now i can be delivered right to your inbox!

Wow, this newfangled technology is keen! 

I finally figured out how to make it possible for you to subscribe to my blog via email.  It only took me a couple of hours - no biggie. 

Just head on over to the right side of my page and enter your email address in that nifty little box and you'll get my latest blog entries as soon as they're posted. 

Who could ask for anything more?

yes! i've gotten through!

How I know I've gotten through to my child:

My son kept repeating some strange expression the other night and I looked at him with that, "What the hell are you saying?" look on my face.

He said, "All my friends say it."

But then quickly added, "And no, if they jumped off a building I wouldn't do that."

Success!

how does one live off the land when they don't garden or camp?

There have been so many times over the past few years that my hubby and I have said, "Fuck it.  Let's quit our jobs and live off the land."  I'm sure we're not the only ones.  Jobs we hate, not enough money coming in compared to the amount of money we have to spend on food and utilities.  Let's just run away from our problems, start over somewhere else, build a cabin somewhere in a good year-round climate, grow and catch our own food, make our own clothes, not have to pay for anything other than maybe a phone in case of emergency (and for that one of us would have to get a simple part-time job doing something we actually enjoy.)  Ah, that would be the life!

Just a couple...minor... issues with this fantasy though. 

1) I'm not good at growing anything.  Anything I've ever tried, even a simple DIY herb garden, has never fully matured before they wilted and died.  I think the closest my husband's ever come to farming has been FarmVille.  It's hard to have your facebook friends help you out when you're without facebook...or a computer...or electricity.

2) We don't hunt.  Nope, don't like killing animals.  Oh, we can fish.  We're good at fishing.  We have a problem (again) with killing the fish though.  That's why the few times when we do go fishing, we catch and release.  Back into the waters with you, little fishy...I hope you don't find that hole in your lip too annoying. 

3) I've never really roughed it.  To me, camping is a few days in a northwoods cabin complete with indoor plumbing, kitchen facilities, and a somewhat uncomfortable bed.  I have slept in tents, but only in neighbors' backyards as a child.  I really have no desire to sleep in a tent again.  They're uncomfortable and frankly I get a bit claustrophobic in them.  I don't want to dig holes in order for me to poo.  Ick.  I don't even know if my body would let itself do that in a squatting position.  I could probably cook over fire, but what I'd eat (see points 1 & 2) I have no idea.

4) My sewing skills are far from what one would call "good."  I can re-attach any button that's fallen off.  I can hand-stitch a seam that's come undone, but that's it.  I just don't have the patience.  Or the ability to sew straight.  Could make for some really funky clothes.  Remember that shirt that Denise made for Theo in The Cosby Show?

Uh huh...like that.

So, I guess we're just going to have to remain slaves to "the man" and capitalist society and make due with the little that we make, shop at and eat crap from Wal-Mart and go on about our merry way. 

if it is what it is, then what the heck is it?

 

Oh how I despise that term.  It's such a cop out and it's used way too much around my office.

The thing is, everyone perceives things differently.  Even things that you believe to be solid, unchanging things that everyone should see the same way - like a pencil or a piece of paper - are seen differently be everyone who looks at them.

Take the way you look at yourself in a mirror.  Sometimes you look fat, sometimes skinny, sometimes just right...and you haven't gained or lost 20 pounds in the span of a day or two.  I had the strangest thing a couple of nights ago where I looked in the mirror and I looked like an anorexic 50-year-old.  (I swear, I don't do drugs.)  I am certainly nowhere near skinny let alone anorexic, but what I saw when I looked in the mirror was gangly limbs and skin that was hanging off of me.  It was horrible.  I had to remind myself that my brain was playing tricks on me.  Sometimes I look in the mirror and see myself the way I was over a year ago - a little too plump.  It's all how your brain is receiving the signals that particular day combined with your mood, your own self-image, and tons of little factors you'd never even think of.

Looking at the same pencil, one person can see it as too short, another as extremely sharp, while yet another will see it as not sharp enough.  Customer service to one person might be phenomenal while to another it's completely sub-par.  Attractions and aversions and opinions shape a person's perception of every little thing.

So if it is what it is, then who's version of "it" is it? 

Or am I overthinking?

i bet they make you wear mom jeans in hell

Mom Jeans.

The term makes me shiver in disgust.

Don't know what I'm talking about?  Watch this.



See - you know what they are.  You've seen plenty of women wearing them.  Unfortunately, so did I.

When I lost my weight, the jeans that I had were falling off of me - literally.  I was about to go out with friends and wanted to show off the new figure and that just wasn't going to happen in clothes that were two sizes too big for me, so I had to find some new jeans...and fast.

Being in a small town, there's not much to choose from.  We've got Wal-Mart, Kohl's and Shopko.  Yeah.  Cheap and crappy, overpriced and expensive, or jeans for the geriatric set.  I figured I just needed something to get me through, so I went to Wal-Mart and tried on about 5 pairs of jeans.  The jeans in the juniors section were far too tight and low-cut for any person who's had children to wear.  Or any person over the size of 2, for that matter...but don't get me started on that.

I finally found a pair that covered the stuff that needed to be covered and bought them.  And wore them out with my friends and other places...in public...for months.  Then I had an epiphany....

Holy fuck, these are mom jeans!!!

Thumbs-down for Mom Jeans

I was so embarrassed.  They screamed, "I'm not a woman, I'm a mom."  Granted, they didn't have pleats or elastic at the back of the waistband, but they did sit somewhat high on the waist and had a special "slimming panel" to help hide that post c-section pudge.   I vowed that I would buy a new pair of non-mom jeans as soon as I had the money to do so.

And then I never had the money.  Things always came up like...oh...food, utilities, school supplies.  And I continued wearing them and putting off my own vanity for the sake of the family.  But I couldn't do it forever.

Yesterday, we had a little extra money, so the husband went out to buy himself a Brewers shirt to wear to the playoff game (very important) and came back with that and a new pair of jeans.  What the hell?  I get new jeans first!  I pouted.  The hubby thought my pouting was cute, but could feel my pain and told me to go out and buy myself a new pair so I could finally be happy.  (Isn't he a great guy?)

I was willing to take my time and spend a little more, so I tried a few different stores.  (Good lord, jeans are expensive!)  I wasn't finding anything in my price range and was getting completely frustrated, so I decided to try one more store and then give up.  I didn't want to stay out too much longer, so I went right to the jeans, grabbed two different pairs in my size and tried them on.

And they were perfect!!!

Thumbs-up for Non-Mom Jeans!

Look, they're real denim - not just the stretchy stuff that's denim-ish.  They're low and snug, but not so much that my nether-regions are screaming in pain while any fat from my lower torso is pushed up and over the "waistband." In other words - very little muffin top.  I'm a woman again - not just a mom and I no longer feel like I'm in my 50's when I'm wearing jeans.

I'm ready to go out and hit the town.  I just need someone to get me out of the house...

almost october

I just realized it's almost October and I'm so excited!  I LOVE October!  Not only is it our wedding anniversary month and the month of my hubby's birthday, but it's Halloween!  And it's not just the day that I enjoy, but the fact that they show Halloween-themed shows and movies all. month. long!

I'm not a huge horror movie person, but I do love the classics.  Especially the really cheesy classics like the original House of Wax, 13 Ghosts, awesome Plan 9 From Outer Space, and on and on.  I'll now have easy access to them this whole month be it on regular cable or via Netflix.  Cable networks will also be showing plenty shows about ghosts and hauntings which I have been interested in since 2nd grade.   

I think I'll have to make some sort of goal to watch at least 2 Halloween-y movies every weekend and as many shows as possible.

Oh, my husband is gonna hate me....



Here's the full movie of Plan 9 From Outer Space if you're interested.  It's a classic!

today's thought

That is all.  Carry on.

the equinox

Ah, the first day of autumn!  My favorite season.  Beautiful colors, perfect temperatures, fewer tourists.  I'm so glad it's here!

I wonder if anything interesting is going to happen today - the first day of a new season usually brings some sort of moment.  Unfortunately some of those moments aren't that great.  I think the worst of them all happened in 2004.  What a whirlwind of a couple of days I had - with the first day of fall being the finale.


Okay...I guess I should warn you...some of this is probably waaaayyyyy TMI for some of you, so consider yourself warned.

Our son was 4 years old, we had just moved into a new apartment, and we were just about settled.  We were open to the idea of having another kid, but weren't actively trying.  It was one of those "if it happens, it happens" scenarios.  Nothing was happening, the monthly friend came on time...or so I thought.

Good ol' Aunt Flo came to visit the month after we moved, but she didn't stay as long as she normally does.  Then after that I was spotting a little bit and cramping for no reason.  I didn't really think anything of it.  I thought because of the stresses of moving and the extra physical labor I went through with the move, my body was just reacting to it.  No biggie.

Then it was time for my annual.  I went for my exam, the nurse asked if anything was out of the ordinary, blah, blah...same questions every time.  I told her about the spotting and she perked up in her seat, but said simply that she'd tell the doc about it, gave me the lovely paper gown and "sheet" to change into, and left the room to get the doc and give me my privacy.

The doctor came in, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Tell me more about this spotting that you've been having."  Honestly I didn't think it was a big deal.  I'd heard over and over that women's bodies do strange things under stress, etc.  So, I told her, she did the annual exam, and told me she wanted to draw blood to cover all bases.  Yeah, okay.  I'll play along.  Better to be safe than sorry, right?

The next day at work, I got a call from the nurse telling me that my pregnancy test had come back positive and they're concerned that I might be miscarrying, so they want me to get in for an ultrasound ASAP.


What?


First off - pregnant?  No...I had gotten my period.  How could it possibly be that?  I wasn't pregnant.  I had questions.  A lot of questions.  The nurse told me that they'd set up an ultrasound appointment for later that afternoon and the doctor would call me as soon as they had a time set up.  I asked her again if they were sure - no matter what else was happening - that I was pregnant.  "Yes, your results came back positive."

I hung up my phone - at work - and sat there.  I stared at that phone in disbelief for what seemed like an eternity.  Pregnant?  Miscarrying?  I was shaking where I sat.  What do I do now?  Do I call my husband and tell him about the possibility before I talk to the doctor?  Do I wait until I know more and tell him when I get home?  How long has it been - will the doctor call me back soon?


Thankfully the doctor called me back only a few minutes later.  They had an appointment set up for me and she wanted to answer my questions.  How could I have gotten my period and still be pregnant?  It wasn't actually my period - it might have been implantation bleeding.  (Huh?  That's when there's bleeding when the fertilized egg attaches itself to the uterine lining.  You're welcome.)  I'd never heard of that.  Okay, so spotting like this with the little bit of cramping - is that definitely a bad sign?  Well, we want to take a look and see what's going on.  I could tell that none of this sounded good.  People are very good at not answering questions so they don't get into trouble down the line.  I had my instructions for my ultrasound and we hung up.  

And then it all really hit me.  And I started crying.  At work.  I had to go home.

I got home and somehow told my husband everything that was going on.  I honestly don't remember how it all went - my mind was all over the place at that time and I can't remember much about those few hours.  He was excited at the prospect of having another baby, but all I could think about was, "I'm not really ready for this.  How could I be pregnant already?  How could I be miscarrying? What am I supposed to do?  WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?"

I drank a million gallons of water and went in for my ultrasound.  It was an internal ultrasound - a special joy.   The tech asked me a few questions like, "How long have you had cramping?" but wasn't allowed to tell me anything that she was seeing.  I could tell it wasn't good.  I don't know why, but I could just tell.  And then I went back home.

I went back to work the next day, still not knowing what was going on, my brain going a mile a minute, jumping anytime the phone rang.  Finally it was the call I was waiting for.  I took the call in an empty private office and listened to the doctor tell me that I had what was called a blighted ovum (now called an early pregnancy failure - isn't that lovely?) which means, in short, that an egg was fertilized, implanted itself, began growing and forming, then stopped before it hit the embryonic stage, but the body doesn't know the difference.

What.  the.  fuck.

Sorry, but that's what went through my head.  That and the fact that not even 24 hours before, I thought everything was hunky-dory and then all of the sudden I'm pregnant and miscarrying???

She recommended doing a D&C (which is basically the same procedure done during a first-trimester abortion) and scheduled me for that procedure.  It was scheduled for Sept. 22nd - two days later.

Then I got to call my hubby and tell him the news.  He was pretty shaken up, but was supportive.  I wasn't really hurting yet because I was still in disbelief of the whole pregnancy thing in the first place.  At least I knew what was happening now, whether I could believe it or not, and went back to work.

The next day - and it was probably all in my head - I started feeling nauseous as soon as I got to work.  Great - morning sickness.  Maybe it's a good thing this isn't happening.  I checked with my HR rep, telling her matter-of-factly what was going on, and went on about my day...pretending that nothing was bothering me.

The next morning, we got up early, dropped our son off at my parents' (wow - I don't even remember telling them, but I must have), and went to the outpatient surgery clinic.  It was all still very surreal to me, but for my husband it was very difficult.  To him it felt like he was taking me in to terminate a pregnancy - even though it had already terminated itself.  They took me back and got me prepped.  One of the only things I remember was that I started out with a very pregnant nurse, but they quickly changed that.  Oops.  Not that it really bothered me, but I could see how it could have been really bad for others.  Then they wheeled me back, had me lie down and count backwards from ten...and....I.....

...woke up in the recovery room, cold and shaky.  I hate anesthesia.  I hate coming out of it.  Oh well.  It was over.  The strangest, most surreal week of my life was done.

It was the first day of autumn.  A day that starts the season of death in the cycle of nature.  For some reason that's stuck with me since then.  Fall is still my favorite season, but on the equinox I always pause for a moment and remember those few days of chaos and uncertainty.  I don't know why, but I do.  Maybe it affected me more than I thought it did, maybe I'm just thankful for...I don't know.

Then it passes...and I feel the slight chill in the air and look outside at the leaves that are just beginning to change, and I smile.  And I go on.

how to survive football season

I wasn't raised around football.  Well, at least for the first 10 years of my life.  Once the Bears started doing well and ended up going to the Super Bowl, my parents ended up getting into it and my Sundays were ruined from then on.  I still didn't care much about it until I ended up marrying into a Packer family.  Try as I may, I would watch it, cheer a bit, but not really get into it.  Then I found a secret - find one or two men who play on the team who are somewhat attractive and keep your attention focused on them.

Last year I discovered Clay Matthews.

Yeah.

Though he's not really my type - no neck and all - the long hair gives me enough of the whole Viking look (Not the football team - the brawny Scandinavians) to give me someone to root for.

I think my husband should thank him.

not-so-sweet mystery of life

Why, oh why is it that the sexual peaks in the male and female of the human species come at such different times? 

Men get theirs when they're barely even men - 18 years old.  They've got energy, they've got time, barely any responsibilities and they take good care of themselves in order to attract a partner, and they're at the physical prime of their lives.  The people they're after are also usually around the same age and therefore share those same traits.  This means there is much sex to be had in this age bracket.  Got nothing to do?  Have sex...all day long if you want to!

Women peak at the age of 36.  They have many responsibilities, full schedules, many are married with children running around the house and taking up their time and their energy, and their bodies...though not repellent...are not what they were when they were 18.  We're a little larger, our joints are starting to make funny noises, and we have bad backs and knees and shoulders.  Again, the partners usually share those traits as well.  It's hard to find the time, let alone have both partners truly "in the mood" and feeling good when the time does arise.  Got nothing to do?  Sleep!  Catch up on those tv shows you've recorded and haven't gotten around to watching!  Sleep some more!  Sit with the heating pad on your back while fighting sleep!  Ooh - gonna have sex?  Better make it quick...and quiet.

How is this fair?  I'm sure there's some sort of "keeping the species going" natural reason for it, but sheesh!   Can someone please explain this to the libidos of 36-year-old women everywhere?  (*Because of course, I'm not talking out of personal experience.  I do have friends this age as well, ya know.)

*Love you honey