into my driveway. Holy hell, the rear end on the driver's side was annihilated! So, we decide we need to see what it was that I hit. We find a sober person (Why didn't we think to do this before I drove??) to drive us in an undamaged car back to the 'scene of the crime'. At this point, I didn't think there actually had been a crime.

When we get there, we discover that I backed into a car. A car parked along the curb, already in bad shape, with twelve different shades of primer all over it, riddled with dents and dings. And now, with a caved-in driver's door. They were going to have to pull a Dukes of Hazard to get into this car, if it was indeed driveable.

I can giggle now, thinking of the shape this car was in, with this huge dent in the side. But then? Oh, I wasn't giggling. And I didn't do the right thing. I didn't leave a note, I didn't knock on the apartment door, I didn't call the police. I didn't even tell my parents. Oh, and I attempted to lie about it to my husband. Wow, can I please get the 'Citizen of the Year' award? Jeez.

My car was fixed, the damaged car was eventually towed for being in the street, and all was well. Whew. I also said about 40 Hail Marys and prayed for my soul.

And now I am laughing, because yeah, Karma is a bitch, but she sure is a stupid one.:

(Whispering) A few scratches on my bumper? Wow, I made out!

November's lofty goal

I bought the 30 Day Shred last Friday. I intended to start it last weekend, but was caught up in a freakin' research paper. Now that that is out of the way, I have two remaining research papers this semester, but I can't keep putting off exercise.

So, here's my lofty goal:

I am going to do the 30 Day Shred for 30 days! I plan on starting on Sunday, the 2nd, so I will do it through December 1st. AND! I might actually post pictures of myself. Or not. I don't know. Ick. The thought of my muffin top in all it's jiggly whiteness, for all of you beloveds to see.....just, ICK.

But seriously, 30 days. Every damn day. Let's see how I do. I've read a ton of bloggers' posts and tweets about how kick-ass it is, and also, that it kicks your ass. I'm game.

Anyone want to take the challenge with me? It's only about $12 at Borders and Target.

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

(Sidenote: Happy Halloweeeeeeen!)

Ashamed

People, I am ashamed of myself.

I fell in love on Tuesday.

No, not with another person.

Or another dog.

Look, I love clothes. My guilty pleasure: great necklaces with equally-great bracelets. Closely following: shoes. Oh, and purses. Oh, and books. Definitely books.

I don't shop at Nordstrom. Or Macy's. Nothing against those places, but honestly, I am a bit uncomfortable with the rich feel of them. I feel, well, out of place! But....

I walked by Anthropologie. I have driven by it before, and sorta "ooooooo"-ed and "aaaahhh"-ed but I have never gone in the store, let alone walk by it. But this time, I actually walked by it, and it literally SUCKED ME IN. Holy shit, the doors were open, and right in front was this beauty, and now I WANT IT. I even tried it on. I don't even know what I was thinking!! (How about "That is soooooo me"?)

Why do I feel guilty, you ask? Well, because the price tag is just "ouch". And I can't really justify buying it. I mean, really? But then I get all mesmerized by the embroidery and the soft material, and the gorgeous neckline, and.....

holy shit, it's $198!!!!

So, besides allowing you to drool with me (seriously, click on the link, and check it out up close. The back is gorgeous too!), I posted this stupid thing to ask those of you who might know:

Is it even possible that this dress would actually be in my size when it's put on clearance? Are the clearance racks at this place worth going through? I mean, will this dress even been on the clearance rack? I must have this damn dress.

Can you feel the love?

Although I am a crazy busy woman right now, there are several things that are keeping me somewhat sane right now:



1. The First 48-I know I've mentioned this before, but seriously, if you haven't watched this show yet, you are missing out.

2. Honey Almond Black boba tea-I get one every Wednesday, after I struggle through the hell that is my 2nd class. This stuff is just lovely, hot or cold.

3. The weather!! It is fanfuckintastic these days!! I have my top off on my Jeep (Pervs! You were thinking I meant something else, huh? Especially my confession, right?), and it makes me smile every day.

4. The last of the summer fruit-peaches, blueberries, and watermelon.

5. Chocolate-covered sunflower seeds.

6. My husband's sense of humor-Granted, sometimes I want to throttle him, smother him with his pillow, or flick his nose, but lately, his smart ass stuff has really made me laugh.

7. My brother-Having him live with us has been fun so far. He makes me laugh, he's easy going, and I adore the guy.

8. My daughter-Here's a rundown of the things she has told me lately:

~"Mom, you are SUCH a beatdown"

~"Let's share"

~"When I grow up, I will be the mommy, and you will be my baby, and I will put you in time-out if you say 'Shut your pie hole'"

~"Can I get married when I get bigger?"

~"Mommy, I love you."

~"Momma, you make me happy."

~"You are so smart to go to school."

~"I told the dogs that if they better stop barking, or you are going to kick their ass."



Yes, she has my mouth. I do really well around her, but sometimes a 'shit', 'damn', or 'ass' slips out, and guess who apparently sucks it up like a sponge??? That's my girl!

What's keeping you sane lately??

More evidence that I need a life insurance policy, or....I must have a death wish

I'm not sure why I continue to tell all of you how much of a complete and total klutz I am, but here I am, about to give you a good belly laugh on this beautious (in my area, anyway) Wednesday.

I apparently have some deep-rooted death wish.

My hubby has a truck with a 6 inch lift on it. I wear flip flops all the time. My driveway has got to be the most slippery thing I have ever been in contact with. It is also slanted. Really slanted.

How are these three things related, you ask?

Get ready to laugh.

My hubby parked in the driveway. I opened the door to get out. I put one foot on the step, held on to the 'Oh shit' handle, and stretched my other leg out to step down onto the driveway. Flip flopped foot made contact with driveway. Briefly. All weight put on this leg. Flip flopped foot touching driveway decides to stop all contact with the driveway. I fall out of the truck, flat on my right side. Hit head on step, bend wrist back trying to catch myself. This all happens in 2.4 seconds, but there is enough time for my brother, who is standing on the other side of the truck, to think I dropped my purse, and come walking over to my side, only to find me, not my purse. There is enough time for my girl to watch the entire thing, and say "Mom, why did you do that?". There is enough time for my husband to just sit there and shake his head at his klutzy wife. And me?
Oh, I just laid there, laughing at myself, because really, what else can I do at this point?