Hop-a-Long

I went to the doctor yesterday to quiet the near-constant harassment of a few dear friends over this blasted toe. And also to make sure I could go skiing this weekend.
The good news is that I was horrifically humbled. (no, do not applaud)
The bad news is that the doctor says I can't ski. Or walk, for that matter.
My pinky toe, the one-inch-short appendage, is kind of split right down the middle. Like, it's broken end to end.
This is bad.
What's worse is that with all my belly-dancing, gym workouts, and kung fu, I seem to have forestalled the healing process. Apparently, one's body only attempts to repair such damage for a limited time. If it is unable, the body simply applies it's energy elsewhere.
So, basically, the doctor warned me that I must stay off, Off, OFF the little thing for two weeks, and take these little pills, and behave myself. Then I have to come back and give him more money to X-ray me again. If I haven't been a good girl, he'll tell Santa. And Santa will be mad.
Actually, he didn't say that about Santa. I made that up.
What he did say was that if it hasn't begun to heal, we will have to take Drastic Measures. I don't know if that means that he will tie me down and put me in traction, or amputate the little thing. Either way. I have to skip belly-dancing this week, and so I am a little depressed.
You should have a bikini car wash to raise money for my medical expenses. And you should cook me meals and deliver them to my house. And send flowers.
Do you want a True Confession?
Part of me was delighted, in a perverse sort of way, that the doctor was so shocked at my ability to be Super Active Mom with a maimed toe. It made me feel very superhuman and powerful. I always have thought myself a wimp when it comes to pain. I feel better about that now. Like, maybe I could give birth without an epidural.

Standing

Once in a while the people I love chose to describe me in less-than-flattering words.
I know, it's very surprising.
"Stubborn" and "Pig-headed" being the most recent. Both terms were applied to my refusal to stay off my broken toe. It's an inch long! Yet, it continues to thwart my aspirations for activity. The blasted thing is still swollen like a tiny puffed-up sausage (albeit, a well-manicured one).
I tried ice skating this weekend with my children. I got the skates in a size too big so that my toe would not be crowded in there. It hurt too much, and I took the skates back to the counter where they refunded my money.
There was not enough snow to ski, so we played scrabble a lot. The boys and I went sledding for a little while. That was another activity designed to promote healing in my smallest appendage.
I just don't think it's reasonable for that teeny tiny little thing, way down at the farthest reaches of my anatomy, to cause me so much difficulty. My dear friend Chuck says that my I.Q. drops 40 points when I am stubborn and pig-headed. He says it "plummets precipitously." And I was really excited about that, because if I could understand and pronounce such large words while operating on a reduced intellect, why then, I guess I'm smarter than I thought.
However, my illusion was dashed by my own mispronunciation of the word "Fiefdom." My insistence on it's pronunciation served to punctuate his claims that I am indeed stubborn and pig-headed. I looked it up in the dictionary and found that it is said with a long "E" sound and not a long "I" sound. Chuck was right!
I stand corrected.
But I can't stand for long....

Ugh!!

I am going to my dad's for the holiday and we're leaving tomorrow. Maybe I should pack at some point. I really would rather go back to bed.
I am a little bummed about the thought of skiing. There are two reasons for this. One, I don't know if the resorts will actually be open. And two, I don't think I can put this foot of mine in a boot. It's still swollen and painful due to the broken toe.
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A friend of mine called this morning and she is distracted by a man to the point of needing medical attention.
You think I'm exaggerating!
She can't hold down a job, she can't eat, she can't pay bills, she can't function at all. She has never actually met this man, which strikes me as odd. But they are planning to get married. I was listening to her describe her emotional summersaults, she is elated one moment and despondent the next.
I thought, "EEEK! That sounds like me." I, too, bounce all over creation with my emotions. I wonder if I look so psychotic to my friends?
Another girlfriend was describing her angst over what she thinks others might think of her. That sounds like me also.
I can totally paralyze myself worrying about what others might be thinking of me. This friend doesn't allow herself to share her life fully, because other people are so likely to judge her, or think ill of her. Why does it matter so much?
So then, I met someone else who has a personality very similar to mine. This guy is so captivated by his social life that he bounces from one event to another without taking time to be still and to think. I could see myself in that one, too.
Do you suppose God wants me to learn a little something? It's like these mirrors being held up for me to see my bizarre and unhealthy behaviors. Or maybe I'm just so selfish that I think it's all about me!

Jessie inspired me

Yesterday I had lunch with my beautiful friend, Jessie. She is an Important person. I think she might be perfect.
She does Philanthropic Fund Raisers for Africa in her free time. I drink wine in my free time. It kind of puts things into perspective. Not the wine, I mean the time with someone who is globally conscious.
She does things that help to save the lives of children on the other side of the world. I threaten the lives of children on this side of the world. Those in my own home, mostly!
She gives large amounts of money to help people. I give large amounts of money to my local thrift store. ("Large" being relative here.)
Plus, she plays ice hockey. There's a sport I haven't tried. I don't generally like team sports with balls. But I might be able to do a team sport with a puck. That would be a new adventure. Maybe I should join her!
Jessie is a very smart person. She was class president in high school. And I think she was a cheerleader. I tried out for cheerleader, but I didn't make the team. So, I went out for Drill Team and wore spandex and sequins in public. Sometimes I still do! But, not very often. I don't ever do things to save children on the other side of the world. But I wonder if I should...? Jesus talkes a lot about giving to those in need and taking care of the fatherless, and feeding the poor. I don't know if a lot of Christians take that very seriously. Love is active, right? Like "Love thy neighbor," That kind of love is an action verb and not a warm-fuzzy feeling. I don't have to like you, but I do have to love you. Love in action means that I have to pay attention to what you need and then set about to meet that need. That's a very outside-myself kind of thing. I want to be more like that.....

Why not take all of me?

I took my first belly dancing class today and I am very excited about it. It's really delightful to pursue these radically different interests of mine.
Belly dancing,
Chinese broadsword,
tea cups,
weight lifting,
Bible,
martial arts,
skiing,
languages.
I think I am becoming a Renaissance Woman. Is there such a thing?
Belly dancing is very different than I thought it would be. It's harder in some ways. It is going to help me a ton with muscle isolation and body awareness. Those things are important in martial arts as well as dating. It's all intertwined. It's a holistic-me thing. A Christian holistic me thing.
I'm dying from the world's worst head cold. And, what's worse: I'm uninspired. I can't think through the stuffiness in my head. There are not enough Kleenex on the planet to make me acceptable in public. It's not very ladylike.
If I don't suffocate from the cold, I'll write more tomorrow.

My civic duty

I love fruit loops with all my heart. I have been failing miserably at a low-carb diet and this afternoon's temptation is cereal. Sometimes a girl needs something sweet! Heaven know's I am not getting sweet stuff outside the sugar bowl.
But I don't mind failure so much. I see it as my contribution towards the self-esteem of those around me. If I am making you feel a success by my failing, then I have done a good thing, and that's like winning.
Anything for a friend.
Jenine is more righteous than I at gym attendance. Last night I was totally praying that she wouldn't call and remind me to go. She didn't. I didn't go. She did go. See how that lowers the curve?
I am trying to help all you singles out by being a total loser on the dating scene, too. That way, you can compare yourselves to me and see how well you're doing. No thanks are necessary. It actually comes naturally.

...but wait, there's more!

I forgot to tell you about the songs.
At dinner last night, we were talking with our mothers about the songs they sang to us as children. Kara's mom sang songs like "Jesus loves me" and something about beautiful-Kara-in-the-kitchen. Lovely songs. Genteel songs.
My mom sang more robust fare:
"Cecilia" You know this one? "...makin love in the afternoon with Cecilia, up in my bedroom..."
..and "Hail, hail, the gang's all here...what the hail do we care?"
...and "I wanna neck, I wanna neck, I wanna necklace made o' pearls.......and when the dam, dam, dam, dam, damage is done, and we've had our child, child, childish fun..."
It explains a lot, knowing what songs I learned in the cradle. Don't ya think?

How I spent my day of rest

Yesterday was a total blast. You wouldn't think it from my choice of activity. I volunteered to go and help my Mother with yard work. Kara offered to come along. Kara's mom decided to join us at the last minute.
The funny thing was, my mom didn't know I was bringing all this help, and she decided to jog up to the grocery store,
where she ran into an old friend,
and went out to coffee.
When she finally came home, she found me and Kara hard at work outside, and Kara's mom merrily cleaning the inside. See, mom? That's what friends are for!
Now, I tell you that Yvonne was 'merrily' cleaning, and I assume that's true. Kara and I were merry to the brink of Absolute Silliness outside.
We raked leaves. You already know my thoughts on that chore. It's useless until they are all actually Off the blasted trees!
There were leaves on the roof, as well. I was thinking that it would be wise to sweep them off, as our next task was to clean out the gutters. So I climbed onto the roof. With a broom. Oh, that was so much fun! I was singing that song from Merry Poppins,,,,you know the one they sing while dancing with the chimney sweeps on the rooftops of London?
I peered down thru the skylight to the kitchen 16 feet below. Kara suggested that I dive thru the skylight Mission Impossible style to steal the wine.
We cleaned out the gutters; a task that hadn't been attempted since the Eisenhower administration. There were fresh leaves atop a sticky black substance which smelled of baloney. And lots of rain water. We took turns teetering atop an unstable ladder and scooping out wet hands full, which we let fall to the ground with a satisfying "PLOP!" We wrinkled our noses and said "Ew!" each time. Kara said that dropping a messy gunk from that height made her feel like a bird.
I chased the leaves around on the deck with a leaf-blower and created this swirling wonderland. I was imagining myself as a powerful beauty in a movie. You should have seen it! You know how the sci-fi heroine makes temporal objects swirl about her with her powers? That was me on the deck.
I was a Beautiful, Powerful, sci-fi movie star.
Kara was an indelicate bird.
Kara was raking and apparently not paying too much attention. Suddenly she noticed what she's been raking around. "O! Antlers!" She exclaimed, "Something died!" Which I thought was pretty humorous for a couple reasons. One was that she appeared to think that a buck had curled up and died right there by the tree, leaving only it's remarkable headgear. Secondly, the fact that she was clearing the foliage from around this monstrous rack, and it barely dawned on her what she stood before. She can be kinda funny that way.
All-in-all, we got a lot done and laughed ourselves sore.

Quite Shocking

One or two of my friends have pointed out that I ought to blog with abandon. There are so many things that are funny which I don't tell you because of my demure nature. Ok, I am not really demure, but there are some things one oughtn't to speak of in public.
Like the maxi-pads in the candy dish. That was very, very funny; albeit not suitable for my male readers. They looked so out of place in the living room, and resting in the silver candy dish. (They were unopened, in case you were wondering. And there was only one....the other two had disappeared, and were found later in other parts of the house. Still unopened, mercifully.) My guests didn't seem to notice. I won't tell you why they were there, you will have to use your imagination.
But there are funny things like that almost every day. Perhaps I will give you glimpses, and if the world doesn't end, I'll tell you others. I have to break you in easy.

November 9

This is the anniversary of my sister's death, and I am always pensive on this day. How could I not be?
I was thinking how God teaches us things over time. I never really learn by epiphany, though I often tumble to a realization in a moment. The truth always seems to be that the lesson was long-term, and I figure it out in an instant.
I had the mistaken thought that my children are all I have, and God reminded me that He is all I have. Everything else is on loan. My house, my car, my children, all that surrounds me...God has the right to take any of it with no notice at all.
God has, thorough the years, stripped away so much that I had thought was permanent, or things I thought were mine. He has replaced them with things that are more obviously His.
In Heaven, I suppose we'll all be aware that He is Everything, and we are dependant upon Him for All. But, in heaven, it won't hurt so much.

Here she goes again...

What can I write about that's funny and interesting? I think I have exhausted my repertoire of available material. I have told you more than you need to know about my love life. Way more than you need to know about my friends. Too much about my housework. And Way too much about my children.
The only thing left to me is to begin making up stories.
Once upon a time in my mirror, there lived a radiant beauty. Her fair exterior was surpassed only by the towering intellect which displayed itself with the utmost humility. She was perfection, aka a size 6. The man of her dreams captured her heart and swept her off to a life of leisure. Whoa....then I woke up.
Is it clear to you now that I have delusions of grandeur? They can medicate that, I think. It's kind of fun, though. Why would I use medication? I am one of those people who dreams about rescuing the world. Sometimes I am Laura Croft. Is that how you spell it? Or the skinny girl with bad hair from the Matrix. Sometimes I am, like, this normal person, who saves the day with my supreme martial arts abilities....and a sword.
If you ever see me staring off into space looking mean, it's because I am glaring at the bad guy, and about to do some damage. But I will always use my powers for good, and not for evil. That's because I have honor and principles and a staunch conviction. You gotta have a staunch conviction and honor and stuff if you're gonna save the day.

For your eyes only

I am going to tell you about a funny thing that happened in my house this weekend, but you can't tell anyone, because it's a secret.
My boys and their buddies were doing this male posturing where they were bragging about who has the most facial hair.
"Dude, I have the most peach fuzz." (He really said that, he said "peach fuzz).
"Look at this...in the light, you can totally see it."
"This (pointing to his lip) this is 11...11 years!"
They have no facial hair. I have more hair on the bottom of my feet than the four of those pre-pubescent boys combined.

I have no title for this one

I broke my toe, I am sure of it. I am going to be deformed for the rest of my life. The phone rang, I went running for it, I kicked the blasted chair, and then my toe swelled up to 85 times it's normal size. I can't walk.
I can't exercise!!!!!!! O, that is a shame.

Kara's son spent the night this weekend, and I took him home last night. Kara and Soubanh invited me to stay for dinner. Their home life is so very blog-worthy.
Kara reigns from the kitchen table with a glass of wine.
Soubanh was busy in the kitchen preparing a feast. Then he ran to the laundry room to throw a load in, then he zipped in to take care of a problem with the kids before coming back out to finish the feast.
Kara, languidly reclined at the table said..." I need a paper towel." To no one in particular. Soubanh brought her the whole roll.
I said, "She is so mean to you! If you get tried of her, I'll marry you."
And he brought me dinner.
I told Kara, "He cooks, cleans, parents, and serves you....plus you're skinny. I can't be your friend."
She said, "Sure you can. Who else would put up with you?"

Grrrrrr......

I am in a bad mood. A general bad mood and not a specific bad mood. An equal opportunity bad mood. Beware...

I Resolve to Nap

I went out on the town last night with my girlfriends. We had a blast. You know how wild we can be...a bunch of old, stay-at-home moms...in public...after dark. What will the neighbors say? We ate good food, 'cause you know how I love good food. (Cathy, you shoulda been here! We had that goat cheese and crab quesadilla.yum! )
Now I am suffering from sleep deprivation, because I stayed out too late.
Since I am tired, I think I'll nap instead of exercising.
I worked out for over a month, and I am still not at my goal. Now I don't want to work out any more. I want chocolate. Exercise is stupid.
Do I appear to have a poor attitude?
"Dating is stupid"
"Exercise is stupid"
"Housework is Stupid"
These are the themes of my blog!
The good news is that my bad attitudes never last very long. Usually, the moment I purge-by-blogging, I feel much better and can face the world with my usual cheerful disposition.
I don't know if I'll be able to face the treadmill, though.
I really should run outside today. That is an exercise that makes me happy. It's such a mental challenge, because the first mile always is hard. I have to propel myself forward by a sheer force of will. Then something clicks, and I could run forever. Maybe not forever, but at least until my knees start to complain.
Lots of things are like that for me; I have to accumulate some momentum before things get easy. Of course, after working-out for a while, you'd think I'd have some momentum there. What's up with that?
A nap will likely serve me better anyway!

More Dating Stories...

Do you want to hear the gory details of my dating life? I'd call it my "love life", but that would be a misnomer.
Years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and I was newly single, I was set up with this really nice guy from church. We went out two or three times, and then he stopped calling. Was it something I said? I have no idea. If you are going to stop calling a girl, you should tell her why.
Then I met this cop. He called a lot, and we went out a couple times, and he seemed Perfect. He decided to stop calling, too, but he told me to my face. I respected that. I found out about a year later that he was sleeping with every willing woman in the valley. He was always appropriate and a perfect gentleman to me. I was apparently not the sort of woman he was used to. ("used" being his modus operandi).
There was the German-cowboy-turned-stalker. He was interesting, in a way. Freaky, but certainly an anomaly.
Then I fell really hard for a man and dated for a Looonnnnggg time. But I'm not a perpetual dater. I am more goal oriented than that. If dating is IT, then I don't want to play. I would like very much to marry again, and that is the only reason I date at all.
Dating is time consuming, emotionally traumatic, and expensive. When it happens.
And that brings up another point...
Where are all the good men?
Every one of the above-eviscerated men was a good, Christian man in the right age group. Every one of them voiced honorable intentions. Each of them treated me with respect. They were each reasonably attractive, and displayed various degrees of intelligence. And nothing came of any of them.
Should I be looking for a different sort of man? One like this, perhaps...

This guy has potential!

Reasons to eat

I feel it coming on...the Holiday season!
Every single leaf from my solitary tree is blanketing the driveway. I think those leaves are magical because it's physically impossible to remove them entirely. No matter how many times we rake and sweep, there are just as many leaves the next time we go out. Are they multiplying? Procreating? There's a question!
And they get everywhere, like sand after a day at the beach. Every person who walks into my house tracks in leaves on their shoes. They're in my car... my laundry room...and the vacuum doesn't like to pick them up. It crushes and redistributes. Very annoying.
The cooler weather makes me want to cook.
This impedes my diet significantly. I am not one of those people who bakes, fortunately. Cathy does that, and I don't have any idea how she stays so slender.
I love to cook really good food. Then I have to eat three large helpings. And everyone knows that after a delicious meal, one must ingest ice cream to fill in the cracks. I am never going to lose weight. I need to find a man who appreciates a curvy cook!
The only real problem with the Holiday season is the expense. I always wish that I could shower people with gifts, and I really can't do that. People are so good to me, and I have such amazing friends. When I win the lottery, I am going to be the funnest gift-giver, Ever!
Since we can't spend a lot of money, we always focus on....guess what?.....the Food. I am doomed.

Halloween

I went to a concert last night. It was one of those Halloween alternative things.
They had a game room and petting zoo for the little kids, and in this giant warehouse, there was a big rock concert for the big kids. I was not the oldest person in there.
This was very loud punkish- head -banger music. It all kind of sounded the same to me, which is an indicator of my age.
You know how the thumping of the music displaces your innards? All your internal organs vibrate with the beat. Not the least of which were my eardrums. I could hardly hear all the way home.
D' went in with the little kids where he collected obscene amounts of candy, and a cake in the cakewalk.
M' and I went to the concert, and I had to pretend that I wasn't his mom. He and his buddy were jumping with the music and eating plenty of their own candy.
I had a wonderful time watching the crowd.
The bast part of the evening, was that I got to be home by 9.