George Orwell was here

I hab a bery 'tuffy node.

Perhaps Obama and the WHO will diagnose me with Swine flu, or bird flu, or monkey fever. Ebola?
"Obama and the WHO" sounds like a rock-n-roll band, which should bring a smile to our esteemed president's face. He digs publicity. Quick! Someone call a press conference!
Why is the new Pandemic called "swine" flu? Let's get "save the swine" tee shirts. Or they could say, "Pigs make me sick."
Why does the news make it sound like a reason to panic? Maybe it is, and I just don't understand. Don't lots of people worldwide get one kind of the flu, or another, all the time? What about all those folks dying from abortion? Is that a pandemic? Oh, don't get me started.
Apparently this sneeze has put me in a feisty sort of mood.
Who wants to talk politics?
I have a new access to Television, because it surrounds my gym experience, and so I have to see Obama on there every flipping day. That silly man wants me to believe that the whole world is at odds, and he's here to put it to rights. OH, puh-lease. I guess that I would be labeled a danger to society for saying that Obama is not, in fact the Messiah. There it is.
Now I've declared myself, I'll probably end up on a list of "undesireables."
We could have a tea party, though, and that would be nice. Just don't sneeze on my crumpets.
Do pigs like NyQuil? It's a controlled substance, you know. Big Brother needs to see your I.D. before he'll let you buy it.

Those three little words

Strength
Flexibility
Endurance
If you say those words with a certain look, and a luscious tone in your voice, you can sound quite naughty. Which can be quite fun, as a matter of fact.
In truth, these three little words are a big part of my goals in the gym. You are obviously riveted by news of my fitness progress, so allow me to share. I have lost three pounds in two weeks, and in 3 more weeks, I shall re-test my body fat count. The goal is to go from 27%, down to 22%.
I am working out pretty hard.
I play games with myself to quell the boredom on the treadmill. I get my heart rate way up, and then see how fast I can recover. I walk at a shocking incline, and then level out and increase my speed. My sister works out with me, and sometimes we do the elliptical, or the bike. Burn those fat cell, baby.

In other news, we are going to Park City, Utah. Because this is apparently the Spring to spend money on weekend trips away. Good thing I'm so rich. Don made the All Idaho Lacrosse Team, and will be representing the State in this big tournament. I have been to Park City once before, and am looking forward to going again. Feel free to send me large sums of money to finance our trip.

This weekend, both boys are competing in a tournament in Pocatello, Idaho. There's a cosmopolitan metropolis, let me tell you. We'll have games Friday and Saturday, all day, and numerous hours in the car both days. Oh, the joy.

So, we're a very athletic family, all in all.

Strength
Flexibility
Endurance
Yeah, baby.

Nothing

I know. I am so annoying because I have nothing to say. Which is a nice change, really. Usually, I am so annoying because I have rather a lot to say.

Life around here is going fast, and picking up speed. Too fast, I think. There's lots not getting done.
Lacrosse still dominates. The boys are both auditioning for an All Idaho Lacrosse team that could extend our involvement with the sport until the end of June. Because I have nothing better to do.
My house is quiet for the first time in days, and I am reveling in the silence. If only the maid and the gardener were busy around here, then I would be truly happy.
Instead, I am ignoring the housework, and talking to you.
I'm tired.
Do you ever get tired in advance of all you have to do? My brain is shuffling all the responsibilities I need to address, and that's not really helpful. It would be helpful if I'd get off the computer and do something.
Like go back to bed.

Tim and more pictures. And also Tim.

I have a lot on my mind. There's that home-again-laundry, of course. There's yard work. There's way a lot of lacrosse. I'm in love, though, and I'm thinking about that a lot. You know how Spring is supposed to make you all twitterpatted?. It's working.
I actually went to Eagle Island this afternoon with Kara, and later sat on the patio at our favorite restaurant. That was glorious. I love Summertime with Kara. We got a bit sunkissed, she and I. She's burned because she didn't put on the sunscreen. That's gonna hurt.

But, my lunch date was very much on my mind. Tim took me to lunch today at a lovely Deli, where we sat in the sunshine, and I admired his jawline and his biceps. He is so hot.
I think I need therapy because I'm so in love. Really. He'll be talking about golf or policics, and my mind is scrolling though all these months I've known him, and how imporobable it is that he actually likes me, and how dreamy his lips are. And I smile like an idiot, and thank God in a silent prayer.
I heard what he said about politics. Really.

I wrote a list, years ago, about those things I required in a man. It's a long time I've been unmarried, and I gave some thought to the matter.
There was once, in particular, when I thougt I ought to loosen my standard a bit. I was tempted to give up being so strict and so....well, you know. I totally thought I would never find the sort of man I wanted.
This one's better. Oh, he's wwaaayyy better.

I'm so annoying, aren't I?
Fine. We'll view my photos, then, shall we?


Here is Mother (in the celery colored shirt) with her sister, in the middle (Auntie Lynda) and their cousin, Charlotte. Mother looks like she has beady eyes in this photo, which is not the case. She really has lovely brown eyes. And look at that hair! She is an old lady and you can't even tell. I hope I have her genes.


Ok, this is my neice, Maddie (in the center), and Jenine's kids (Sarah and Rachel) They would be second cousins, or something.


This is my sister, Dani, and her daughter, Mika. Beautiful, no? Dani is also Maddie's mom. Dani is due in September with 3#, and we need to pray her a boy. Otherwise she'll think the entire world is made of "sugar and spice and everything nice," and she will be skinny, and we'll have to hate her. That would be such a waste.


Owen, of the sign language,and the straw confusion. Tell me this child is not cute! His momma was the first person in the world to know that I was pregnant for Michael, since she was sleeping on the couch at my grandmother's house when I did the test....but that was 15 years ago. Jessie is due with her second in June. Owen's momma is Jessi, who is Jenn and Johanna's eldest sister. Are you taking notes?


May I introduce another child de familia? This is ZaaZaa, formally named Isaiah. He is a love. Also, we should jointly pray him a sibling! He is the son of faithful reader, cousin Jenn. You may all thank her for the recent addition of photos to this blog, as she gave me a camera. "Hi Jenn!"

What?
I can bring any conversation back to Tim.
It's a gift, I tell ya.


Is it my fault that I am so loved?
I need some new pictures of Tim, huh?

The whole fam-dam-ly

Johanna is a common victim of my inept shooting. Here she is looking particularly sultry in a turquoise scarf.


Obviously, Jess is hardly pregnant at all. Her little boy, Owen, stole my heart with his sign language. I think I have a photo of him around here....he was trying to drink from a straw, by tipping the cup way up. It was vastly entertaining.


The kids found two baby birds who had fallen from the tree. These birds became the beneficiaries of a great deal of loving ministrations from Jenine's kids and mine. I wonder if the birds survived? I wonder if they wanted to?



The reunion was momentous and beautiful and important....and also dizzying. There were 50ish people there, some I'd never met. It was a 48-hour event, at a hotel in Minden, Nevada. There were some moments where I was so overwhelmed that I wanted to suck my thumb in the fetal position and hide.
There were several times that I did.

Mother and Mika and I tried to dress up for the big dinner event. While the two of them succeeded, I did not. I packed poorly, you see. I managed to bring very little in the hot weather department, and consequently wore the same white tank top all weekend long. I am sure it didn't smell bad at all. The red scarf was to dress it up a bit. Sort of distract everyone.


Grandpa (in the blue shirt) welcomed us all, and thanked us for being his descendants. Or something.


Jo took herself, and her tea, to the picnic table right outside our room every morning. She wakes up slow, does my Johanna. But she's right presentable once she's had her tea.


The "boys" in the matching hats are my mother's first cousins. They are the baby brothers of the cowboy (Norman), and their names are David and Douglas. David has the impressive facial hair and the Harley Davidson. Dougy is the most subdued of the three, and always seems to be quietly amused by everyone else's antics. I love them, all.


This picture is a bit superfluous, I suppose. Sorry.

Preview of the reunion

Me and my cousins. These boys were like brothers to me growing up.


We start 'em young in our family. This is my neice, and my cousin's daughter.


This is what a real cowboy looks like. He's also my cousin.


This is what a guest blogger looks like. This is another cousin. I collect them.


Me and Sophie....you guessed it, she's a cousin.

I'll bring you more after work today.

Kermit de frog here

Coming to you live, from the wilds of Nevada, where the family reunion has begun. My sister and I drove here this very day. We brought along my children, of course. We left this morning, sometime between 6 and 7 am, which means that I was up at 5. Now I am a zombie. Everyone who is related to me on my Mother's side is here, or shall be tomorrow.
Johanna and I are sequestered in our room, awaiting the pizza delivery man. My children are running off with cousins, so it's quiet here. The richer members of our entourage are going out to eat Basque Food at an expensive restaurant. Like I said, me and Jo are poor.
We are also sunburned. When we arrived today, we sat out in the sun with chilled white, and cousins. Now we are red.
Have I MENTIONED THE TIREDNESS?
Therefore, I shall allow Jenn to speak a few words to you:

------
Hello, fellow readers. This is Kelly's cousin, Jenn. We are together in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. We haven't seen each other in many years and so our entire extended family has descended on this resort/casino in order to wreak havoc on the Nevadans. I am guest blogging for Kelly since she wants to let you all know that we are here, doing nothing. So far we are waiting on the pizza and playing with a camera. And at the moment she is photographing me, which I am sure she'll post in order to prove that I exist. Don't you wish you were part of our family?

In fact, things have gone in a typical family fashion. So far there are many, many of us and very, very little brain. See, we all like to talk and make much noise and merriment but not a single one of us is capable of making a decision. So we all talk about ALL of the possible options but then none of us actually make any decisions. So come, be a bit crazy with us!

Octo-figure envy

When you are me, and you are interested in flushing out a large number of renegade fat cells, you eat two categories of food in abundance. Protein, and Fiber. The combination renders me quite desireable, I can assure you. Quite.

As faithful reader KJP pointed out, I am no spring chicken. Old ladies have a harder time losing their flubber.
I look, for inspiration, to my Aunt Norma. She is nearly my age, plus some 50 years, and slender as a willow. She also looks like a movie star. So, it's possible. If she can look like that in her 80s, I have a chance for success in my advanced condition.

In other news...
Wait, there is no other news.
Oh, except, I have been studying dreams and visions in my bible. Has God ever spoken to you in a dream? Have you ever had a vision? (sober. LSD doesn't count) This is facinating. Both avenues were used a bunch in Scripture, and yet, I have had neither. I know people who have, though. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the topic, if you can bring yourself to comment....

Be Free

I am 73% lean. That's the good news.
27% of me is fat. Does that mean that 27% of me should exercise?

I met with a fitness lad. Boy wonder was barely old enough to shave, and quite a bit above six feet tall. He interviewed me regarding my fitness IQ, and seemed impressed that such an old lady could be in relatively good shape.
He pinched me with calipers to decide how much of me is fat. The verdict seems to be that this old lady needs to work out harder. My goal is to outwit 5% of that fat over the next month.
Plus, I am a sturdy sort. Young Lad weighed me. I weigh in at an impressive 146. I've always been a dense girl, but it's a little depressing to see such a large number on the scale. My thinking is that if 10 pounds of me goes, that 5% will have company. I will unmask my inner beauty queen. And also, I will be wearing large 2s and small 4s. And likely bikinis.
I told Fitness Lad that my goal is to obtain the body of a twenty year old. I asked if he thought that was a realistic goal. He thought carefully for a moment, then said, "It depends on which 20-year-old." Smart Fitness Lad.
I read today that fat is just imprisoning my good figure, which is held captive against its will. It wants to be free, my figure. Which would be where the bikini comes in, I guess. There is only so much freedom which can be allowed to an old lady's figure, after all.

Brief....but, boxer

I have things to tell you. I've been blogging in my head, which is less than helpful when you can't read it, I know. Sorry 'bout that.
I've got to go to the gym, anf thence to work, so I'll have to make a point of facinating you later.
Remind me to tell you about how much fat I have, because that is riveting news.
I'm off to buffet my body and make it my slave.

La SuperStar

Seriously studly #23
Notice the hot pink shooting strings on the net-thingy.


He's scored in every game so far


He's my firstborn son, and a heck of a mean middy.


Who is a proud momma?


Go Michael!

Easter

Who is in an absolutely foul temper? Any guesses?
I'll give you a hint.....

It's someone whose garage is normally organizationally challenged, but who happens to have been working on going through everything she owns in the deliberate attempt to eliminate junk,,,,,rendering the garage a more complete disaster than usual. This someone's extremely tidy boyfriend decided that this was the day to examine said garage at length, and in some detail.
Though I prayed that the ground would swallow me, God said "no."

As if that weren't enough, we also spent some time in my back yard. For those of you who haven't seen my back yard,,,,it is also a freaking disaster. May I make an attempt at an excuse? Really, it will make me feel better: Everything yard related costs money and takes time, two resources that are in short supply around here. Also, I have at least one child who loves to build ramshackle forts that look like ghetto housing in a third world country.

And just to top it off, my teenager thought this would be a super fun day to meet a girl up at the store (something he is forbidden to do. Call me crazy, but I think 14 is a little young to be sneaking off to meet girls, anywhere). I caught him on the phone making arrangements, and stopped the clandestine meeting. I am now not only mortified by my yard and garage, I am also apparently the meanest mom in the state of Idaho.

Happy Easter to you, too.

Is it needless to say that I've been going through more crap in my garage for the past three hours? The "garage sale/donation" stack is taking up really a lot of room.

While going through stuff, I came upon a diary. A paper fell out of the diary. I opened it and read. It was written, by yours truly, two days after the death of my sister. That was about the last straw for me. I stood in my messy garage, and cried.

I want a do-over.

If I were endlessly rich, and a fitness model

I'd have a maid
I'd have a personal trainer
I'd have a cook
I'd have a tutor, for the kids
I'd have a chauffeur
I'd have a stylist
a pedicurist
a manicurist
a masseuse
a jet
a Swiss bank account

I'd be fat, bored, and pampered. Wouldn't I be a brat? Mostly, all I want is a clean house, time to hang out with my kids, more hours in the day, and someone to highlight my hair.

I worked out this morning with my skinny little sister, who happens to have a bun in the oven. That's the smallest little bun you ever did see.
I got a week-long free pass to her gym, since I can't afford my own, and we've been working out every day. Whenever I do this, I get to thinking I am really a very firm body builder. I begin imagining myself in sparkly bikinis, and a fake tan. Ms.Universe, or something. You can imagine how disappointing the showering experience becomes under those misconceptions.
I'd like to get a little closer to that fantasy, as swimsuit season is right around the corner. My boyfriend has those kind of muscles that stand out. It's very annoying. He's got the abdominal muscles that you can see, and arms that look permanently flexed. I have to stand next to him, and this is bad for my self esteem. It's alright during the winter, when I'm wearing layers. Summertime dressing is going to clothe me in humility, though, if I don't eat less.
SO, I am applying at the YMCA for a poor person's membership. If they agree that I am indeed poor, and I do in fact need a workout....they just may let me in.

Meanwhile, I am eating protein and doing situps. No Easter chocolate for me.

What are your plans for Easter?
Good Friday to you.

Georgie Porgie puddin and pie

George MacDonald is eminently quotable.For some reason, which escapes me, his works are marketed as some sort of ancient romance literature. I think this is a great crime.
He is a master of storytelling, and he possessed the rare ability to frame beautiful prose. It is not at all uncommon for me to underline unusual phrasing within his narratives, either because the language is elegant, or the truth profound.

Consider the following quotes from The Highlander's Last Song.

"He was rich, and no more fertile soil exists for growing a good opinion of one's self than that."

"....a woman with many autumnal reminders of spring about her..."

"Doubtless humanity is better company than a bare hillside. But it all depends on how near we come to humanity, and how near we come to the hill."

The last book I read was an overrated travesty by the popular author Danielle Steele. She should not be allowed to use the English language, and her publisher should be imprisoned for life. Does that sound harsh? Then you've not had the misfortune of enduring one of her novels.

Writing is serious business, and it ought to be undertaken with a particular sense of responsibility. Bloggers notwithstanding.

So, all I'm saying is, read George MacDonald. He wrote a lovely group of children's stories, in addition to the writing he did for those of us advanced in years. If you can find a copy unmolested by those who would dumb him down, so much the better. If not, read anyway. You know you want to.

Eating, driving, and my eternal youthfulness

Here I am, to fascinate your reading self, with the riveting news of my life. Because you want to know.

I ate two ginormous Idaho baked potatoes for my dinner. Because I have a delicate appetite. I loaded said indigenous vegetables with chili, and cheese, and sour cream. Because I enjoy being slender.

This was a long day, which involved work, and exercises, and running around the planet in my car. My car needs to have some preventative maintenance done. There are belts that should be changed, apparently. There's also filters, and pumps, and various mysteries under the hood, which require some attention from time to time. The time is now. A thousand dollars is all I need. The good news is that I rely upon my car not-at-all. Ugh. My sister, Andi, is going to drive us to the family reunion, so that we don't have to risk being stranded in the middle of Nevada. Have I mentioned that my car has 130k miles on it? I have not changed the timing belt, or the serpentine belt. I have changed the tires, and the oil, at regular intervals. So that's positive.
The good news is that poor people like myself don't lose money on the stock market.

Lately, every time I type "Myself," it comes out "myslef." I do that with "You" which always comes out as "oyu." Why do I do that?

Also, I got carded buying wine today. That always brings me such joy. Turns out, the cashier has a son who was born the same year as me, went to the same high school as me, and she still thought I was in danger of being 20. She is my new best friend.

I have to go digest now. They were very large baked potatoes, cooked in many calories of butter and seasoning. I am going to be huge.

In which I rehash my past, and shock you with tales of TV viewing

In church today we were singing a song about how God makes "beauty from the ashes," and how He's a "Father to the fatherless," and mostly really does nice things for lonely people. I had to dab at my eyes so my mascara wouldn't run, because I was touched by a truth in that message.
There I was, in church, feeling all loved and happy, and I remembered how it once was. Those days when I was the loneliest person ever to be married to a Meth addict. There were days when life was so horrible! But it's all way back, a decade ago. Things have been relatively calm for a very long time.
Being in love with Tim shows me that those wounds have healed, in such a way that I have a greater capacity to love, and be loved. I like this relationship, and I am pretty sure that any normal woman would. But I think I am able to exalt in it all the more because of the horribleness from days-gone-by.
Every once in a while you get a glimpse of reality, like a perspective shift that shows things from a different angle. That's the way this hit me.
I know it must get annoying to hear my sappy love story. But the truth of it is that I ain't never seen nothin' like this.
No one has ever been loved so much as I am.
There was a time when I could not conceive of being happy. There were days and years when I was more lonely than I can say. There was an entire section of life colored by shock and hopelessness. It's a distant memory, now, and that is an act of God.
Today is as glorious, as yesterday was malicious.

But enough of that.

You are dying to know about my weekend, aren't you?
I have been cleaning out my junk. My garage has a great big pile of stuff to give away. "If you want it, here it is, come and get it"....isn't that from a song? Come and get stuff from my house, and take it to yours. Who wants my sewing machine? Patsy, come get my fabric. Who wants some useless junk? Broken patio furniture? Anyone?

Tim has roped me into watching a TV show. I know; don't faint. It's called "24." Do you watch that? He records it on his fancy-shmancy TV, and we watch it Saturday evenings. I am so sucked in! TV is like watching a really long movie, all stretched out over months. It's inefficient, if you ask me. But compelling.

We ate out this weekend, twice.
Tim and I had a grown up dinner on Friday evening at a very nice restaurant. I drank an entire bottle of wine over the course of the evening, and became somewhat verbose. I didn't mean to. We had a glass of red before we left the house. A glass of white with the appetizers. Then the bottle of petite Shiraz, which we split. When it was time to stand up and leave, I found myself rather unexpectedly dizzy. I should have been mindful, apparently. Although, upon reflection, the dizziness did explain why I was talking so freely.
The other time we ate out this weekend was today after church. He took us all to Panda Express, and Burger King. I know, he's classy. But, it was the two requests made by the children, and he bought all they wanted. My kids think they've died and gone to heaven. Such decadence! Two restaurants on the way home?! Order anything you want?! Even if it's not on the dollar menu?! They pretty much want to marry Tim.

I am now sick of sitting still. And those dinner dishes aren't getting any cleaner. Besides, I said "ain't" and discussed TV. I should quit while I'm ahead.

Prepositions

Do you remember the Family Circus cartoons where the little boy runs over, under, through, and around, everything in the whole house and yard?
That's like me, only city-wide.
On Monday, I worked at three locations, ranging from the far West of the valley, to the South-most end. Then, I dashed home to collect my young lacrosse-men, and delivered each to their respective practices, one on the North end of reality, and the other on the South. Then, I had to go pick them each up again. I was sitting in the car for hours.
I did something similar in my work adventures on Tuesday. Only, that day I got to go East, in addition to up, and South.
God did not design me to be a sedentary person, and so sitting in the car for hours kills me. This is why children are allowed to drive at such a young age, isn't it?

Meanwhile, My house has not been cleaned all week.
But, I have my priorities straight, because I'm making time to blog. So, that's a relief.

Don has his first lacrosse game tonight, and he is very excited. Michael has one, too. One is in Meridian, and one is in Boise, and both are at the same time. Are you feeling my pain?
It's supposed to be raining cats and dogs at game time, which is typical of lacrosse season. Cold, wet, and stressed. What could possibly be better?

Oh, pshaw!
How can I be entitled to complain? I'm employed, in love, and a size 4. Hate me.

In other riveting news, I am trying to grow my bangs out. This is an annual endeavor, and it's quite silly. I don't really look good without bangs, on account of having Princess Diana's nose planted in the middle of my face. I'll grow my bangs through the awkward stage, and then I'll cut them, and I'll say something about how I should never try that again. Much like when I try to go with my natural color. I really ought to be a blond.

Also? Is everyone anticipating my family reunion as much as I am? It's about three weeks away. I have favorite cousins....all of my cousins are my favorites. I'm very excited to see them.
Johanna and I made a solemn vow to bring along only those clothes which make us deeply happy to wear. We always do this when we get together, because we are each a bit flamboyant. For your amusement, I have included an image of our feet, Johanna's and mine. I feel certain that these shoes will accompany us on our reunion weekend.



So, in conclusion, I would like to note that this post is very much like my driving habits of late. Random, erratic, and excessive. Which is very surprising, coming from me.