Give me shoes or give me death!

My wonderful, little, 3 year old daughter loves shoes! She loves them so much that she requested boots and the new fuzzy Crocs, just like Dad's, only pink, for her birthday. I am wondering where she got this intense desire for shoes! LOL! I wasn't aware this type of gene existed. When I was around 5 or 6, I was forced by the evil doctor to wear "special" shoes because I had no arch. My parents had to make an actual appointment with the shoestore for me to get fitted. We got to be escorted into our very own special shoeroom. I always had the same nice man fit me with the most HORRENDOUS shoes I have ever seen! I had tennies that looked like red, white and blue bowling shoes. There are pictures so I know they existed! Because of this arch problem, I was unable to wear sandals. The horror! We lived in Texas and everyone was wearing sandals. Jelly sandals, flip flops, thong sandals, every kind of sandals! Not me. I remember vividly crying, screaming and acting like a fool at 7 years of age because, damnit all, I wanted sandals. Cheap ones from Kmart, I didn't care. Well, wouldn't you know? The ugly shoestore had finally managed to make some hideously unfashionable sandals! My mom, tired of my ranting, raving, teeth gnashing behavior, caved and spent, what I am sure was a fortune on these sandals. White with a couple of buckles and that lovely arch bump. I wore the hell out of them. As the years passed, I liked shoes even more. I could wear whatever I desired, and I did. From expensive tennis shoes to lime green Kenneth Cole's, my shoe wardrobe paralleled that of Imelda's. I am still quite the shoe woman and I can see my Mia is following in my footsteps, LOL! She plays in her shoes as well as mine. Who can ask for more than that?

Insert sad face here

I am sad for my friend! A man she loved dearly has disappointed her to the point of leaving him. This isn't to say there aren't extenuating circumstances that need to be addressed but you always feel a sense of loss when you split with someone. I feel it too. When I receive email from her, I can feel her pain, the sense of loneliness that comes from leaving someone close. We have all been there, hearts aching, eyes brimming with tears that come as soon as you hit the pillow, an empty feeling in the pit of our stomachs. Only time can heal this type of wound, however, our hearts don't tell time and are unaware of the pain that every ounce of our body feels every time we pass a restaurant we ate at, a movie we once watched together or a song on the radio that was our favorite. I can only hope that my friend and her man can work things out. That he gets the help that he desperately needs to in order to maintain a healthy relationship and healthy family life. That he can make her happy til the end of their days. I am hoping for him...

Oh, the woes!

Mia is 2 1/2. I am thinking it is time to stop paying for diapers and let's potty train! What the hell was I thinking? I don't have a Potty PhD and apparently never will. This has been more complicated than trying to figure out whether we should have kids or not. I thought the first order of business should be panty buying. Not just an ordinary thong will do for a toddler! Off we went to Toys R' Us for big girl panties. I let her peruse the display of every known cartoon character that ever appeared on underwear. She, of course, picked the Elmo ones, didn't even need a second look. She calls them, "Mo DD pannies." It is very cute. Next, we get a potty chair and even a "Mo DD" potty seat for the big potty, just trying to cover all the bases. If she wants to go in a bush, I will buy one of those too. I stayed home every day for a week trying to get the potty training taken care of. It went pretty well. She told me when she was ready to pee and I set her on the big potty. She went, got a sticker and moved on. Then, one day she decided no more Mo DD pannies! Lo and behold, we were not pottying in the potty anymore. I felt like a failure. My 2 year old can't, or won't, pee in the big potty, not even with snack bribes or a brand new Coach bag. Nothing. So, here I sit with a case of diapers and daughter that tells me when she needs a diaper change. No, worries, she still has a couple of years before kindergarten so maybe I will still have time.

Working on my fitness...

Up until this past week, I was visiting my local Y three times a week. A fellow mommy persuaded me to go sit on a bike with her for 20 minutes. Twenty minutes isn't really anything. For one thing, I never broke a sweat. Truly the only thing that happened from this semi-workout, is that Mia would become hysterical in the Kid Zone nursery. She was getting the workout, not me. Granted, I don't think a raging crying fit burns many calories. Eventually, I started going alone, sometimes meeting up and sometimes not. I found that I can do an hour of pretty good cardio without feeling like I am going to die. It feels good to sweat and my skin looks great! Well, I am also supposed to be lifting weights for, what my trainer calls, "toning." I think he is full of crap! My boobs are already big enough, thank you, very much. It is nice to be at the Y first thing in the morning. The only people there are elderly men that can use the Arc machine better than me, the fitness freaks(you know the ones, tight clothes, run for an hour at the highest speed on the treadmill) and firemen. Hmmm... I am hoping that if I keel over on the Arc, that at the very least a nice looking firemen comes to rescue me.

Money, money, money

Yesterday, my beloved and I were at our home away from home, or as it is called in the retail world, the Coleman outlet. It is a place that commonly finds us dropping large sums of money all in the pursuit of the most excellent camping experience. I abhor camping, unless there is a good firm, king size bed and a spacious bathroom within the "tent." Anyway, I was standing around watching Mia dismantle the insulated cup display, when I saw money laying in front of the cash register area. I walked over and could clearly see that it was a $100 bill! I don't see them regularly so I looked at it and told the check out guy that someone lost their money. He seemed to remember it was a guy that bought a stove and had a wad of bills. He was long gone. He put the money aside and told his manager and they agreed to hold it out, for when the guy came back. While the thought of keeping the money never entered my mind, my question is will the guy think that he lost $100 at the Coleman store? What will they do with it, if he doesn't come back? Honestly, I don't think that the employee should keep it but I don't know if I deserve it either. It wasn't long ago that I was sitting in the school parking lot and watched some money blow out of a mom's pocket. I rushed out to get it before it blew away. It was a $20 bill. The lady checked her pocket and realized she also was missing a $5 bill. I ran back to her car and there it was. I gave it to her and she was thankful. It seems that I have been finding quite a bit of money lately. It would seem that my honesty is being tested. I believe that I have passed and am wondering what the next test will be. Lord, please don't let it be patience!

Boycott

I am officially boycotting summer! There are many reasons for boycotting summer. The first reason, it is so incredibly hot in Kansas that your clothes stick to all parts of your body. You begin to sweat right after you get out of the shower. In fact, sometimes I am unsure as to what I am towelling off. Another valid reason for boycotting summer is that Kansas is landlocked, no water to cool off in. Of course, there are lakes, but they are brown and we are forced to use them for our water supply. Plus, there is always that shark factor, you know what I mean. Of course, there are rivers, but they are brown and frequently have bodies floating in them and I don't mean for a leisurely float either. Another reason that I don't like summer is that I don't like the sun. I will wear a hat and cover my entire my body in clothes and sunscreen, all of which adds to that sweat factor. Very unpleasant. Therefore, I am appealing to Nancy Pelosi to sign some kind of Congressional veto to end summer. Maybe she can huff and puff and blow it away with all of her hot air.

ANTZ

The other afternoon, I walked into the kitchen for a drink. What I saw was shocking, to say the least. The floor was moving! Upon closer inspection, I could see some very large ants roaming around. They had entered from the window, which I closed immediately. Mia walked in and screamed, "Ants!" at the top of her lungs. I tried to step on them but the little suckers wouldn't die. I resorted to pulling out the vacuum and Hoovering them up. I have been keeping the window shut and no more ants have appeared. That is until... I hear this little voice, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Ants!" I rush in to assess the ant amount and sure enough, with the window closed, there are still ants coming in to visit. Mia is hysterical and begins randomly stomping on the defenseless ants with her pink Elmo shoes. It doesn't work so I smash them and remove their lifeless carcasses with a paper towel. I will have to wash the floor tomorrow as some of the remains lay embedded in the grout. What a fun way to start the day!

We want you as a new recruit!

I was in the middle of making jambalaya pasta, when the phone rang. Of course, I was removing the limbs and innards of a shrimp so my hands were nice and clean. This sexy, smooth, dark chocolate voice asked for me. I answered that it was me. Dark Chocolate told me that I had been attending classes at the local junior college. Yeah, so? It was at that point he became Sgt. Dark Chocolate, local Army recruiter. I offered my first comment, that I was too old. Not a problem, I still have a couple of more years to go before I was considered "too old" or to deaf to hear the drill seargent yelling in my face. I mentioned that I am overweight. I am told that weight is relative. Hmm... Well, if you think that you are going to get my fat ass before dawn to run, you are high and the army needs to get you in for drug testing ASAP. Next, I tried that I was married with 2 kids. Still not a problem. Ok, well I have to drop my son at school by 815, so I will see you after all physical activity has been done for the day. I guess they have bootcamp daycare because I don't think any of these people want to watch a 2 year old. Finally, I broke it to Sgt. Dark Chocolate that I was injured on the job at a correctional facility and would not be able to participate in any activity where there were teenagers yelling at me about what I could and could not do, after all , that had been my job at the prison. There was no reply. I thanked him for calling and told him that I had to return to dismantling shrimp for my dinner and have a nice day. Guess I will talk to him again in a few weeks.

Goodwill Games

It is my own opinion that I dress pretty well. I think that my son and daughter dress pretty well, too. I don't know if you find this shocking or not, but most all of our clothes come from Goodwill. I consider it a game to find stylish and in near perfect condition items at a place where most people send their clothes, not buy them. I don't buy anything stained or torn. If a button is missing, I search the inside for a replacement, that's what they are for, after all. You would be surprised at the shirts I have gotten that are missing the button when it is RIGHT there! Are people that lazy? I have seen all types of different brands at Goodwill. Some of my finds include, Polo, Oshkosh, Old Navy, Gap, Coach, and just about everything else. I can't justify spending $40 for a dress for my daughter but I have no problem spending $1.99 and that is before my 10% discount. I also find all kinds of decorative stuff. In the corner cupboard in my kitchen, I display bright colored pieces of decorative glass. Almost all came from Goodwill, and were under $5. Next time you see me, take a good look. Chances are my outfit cost about $6 and some change. Makes you think next time you go shopping and shell out $50 for some jeans.

Zzzzzz

I admit it, I take a nap every, and I mean, every afternoon. My daughter lays down at 1230 and I lay down at 1. Sounds a little ridiculous for a grown woman to take a nap but I don't care. Let me give you my average night. I go to bed around 10pm. I fall asleep instantly. Around 3am, I wake up and spend roughly the next 1-2 hours thinking. I am thinking about everything. Is Mia breathing? Does Max have clean uniforms? Does the oil in the cars need to be changed? Why is Peach so darn fat and why does she have to sleep between my legs? Icky needs a bath, he reeks and yet here he is on my pillow. You know, good, useless stuff. I don't want to get up and I can't turn the light on to read, so there I lay. I don't watch the clock until I know that in order not to be a total zombie, I have to go back to sleep. I pick a time around 5 minutes from the time it is and shut my eyes and open them again til that time. At that precise time, I close my eyes and go back to sleep til I have to get up. Weird, I know, at least I have some sort of goal though. I fall out of bed around 545 to start the day, already tired. It is an unfortunate situation. I have personally hung out with Abe and the beaver. Their desire for me to take medication for this problem was made clear. I have been there, done that with 2 kinds of sleep aids and not much changed. Until I find something that works, I am stuck. So, don't bother me between 1-2, I am buried under the covers with a fat beagle and a stinky poodle.

A good friend is hard to find

I have a friend I will call "N." I didn't ask her if I could use her real name so am settling for using her inital. I met N in the 7th grade. I remember her vividly. N was tall, had nice, wavy hair and always was dressed nicely in a dress. I also remember her walking home with me and loving my mom's chocolate chip cookies. Anyway, I was in school with N til about sophomore year, when she moved to a rival high school. I missed her and wasn't sure what really happened to her. Fast forward to late last year. I was surfing Classmates.com and found her! I was thrilled and emailed her at once. We spoke on the phone and exchanged more email. She sent pictures as did I. When I got her photo email, I was almost scared to look. Did she look the way I remember? Do I look years older than her? I downloaded her photo and waited to see N. WOW! N was a woman and a really great looking one at that. Not that I was expecting to see N as a 7th grader anymore, but I was shocked to see she had grown up. It was actually kind of sad for me to know that we had missed so much of each others lives. N and I regularly keep in touch. She has a man that treats her the way she deserves and lives life to the fullest. I am glad to have found her. Good friendships are hard to find.

HELLO?!

I was in Walmart the other day, doing my usual shopping. It is early in the am, as I don't like crowds. There are very few people shopping at 830 on a weekday. I was blocking the way and a man tried to pass me. I said excuse me and looked RIGHT at him. He looked RIGHT at me and walked on with his cart, that had a huge bunch of paper towels in it. What is odd about this, is that this man is my UNCLE, has been for almost 38 years. He is not known for being one of the smarter men in the family. He wears velcro shoes, with brown socks and shorts, not a fashionabale guy either. He used to work for the same prison I worked at. I asked them not to hold it against me. His nickname, revealed to me in my interview, was Barney, after a certain Mr. Fife. He frequently let his tilt radio tilt until main compound control would have to dispatch guys to see if he was alright. He was, just oblivious. I guess things don't change much.

You had your hand, where?

Admittedly, I don't cook with shrimp that often. Once in a blue moon or blue vein, it seems. I am making a Rachael Ray recipe, jambalaya pasta. I didn't put the name in quotation marks because she had a lame name for it and there is only so much of her that I can stand. She doesn't have the smile of Giada or the sexual vibe of Paula Deen. My husband and daughter are big fans but not for the same reason. Mia loves "Ray" crackers. You can't find a box that doesn't have "Ray" on them. My husband thinks she is hot. I guess if you think that a flat chest, wide hips and a propensity to call soup, "stoup" and sandwiches, "sammies," is hot than "Ray" is your gal. Ok, so back to my shrimp story. I like them and will eat them. Cleaning them is another story. First off, I got them out of the bag and they still have their little legs. Slimy, but they had to use them once or twice, so the thought of my yanking them off and discarding them is a little sad. The little guys aren't known for being the most attractive sea creature, I'm betting. Next, is that horrible, disgusting, blue vein in its back. I know, Alton Brown, told me what it is, and that it can't hurt you. Truth is, do I want to eat what the shrimp ate? Nope. So, with not a lot of time, I set out to remove what I fondly call the "shrimp chute." This is not a nice process. I have already cut the shrimp in half, very dumb, because now I am going to have so much chute that it will be everywhere! There were 24 shrimp in that bag and I am wearing 48 pieces of nasty, blue, stringy shrimp stuff all over my hands and my white T shirt. Smart. All the mess doesn't stop there, I have to dice chicken later. My hands should need a good scalding after this meal.

Yum, yum

When I was in junior high, there was an ice cream place called Swensons about 2 blocks away from the school. It was based out of San Francisco and all of the goodies had names like Coit Tower and other places that I have still never heard of. The place was really neat with lots of plants, stained glass and a train that ran on a track around the ceiling. LOTS of people went there and it was a fun place for a date, even though I didn't do that yet. They had sooo many good things to eat! One of my favorites was an ice cream soda that had a scoop of ice cream precariously sitting on the edge of tall glass. I never knew whether I should slurp down the soda or eat the ice cream before it melted into a huge puddle at the foot of my glass. Another favorite item was the "Earthquake." It was 8 scoops of whatever flavor ice cream you wanted and then covered with 8 flavors! We always took a couple of my friends when we ordered that. Sometimes when I got a good report card or just whenever she felt like it, my mom would take me to Swensons after school. It was a great treat. A few years later, Swensons closed down. When we went to the Springs a couple of years ago, it was a camping store. Very sad.

Titanic

I'm sure everyone and their dog has seen "Titanic," with its amazing recreation of the ship that wasn't supposed to sink and the real story of Rose and Jack. I love Kate Winslet, she doesn't care is she is fat or thin, she is what she is. Leo, on the other hand, is a bit different, with his unusual choice of movies to star in and endless desire to save the earth by recycling whatever he can. Good for him. They both looked great in the movie even though Leo still retains that rather feminine quality. Of course, Rose and Jack weren't even real passengers on the Titanic. They just made the story more interesting by getting together, I guess. I saw a Titanic exhibit today and let me just say I would rather marry that weird Billy Zane than go back again. First off, it was waaaayyy too expensive. It was waaaayyy too short. If I had been alone, I could have been done in 20 minutes, and that includes reading all of the signs saying what piece of the ship was in front of me. The exhibit had different items the passengers had, menus, clothing items etc. Nothing very interesting. The only detail I remember was that it would cost $48,000 in today's money to have a first class stateroom! That was only $2500 in 1900's money but even that was alot. I guess old Leo can afford it, I'd be in steerage, no possibility of a rendevous in the back of an old car.

Hungry cat

YOU MAKE ME SICK!

YOU MAKE ME SICK!

This is a photo from my ninth grade prom. I wasn't sure I was even going to go. One day, a guy walked me home. It wasn't on his way so I had that early 13 year old intuition that he was going to pop the question. "Will you go to the prom with me?" He was fishing ALOT, but I played dumb. The next day, was asked by 2 other guys. I new I was HOT! At least I knew I was going. I chose lucky bachelor number 2 and waited for the big day. He was the tallest of the group. Not that it really mattered, none of them drove, shaved and it was doubtful that a couple of them had begun puberty. The big night arrived and I spent 2 hours trying to curl my hair into the beautiful wad of curls that you see. My head was going to catch fire if I stood a mile from an open flame. He and his dad picked me up and we were delivered at a really nice restaurant. I was impressed that he paid with his dad's credit card, but it still didn't mean he was going to be able to touch any part of my taffeta covered body. We get to the dance and I dance with everyone but my date. I know, bad. His dad drove me home. He actually left us in the driveway and drove off! The memory of the evening ends right there, but I believe that I ran screaming for my front door, yelling to my mom that he was trying to grope me. Believe it or not, we stayed friends for a long time after this date. Today, he is a lawyer, happily married with 2 little girls that will eventually wear taffeta and get groped by a sex crazed 9th grade boy.

The Physical Part 2

So, luckily everything was normal with the female tests. However, the nurse says there are some levels of my blood that are "slightly elevated." She gives me the numbers for cholesterol and trigylerides. Who was she kidding? I was off the charts on both of these things and about to go on a Chicago trip and consume everything native to the area ie. PIZZA. I agreed to come in after the trip, I wasn't about to limit what I ate on a vacation. In Chicago, I did eat everything. Pizza, mozzarella sticks, loads of buttered bread and a filet mignon that melted in my mouth. I was in food heaven! I still talk to my wonderful husband about how awesome the trip was. We saw the beluga whales, dolphins, Plastinated corpses, but the FOOD is what I remember the most. Oh, and this incredible purse that I lovingly carry every day. If you get down to it, it was a weekend of cow. Great steaks, good cheese and a Coach bag! After the trip, I went to the doctor and he gave me samples of Lipitor. It makes me feel funny. My hands feel swollen, I am sluggish and my butt has gotten huge, but I am betting that that is from all of the cheesecake, caviar and eggs Benedict I ate on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building.

The Physical

I was due for a physical. Considering I can't remember the last time I had one, I figured it was due. I always go for the female stuff but never for blood work or anything exciting like that. So, I showed up at the doctor at 830 after fasting for 12 hours. I was ready to eat! No coffee did not help. Blood pressure is normal, a good start since I was off the charts when I was pregnant. The nurse hands me the stylish paper towel shirt and skirt and actually tells me to throw it away after the doctor left. I guess she was expecting me to keep it to wear it another time. The doctor comes in about 45 minutes after I put on the getup. He does the breast check first, I hate that the most of the whole exam. I have known my doctor for 10 years and still feel like he is pushing the limits by touching my chest. It is just icky, we don't have that friendly of a relationship. I don't make him turn his head and cough. When that is done, he moves on to the part of the exam where I am supposed to relax. Whatever... It is hard to relax when there is a hand squeezing my ovaries. He says, "Bye," and I can get dressed. I am off to be drained of blood for my cholesterol tests. Three hours later, I am set free from the doctor's office. I immediately head for Taco Bell.

Peek a Boo

Dear Sherri

Dear Sherri,

I can't believe that we met while we were in the 7th grade. You were kind of a nerdy girl, with your Coke bottle thick glasses. It didn't take long before we were always together. Do you remember how short you were? I wasn't what you could call tall, but I still towered over you. It seemed like the boys that you liked always liked me. I'm sorry about that, but if it is any consolation, I didn't like them anyway and tried to get you to be more social so you could expand your horizons and meet someone nice. Do you remember how we used to go to your house after school and watch "Dance Party USA?" We knew all of the people on that show. They were real, like us, zits and all. We used to go skating alot, that was fun. Remember how I was trying to learn to skate backwards and fell over something and broke my wrist? That sucked. I bet you don't remember how every time we went to the mall, you had to stop and eat at McDonald's. Well, after junior high came high school, a time that was traumatic for everyone. You had a new neighbor, a guy that became your boyfriend. I thought he was an asshole, sorry about that. When you were with him, you smoked, drank and had sex. It made me think he controlled you because you couldn't do anything without asking him. I can't say I was jealous because it was apparent that he was not a nice guy. I could tell when he scrawled "BITCH" on my locker. I thought he was a short, zitty little f***er and his face really hurt my hand when I had to hit him, sorry about that too, but it was hit or be hit and I never took his shit. We stopped being friends and when you broke up with him you would call me to talk. I always listened but never forgave him. I married and moved away and we had little contact, and I am sorry about that. Sometimes you called, sometimes I called but things had changed. Now, we are approaching our 20 year reunion! I have mixed feelings about going, of course. Am I too fat, too gray, too uneducated for these people we used to call our friends? Will Laurie Milazzo acknowledge me or be a snobby bitch, like she used to be? I don't know, I guess I will see when the reunion comes around. What I really want to say is how much I loved you, like a sister, and think about you all the time. I want to say I'm sorry for so many things. Even though I hated your boyfriend, I didn't hate you. Even though we both made mistakes, I never forgot you. What I wouldn't give to see you at the reunion. But I can't. Sherri, why did you have to die at 25? Why did breast cancer have to ravage your already tiny body and leave a grieving husband, family and friend? Why? I can't help but feel guilty that I missed so many things, so many opportunities to make amends with you. I just wasn't a big enough person, I guess, and I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I pray that when I get to Heaven that I will once again be your friend. Until then, I will still think about you and never stop.

Love,
Christie

This was a very hard post for me. As I sit here, in tears, I am reminded of Mitch Albom's book, "For One More Day." It is a great story and I had the privilege of hearing him read a selection when he did a book signing here in town. It is a short book but as all of his books do, makes you think about yourself and the people you love.

Skinny Dipping

When I was an underdeveloped girl of 10, my parents joined a nudist club. Notice I didn't say "sex club" as one of my dearest's friends so bluntly put it. It was a place in the country with a couple of pools and a scary, green pond with a rope swing over it. I wasn't the only kid, there were several, so it wasn't like I was hanging around a bunch naked adults checking out the parts. Well, actually, I was, if you haven't seen a fat guy with warts under his arms, you aren't missing much. I don't remember thinking it was a big deal, no pun intended.

I had alot of fun and learned to swim and dive. One guy, Ron, taught me to dive. He wore 2 watches. Not sure why. I remember that I accidentally stepped on his you know what when I was trying to get out of the pool. Everything is so slippery in the water, you know.

Then there was Hoss. Where do I start??? He had hair that was super long and curly. He had about 3 teeth. He always wore work boots and a tool belt, that's it. What he really needed was some duct tape to secure a particular part of his anatomy to his leg. You never know what can happen when you are using a nail gun.

We moved to Colorado Springs that same year. It isn't easy to be a nudist in CO, you can freeze off things that you might need, just by stepping outside.

So, I was a nudist for a couple of months in my early years. I don't think that it made me a bad person, nor do I think that it made me a hussy. It didn't make me comfortable with my body either. I don't hang around naked much anymore. Not only does it scare me, but the mailman nearly had a heart attack.

A bit about me...

I was born, of course, early in the am on 11 August 1969 in Dallas, TX. My mom recalls telling the doctor that there was something moving on the wall. She was heavily sedated and doesn't remember me popping out of the birth canal and into the crazy world. She was a sahm. For those of you with no children, this is stay at home mom. Get with it. My dad worked hard and we had one car. My mom used to make me walk for what seemed like miles to go to Kmart. I hate Kmart and that walk is surely the reason. I had a nice childhood. My parents loved me, I had lots of friends, played outside til dark and never once thought that anyone might try and snatch me away. Those were the good, old days...

Writing

I have always wanted to write. I was always told that you need to finish school, get a degree or no one will hire you, not even for freelancing. Ok, so I haven't tried to sell myself to any on the various rags here in Wichita. I shouldn't say that, since I might try. Anyway, here I am, on my own personal blog and damn it feels great! No one can censor me, no one can look down their nose and say I suck. So, here we go!