tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68624323892935711872024-03-19T05:36:27.843-04:00Superior NonsenseAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-71792196645854759272015-02-19T15:47:00.003-05:002015-02-19T15:47:51.011-05:00To Sleep or Not to Sleep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">For the past four years I have had an issue with insomnia, primarily during the winter months and if I am going to be honest, it is mostly self-induced...brain overload, hot flashes, quiet "me" time...you name it, I can rationalize why I wake up to use the bathroom & end up staying awake for an hour or two, four out seven nights per week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I never thought it was a real problem...until this past holiday break when my insomnia had reached an all-time peak...I'd stay up late, at least until 11pm, and then wake up an hour or two later, only to force myself back to sleep around 4am. While this was okay during a break, it was not going to work once we went back to school and I needed a solution. So, without over analyzing or searching the internet, I came up with my own solution. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Nighttime Routine's Aren't Just for Kids</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was apparent that I needed a positive, mind clearing, body relaxing routine, so I created these four steps that I attempt to follow, Sunday thru Thursday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Take a hot, relaxing shower approximately 45 minutes before my proposed bed time - sometimes sooner, depending upon the day I have had (example: craptastic day = 6pm, good day = 8:30pm). I use this absolutely delicious shower gel made by Bath & Body Works Sleepy Time Tea, followed up by the matching lotion when I get out and towel off. I smell yummy & feel like I have washed away the day - good or bad, it's like a fresh start for a great night's sleep. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2.* Brew a yummy mug of **Celestial Seasonings brand of "Sleepy Time Tea" and drink about 30 minutes before I actually want to fall asleep - I usually drink it while I am reading a book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. All electronics are turned off approximately 30 minutes prior to be going to the bedroom. My cell phone now charges in the kitchen because I do not have enough self-control to NOT check FB when I wake up in the middle of the night. Plus I read somewhere that it is bad feng shui to have electronic devices in your bedroom - thus the reason we no longer have a TV in our bedroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Read a good book for a 15-30 minutes. This and saying my prayers before bed has always been a part of my nightly routine - the difference is that now I am physically relaxed & ready to let my mind relax too, making the process all the more enjoyable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Results: Holy Wah, It Works!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The crazy thing is that the results were almost instantaneous - the first night I did all three steps I slept through the night, not even waking up to use the bathroom (that is dependent upon how much water I've drank during the day). When I follow this routine I get a good 7-8 hours of sleep and I awake well-rested. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">*Note: If I skip a step it is the tea - but not for more than one day because the next night I end up have restless leg issues and can't relax. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">**Celestial Seasoning's "Sleepy Time Tea" can be found in just about any grocery store or drug store - I bought mine at a local Walgreens, less than $4 a box.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-64229601694938484662015-02-18T15:49:00.002-05:002015-02-18T15:49:23.388-05:00Soup it Is!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Being the devoted wife & mother that I am (stop laughing, it sounds good), I decided to start the week off right with a tasty new soup recipe I had found on Pinterest. Recipes have to have a few specific criteria in order for me to be interested in pursuing them in my kitchen:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Minimal ingredients that can be found in any local supermarket</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. Spices that are (normally) found in my cabinet (again, nothing that would force me to shop at a specialty store - I'm too lazy for that nonsense)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. At least 3 out of 4 of my family members will consider it edible and delicious...I do not have to be one of them, but it helps.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My family & I love Olive Garden but we don't go often --- too expensive for four people & we always over indulge, feeling like we need to be rolled out, rather than walk out on our own. So when I found this recipe, originally titled "Knockin' Off the OG - Pasta Figioli, I was intrigued. Even better was when I realized that it was a crockpot recipe...love the dump & go recipes that don't taste like a hodge podge of nonsense and I LOVE OG's soup.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here it is: Nicole's Version of Pasta Fagioli (because I broke rule number two and did not have all of the spices in my cupboard for the recipe found below)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Ingredients</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">1 cup of diced onion</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 cup of chopped carrots</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 cup of chopped celery </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2 cloves of garlic, (sliced in small pieces because I haven't replaced my mincer)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 lb. of lean ground beef</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">2 1/2 cups of V-8 (I used the low sodium version)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 can (15 oz.) diced tomatoes (I used the Italian seasoned blend)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 can of light red kidney beans </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1 can of northern beans</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Salt & pepper (to season)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">1/2 box of ditalini noodles</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">First, I placed two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil in a large frying pan, heating to a medium heat. Once warm I added the chopped veggies & garlic, sauteing until soft; adding diced tomato & ground beef to this mixture; turn up the heat and brown the burger.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Note: After the meat mixture is brown I put it into a strainer and rinse with warm water to get the grease off. Not sure how much this helps but it makes me feel like I'm doing something good and helps with that unappetizing oil sheen found on meals with meat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now the fun part: dump the meat mixture and ALL of the other ingredients into the crockpot and cook on low for 4 hours. Cook the pasta according to directions, add to the crockpot mixture and cook for another 30 minutes. Make sure that you leave the pasta a bit firm otherwise it will get mushy & we all know that would be gross, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dish up in cute bowls, sprinkle parmesan cheese on top & serve with your favorite tasty bread - we chose to have toasted garlic bread and it was delicious...with plenty left over for lunches.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the link to the original recipe:</span><br />
<a href="http://www.atthepicketfence.com/2010/10/slow-cooker-pasta-e-fagioli.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">Knockin' Off the OG - Original Recipe</span></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-57188583771648339562015-02-09T18:04:00.001-05:002015-02-09T18:04:25.911-05:00Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!Determined to start the week off on the right foot, I forced myself to get a crockpot meal going this morning...so I quick grabbed my phone & found a recently pinned recipe: Not-Chicken-Pot-Pie Slow Cooker Meal (original link at the bottom of this post). Basically this would be a chicken pot pie, without the pie crust. <div>
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Is it easy? Oh yes - all of this was prepped and tossed into the crockpot in less than 15 minutes; peeling & dicing the potatoes was the most time consuming part of the process.<br /><div>
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Ingredients Needed</div>
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4 - boneless, skinless breasts</div>
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1 can low-fat cream of chicken soup </div>
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1 can low-fact cream of celery soup </div>
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1 bag of frozen peas & carrots</div>
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4 medium potatoes, peeled & diced into bite size pieces</div>
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2 cups vegetable broth</div>
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Salt & pepper to taste</div>
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2 cans of biscuits (or make them from scratch, if you prefer)</div>
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1 1/2 cups of shredded cheddar cheese (to add after you put it on the plate)</div>
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Directions:</div>
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Pour your vegetable broth into the crockpot; place the potatoes in the broth, laying the chicken breasts on top of the potatoes; pour soup & veggies on top, add the cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours. Take the chicken out of the crockpot and cut into bite size pieces or shred - my family likes it shredded so that's what we did.</div>
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Bake your biscuits as directed; I put two baked biscuits on each plate, poured the chicken mixture over the biscuits and topped with a handful of cheddar cheese - not necessary but my family loves cheese and we loved it.</div>
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Note: When I got home from work the crock pot had turned itself off - thankfully the chicken was cooked but the potatoes were a bit firm. I poured everything into a large pan & heated it to boiling, adding 2 tbsp. of flour to thicken up the sauce.</div>
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Here is the link to the original recipe - note how orangy/cheesy it looks and how pale/beige ours turned out. I was a bit nervous but once we started eating it we were sold and forgot all about the color issues. </div>
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Yay - another new meal that was quick, easy & super tasty...and we had plenty for leftovers!</div>
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<a href="https://themonthlylineup.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/not-chicken-pot-pie-slow-cooker/" target="_blank">https://themonthlylineup.wordpress.com/2013/08/29/not-chicken-pot-pie-slow-cooker/</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-61543905241157575302015-02-08T19:28:00.003-05:002015-02-08T19:28:43.096-05:00Let's Get this Party Started<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first week of February has already passed and I'm sitting here thinking "what the hell happened to January?" Just like every other well-intentioned knuckle head in the free world, I decided to set some goals. Yes, you read that correctly, goals, not resolutions because that (in my honest opinion) has a negative connotation to it...a problem that you resolve to fix because you are a failure...and you will be again when you don't make it through January. So, goals they are:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Goals for the New Year & a More Effective Me...notice I didn't say "new me" because that is impossible...hells bells, I'm 45, there isn't a whole lot of "new" happening over here, unless you count the work of gravity & the lovely side effects of perimenopause (the precursor to the real deal, menopause): night sweats, hot flashes, more stubborn than normal belly fat, and a serious lack of short term memory, just to name a few.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Goal Numero Uno</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Keep work at work.</u></b> I am a teacher and everybody knows that we have a buttload of papers to grade and creative lessons to plan, lessons that will not only educate young minds but keep them entertained for hours at a time. Well, by the second day of the holiday break, just when I felt like I was starting to relax, I fell sick with bacterial pneumonia...lasting 10 of the 14 days I had off. So much for time off...coughing my lungs up (peeing my pants every damn time) and unable to sleep more than two hours at a time. What does this have to do with work? The stress (self-induced) & strain of having to get it all done kept me going through the school week(s) but as soon as I had time to chill, my body & immune system rebelled. I have not been that sick in a long time and it was enough to make me say to myself (and later my family) "something has to give" and it was all of the working during non-work hours. Note: I am required to be at work 7:15-3:15pm every day. Some days I may go in a bit early or stay until 4pm, but NO work is coming home with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Goal Number Two (yeah, my Spanish is limited)</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Get healthy, mentally and physically.</u></b> Just like hundreds, hell thousands, of other women out there, I have been a yo-yo dieter. I have lost & gained the same thirty pounds at least twice in the past ten years. Again, I am 45 and I have no grand illusions of becoming a middle-aged Sports Illustrated model. But I do want to be comfortable in my own skins. I do want less body aches and I do want to look & feel good - even if "good" is my own definition and not something imposed upon me by the media. This goal is a bit more labor intensive as it requires something that I have very little of...patience and willpower. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Healthy - physical</b>: drink a minimum of 64 ounces of water per day and walk a minimum of 10,000 steps (at least 30 minutes of steady activity) - I use my Fitbit to keep track of this. It can also track my food intake but I haven't tackled that, yet. Note: I need to get my water intake up to 95 ounces but I'm a work in progress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Healthy - mentally</b>: make more time for me...reading what I want, when I want; doodling & crafting like I did before kids & teaching; walking outdoors at least once a day - the fresh air is killer (yep, I just showed my age) for getting my head straight AND it helps with the physical portion of this goal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's it folks, two goals...simply because I want to succeed this time. Any more than two and I'd be overwhelmed and ditch it all for a lovely bowl of Wavy Lays Potato Chips and Dean's Sour Cream & Onion dip or spending my Sunday's planning & stressing over school work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So now you are wondering if I have made any progress? Hell yeah I have - cuz I don't have the balls to write all of this only to tell you that I am failing miserably, ha!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Progress on Goal 1</b>: I am learning to make use of every free moment I have at school. My students are not suffering and neither am I. I also forgot to mention that I am not staying after school past 4pm, and some days I leave by 3pm so I can pick up the teens from school. My stress level is waaaaayyy down & I am really learning not to sweat the small stuff...okay, so I am a slow learner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Progress on Goal 2</b>: Intaking 64 ounces of water & walking 10,000 steps on a daily basis - check! I find myself craving water & I get irritated and antsy if I don't walk. Going to start tracking my food to really get to the next level...and cooking more, which leads me to this: creating and implementing a new goal....</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Goal Number Three</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Creating a budget that we can stick to and get out of debt</b>. This morning I wrote up the basics of our income & expenses and I was completely mortified by how much money we earn AND waste. Where does it go? Why are we unable to keep & grow a savings account? Simple answer: we eat out too damn much and that has to stop. Which means thoughtful grocery shopping and all hands on deck with cooking dinner. Since I just created this goal today, I do not have any progress to report except that we grocery shopped & I forgot the list at home (filled with ingredients for my Pinterest inspired dishes) but we did okay...lots of green stuff, lean meats & healthy grains. It's a start, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you have any positive, healthy suggestions to assist me that would be fabulous...because I need all of the good ju-ju I can get.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-46264980779546407832015-02-07T22:23:00.003-05:002015-02-07T22:23:24.321-05:00Dreams of Being FlySunday, Sunday, Sunday (she says in her stock car racing announcer voice)! I was awake early, much to my dismay and not ready to commit to anything productive, so I grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels...<br />
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I'm cruising through the ridiculousness we call cable TV, with nothing but infomercials and Super Bowl crap filling the screen, when I feel like I have hit the television jackpot...the early 90's Fox sitcom, "Living Single", starring Queen Latifah and Kim Fields. Hells bells, it was a blast from the past! I was so freaking thrilled, it was like I had literally stepped back in time: big hair, bright colors & snarky one-liners delivered by authentically humorous characters...and none of that ridiculous canned laughter that often accompanies sitcoms. Much to Big Daddy's chagrin, I was in early 90's television heaven and I was not turning the channel.<br />
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There I was, cozy on the sofa, reminiscing about the good ol' days, recalling, out loud to a very disinterested Big Daddy, reminding him that this was when Fox TV was the home to all of the fun & flavorful TV that made us laugh out loud...I mean, who didn't love "Martin" or "In Living Color"? Aww hell, I was getting all misty eyed and shit, and he was mentally counting down the minutes until he was in control of the damn remote. But since when did I care if he was actually listening? I had a captive audience and I was making the most of it.<br />
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Big Daddy's inattentiveness aside, this accidental stumble upon an old television favorite had me happily dancing (because that's what I did in the early 90's, danced like a fiend) down memory lane, clearly recalling when my dream was to be "fly" and all of that other nonsense. I could clearly visualize the rayon baby doll dresses worn over capri leggings, accessorized with obnoxious hoop earrings and the bright red lipstick that Big Daddy despised. My sharp stacked bob haircut was admired and replicated by many...true story, since I was a hairstylist and my hair was always on point. Hell, I even suffered through those high waisted jeans (giving me approximately four inches between my bra & my waist band - thank goodness breathing wasn't important, right?) and the perpetual wedgie they gave you, just to pull off some of those awesome looks.<br />
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Isn't it crazy how the memory works? I cannot recall what I was going to do five minutes ago, yet I can clearly recall what I wore 20+ years ago when I was at the club dancing to Deee-lite. Now that I am in my mid-40's and fashionably challenged (my style is comfort...yes, I just made that up) and I have been through quite a few fashion trends/mishaps, I can hands down say that the styles of the early 90's were by far the best. Maybe it was because I was at least 60 pounds thinner and did not have the body image issues accompanied with weight gain & age. Or maybe it was because we were all that & a bag of chips - damn skippy, yo. It's my story and I'm sticking to it.<br />
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BTW: I don't get free reign of the remote often...I can't imagine why, can you?<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-14529017078382216412015-01-29T17:53:00.000-05:002015-01-29T17:53:22.024-05:00Friday Eve Bliss...Or Something Like That<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It has been an interesting work week...hell, it's been an interesting week in general. A couple of work-related temper tantrums, a come to Jesus (not literally) talk with my administrator & more than a healthy dose of snarkiness dished out to just about anybody that crossed my path, makes this chick very ready for the weekend.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The family goal this week was to eat at home at least 75% of the time and so far we have succeeded. K helped me make a super tasty meal the other night that I thought I'd share with ya'll...and even better, it was almost better for lunch the following day:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><u>Parmesan Crusted Salmon </u></b>- melt in your mouth delicious! I have used this same recipe with tilapia and flounder but the salmon, by far, was a huge hit with the fam. The stronger flavor of the salmon combined with the parmesan (mayo based) crust was tantalizing for our taste buds...yum!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://shecookshecleans.net/2012/05/19/oven-roasted-salmon-with-parmesan-mayo-crust/</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We served this with a very tasty <b><u>Creamy Garlic Pasta</u></b> - which was super easy to make, full of flavor (pasta cooks in the chicken broth, not water, therefore there was tons of flavor in every bite!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was so easy to make I passed the buck on to K - she made the pasta and I made the fish. And as corny as this may sound, especially for those of you that know me, I have really begun to enjoy spending time in the kitchen with the fam...when it's all on me to put the meal together, I think I get a little bit resentful. But when we're working together it is fun & doesn't seem like such a chore. Damn, too bad I didn't learn this sooner, right? My pocketbook & my belly (that resembles an ostrich egg, profile view) would be in different states...the former a bit more full & the latter, a bit less full - live & learn, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here is the recipe:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> http://thecheesepusher.tumblr.com/post/2719857351/creamy-garlic-pasta</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These recipes are not of my creation and I do not claim to have done so, thus the reason for the links rather than me typing out the recipe. Okay, and maybe I'm a bit lazy when it comes to typing numbers & symbols, so cutting & pasting the link is how I am going to roll...and it gives the original bloggers props.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On other healthy news - I've been drinking at least 64 oz. of water per day & I'm getting in at least 7,000 steps per day...the goal is 10,000 but 7,000 is more than 0, right? Oh yeah, and I've been drinking my Plexus pink drink everyday...just as effective as a bowl of bran flakes and way less mushy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And on that note, peace out - enjoy your Friday Eve my Superior peeps!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-825134138576743412015-01-25T18:57:00.000-05:002015-01-25T18:57:49.811-05:00Lavinder's Going Lean<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We've all got dreams, aspirations, shit we'd like to do, right? But there are obstacles that get in our way, taking the wind out of our sails and causing us to give up. I cannot count how many times I've started a diet or a budget, only to have a crap day where I've dropped every ounce of self-control and went back to old, bad habits: stopping for McDonald's value meals because it was quick & easy or shopping for a new blouse because I felt like I'd earned it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have dream, a dream that will allow my family & I to be a part of something that we not only love, but that we believe in and will allow us to become a contributing member of our community. But in order for this dream to become a reality it will take some financial finagling meaning we need to create a hard core, no nonsense budget and stick to it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">First on the list of changes is eating at home...thank goodness for Pinterest or I'd reach my frustration point real quick! This is what we had tonight and it was delish:</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/47217496069998035/">Cheesy Chicken and Rice </a><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Note: I used fat-free cream of celery soup instead of cream of chicken (I feel like it has a bit more flavor) and I substituted a shredded rotisserie chicken instead of cut up chicken breasts. DELISH!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now as for the budget, stay tuned to see how we do it...it's going to be good, it's going to be real good.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-13824408935917040022015-01-02T20:19:00.000-05:002015-01-02T20:19:58.582-05:00Exercise Anyone?<div role="article">
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time to get the show on the road. And by show I mean get my dead arse off
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Gravity has taken over and there is no going back...although how cool would that be, just rolling that shite up and stuffing it back into its original place? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhoiZ6aUltuvQXKASRYTK6y24c-AJ69iGLYkTjOdNqMa3cGiSiNfxhXn8j5Q9ei1oESxDE-PrN6-n4N6mqkcqjEF7qp4dfemE637viHqUZRAqLN8svHI8a44YvZ3Inv9Y3bBNLWwOfa8E/s1600/jumping+dino.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhoiZ6aUltuvQXKASRYTK6y24c-AJ69iGLYkTjOdNqMa3cGiSiNfxhXn8j5Q9ei1oESxDE-PrN6-n4N6mqkcqjEF7qp4dfemE637viHqUZRAqLN8svHI8a44YvZ3Inv9Y3bBNLWwOfa8E/s1600/jumping+dino.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Jumping rope, an excellent <span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">workout: quick, convenient & minimal skill needed (especially if done in the comfort of your own home as no one would be around to see you make a total jackarse of yourself - i.e. tangled in the rope, tripping, falling on your face, unable to jump more than twice consecutively...not that I've done any of THAT!).</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"></span></span></span><br />
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But there is the issue of the peri-menopausal woman...we can't freely jump rope, no matter how skilled or cardiovascularly fit we may be! Why, you may ask? Too many hot flashes, you say? Hell no, it's all about incontinence people! While I believe in the benefits of Poise pads (sorry to the 12% of dudes following this page), I do NOT want to HAVE to use them DAILY and for those of you that know my "issues" (ssssshhhh, I know there are many) I cannot hop consecutively, period, because this would be the internal monologue:</div>
<br />Me: (hop) Damn! (dribble)<br /><br />Me: (hop) Oh shit! (dribble dribble)<br /><br />Me: (hop, hop) Mother F'r! (runs to the nearest bathroom to change "shield")<br /><br />And so, I can knock off "spokesperson for Poise pads" off of my list for potential jobs...</span></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com3United States35.317366329237871 -78.83789062528.68276832923787 -89.165039124999993 41.951964329237867 -68.510742125000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-73962089861731760272014-12-31T21:39:00.001-05:002014-12-31T21:39:31.615-05:00Regifting is Resourceful<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;">Spoiler Alert: Parental Failure</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tonight I realized that I needed a gift, quick like...and being that it is New Year's Eve, my 1st choice was closed. Hell, </span><span style="color: #274e13; font-size: large;">all choices a</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #274e13; font-size: large;">bove a service station were closed. So I decided to ask one of the teens if we could use one of her gifts (from a friend) as a re-gift. Now let me clarify something - I know it is the thought that counts, but I was willing to reimburse above mentioned teen with something of equal or greater value.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You would have thought I'd asked her to relinquish her right arm, I mean, her cell phone. But, ohhhhh, it gets better when Big Daddy gets involved, "I can't believe you are asking her to do that." Yes, that is right, cuz I am the devil and want youngest child to suffer without this last minute, $5 gift. Honestly, the child did not have said gift in her possession long enough to become attached, much less CARE. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxXGrM-thWqrGeqWai6qbp1PgiNyksXI4RsOrBu_rvMze9ECU-7FfIIh5OnO6lgRak2Oxyg07FMmaUOSWUdDAsZMO3HIN2qs9T2kkNbNcJM1txLiXZ5ihaPl0PQ26SvEsj0GXHp728X5s/s1600/regift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMxXGrM-thWqrGeqWai6qbp1PgiNyksXI4RsOrBu_rvMze9ECU-7FfIIh5OnO6lgRak2Oxyg07FMmaUOSWUdDAsZMO3HIN2qs9T2kkNbNcJM1txLiXZ5ihaPl0PQ26SvEsj0GXHp728X5s/s1600/regift.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So when I try to explain that I need this additional gift ASAP he decides to throw out the "Oh, so it's your fault you don't have the gift." Uhm, no shit Sherlock, of course it is my fault and being a resourceful adult, I was attempting to come up with a quick fix. Pfft, men, like they even have a clue when it comes to gifting & regifting. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But my issue with this whole situation is that I pride myself on raising responsible and conscientious children and apparently I have failed miserably....because any teen that would rather have a $5 set of accessories over a quality replacement, yeah, is clearly NOT walking my walk (yes, I went there). Stay tuned for more parenting failures, I mean nonsense, to come in 2015 - I'm sure there will be plenty.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Note: My children have been raised to be thankful & generous, thus I understand her not WANTING to give up the gift. But in this house one also needs to be flexible...especially when it comes to giving mama what she wants. Just saying.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-67623466012907635062014-06-30T03:20:00.001-04:002014-06-30T03:20:30.820-04:00No Crap Accepted Today<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGnRLrmtxUXdjPaP1wFWMLyMBOVurHKnBr0bQ3bbp0lfQUUZckQZtzIp-Kx7kYO3CSX_NIebC_iKWsMnaTfASZUuQK1LFRUgjVY1nvAVlErqHtib-Y-wleEdJfNXl2U_ewNAy_uxPGUu4/s1600/ignore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGnRLrmtxUXdjPaP1wFWMLyMBOVurHKnBr0bQ3bbp0lfQUUZckQZtzIp-Kx7kYO3CSX_NIebC_iKWsMnaTfASZUuQK1LFRUgjVY1nvAVlErqHtib-Y-wleEdJfNXl2U_ewNAy_uxPGUu4/s1600/ignore.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a>...As seen via 2 Girls & A Dream....advice that is often easier said than done, but so true. I try to instill this in my two teens (and my lovelies) this attitude - the more attention we give the "crap givers" the more crap they tend to dole out to us. Sometimes it works for them, other times they fall into that "poor me, they're picking on me" funk. But I'm here to snap them back into reality, as it is much easier to dole out the advice and admonitions than it is to apply it, right?<br />
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Ten years ago I was the people pleaser, little Miss Helpful. My first teaching position had really allowed me to grow, creatively and spiritually, and I became the giver...always there to share supplies and advice. Well, this was not accepted by the "experienced" staff members of my new school, who took my helpfulness to mean that I thought I was better and knew more. I was often mocked & deemed an overachiever - little barbs were thrown out and eventually it wore me down - or rather I allowed it to wear me down.<br />
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I'd like to say that I overcame their nonsense and triumphed (she says as she marches the hallways singing "We will overcome," NOT) but I spent six (LONG) years in this (work) environment and not only did I learn (upon leaving and moving 1200 miles away) that they were not worth sacrificing my time & energy for but also that maybe they chose to bring me down because of<u> something within them</u>, that it really wasn't about me. But it's not as easy to see that when you are in the thick of things & my feelings were hurt, I stressed, I worried and ultimately I let my naysayers win. <br />
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I wasn't able to "see" their motives because I allowed their crap-slinging to bring me down. I chose to entertain their nonsense and didn't ignore it...it often makes me wonder how different things would have been if I had learned to ignore and overcome. But then I wouldn't be where I am now, physically and mentally and I am pretty damn content (happy too, but comfortable in my own skin, with the me I have become). So...<br />
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Fast forward to the present, where I attempt to only keep myself surrounded by like-minded people. I still help but have learned to do so when it comes from <b>MY heart</b>, not what I believe others will want to see or hear from me. I use humor to mask irritation, hurt & disgust. Those that know me and know me well understand that this is just ME and isn't a lack of caring but rather caring <b>too much </b>- but it can be off-putting and can become an obstacle in my building relationships. Note: I've ALWAYS been this way, using humor to mask, and that has really been a source of contention for some people...I think it is genetic, therefore incurable, so they can learn to accept or move on, right?<br />
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My pleasing is done for family & friends first and even then I am truly lacking...and the lovelies that I work so diligently to help become successful & productive citizens of our society. As a matter of fact, I am a proponent of my lovelies to a fault & the needs of my friends and family follow behind - I'm not proud, just honest. So...<br />
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This leads to the question I posed yesterday via my Superior Nonsense FB page, "How do you see people?" This question was posed at church - we'd attended a new one, just to check it out, and I believe that we were there for a reason - simply to hear this question & reflect upon it...especially since D & K were like "mmm, we like the other church (which we've been attending for the past six months) better." <br />
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But in reflecting on this question, it made me realize that I don't spend enough time seeing the true potential in people. I often see them through my teacher eyes: are they going to help or hinder progress. I see complainers as hinderers and I see go-getters as helpers...yet not every body fits into these two categories and I am learning that I am short-changing them and myself from getting to know some potentially cool people. And even then, not only am I missing out on some great friendships, but they are missing out because they don't get to know me & my kick arse-self, right?<br />
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Moral of the story: Ignore the crap disher-outers and be true to you and what you believe in. Oh, and hug your friends and family for putting up with your crazy arse. Peace out my homies!<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-51614587857268707782014-05-28T20:21:00.000-04:002014-05-28T20:23:19.408-04:00Happy Pill...the Whole Truth and Nothing But!<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I make a lot of jokes about my happy pill...professionals call it Cymbalta, an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication prescribed for a variety personal issues. My issue? Anxiety and irritation...without it I have the shortest fuse on the block and I am emotional, yeah, a bit of a cry baby - not the greatest combination, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I haven't always been on an anti-depressant - just the past eleven years. That's not to say that I didn't need something before that, but becoming a parent made it a necessity. Sad, but true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Becoming a parent is an emotional journey, especially when you've been trying/waiting to become one for almost ten years. Five years of trying "naturally," a few years of tests & fertility treatments, until we came to our senses & sealed the deal with adoption. International adoption - we had been through enough emotionally that I was not going to risk having some crackhead knocking on our door to get their kid(s) back. Just sayin'...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I know, I am making light of a pretty emotional journey, but that's how I roll...and besides, that is not the point of this story. So, back to the happy pill...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'd been home from Samoa for about two months and I noticed that my patience level had become non-existent. I was wound tight and for once in a very long time, had no real reason to feel that way. My family was complete - awesome husband, two beautiful little girls and two very loyal springer spaniels...we'd even just moved into a new home that completed our 21st Century nuclear family. So why so anxious? Why so emotional? Was I just an ungrateful bee-otch that didn't know how to appreciate her awesome life?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, did you know that a woman can put their body into post-partum depression without giving birth? Yeah, me neither. But apparently I am pretty damn special and that's exactly what my doctor felt was happening to me and my snarky, quick to snap self. She said that the sudden change from no kids to two kids who only wanted ME (the girls were not accustomed to men) was enough to kick the hormones into overdrive, creating an imbalance. It also does not help that I was genetically pre-destined for this nonsense...depression, to varying degrees, runs deep in my family, so honestly, it was inevitable. And to say that my life had changed would be an understatement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I had gone from a married woman/teacher who could come and go as she pleased...to a mother who was married and taught for a living. I couldn't go anywhere without hearing "mommy" or feeling somebody poking or squeezing me, wanting something, if not food, just a snuggle. And now that I type this I feel a little bit of guilt because it was what I'd always wanted...but damn, so much so soon?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So back to the pill...the doctor hooked me up with an anti-depressant and two weeks later, I was a calm, cool collected mama on summer break. I felt better - even keeled, chill, going with the flow and loving my new life. After a couple of months I had to go in for a check-up and D went with me...the doctor (military docs so it was my first visit with him) looked at D and said, "What do you think? She needs it? Do you notice a difference?" Now this was over ten years ago so I don't recall exactly what D said but it was along the lines of "it works, keep it coming Doc." Yeah, well that was certainly confirmation that my nonsense was being taken care of thanks to the miracle of modern medicine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I've tried, over the years, to take a break from the happy pill, but to no avail - this chemical imbalance nonsense that turns me into a cry baby bee-otch is here for good folks. The longest I've gone without it is one year and hmm, it was interesting to say the least. The mood swings were nuts - I went from laughing, happy go lucky to getting my feelings hurt over nonsense that would normally crack me up. The final straw was when we attempted to move to Wisconsin and it did not work out -- the crying jags, oh the freaking crying jags, even I couldn't stand me! So, back to the doctor (it was time for the annual poke & prod anyway) and back to NORMAL. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I don't always learn the first time, so I tried it again last year...yeah, two weeks and when I broke down in tears because I couldn't concentrate long enough to dial the number to the doctor and then when I do get through I get the voice mail...let's just say they got me in the next day and we were all (including my work colleagues) singing Hallelujah and speaking in tongues. Okay, not really, but all was right in the world, again, and for that I am thankful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So fast forward to today, where I realized, quickly, that I had not taken my pill last night. Now one would not think that 24 hours without it would make a difference. Hmm, yeah, right. For me, it's as if I am instantaneously blanketed in a serious case of adult ADHD...full on with the lack of focus, giggles, and the incessant need to move. If I were a stay-at-home mom this might not be that big of a deal. But I am attempting to educate the masses my dear friends and if a teacher needs one thing it is focus and control...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Point in case: We are neck deep in test prep and standards review. The lovelies have been reading passages and answering questions, using test taking strategies that we've been doing all year long. No biggy, right? Well, it is when you begin to read & review the passage with your students and realize that even YOU are bored to tears. Here is where I confirmed, that I had not taken my pill:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Question 5 asks: Which word would describe Blobbity Blob (can't recall her name, that is how disengaged I was from this reading passage):</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">a) interesting</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">b)deceitful</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">c)shy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">d)merciful</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lots of vocabulary discussion ensued and we narrowed it down to a & b...and in full-on teacher mode I say "well, she was a spy, so she was not very honest or trustworthy, therefore she was deceitful. But on the other hand she led a pretty interesting life so I can see where someone would choose "interesting." Now folks, this is where I SHOULD have reiterated the character and her actions so they'd clearly understand she was deceitful. But nope, that's not what happened...instead I continue discussing "interesting" and proceed to say <b>"Now, I think she was pretty interesting, I'd probably want to read more about her. Well, no, that's a lie, I don't think she was that interesting and besides...she's dead.</b>" Yes, that is EXACTLY what I said...WTH, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And this is where I lost it - I couldn't stop giggling because I knew that I had truly lost it. I'd even said, out loud, "Hmm, what's wrong with me today? I should have kept that in my head!" And because I'd realized, quickly, why I was so goofy, I embraced it and the rest of the day went off without a hitch - at least in my opinion....and I promise, I will take my happy pill (+ vitamin D) tonight and all will be right in the world of educating my lovelies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">BTW - My morning lessons are normally repeated for my afternoon group but due to MY morning shenanigans, I spared the group my personal views on Blobbity Blob (Belle something or other) and opted for a more low key afternoon. So yes, I do learn from my mistakes, sometimes;-)</span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-27542695632634068472014-05-17T19:09:00.000-04:002014-05-17T19:09:18.755-04:00<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are two things that I really cannot tolerate in life, as in "I am scared sh$tless and I am going to run and scream like a five year old girl" intolerance: snakes and mice. Now, where we reside, snakes very rarely get into your home, therefore not much to worry about there. But mice, yeah, frequent visitors in the winter - we live in a somewhat rural area and when they cut the corn fields, BAM, Mickey and all of his freaking pals try to sneak into our house for food & shelter. And by sneaking I mean practically opening up the front door and shouting (in their best Ricky Ricardo voice) "Hey Lucy, I'm HOOOOMMME!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We had a particularly bad year, about four years ago, where the little bastards thought they were going to move their entire family (and we all know how quickly they procreate) into our home, via the pantry & fire place. D was out of town, work related, and the girls and I were holding down the proverbial fort and the little shit droppers were literally storming the home front. It was a Friday, as I clearly remember because D was coming home the next day. I opened the pantry and to my surprise (and apparently the Fieval raiding my pantry) one of the nasty buggers jumped out at me and as I belted out a blood curdling scream, ran behind the fridge. Panting like I had just run a marathon (or around the block, same difference), the girls and I ran to the car and abandoned the house...for school. I promised myself if those little buggers were going to invade my home they had another thing coming...sticky traps (cue ominous background music) and many of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now we had tried a variety of trapping devices in the past, my favorite being the little electric box - the crafty critters were lured into the box by the wafting fragrance of peanut buttery goodness and when they stepped closer they stepped onto a metal plate which ZZZZZAAAAAPPPPed the life out of them. It was awesome - no mess, no screaming, no blood (I'm sure there was but D took care of that nonsense). But a year later, after our influx of rampaging rodents shorted out our trap, we sadly learned that Lowe's was no long carrying them. Argh, this meant we had to go one of three routes: Poison (nope, they die in the walls & stink to high heaven), Traditional with bait (nope, too easy for them to get the peanut butter and they were bloody by nature) or sticky traps. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So you see, I really had no choice but to line my baseboards with the infamous torture devices. Mind you, I considered them torturous and I'd shunned them because I'd heard that the trapped/stuck mouse will emit an ear piercing scream. Hmm, no thank you - that's all I need is to have that nonsense replaying in my head! But I had reached my breaking point folks and having mouse after mouse mock me, laughing in my scared to death face caused me to jump on the "Last Resort" train and not turn back. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Note: Upon arriving home after a day at school, totally forgetting the morning mouse incident, I walked right into our kitchen only to have another freaking mouse run out from under the pantry door (apparently my pantry was the "happening place" for these bastards and their wicked friends), right past me and behind the fridge (again). I screamed and told the girls to get back in the car, we were going to Lowe's - all the while wondering if it would just be easier to pack a bag and go to the damn Hampton Inn for the night!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Traps were purchased, dinner brought home in a paper bag that may or may not have had golden arches and we were ready to chill out for the night. Little did we know that we were going to have an influx (no exaggeration) of mice scampering their shitty little arses along the living room walls. All it took was one scurrying past, bypassing my ONE trap, and I quickly devised a plan: big bottle of wine, myself and fed children in pj's on the couch and sticky trapS strategically planted along the based boards of the living room...and BAM, Friday night's entertainment, a homespun extermination experiment, was up and running.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqojDP2aSz4cHx2WThzSlNO7gG2mBvZQ4yHFh7ZgOUtdgdvfTzVHBZDJUZN9RmbkUAlOQprxvAv0zZwUgV7Q0oTJbsrV3H6kd0ZTEZmybxSnr71QaNBt8YErMuNfvjNdVJYpVV49nhPYV/s1600/drink+wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitqojDP2aSz4cHx2WThzSlNO7gG2mBvZQ4yHFh7ZgOUtdgdvfTzVHBZDJUZN9RmbkUAlOQprxvAv0zZwUgV7Q0oTJbsrV3H6kd0ZTEZmybxSnr71QaNBt8YErMuNfvjNdVJYpVV49nhPYV/s1600/drink+wine.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now my dear hearts, this was four years ago and I was under the influence, but I do know that we snagged at least three of those sneaky little buggers and threw them out into the cold night air (yes, trap and all), where D would be home the next day to take them to their final resting place. C & I screamed every time one raced out and K giggled with glee as she knew IT would be meeting an untimely demise. K was also the brave soldier to scoop the trap (with mouse) onto a dustpan and toss them out the door. I should be ashamed to admit that, because she was only eight years old at the time, but hell, someone had to do it, right? And who am I to strip my child of such obvious joy? Heck, she even talked to the little arseholes as she took them outside...hmm, what does that say about my kid? Pfft, just another one of my parenting wonders, right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We woke the next morning and decided that the majority of the day would be spent upstairs...as the little buggers and buggerettes had yet to journey to the second floor. But a unanimous decision was made: if we saw any more mice we'd leave a note for D informing him that he could find us at the Hampton Inn. We had displayed immense bravery the night before but we were officially tapped out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lucky for D & us, all went well and he eventually took care of the mice situation...poison that dehydrates the mice, thrown under the house and kept in the garage for those that snuck in for a quick munch. Fast forward four years and we now own Frappe', a 1 1/2 year old cat that we adopted from the SPCA after I saw a mouse, dead on a sticky trap, in our front closet. She has kept us mouse free and now insect free - certainly earning her keep, more than I can say for the teens, but that's another story for another day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">BTW: The mice don't scream, but rather emit a high pitched squeak...that is, when they aren't trying to gnaw their own leg off to "release" themselves from the trap. Stubborn little bastards. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-56364031739470069292014-05-04T21:46:00.000-04:002014-05-04T21:46:02.936-04:00Guilt SchmiltWhat would it be like to never live with regret? To never worry about making the right decision and how it would affect others? I'm certainly not the one to ask because I feel guilty all of the time. For big things and little things and things that should not even matter - it's all about questioning myself, not being confident in decisions that I have made. But why? I know that I come off as very confident, self-assured, and definitely capable of handling a wide variety of nonsense - and many times this confidence is interpreted as being a bee-otch. So be it, right?<br />
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I once asked my husband if I came across as someone that thinks they are better than others...he paused. Yes, paused, WTH was that about?! Well, if he didn't agree you know darn well his silly self would have said "oh no, honey, you're just self-assured." But not only did he pause, he proceeded to say "Yeah, pretty much, but it's okay, you're just particular." Wow, particular? I don't about you, but I would say that's a great vocabulary word for "picky." <br />
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Now this really should not come as a surprise since my Grammy and Grandpa G used to call me Picky Nikki - no lie and sometimes it was Nickle Pickle (hmm, this must be where I get my love of rhyming, but that's another story for another time). If I wasn't picky, as in particular about what I ate or wore, I was picky in the respect that I "picked" at others. If you had lint on your shirt, a hair out of place or a boogie hanging from your nose, I'd be the first to bring it to your attention. Lucky for me I saved this not so redeeming character trait for my family members - good thing or I'd probably never have had a damn friend throughout my childhood!<br />
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I'd like to think that this "picking" was because I was becoming a detail oriented person, something that would be necessary in my future profession as a hairstylist (yes, that was my major career goal from the 6th grade on). But why did that lint on your shirt or that "bat in the cave (my absolute favorite reference to boogies in the nose) bother me so much? And even worse, why did I feel that persistent need to share it? And even better, let's wonder why I didn't turn this constant "picking" onto myself. I promise you that if I had I would have been a textbook case of OCD, taking perfection to a whole new level.</div>
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So fast forward 30+ years - do I really think that I am better than others? Hmm, no...but I would like to see others step up and live/work to his or her full-potential. Is that wrong? I'll be honest with you: the poor choices of others, laziness in general and disrespect towards others drive me NUTS. But who am I to judge if you've chosen to wear your pj's to Walmart (another place that I despise, but I will not waste key strokes on that nonsensical place), or you come to work unprepared and disorganized? If your nonsense doesn't affect me, why do I care? </div>
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I'll be honest, my best guess is this: if I focus on your issues, I can ignore my own. So it's time to change (yes, I am hearing Peter Brady singing in his puberty stricken voice) my friends, time to focus on making the best ME - not just for me, but for my family. Because a better me will share, not pick. A better, kinder me will exude positivity (how's that for some sappy nonsense?) and it will be contagious. People will be singing from the rooftops, smiling at strangers, completing random acts of kindness like there is no tomorrow...Okay, now I'm just cracking myself up, because I am a realist and while I can work on not being so "picky," I don't think that I'm ready for that much change...not only do I not have the motivation to become Polly Positive 100% of the time, but I kind of like ME - picky, judgmental, sassy and witty.</div>
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But I can work on keeping some of my comments to myself. I am sure that dropping my "picking" habit will not be easy, nor will it be fun. I mean, when I see someone with dragon talons for toenails, kicking it in flip flops, I will literally have to bite my tongue to NOT share this nonsense with someone, ...seriously, that's some funny stuff and how can I not share it? Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought...</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-15952468737932188592014-04-27T21:16:00.001-04:002014-04-27T21:16:40.687-04:00Oops, I Think I Made a Mistake...Happy Sunday and hello to the eve of the work week. I have had a wonderful week filled with family and relaxation - both over due and just what the proverbial doctor ordered! And during this time of peace and tranquility (with a wee bit of retail therapy) I've been able to think, re-think, and come to a conclusion that has been difficult to admit but necessary...for the sake of my sanity. Don't get me wrong, I embrace my inner crazy (normal is boring, in my honest opinion), but not to the point where my inner crazy becomes an all encompassing, full-time ready for the loony bin crazy. We all have limits.<br />
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First of all, the first step in handling a problem is admitting that you actually have a problem - and obviously I do have a wee bit of a problem. I am the type of person that embraces change, especially when it comes to professional growth...and moving, I love to move to new places...but that's not what we're talking about here. Now when I say I embrace change, I'm not talking about tiny little changes like tasting new foods (not too daring in this department) or trying out a new haircut (too daring in this department). We're talking whoppers, huge changes that have lasting effects on not only myself, but my family as well. I mean, what the hell, go big or go home, right? <br />
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So, in the last post I mentioned my new job, media coordinator. Now THAT has been a change, a change that has certainly affected myself & my poor family. Poor family? Yes, my poor family are always subjected to my schemes. In retrospect I should have been a lawyer (or a sales person, but the former sounds more lucrative) because I can plead my case, no matter how foolish or spontaneous it may be, swaying my audience (family and close friends) to go along with my whackadoo ideas & opinions. I am grateful that they believe in me enough to support me but I'm thinking that maybe I need to tone down my enthusiasm a bit and let them truly give me their opinion. After sharing my "hard sell" tactic, I always ask "What do you think?" and they usually respond with 'sounds great' or 'you'll be great at whatever you do.' Hmm...how have I never noticed that they always tell me what I WANT to hear?! Wow, I am slow on the draw - I have become one of those people where others tell me what I want to hear so I will SHUT UP!! (head in hands, shaking my head).<br />
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D says that I suffer from "the grass is always greener" syndrome - see new fabulous vocabulary word below as it totally describes my true issue, just saying. But before I explain his theory, let me clarify one thing: my "changes" are always work related. I love dear D and my girls and really work diligently to make sure that my schemes are really only going to affect me...but I'm not always so successful with that since I can be a touch dramatic...not Academy Award winning dramatic, but enough where my emotions can cause my family to ask "Have you taken your happy pill?" or "Could you take another?" So, when I came home saying "Hey, our school needs a new media coordinator and I think I would LOVE that job," they didn't know what to say except 'okay (mom/honey), you'd be a great librarian.' No questions, no "are you sure?"<br />
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Long story short: I interview, I'm offered the job (with a pay cut that I minimize because I just know that I'm going to LOVE this job), I take the job...and now, fifteen days later I'm like 'WOW, this is so not me." What?! Yes, you read that correctly, I am not digging the new job and have formally asked to go back to the classroom. A big ol' slice of humble pie, sliced, served and EATEN my friends. I'm not sure if it's my age (read: wisdom) or the fact that I truly dislike the job, but I am totally comfortable with changing my mind, i.e. admitting that I was wrong. But in my favor, I've held a job of some sort for the past 28 years, and in that time period I've only had two other jobs that I despised...an office clerk for a maritime law lawyer (HORRIBLE) and an assembly line worker in the "clean room" of a factory that packaged the toys for cereal boxes (monotonous but fun co-workers). So, my friends, life is too short to not do something that you are passionate about and I am passionate about teaching. Bam, simple as that...</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-22246163439719519852014-04-10T20:19:00.000-04:002014-04-10T20:19:13.409-04:00Over due...It has been well over a week since my last post and while I am feeling slightly guilty, I'm feeling a bit uninspired. I think it is the extreme physical exhaustion that has taken over me. The new job...careful what you wish for, right? <div>
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Here's the deal, I've been a classroom teacher for thirteen years and each year has been special, unique and wonderful, all in their own way. My first three years were idyllic...so perfect it was almost wrong. Wrong? Because it spoiled me - nothing has really compared since those first three fun-filled years. But overall, they've all been filled with awesome students and their families and a ton of learning experiences - theirs and mine. The majority of my co-workers have been pretty damn cool too...there is always an exception to the rule, but in thirteen years I can honestly say that only one could be labeled as a the straw that could always break this camel's back. Not bad for four different schools, four different grade levels, hundreds of students and a butt-load of co-workers, right?</div>
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But the time has come to move on and I have...I am now a media coordinator, i.e. school librarian. Librarian...not the most attractive job title is it? Because most of us are probably envisioning a cardigan clad older woman with spectacles, knee-length skirt and comfortable shoes. Ah shit, that is me...44 isn't a spring chicken, I do wear glasses and my most recent hair-do isn't exactly setting any trends. And we won't even discuss the denim skirt, wiener dog blouse, and Sperry's, all worn TODAY! Oh no, have I just left the classroom for my twilight years dream job?! </div>
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No, because I cannot go there. I may be in my 40's but I'd have to say that I feel younger today than I have in a long time...is it younger or just more confident? Potato, potah-toe, who cares, right? Now, we will not factor in the extreme exhaustion at the end of the day, the back pain and crows feet...I DO feel younger (damn it!). Who cares that I am now willingly taking supplements, drink a bazillion ounces of water (which means I don't sleep through the night!) and have a green smoothie for breakfast every morning (with flax seed to make me, you know, regular)? Heck, I'd have done all of that at age 23, if it would have been popular. </div>
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Aww, who am I fooling? Aging is not fun, it is not easy, but the wisdom that I've gained throughout the years...totally worth it. Now, time to hit the sack or this old girl will not get to read her book before she nods off;-)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-6547628597881093862014-03-30T21:29:00.000-04:002014-03-30T21:29:16.716-04:00How Can Something So Easy Become So Difficult?Two years into our marriage I decided that it was time to have a baby. I had a timeline that needed to be adhered to: pregnant at 25 and 30, two kids, preferably boys, and all would be as planned. I'd planned on breast feeding, cloth diapers, and I'd make my own baby food...to hell with Gerber's and their nonsense, I'd be whipping up my own puree'd veggies and rice.<div>
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Scrreeeeech, put on the brakes...apparently getting pregnant wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed. No wham bam thank you ma'am would be happening in our household. Nope, we'd be the couple that would be keeping a calendar of body temps, scheduling the "right" time to knock boots, and going to the doctor to check the quality of my bodily fluids. How could something, pregnancy, be so scientific, so difficult, when teenagers across the nation were getting knocked up without "trying," much less wanting.</div>
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Long story short, it became my obsession, to get pregnant and have a baby that was part of me, part of D. Nothing else would be acceptable. We had the test where they shot dye through my Fallopian tubes - this is where I learned that I had a very mild case of endometriosis (which was later cauterized and the tubes were healthy and clear) and according to the German radiologist that was reading my x-ray...'when you feel mittleschmerz (German for ovulation pain/cramping) on the right, that is when you DO IT.' Wow, how's that for a bedside manner? Needless to say, it was not going to be so simple...</div>
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Pregnancy was like the unicorn in the forest for me or the infamous Elvis sightings...possible (although the odds were 50/50) but never to be a reality. Honestly, the more hoops we jumped through to obtain the (in our case) obtainable, the more I became like a disgruntled postal worker rather than a maternal maven. Why me? Why us? We were a great couple with the emotional and financial means to raise a child - so why was this not meant to be? Prayer, vitamins, exercise, diet, bum propped up with a pillow, etc. But I couldn't give up, I could not admit to failure.</div>
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Intrauterine insemination - this was our method of choice. This means that the swimmers get washed in a protein solution and are then injected into one's uterus - pretty much a no brainer for those wayward swimmers. But your swimmers do need to be plentiful and strong to break through my stubborn egg(s)...yeah, go figure, eggs as tough as their creator, not cool my friends, not cool at all. This process included hormone shots, multiple trips to the doctor for blood tests (yeah, not fun in normal circumstances, but add to this that I have crap veins - deep & they like to roll, of course) and the vaginal ultrasounds to check out your eggs...hmm, I wish I could have seen the look on my own face when they pulled out the "wand" and rolled a condom on it, complete with K-Y jelly. I'm sure I was thinking "yikes, what the hell are they going to do with that?!" Yes, this had become quite the educational experience, lol. But it all seemed like it would be worth it...</div>
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That is, until I had to miss my grandmother's funeral due to hyper-stimulated ovaries - travel was out of the question because I was walking around with the proverbial basket full of eggs (nine to be exact) and if any of them were to burst they could fill my lungs with fluid, giving me instant pneumonia. This was the emotional straw that broke this camel's back...not having the opportunity to say good bye to my Grammy AND no pregnancy (which would be confirmed three weeks later) and I'd decided to jump off of the emotional roller coaster called fertility treatments. Hormonal beyond compare, I could not take the repeated failures anymore. So, we just stopped. Just like that - cold turkey, no more rushing to the doctor in Virginia, no more shots in my hips and arms, no more nasty prenatal vitamins, and no more counting days on the calendar, filled with false hope that "this time it has to work."</div>
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The decision to stop was liberating but heartbreaking - I'd had us investing so much time, money and emotions towards becoming parents and now we'd be giving up the dream. Or would we? We still wanted to become parents, we would just need to move on to plan B, adoption. And that my friends, is another story for another evening.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-9144275070744899002014-03-23T19:46:00.002-04:002014-03-23T19:46:48.393-04:00Parenting Teens: No Wimps Allowed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This has been a weekend chock full of self-examination of myself as a parent. I feel that D & I provide a pretty structured environment that supports open communication. We offer just enough wiggle room for either C or K to express themselves, but not to be disrespectful. So while I sit back, patting myself on the proverbial back, I realize that I have a sixteen year old who is NEVER wrong and a thirteen year old who can sulk, kiss ass (via baby talk) and have an intelligent conversation about about WWI, all in a 3 minute time span. Hmm...and I'm the one that needs a happy pill?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">P</span></span>atience, not my strongest virtue, was tested beyond my wildest dreams this weekend. First, I will take full blame for all nonsense that I trudged through - if I would just let them, my girls, do their own thing, I'd probably know way less, saving me from unnecessary worry. But that is not how I roll. I've always been involved - when they watched Disney Channel, mama watched Disney Channel - loved me some Penny Proud and the Proud Family. I've kept up on trends, dressed them fashionably without over doing it financially; allowed them to invite just about anybody over for play dates and sleepovers, providing snacks & tasty meals (Sonic & pizza, duh!). Their friends love us and we love them - well, most of them. But none of this "chill parent" stuff would prepare me for my book smart/common sense deficient daughter's learning to drive...the whole cool mom nonsense becomes a facade and goes right out the window when your child says "I'm ready" and proceeds to step on the gas while the damn car is still in park!<br />
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Like many things in life, obtaining a driver's license is waaaay different now. C currently has a permit that allows her to drive with an adult, up to ten hours per week, for one year. So, as we will need her to drive she & her sister to school in the fall, it's time to get cracking. We've limited practice drives to the neighborhood, about 30 minutes at a time. But today I put on my big girl panties (okay, bigger than normal big girl panties) and decided she could drive us to the store. Don't ask where this extreme level of cockiness and bravery came from, but I will confidently blame it on hormones...just like everything else that goes awry in a periomenopausal woman's life.<br />
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Where would this little adventure on the roads take us...to none other than Walgreen's. I had a $5 off coupon and we needed toothbrushes & coffee, so it seemed like the right idea. And overall, all went well. Parking is a major issue - and we're talking attempting to go straight into a space with no obstacles...but we can work on that and we will. My poor little toes were clenched beyond repair, pushing that imaginary brake through the damn floor board takes a lot of work - especially when you want to grab the wheel or shout out really helpful questions like "what the hell are you doing?" or "did you not see that huge dumpster looming before us?"<br />
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But all kidding aside, the real issue is this: my daughter is growing up, too quickly, before my very eyes and there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening. She is wise beyond her years and yes, sometimes I'd like her to lighten up and enjoy life a bit more. But her work ethic is commendable, better than most adults I know, and her teachers genuinely love her. Honestly, what parent could ask for more? Where I once worried that she was going to be too passive, a door mat for her (at the time) middle school peers to trample on, she really stepped up, made great choices and avoided the girl-drama that most girls fall prey to. Yes, I am thankful and yes, I am proud. But damn, can't we have a little rewind? Not to any particular "favorite" moment, as they are all my favorite. If not a rewind, then a freeze-frame, to stop this nonsense we call growing up?<br />
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Yeah, I know, not possible - I'm a realist, I get it. So, if I've learned anything this weekend it is to cherish and savor every little moment, even the tough ones, because they are gone before you know it. And even the superior attitude of an "always right" sixteen year old can be seen as a positive...hell, we all need comic relief, right?<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-49189209095566135052014-03-20T21:33:00.001-04:002014-03-20T21:33:46.999-04:00First Day of Spring & International Happiness DayHappy Thursday my Superior friends and welcome to the official first day of spring...crazy right, since many of you still have snow on the ground. Growing up in Michigan, snow during the spring was the norm and if anything it was just the official "light at the end of the tunnel," the gateway to summer. But that is not the point of this post...as it is also International Happiness Day! To be quite honest, I've never heard of it but I'm feeling pretty damn grateful lately and figured I'd post a list of things that make me happy/feel grateful. So, here goes:<br />
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1. <span style="text-align: center;">Daylight savings time because the sun is rising as I leave for work and it is still shining bright when I head home. The older I get the more I appreciate the healthy affects of sunshine - it brightens my mood ten fold, there is really nothing like it to lift my spirits...and it is also a guarantee for outdoor recess;-) </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUC6BvKNf8lZ1yblGuKcqQIAJmqqJj87pXBBpoCvoC_elrQa64bZOg2fmclNpQfofqSX16dyL0yc6bNOHRyqscVhd-WaxqWU7sf27cuec-v9FLo-MyOOtlEBugvXCZOIhMuIFR3PqSTSo/s1600/sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUC6BvKNf8lZ1yblGuKcqQIAJmqqJj87pXBBpoCvoC_elrQa64bZOg2fmclNpQfofqSX16dyL0yc6bNOHRyqscVhd-WaxqWU7sf27cuec-v9FLo-MyOOtlEBugvXCZOIhMuIFR3PqSTSo/s1600/sunrise.jpg" height="200" width="132" /></a><br />
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2. Pedicures - which I desperately need right about now...thank goodness we don't have many rooms with carpeting anymore or I'd be snagging some serious carpet fibers if you know what I mean. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgnkLgCBFOHQijId7u24dShsLK_K24_VxVNTfwif6_NAEX_51PAQjOzuf5JwqMRz3Rhuum9T7VffRCz7kX2xoWaFdJTESiX5LVv0Nj1hfJMT31hrhtPbGigL4LCgXHyd98SbgEdGoSMo3/s1600/cactus+foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgnkLgCBFOHQijId7u24dShsLK_K24_VxVNTfwif6_NAEX_51PAQjOzuf5JwqMRz3Rhuum9T7VffRCz7kX2xoWaFdJTESiX5LVv0Nj1hfJMT31hrhtPbGigL4LCgXHyd98SbgEdGoSMo3/s1600/cactus+foot.jpg" height="182" width="200" /></a> Freshly pedicured feet also mean...<br />
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3. FLIP FLOPS, because I love me some naked feet action! Never one for flip flops as a kid - hated anything between my toes - I could live in flip flops, especially some Yellow Box flip flops because they are squishy and come in so many different designs...bedazzlingly beautiful!<br />
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4. Caffeine, preferably coffee, but I will succumb to a Route 44 Diet Dr. Pepper (easy ice) every now and then...just a little jolt, not excessive, but just knowing that I have the option to savor some tasty java when the feeling moves me (or needs to move me) makes me happy;-)<br />
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4. Friends that support me, laugh with me and give me great, supportive, non-judgmental advice...or so I think, maybe I've just strategically made some damn good choices to surround myself with awesome peeps that appreciate my crazy, spontaneous nonsense...no matter, they rock and I love them to pieces!</div>
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5. My awesome family - they love me just like I am, whackadoo nonsense and all, I couldn't ask for anything more, right?</div>
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So Superiors, my bucket of gratitude over-floweth...life is pretty damn good;-)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-24483958747139501202014-03-14T16:21:00.000-04:002014-03-14T16:21:13.403-04:00March Words Challenge<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This week’s post is a writing challenge that I heard about via Baking In a Tornado and seeing that I am trying to increase my personal writing, this seemed right up my alley. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-20c80422-c23f-afb3-86c3-4d03b528b62a" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: red; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Have you ever felt like you really understood a concept, only to find out that you were totally clueless? Yep, this was me, totally sideswiped by my own ignorance. Rather than beat myself up about my idiocy, I’ll share my idiocy and how it left me completely and totally spent - and not in the way they write about in those Fabio-like bodice ripper short stories.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today’s prime time TV is littered with reality TV nonsense - a great way to make the ordinary seem </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">special</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, right? One of my least favorite types of reality TV, due to the graphic (non-sexual) nature, are the ones that have to do with addictions or weird habits. Do I really care if you eat laundry detergent? Nope, not really, unless of course it helps with </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">grass </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">stains. Do I need to see your family attempt to intervene in your bizarre </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">toe</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">nail chewing habit? Hmm, only if I am feeling like my life is crap and therefore watching you would make me feel like the queen of the freaking universe. I understand that the addiction is a manifestation of a deeper lying issue, but that doesn’t mean I feel sorry for you or that I could give two hoots about you and your bizarre rituals. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So how does all of this connect to me being clueless? Hmm, let’s just say that people who have issues with germs are probably dirty rotten hoarders. Okay, that may be a little harsh but after yesterday’s experience, it is my story and I am sticking to it!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have recently taken a position as our school’s media coordinator, replacing the gal who has held the position for the past 13 years. Yesterday I had the opportunity to get into my new “office” and check it out. Little did I know that three hours later I would come out with a fresh case of black lung disease. And although I expected to do a little </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">clean</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ing/straightening up, I didn’t expect a truly DIRTY environment.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Why would I be so sure that I’d walk into a fairly clean situation? Hmm, because my predecessor has an issue...with germs which has manifested itself into a severe handwashing issue. Cleanest damn hands on the planet, working in the dirtiest library in the universe! Here I am, because I’ve watched enough TLC and A& E to know that most people with OCD issues are neat freaks, clean freaks, however you may want to classify them. But holy wow, not this chica...the friggin’ dust bunnies were the size of a half dollar and they were multiplying before my very eyes. And the cupboards were a menagerie of complete and utter nonsense...never, since 1989, have I seen so many VHS tapes in one area. All I could think was “be kind, rewind” and then had a great urge to go home and pop in my taped from television VHS tape of Weird Science! But then, of course, it kind of makes sense: if you don’t touch anything, your hands can’t get dirty...and if you don’t touch ANYTHING, nothing gets cleaned, right?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The only way to get over this traumatic experience...a big ass tub of hot water and BUBBLES, lots of bubbles to wash away all of the yuck that I had just experienced. Because not only did I want to get clean...I needed to wash away all of the weirdness that I had waded through in my soon to be new work environment. And I was pretty successful...because there isn’t much that a relaxing tub and a couple of hits off of your inhaler can’t cure. Just another day of Superior Nonsense my friends, just another day.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words they got and how they used them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m using: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: red; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">bubbles ~ grass ~ clean ~ special~ toes</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They were submitted by: </span><a href="http://www.rocksnosaltmommy.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.rocksnosaltmommy.com</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:</span></div>
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<a href="http://bakinginatornado.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://BakingInATornado.com</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Baking In A Tornado</span></div>
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<a href="http://followmehome.shellybean.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://followmehome.shellybean.com</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Follow me home . . .</span></div>
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<a href="http://superiornonsense92.blogspot.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://superiornonsense92.blogspot.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Superior Nonsense</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.rocksnosaltmommy.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.rocksnosaltmommy.com</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Rocks, No Salt Mommy</span></div>
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<a href="http://stacysewsandschools.wordpress.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://stacysewsandschools.wordpress.com</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Stacy Sews and Schools</span></div>
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<a href="http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1155cc; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: 'Comic Sans MS'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> The Bergham's Life Chronicles</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-53531535144834157712014-03-09T17:10:00.000-04:002014-03-09T17:10:20.444-04:00Karmic InterventionWell, it's that time again my friends, Sunday's blog entry of nonsense. This week I think I've been thinking about Karma - I capitalize it because I've given her a personality, simply because she shows up so often, kicking me in the arse, nipping at my heals, when I deserve it most. When we're young & foolish we call it bad luck, when we are older and supposedly more wise, we call it karma because honestly, we should know better.<br />
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Treat others as we wish to be treated, the good ol' Golden Rule. So easy to say, much more challenging to put into action. Why? Because we're human and making mistakes is what we do - sometimes we learn, sometimes we are insane (according to Einstein) and make the same mistakes over and over again...not all of us are quick study's if you know what I mean.<br />
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First, let me school you on my personal thoughts on the whole "golden rule" and "what goes around comes around"...It starts when we are kids and we join in gossip - always wanting to fit in, I'd find myself pulled into silly conversations about someone and to prove how funny I could be (perpetually the class clown, a great way to detract others from seeing your lack of confidence), I'd throw in my two cents of sarcastic wit and nine times out of ten, it would come back to bite me in the arse. Blame it on lack of self-confidence or lack of maturity, but it took me a while to learn to NOT engage in these nonsensical conversations. And at the age of 44 I am still amazed at how many adults still try to bait you into this negative banter. I mean I am all for a good laugh and I am certainly not Positive Polly 100% of the time, but I know how to read a situation and when someone wants to start the Negative Nelly nonsense, I make a joke and move on...nothing is worse than having your own words come back to bite you in the arse - not only is it unprofessional but immature and it says more about the speaker than those that they are speaking of. So, as a self-proclaimed socially mature woman (yeah right), I should not have issues with Karma...right? Ha Ha Ha<br />
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Our first major move, with the Coast Guard, was to Kodiak, Alaska, back in 1995. Being in my mid-20's and newly married, my potential peer group were the yummy mummies - stay at home mom's whose identity was based upon their husbands position at the air station. I was invited to many "parties" where you were expected to purchase items - Pampered Chef, Mary Kay, Cloudberry, etc. And at these parties were stay at home mommies and their babies/toddlers/kids...and this is where karma comes into play. One particular baby always had a runny nose - double barrel snot nose and to make matters worse he constantly had a pacifier in his mouth, which was chapped and crusty. Of course I couldn't resist commenting about this to my friend, frequently. <br />
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So what, right? It's okay to joke and confide with a trustworthy friend - my witty comments never did get back to the oblivious (and hygienically challenged) mama. But my sass -assiness would come back to get me, in the guise of Karma...<br />
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After unsuccessfully attempting to have children naturally (and with medical assistance), about ten years, we decided to pursue international adoption and traveled to Western Samoa (an island in the South Pacific, south west of Hawaii) to make our family complete. They were the most adorable little girls, ages 5 (C) & K (2) and we were just smitten, unable to remember a time without them. From two to four in the blink of an eye - mini-van, yard toys, Play Doh and the Wiggles - our lives were filled with laughter and an abundance of unconditional love. Sweet & sappy, right? Well you know me better than that and you are probably wondering: what about Karma? <br />
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Neither of our girls had major health issues, but K had a nasty ear infection that was treated while we were on the island - we were new parents and oblivious to the woes of ear infections...they are persistent little bastards, one right after the other, complete with green (yes, green!) gobbledy gook seeping from her left ear. But along with this came...a DOUBLE BARREL SNOT NOSE. No pacifier because she was beyond that, but the nose...damn, it was non-stop running. Poor kid, I know that if it drove me crazy it really had to drive her nuts! Hell, she probably thought that my hand came with a tissue attached to it. Multiple trips to the ENT, a tube in the right ear and surgery in the left ear, we (yes, we, cuz I was the one Karma was nipping in the buns with her snarky teeth) suffered two years of drippy, slurpy snot , finally getting it under control...but there was a lesson to be learned and I know that Karma was trying to teach me something, loud and clear: keep my damn mouth shut because you never know when it is going to happen to you!<br />
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Since her first appearance, or at least the first one I will acknowledge learning from, back in 2003, Karma is always there to keep me straight. She helps me to not get too big for my britches, keeping me grounded in reality and best of all, humble. When things are really awesome and I feel the urge to brag, Karma pokes her head around the corner and gives me the ol' finger wag, reminding me that even the briefest case of diarrhea of the mouth has the potential to sting...and hells bells, being a perio-menopausal mama comes with enough stings of its own, no need to add fuel to the fire!<br />
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Moral of the Story: Don't make fun of snot-nosed kids. No, seriously, think before speaking...don't say anything that may possibly come back to bite you in the arse cuz that nonsense will leave a mark.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-8597523827658756152014-03-04T20:20:00.000-05:002014-03-04T20:20:07.506-05:00Poetic License...Day 2<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just Say No...</span></div>
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...to the little voices in your head</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">especially the ones that say: lets get a donut or two!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to the negative nellies that say they want you to succeed,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">but in the end they really only want you to do their bidding.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to spending money to make you feel better,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">because in the end the empty wallet is going to really suck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...wearing uncomfortable clothing, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">as it will only make you feel ugly and have you worrying all day for nothing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to fads, as you are wiser than that and don't need any more nonsense clogging up your closet - which is already filled with crap you don't want to wear! Classic all the way baby!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to competing with your peers as it can suck the life force out of you AND you'll still be right where you started. Walk with the like minded and conquer your tasks together - two heads are always better than one</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to tacky nonsense like gossip, eating cafeteria food, and neon colored clothing, </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">because life is too short to waste it on things that make you feel and look like crap!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just Say Yes...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">...to embracing the beauty that is you, inside and out, because life is too short to do anything else!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-9911534525678730492014-03-04T20:08:00.001-05:002014-03-04T20:08:09.687-05:00Superior Nonsense: Hair, It's Overrated<a href="http://superiornonsense92.blogspot.com/2014/03/hair-its-overrated.html?spref=bl">Superior Nonsense: Hair, It's Overrated</a>: As I sit here with a hole on the side of my head (and no, not my ear canal), I am wondering why I have never just grown my hair out in one l...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-24587174414089565482014-03-04T12:23:00.001-05:002014-03-04T12:23:16.102-05:00Hair, It's OverratedAs I sit here with a hole on the side of my head (and no, not my ear canal), I am wondering why I have never just grown my hair out in one long Crystal Gayle sheath of nonsense. How much easier would life be? I mean, I'd just wash it, dry it, brush it, maybe even put it up in a pony tail. No gel, no hairspray, minimal visits to the salon (annually would work for me), no perusing for a new style to get through a mood. Yeah, if only I had the patience...<br />
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My downfall is that in my prior life, prior to becoming a teacher that is, I was a hair stylist. Thirteen years, on and off. Went to cosmetology school right out of high school and completed the program a month early...dedicated, motivated, excited to do something I had always dreamed of doing. But near the end of the program I learned that I was highly allergic to perm solution...Superiors, this was the late 80's, white women could not function without their curls, and therefore a stylist would not be able to make a living without cranking out some curls.<br />
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What to do, what to do? Hair, my friends, I did hair. I worked and my hands turned into minced meat, despite the bizarre and ineffective help from the dermatologist - cotton gloves, soaked in ice water with Alpha-Keri bath oils. Yes, true story, multiple times a day when I wasn't working. But I had a car payment and a small student loan to repay, so work it was. And what do hairstylists without a wee bit of time on their hands (no pun intended)? Each other's hair, of course! I'll give you a brief recount of some of the really bad fiascos, just to prove that I really don't learn from bad experiences....<br />
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First hair fiasco occurred in beauty school: my cute little wedge haircut took on a very masculine transformation within the first month of school. I freaked, I cried, and everybody was pissed with ME because I'd hurt my friend's (who apparently did not hold my hair at the proper angle to keep the weight line, i.e. fullness, in the back) feelings. Umm, wasn't I the one walking around looking like I should be wearing a pressed oxford shirt, jeans and Tretorn tennis shoes? Just in case that reference is lost in translation...the hair cut made me look like I liked chicks and although I support gay rights, I wasn't playing for that team, if you get my drift.<br />
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Second hair fiasco, post-beauty school - blonde (read: WHITE) highlights...yes, it was bad, I am PALE with freckles & greyish blue eyes, red or gold highlights work, NOT extreme blonde, i.e. white. I walked into the house and my mom was on the phone and I remember her saying, 'I think my daughter is blonde, I'll call you right back.' It lasted a day and the only thing that covers yucky, mucky ashy blonde hair is RED...and I've been rocking various shades of red, on & off, for over 20 years now. Proof that mistakes can open doors, right? No worries, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.<br />
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Numerous, bad haircuts, perms and some wee bit wacky color issues. But nothing really topped the time I had my hair straightened. I know, silly white girl, you already have straight hair, is exactly what you are thinking. Well, I had impulsively had my hair permed and after going to a workshop where we learned how to cut the latest version of the shag haircut (the infamous "Rachel" from the TV show "Friends") I just HAD to have straight hair. Lisa, an African-American stylist who worked part time in our little salon, volunteered to straighten my hair...a simple run through with perm solution does the trick.<br />
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Well, we all know that there are major differences between Caucasian hair and Black hair...so the fact that she combed the solution threw my hair with the same pressure and intensity that you would an African-American's hair...and while my hair was considerably unattractive in it's permed state, there was no "nap" to cut through. Which is why I had difficulty getting my hair OFF OF MY scalp for the first two weeks...no volume, no lift at the root, just flat ass straight hair stuck to my head. Be careful what you wish for, right? But wait, it gets better...two months afterwards I feel this bizarre little stubble in the crown of my head - yep, my hair had broken off, at the root, and was now growing back in...it didn't take long to me a little crew cut going at the crown of my head, kind of like natural texturizing to give me lift. Again, my story...<br />
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Which leads me to yesterday's haircut experience...it really should have taken minutes because I'd already cut the majority myself and only needed her help blending in the back. I wanted no major changes, just blending so that when I styled my hair I didn't look like I was working two different looks. So why did I leave with hair that was not only shorter in ALL areas, but I have HOLES, more like gaps but they feel like cavernous holes that cannot be filled without major work!! As she wrapped up the experience, her departing words were: I blended the back and texturized a bit. Hmm, A BIT!! $20 to walk away with holes in my head and a grandma hairdo to boot...<br />
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The moral to my story: Thank goodness for cute headbands.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-70604353792259680982014-02-23T20:08:00.003-05:002014-02-23T20:18:21.917-05:00Poetic License - Day 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><b><u><br /></u></b></i>
<i><b><u>Bullies</u></b></i><br />
<b>B</b>egging to be noticed, desperately seeking friendship and notoriety<br />
<b>U</b>ndermines authority through manipulation and fakery<br />
<b>L</b>ove to be the center of attention, as long as he or she gets their way<br />
<b>L</b>istens to no voice of reason, only the sound of their self-esteem screaming to elevated<br />
<b>I</b>ntelligently and masterfully able to get others to follow, through fear or false friendship<br />
<b>E</b>njoys the game as much as winning - the more they play, the more strength they gain<br />
<b>S</b>ome day they will have children of their own and <b>this </b>is when they will learn that what they have done was wrong<br />
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nml92<br />
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Stand tall,<br />
be brave,<br />
be the best you.<br />
You're unique,<br />
You are cool, <br />
So special and true!<br />
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nml92Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6862432389293571187.post-92015764576475840312014-02-23T16:02:00.000-05:002014-02-23T16:02:16.173-05:00Warning: Crazy Mama will Kick Your ArseIt appears as though high school can bring out the worst in a person - and by person I mean me, the adult, the parent. Last week you know that we attended the cheer competition and it brought out the nasty in me, as shared in this oh so wonderful blog. But I can't help it - when you put my kid under a microscope I go all mad scientist, Dr. Evil, and begin plotting world dominance...where everything will be magically transformed into rainbows, cotton candy and unicorns. Not really, because all of that stuff makes my gag reflex kick in, but you get my point - mess with my kid and mama bear is pissed and ready to kick your arse... taking a piece of your hide for a souvenir. Damn, look at me going all Billy Bad Ass - I might even be able to take on a zombie or two, if need be.<br />
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But no matter how irritated, angry and irrational I get about my kids being dissed, it's irrelevant because, ironically, neither one of my kids really needs my help to fight their battles. I'd like to think it is because we've raised them to be their own people - and I'm sure that my continuously telling them 'you are awesome and haters are just jealous arse-faces' has helped, right? <br />
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My issue (yes, I said MY) lies with eldest daughter, C: smart, kind and giving- but she is also aloof (a sweet way to say she lacks common sense) and judgmental. She is<b><u> not (?!) </u></b>concerned about pleasing her peers, nor does she work at maintaining friendships - if they like her, oh well, if they don't, oh well. If they ramble on about nonsensical boy issues she doesn't have time for you - she sees the frivolity of being a teenager as a complete and utter waste of time. Hard work, determination and dedication to making the world a better place, yeah, that's her gig. Wow, she is so <u><b>unlike</b></u> me at that age!<br />
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Side Note: She does seek my approval, especially when getting dressed (Yay! A normal teen trait that I can relate to!).<br />
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So, if she can handle herself, what's the issue? Bullies, that's the issue and believe me, the irony that I want to bully the bullies is not falling short on me. But isn't it my job, as a loving, caring mother to protect her from the skanks and the skags that are oh so ready to rip her to shreds (mind you, these are spoiled white chicks that are haters, so no real physical fighting will take place, just words via social networks - no racial bias here, just calling it like it is)? Or is it my job to empower her with the grace and dignity (that she already possesses) and step back and fight her own fight, her way?<br />
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Man, this parenting teen stuff is tough and <b>personal</b>...because really, all of this is more about me than her. Back in the day, I allowed others to determine my worth. I worked hard, too hard, to be cool. I skipped a lot of school in junior high to avoid being teased and taunted over things that I should have just brushed off. And although all of that happened a billion years ago and things got much better as I got older, the wounds are still there and I don't want my kids or anybody else's for that matter, to hurt like I did. <br />
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Aww hell, this is not a pity party - just a bit of a revelation that I've had somersaulting around in my little brain for awhile and I guess it was ready to come tumbling out. <br />
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Now that I've opened up this big ol' can of worms, what to do? I believe that there is only one thing to do and that's prevention peeps, prevention through empowerment. Empower our children, yours & mine, to be unique, kind, caring individuals who kick ass in the face of adversity. Bam, that's it. Peace out my friends..until next week.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05408218202894671294noreply@blogger.com0