Dreams...

I had one of those dreams this morning where you swear it was real... you can smell, hear and touch things and just know that you are there...

I was in my kitchen trying to wash dishes, but the water wouldn't get hot and the other side of the sink kept clogging up. Then, my Uncle Bill came up behind me and said, "Why didn't you say hi to me?" I turned around to him and he picked me up and hugged me and said "I love you, kid." And I could feel him... his wiry frame as he hugged me, his cheek against mine. And I said, "I love you too." Then he pulled away and was gone.

My Uncle Bill has been dead for almost 18 years. He was killed in a motorcycle accident in September 1991, just a few days after his 34th birthday. It was such a blow to my family - so sudden and so unnecessary. This is the first time I have ever dreamed about him. And I can't believe that I still remember how he felt, how his voice sounded and how he smelled. I don't know what the dream means. I hadn't been thinking of him lately. I guess it is funny what the mind will do.

I have been spending all day trying not to cry... I guess I should just let it go and see if that helps.

Bellyachin' (Pun Intended)

So, if you know me, you know how much I hate my self-proclaimed "Trucker Belly" and that I have been considering plastic surgery to fix it. Well, consideration over. The tummy tuck is scheduled for August 21st.

I finally got tired of fantasizing about wearing pants that actually fit... so I made an appointment for a consultation with Dr. Vishnu Rumalla in Keller. Mr. Fix-it and I went to the consultation on June 30th and it was eye-opening. There is nothing like an examination gown, full-length mirror, purple surgical marker and a plastic surgeon kneeling in front of you while tucking your belly in on itself to make the realization more clear that your stomach is fully jacked up.

It was kind of amazing, actually. When he opened my gown, he immediately said, "oh, okay, you carried your babies high and they were very large." Score one for the good doctor. He explained that the reason why I have what I will refer to as my "top poochie" is because I carried the kids high, thus my abs were separated (by several inches) and that no matter how much exercise I do (ab work or cardio), it will not go away. In fact, he said that by working my abs I was making it worse because I was strengthening them in the wrong position. Who knew?

The area of skin/fat he is going to remove measures in at 10 inches long and 17 inches wide. But he said that it will only weigh 3 or 4 pounds. Insane. He is also going to lipo my flanks (which makes me feel like a cut of beef) and my inner thighs. He said that he "loves" my outer thighs (score two for the doc), but that my inner thighs have a pocket that will be difficult to lose. Suck away! I'm already going to be in pain, pain, pain, so why not?

So, as I count down the days (31) until this momentous occasion in my life, I begin to wonder if I am just being vain. And I will admit that vanity plays a large part of it. However, I think about how my undies are always falling down and how my pants are always saggy in the butt (both because my waist is about two sizes bigger than my hips, not to mention the "bottom poochie" that has to housed somewhere) AND the fact that my lower abs hurt like hell any time I do any kind of exercise. And I think it is okay to want this and to do this for myself. Maybe it's kind of stupid, but I feel like once this out-of-whack part of my body is gone, that I will have more confidence in myself in general. And I know I will be more motivated to complete my body/health transformation without the Trucker Belly weighing me down.

Stay tuned...

Bacon, The Karmic Equalizer...

I burned myself last night making dinner... I had a pan fresh out of the oven in my potholdered hand, then I grabbed it with my un-potholdered hand. I really just burnt the side of my middle finger, it hurt, but it is not serious. But I thought, Damn that really hurt.

So, this morning I was making some bacon (telling myself that I could have some for breakfast because I was really just making it to crumble on top of spinach tonight and that I might as well cook all six slices), which quickly evolved into a bacon, egg and provolone toasted sandwich. As I was assembling the sandwich in the freaking hot pan - SIZZLE. Yep, that'd be my wrist. Now I have a two inch long pink blister going across my wrist. Especially painful when showering or trying to use the computer keyboard or mouse.

The moral of this story? I'm not sure. But it seems that maybe the universe is trying to tell me to stop justifying the consumption of bacon. :)

I Am So Proud of Me!

So, I have to brag on myself just a little bit... after today, I will have exercised for FIVE, count'em, FIVE days in a row. Yowza. I am still in a bit of shock.

How long have I been doing this? Struggling with the weight... the body image... since junior high, I guess. Now I look back at pics from high school, when I thought I was a tub of lard, and think "wow, I was kinda hot." I am not trying to get back to the high school weight - I am a realist after all. I am done with diet books, protein shakes and all that mumbo jumbo - irrational programs that do not help sustain weight loss or a healthy life.

My brain is finally firing appropriately... I must exercise almost every day... it is a requirement, like taking shower and brushing my teeth. I must not eat just because it tastes good, because I am stressed out, because there is a tub of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla in the freezer... :)

I still have a ways to go (like, 22 pounds), but I've already lost 10. So really, I'm a third of the way to my goal.

AND I got to move three pairs of jeans and one shirt from the "too small" rack of my closet to the "it fits" rack of my closet. Yay!!

Even when I am done, my stomach will still look like a melted candle from having three c-sections, but perhaps if I am a good girl I can get a tummy tuck for my 34th birthday. :)

Retrain My Brain

I have this friend, we will call her Heidi, who also happens to be my "upline" for my Passion Party and Traveling Vineyard businesses. She is also going through one bitch of a divorce with an ex-husband that is even worse than my estranged husband (I didn't know it was possible, but lo and behold)... She is also a stay-home mom that is making her living through the Passion Parties and Traveling Vineyard, though she is much more successful at it than I am.

She is always telling me that I will only get back what I put out into the world - meaning that if I have a cynical, negative, bitchy view, that is what I will receive back. This is something that I have never really considered before, since I am the Queen of Cynicism and Sarcasm. Of course, I realize the irony of having a blog titled about the karma of returning shopping carts... so obviously, I must put SOME stock into the belief that what comes around goes around (Ratt, anyone?).

I had vowed that today, yes, TODAY, I was going to have this bright, new attitude as I call about a job I don't want, call the unemployment office about extending my benefits, have a phone meeting with my attorney about the RIDICULOUS demands that The Donor is trying to insert into the mediated divorce decree that we have already agreed on, take care of two little ones still in diapers, dispairing over my trucker-belly, frustrated that my businesses are going nowhere and that Mr. Fix-It is gone. Again.

I guess I am not off to a good start.

How I Love That Man O' Mine

So Mr. Fix-It was sharing a car ride to downtown Fort Worth with one of his management cohorts from the corporate office the other night...

As they were driving, they saw a woman in a skirt walking down the street. Mr. Corporate Management says wistfully, "I remember when my wife had legs like that." Mr. Fix-It replied, "My wife still has legs like that," to which Mr. Corporate Management said, "F@&# you."

It may not be true... but at least he is blinded enough by love to believe it. :)

Bitch and Moan

Wow, I can't believe it has been over three weeks since I wrote my last blog. Time seems to be slipping away from me and I can't get ahold of it. Things I have been looking forward to (my birthday, our trip to Oklahoma) are now gone... and I am left wondering "well, what now?"

Of course, this time leakage is doing nothing for my impending divorce... the weeks keep slipping by... and I am no less divorced than I was over three months ago when we went through mediation and AGREED on everything. So, I am not sure why I am still married to man that makes my skin crawl while all that needs to be done is the signing of the document.

In Texas, there is a 30 day wait to get a marriage license after a divorce is final. Then a three day wait after the license is obtained to get married. Mr. Fix-It and I really want to get married in March or April... May and June are bad months for us... too many birthdays, my niece/nephew will be born then and those were our previous wedding anniversary months. Trivial? Maybe.

Then we get into July... and that's five freaking months from now. I am trying my best to be a pain in the ass to my attorney without totally pissing off their office manager, but let's face it, I am not always the most patient (or tactful) person in the world.

Not to mention the fact that The Donor is not paying child support as he is supposed to - he is currently 48 days late on January and 16 days late on February and NOTHING is happening to him. Anyone who says that the courts are female-friendly need their heads pulled out of their asses.

Ok, I think I am done for now. But stay tuned... cuz I'm still really freaking frustrated.

Happy Birthday to Me

Yep, you guessed it... today is my birthday.

And I'm okay with it. I mean, it's kind of like losing weight... the time is going to pass whether my ass is fat or not, right? Time is going to pass and I am going to get older whether I like it or not, so I might as well get on board.

And the 30's are good... I feel more comfortable with myself than I ever have. Not so many feelings of self-doubt. I don't really care if everyone likes me or not (because if someone doesn't like me, they are obviously skewed in some way... since I rock and all).

So today I am going to do the following (1) have TWO cups of coffee, (2) eat bacon and eggs for breakfast - and maybe a cookie afterwards (3) play Rock Band as much as I can between taking care of the little kids and (4) go eat at Texas de Brazil because my cholesterol isn't high enough.

Word.

So, last night Mr. Fix-It, The Cheerleader and I were playing Rock Band and she wanted to sing Livin' on a Prayer, so we played it. And while I was rockin' the drums (watch out Don Henley), I had this memory flash...

I was about 10 years old when Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet came out... and Livin' on a Prayer was the song of the minute. I remember singing it and doing stupid little dance routines to it in my friend's front yard... of course, can't remember the friend's name, but I remember us being goofy little kids in her front yard.

It was just a little weird... when I was that dorky little kid, I never would have guessed that 23 years later I would be sitting in my living room with my man and my kids, playing simulated drums on a gaming system to that very song. And I think it is super-cool that my Cheerleader knows all the words. And that Queenie was doing a little dance for us while we were playing. :)

An Articulate Post for Friday

AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tension breaker, had to be done.

Mortification at the Hands of The Cheerleader

I love my "tween" daughter, otherwise known as The Cheerleader. She is energetic and fun... she is also nosey (she calls it being curious) and wildly inappropriate.


I woke her up yesterday to get ready for school, then went back downstairs to get myself ready enough to stand at the garage door and wait for her bus to arrive (the preparation is minimal at best). After completing this daunting task, I open my bedroom door to find her standing RIGHT OUTSIDE the bedroom door (note that there is nothing else there... just our bedroom door... not even a hall, so there was no reason for her to be standing there). And she says, "Mom, what were you DOING in there?"


Now, how do you answer a question like that? I told her I was getting dressed and brushing my teeth. She says "Yeah, right. I HEARD stuff." Gasp!! I know for a fact that the only thing she could have heard was me and Mr. Fix-It talking while we were both in the bathroom. So, I told her that what happens in my bedroom is none of her business and left it at that.


That afternoon, she and her little friends come bounding into the house to play Rock Band and as they are settling in to play, she says (in front of her friends), "Really, Mom, what were you doing in your bedroom this morning?" Argh! I had to control myself, because I really wanted to grab her by the ear and yank her upstairs for a gripe-out, but instead I said, "Julie, this is not the right time to talk about this." I was furious - I was just sure that these little girls would run home to their mom (who is allegedly friends with The Dark One - Mr. Fix-It's exwife) and tell a convoluded version of the conversation. You know, like, Julie's parents were "doing it" on the kitchen island... that kind of thing.


After the girls went home, I sat down with The Cheerleader and asked her to tell me what privacy is. She told me, and she was right. I told her that if a door is shut in our house and she needs something, that she needs to knock. If she doesn't need anything, she cannot stand by the door and be nosey. I asked her if she had any questions, because next time there would be no discussion, just action. She says, "But I thought I heard... nevermind."


I am really struggling with this... I don't want it to be a conversation about sex because, well, it isn't really about that. It's about privacy and respecting other people's space. I NEVER would have said any of these things to my mother... I mean, ew.

The Perfect Saturday Afternoon

I am not usually all "whiskers on kittens", but when I have a nice day (or few hours for that matter), I feel the need to share.

This past Saturday, it was just me, Mr. Fix-It and The Cheerleader. After a morning of shooing away The Cheerleader's slumber party friends, a harrowing trip to Wal-Mart (which is a whole other post) and various other small shopping trips, we settled into a harmonious Saturday afternoon.

Mr. Fix-It assembled the newly purchased futon for the children's play area and put plywood down in the attic for storage purposes... something he has been trying to do for several weeks. The Cheerleader stayed upstairs and amused herself (I am still trying to get over that). I stayed in the kitchen for hours... listening to our music collection on random, singing at the top of my lungs, making guacamole, chopping various veggies for dinner on Sunday night and preparing the side dishes to accompany a delicious medium-rare ribeye steak cooked perfectly by Mr. Fix-It. I even made a mushroom cream sauce to top the steak without using cream. That's right people... I made a roux with flour and butter and then added milk to make a sauce. Giada would be proud.

Sometimes it is the simplest things in life that make me happy...