Back on the Scales

Why is it that grown women never have this much fun on the scales???

I am soooooo glad that February is over! It's like getting rid of a hundred pound boulder off my back... So in salute to a new month, I am re-establishing my goals from last month that were derailed and getting back my mojo. So for public record, here they are:
1. weigh in on Mondays
2. no eating after 7 PM
3. exercise 5 times weekly/20 minute sessions

Bring on spring!

Fitting In

Lil brother was avidly listening to the middle schoolers dis Taylor Swift (and glorify Kanye West-neither of whom he has a clue about) as we made our way to the movies. As the insults were flying, lil brother could contain himself no longer, "She's a constipated loser!" And I have to say-of all the insults-lil brother's stole the show. Proving that knowing your victim has no bearing on the entertainment value of a well executed insult.

However, Mr B put his foot down when lil brother tried to emulate the shutter shade wearing middle schoolers by taking away lil brother's smuggled swim goggles in the parking lot of the theater. Mr B has no respect for all the lastest fads-so lil brother discovered.

Good times had by all! Percy Jackson ROCKS!

No Show

I stood up Chiro-guy on Friday afternoon. But let me be clear-I adore Chiro-guy. I am convinced that he is helping me to delay another "spell." Trust me: he has his work cut out for him. The fact that he knows that I'm a "donkey on the edge" (think Shrek) makes me a pretty tough case to tackle. Plus-he happens to be a good friend to Mr B (and an all 'round cool dude who I promised I would not blog about....oops! shhh!!!!). But I just wasn't feelin' it on Friday-after the most BRUTAL week of 2010, btw (dodging all that tattle-telling wore me out).

The first few visits to Chiro-guy were interesting and exciting. And the massage table in the darkened room where NO. ONE. SPEAKS. ... Well, I would pay him double just for that part alone. And although the adjustments can be a little creepy (and at close range), I was totally in and down with it. Until Chiro-guy made me attach my head to a pulley-machine-thingy mounted on the wall and do 30 squats. As ya'll already know-I am barely hanging on to my dignity as is. This was seriously putting my remaining few drops in peril. And if that weren't enough, he put a two pound weight on my head, darkened glasses over my eyes, and then made me stand on a vibrating plate and stare at a wall- FOR SEVEN MINUTES. I am totally convinced that there must be a hidden camera in this room. But I can't look-or the two pound weight will clunk to the floor-and he will know: SHE IS NOT DOING THIS RIGHT. My paranoia about the hidden camera is the ONLY reason I did not touch the knob on the timer and shave off 4 minutes of the required seven (I have visions of screaming sirens and men in HAZ-MAT suits tackling me for not following protocol). But at least there is something to read on the wall-if I tilt my head back and squint and ignore my vibrating retinas: it's an article on the effects of positive thinking on one's health. ARE YOU F$#@ING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!? Who the F-BOMB thinks POSITIVE THOUGHTS WHILE STANDING WITH A WEIGHT ON HER HEAD FOR SEVEN F#@&ING MINUTES??? Whoever she is-doesn't need a chiropractor, that's for sure. Reading that document did at least take my mind off my indignity and gave me a purpose for my next visit. I will be re-typing a new document to surreptitiously put in its place (hence my paranoia about the hidden cameras). One with every vile, pornographic thought known to mankind (Mr B is my go-to guy on this one) with at least 39 F-BOMBS per paragraph. And I don't even need clinical research to know that my document is far more likely to induce positive effects on one's mental/physical health. Who knows: I might stand on that vibrating plate for 20 minutes if the reading literature improves.

Trust Issues

I don't trust people who don't drink coffee; or never curse; or prescribe to perpetual positive thinking (a few sustained minutes alone can make me feel queasy); or make others publically pray with them. So I guess that makes me a coffee swilling potty mouth with a bad attitude who very likely needs your prayers.

Addition: I am also highly suspect of people who dress little dogs in baby clothes and carry them in purses-particularly the psychotic chihuahua. A crazed chihuahua in a pink polka dot dress speaks VOLUMES about its owner...

Mine Field

I carefully picked my way through the mine field of the boy quarters this morning. The carnage was surreal. And strangely-I wasn't even angry by it. The wreckage almost seemed artistic in design. The exploding piles not really random at all. Ahhh-the multi-colored madness! The plastic insanity! A landscape of exhilirating chaos! This must have been what the ark looked like after the rampaging animals burst through those doors... I wonder if Noah and his wife got mad at all that muck and mess that they got the privilege of cleaning up??? ...Who am I to question God's design???

However-both boy's have invitations to parties this afternoon. You might call this my ace in the hole...

Peace Out!

Beware

The last two days have been just BRUTAL. It's been a pressure cooker of projects, deadlines, meetings upon meetings, hurdles, hoops to jump, minutiae, and last minute desperation and pitfalls. As if that weren't enough-I was the victim of a tattle-tell-titty-baby. Seriously. I am 41 years old. I thought we had moved beyond that. So I'm gonna take my spankin' with gritted teeth-this time. But I am done. Hear me??? DONE. And besides-we all know that tattle-tell-titty-babies get pinched when mamma ain't lookin'...

Birthday Girl

I actually cracked the birthday mystery of what Mr B was getting me for my bday about a week ago. "Oh my God! You bought me a new clothes dryer!!!" And before I had even finished the sentence, there was a roaring, shrieking, demonic Hebrew voice in my head hyperventilating "Red-rum! Red-rum! Red-rum!" And Mr B actually backed away from me while never letting his eyes leave my face. I was so scary that even Jack Nicholson in his Shining hey-day would have run away from me. And I'm gonna confess: I was murder personified. So today when I got Mr B's email asking me to get home asap to wait on the installation guys-I deleted his email and didn't respond. When I opened his bday card and read the little poem about the washing machine and dryer-I chewed a hole in my left cheek. Because it's the thought that counts, right? Yeah.....right.

So as we sat at our fav pizza spot-I had resigned myself to being a good sport. I had finally made my peace with the f@#! dryer when a little heart shaped box was pushed across the table. And yes-you guessed it!-my hand is now officially dripping in diamonds. I can barely pick it up to type this posting it's so heavy. Although I have never been a diamond-diva kinda girl, I guess it's never too late to join their ranks. So I will probably be annoying all my pals with my random (and unnecessary) hand flapping this week. So feel free to flap your hand back at me since I am officially rejoicing that I will be stuffing my usual 9 loads of laundry into my ancient dryer this weekend while wearing my diamonds. And somehow that does make laundry seem a little lovelier...who knew?!?

Joie de Vivre: Joyful Living

Lil brother races down the steps, shouting to his brother over his shoulder, "I Get To Do The Plunger!" And bursts out of the bathroom with the plunger lifted over his head like the Olympic Torch as he races back up the stairs to the boy quarters.

Local Blogger: Fat Daddy Rants

In an effort to get my healthy habits mojo back, I went trolling for weight loss blogs. And no-they are not all equal. And in the search stumbled across Fat Daddy Rants from our own local watering hole-Nashville! I like his tone and style and cut to the chase attitude. And you don't have to be trying to lose weight to appreciate his blog. So check out Fat Daddy (who's really not so fat anymore...). He'll give ya sompin' to rant 'bout!

(copy and paste the link to your browser)
http://fatdaddyrantsblog.blogspot.com/

...and for the record: Thank you, Jesus! For Fridays!!!!

Man vs Wild

So we're driving home in the van after school and lil brother from the back seat asks me, "Mom, would you drink your own pee?"

Me (horrified): "Uh....NO!." ...pause 3 beats... "Would you?!?"

And he assures me that he would. But he would first kill a snake, and then pee in the snake, and then carry it around with him wherever he went (like a canteen I suppose). And then big kid chimes in too. And he agrees totally with lil brother. He would drink his own pee from a dead snake too. And when he got hungry, he would slice off chunks of the snake to snack on. And I am totally befuddled and nauseous by all this. What in the world....!?! I can promise you this: if I lived to be a hundred, this scenario would never enter my brain-EVER. The perk of having boys, I suppose.

Come to find out, they watched this all go down on their fav show Man vs Wild. They are in total agreement that this is the Best. Show. Ever. And I guess if they're ever stranded on an island, they at least have a plan. I-however-plan to just lie down and simply die before I go looking for a snake to pee in.

Lost MoJo

As you regular blither blather'ers know, I made a health commitment in January 2010to walk for 31 days. And I am proud to say that my "no excuses" campaign paid off. At the end of 31 days, I was stronger and leaner and more confident-and certainly healthier. So I casually and blithely breezed into February with a new set of goals: walking for 20 minutes/5 times per week and a reduced calorie plan with the goal of a 5 lb loss in February. And then big kid's friend's mother took a serious turn for the worse-and the unthinkable happened. And before I knew it-I was standing in my foyer, late at night weeping and crying with 2 grandparents who had just delivered a grief stricken kid to my door. This event unlocked my own personal vault of grief as well as opened the flood gates of empathy and grief for this family. As a result, I resorted back to my emotional eating and crawled into bed just as quickly as I could get real life off my back. I had planned to keep this a secret and not confess that my lifetime of bad habits had reared its ugly head again and that I am-once again-right back where I started. I have lost my mojo. Because I am a person who carries my pride as a public banner, sharing my successes is always easy. Sharing my failures? Well-that would require some extensive psychotherapy. So there it is-the messy truth. Not really sure what my next step will be. But I know that owning my struggle has to come first.

Snow on Pres. Day!

Got some SNOW on Pres Day!!! Which makes it feel like a real snow day from school! So today-February sucks a little less than ususal.

So I'm thinking about finishing that romance novel, coloring my hair, getting out the tweezers, running a load of whites, watching a bad foreign film, letting lil brother stay in his boxers all day, and ignoring the pots and pans piled up in the sink. Or maybe I'll exercise, or grade those essays, or foray into the boy quarters.... OR NOT!!!

A President's Day Tidbit:
Because I am born on George Washinton's b-day (2/22), my mother SERIOUSLY considered naming me GEORGEANNA. I truly feel like I dodged a bullet on the day of my birth.

V-Day

"The course of true love never did run smooth...Lord! what fools these mortals be!" from A Midsummer Night's Dream, W. Shakespeare

Ok-so I'm a sucker for Santa and Christmas. The yule season makes me gush with generosity and good will towards my fellows. Valentine's Day however, makes me want to gag. And as you know-February in general makes me grouchy. Waiting in limbo between winter and spring requires greater fortitude than clearly I have.

So this morning I stumble to the coffee pot (sounds like a Dolly Parton song) to pour my morning brew and find a red Valentines-(for me!)-and a new bottle of my happy pill prescription. And this totally tickles my sour little funny bone! I actually chuckle as I pour my left over coffee into my fav mug. So who needs diamonds and wilted flowers and mega calorie candy when a little pill and a "hey, let's keep it real" 99 cent card will do? Faux-romance is just not my thing. But surprising me at the coffee pot...I confess-my cold heart melted a little.

And for the record-I'm feeling the love in the depressing month of February!

No-Go

Ok-so Mr B went on the record and said-NO-I am not getting a flat screen tv for my birthday. Which makes me a little nervous since I'm in mortal fear of gym memberships and the Wii fitness program. Back to the drawing board...

Broheim

broheim: a kinsman, brethren, a friend or a brother as such

This has been a difficult week for our family. Big kid's best friend's mother passed away suddenly from cancer. And the grief has been deep and dark. Sandie was a vibrant and lovely wife, mother, daughter, and sister. And her loss is felt deeply by so many. It is not easy to bear witness to the pain and suffering and loss of others and to stand in that barren place with them. And as hard as it has been, I am proud of big kid who has been there for his friend at ground zero. Unfortunately it's these very moments that shape us and mold our humanity and compassion. As I watch big kid walk this path with his friend, I have assurance that this painful loss is forging the spirit of "broheim" and fraternity between these 11 year old boys. And one day they will be better men because of it.

Pretty Sure

I think I've finally gotten it figured out. Mr B is getting me a flat screen tv for my b-day gift. However, he isn't willing to lay his cards on the table and confess yet-although he keeps pressuring me to reveal my response to said gift. And I won't discuss it until he confirms it. So right now we're at a gift stale-mate. To keep me off the scent of my prey, he keeps throwing red herrings at me (which I'm ignoring). He keeps telling me what a good deal he's gotten on a Wii-fit from this random guy on Craig's List. And I refuse to believe that I could marry someone so stupid. So the guessing game continues...But I KNOW that I'm right... I will confirm my hunch on the Feb 22nd. Stay tuned...

Story Time with Big Kid

Big kid went around the neighborhood this afternoon selling Boy Scout popcorn. So he comes home and gives us this sales report:

"So I knock on this door and this sweaty man answers the door. I ask him if he wants to buy popcorn and he says to me, "Well, I just bought a shitload from the Girl Scouts, so I'll have to go dig in my car for some money. And sweaty dude actually digs out $10 worth of quarters from his car."

Big kid is pretty impressed by this (as am I) as well as pretty amused that a grown up would say "shitload" and "girl scouts" in the same sentence (as am I). But you know those girl scouts are ruthless. They're like a colony of killer ants on a water buffalo. Slim pickins in the neighborhood once they're done with it...

And for the record, I bought a "shitload" too many girl scout cookies myself. Feelin' sweaty dude's pain.

Newbie

New blog I'm checking out...see what you think. I'm intrigued...not too sure about Mr Blue though. At least the writer is on to him too...

http://sexandtheuppereastside.blogspot.com/

February Sucks

February Sucks. It's only redeeming factor is the Somoa Girl Scout cookie that always arrives about this time of year. If it weren't for the Somoa, I probably would have killed myself or some poor helpless victim by now. So if February has you down, hunt down a Girl Scout and buy as many boxes as possible-it might just save your life. I prefer eating them in a darkened room by myself-a box at a time. When I get to heaven, I will eat Somoas every day. Not just in the sucky month of February.

Well-as if February weren't sucking enough-my back pain has come back to haunt me, and I'm hobbling around here like an ornery sway backed mare. Even though I was a nervous chiro-virgin, I made a visit to Dr Rich Allen, DC-and was very glad I did. He was knowledgeable, thorough, practical, and understanding. Although he confirmed that my head is not on straight (much to Mr B's wry amusement), he seemed optimistic about my chances for survival-and has a plan to help me combat this annoying malady that totally interferes with my life. So local pals-give him a call or check out Allen Family Chiropractic on Facebook. Frankly, it's just a relief to be in the hands of someone who actually gives a crap about the reason I have persistent back episodes (or "spells" as we Southerners like to call them). So to the nonchalant ER docs-you can just SUCK IT!

So if you're a FEBRUARY SUCKS! HATER-please feel free to leave your complaint in the comments section. However, if Februaury just seems to be going your way- you can SUCK IT. I'm just not in the mood for a ray of sunshine at the moment...

Team Loyalty: Super Bowl Sunday

In honor of Super Bowl Sunday, I am advertising the only product that I will not compromise my loyalty: and that, my blither blather friends, is the unparalleled soft drink Pepsi. My intense loyalty to this brand actually goes back to childhood. I remember a family vacay (circa mid 1970’s) and watching my hot, thirsty, road weary dad beating the crap out of an ancient, roadside Pepsi machine somewhere in the flatlands of New Mexico. This decrepit, rusted machine had the gall to swallow his 35 cents without delivering the promised cold Pepsi. And I remember sympathizing with his blind rage. We needed our cold Pepsi, dammit! And no-Coke won’t do. Because no other product quite delivers the same sweet and bubbly packed sensation that a Pepsi does. Yes-I have tried to abstain. I have even gone almost a whole day (sweating with the effort) of not imbibing to later find myself standing in front of my garage fridge (in work clothes with my purse on my shoulder) cracking open a cold Pepsi and guzzling it down with a two handed hold. No other product in my life has this kind of desirable hold over me. I will drink various brands of coffee, purchase new and cheaper brands of make-up, hair products, clothing, and groceries. But I will not be separated from my (diet) Pepsi-no matter the cost or effort. It has even become Mr B's purpose in life to keep me perpetually stocked up while getting the most cases for the cheapest price. Which is probably why I’m infamous among my circle of friends-if you swing by house, I’m gonna offer you a cold, frosty Pepsi. Every time!

So I hope you enjoy your Super Bowl Sunday with friends and family-and of course, a cold Pepsi in your hands as you cheer on your team. Go Pepsi!!!

***************
For the record:
Pepsi will not be advertising in today’s Super Bowl commercial line up. Pepsi corporation has instead invested its funds into an internet campaign that will be awarding grants to individuals and organizations who are creating new ways to improve their local communities.

Mystery Gift

My birthday is fast approaching (like it or not), and I am seriously worried about the birthday gift that Mr B keeps taunting/cautioning me about. The clues that he has given me DO NOT bode well. So I am asking for your help in trying to solve this unnerving mystery. The big reveal will occur on Feb 22nd. Here are the clues:

1. It is non refundable-Mr B has repeatedly and adamantly stated that the mystery gift CANNOT be returned. Which means that he probably bought it from some weirdo on Craig’s List. So no matter how horrifying it is-this gift is gonna live/stay with me. Which kinda sounds like a case of venereal disease after a night of fun but questionable sex.
2. It is expensive-Which translates to, “No matter how much you hate it you cannot complain about it because if you knew how much it cost you would burst a blood vessel and die of the shock of having to live with this thing that not only you hate but came froma weirdo who took a big portion of your hard earned money so you can now be the proud of a (God only knows-fill in the blank).”
3. It comes from a place of love-Mr B is worriedly trying to assure me of this. Which translates to, “This gift has the power to piss you off profoundly and cause you to inflict irreparable bodily harm to the person who had the nerve to give a gift that is meant to only help you improve your pathetic self.”
4. It will bring you joy???-OK. This I can live with. But why is he making this statement a question??? It’s as if he’s trying to convince himself of the joy inducing qualities of said mystery gift. And really-joy is a little strong for my taste. I mean-it’s just a birthday, for crying out loud. I just want a regular, run of the mill, low commitment, low maintenance gift. Really-bubble bath is fine.

So I’m bracing myself for the worst and trying to prepare myself for the possible emotional and psychological scarring that this mystery gift is likely to entail. Go ahead and post your guesses in the comments section. And we shall soon see what Mr B has in store for me!

Countdown til Feb 22nd: 19 days

Lost and Found

One of the most IRRITATING things about kids is their inability to find sh#t when you really need them to. IMPORTANT things such as: flip flops, band aids, backpacks, jackets, toilet paper, order forms, and the dog leash-to name a few. My kids can NEVER find ANYTHING. No matter how detailed and desperate my directions are. They usually just jerk open a door/cabinent, holler that they don't see it, and THEN blindly stare into the abyss. Which means that I have to stomp over and snatch said object which is sitting in front of their faces in the EXACT location I said it would be. I have already informed them that they should not grow up and become detectives-because they would SUCK at it (yes, I believe in addressing my kids' weaknesses to their faces). If I were to put a 5 ton pink elephant in front of the TV in my living room-my kids could not find it. Seriously. Why do I even waste my breath...???

So when the eye doctor reported that big kid is blind as a bat and could not literally see the 8x11 letter R in front of his face-it did give me a moment's pause. A brief second's pause only. Because honestly not even blindness is a good enough excuse for stupidity. I mean-Helen Keller wrote an entire BOOK-and she couldn't see, hear, OR speak. I just need a roll of toilet paper, folks, that's ALL I'm asking for here.

So now that big kid got the contacts he's been dying for-I'm expecting to see RESULTS over her at blither blather headquarters. And of course, I will keep you posted on the details of the Lost and Found Tragic-Comedy that will likely unfold sooner than later.

Re-adjusting

My trusty laptop (best friend!) is in the shop for a repair (to the tune of $150! highway robbery! They know I will pay any price to have her returned to me ASAP). So I have taken to using Mr B's-but it's just not the same. I have already added people.com, bravo.com, tmz.com, and game gutter to his favorites. Not sure that he will appreciate these must-see sites. I've also taken it upon myself to re-arrange his cluttered desk top. All like files and folders neatly stacked and aligned. I've also added a folder for my retro blog pics and switched to my yahoo.email account for quick access. So looks like Mr B's machine is getting the blither blather make over. ...Shhhhhh!!!! Don't tell!

Penny-man

Lil brother got mad at me BEFORE we actually left the house to go to Wal-Mart this afternoon. Usually a trip to Wal-Mart is good news for lil brother who is a big fan of sensory overload and running amok in large environments. So when he hustled upstairs to get his money, I was willing to patiently wait for him. Unitl he came downstair with a baggie full of $17 dollars of PENNIES. "I am NOT counting out pennies at the register at Wal Mart!" was not an acceptable excuse to him. So he swelled up and refused to talk to me the whole way there, in the parking lot, and through the store while moping along behind me. But I bought him a luncheable anyway. Cause not having to 'splain myself a 100 times to him in public was actually a pleasant experience for me. I kinda like going to Wally World with Penny-man.

Solving some OC Problems

OK-so I should be grading the Of Mice and Men essays and using my snow day wisely. But instead I went to Bravo.com to read the "real" housewives blogs. And of course I got sucked into the OC world of glitz and bling and trash. No surprise there, huh? But instead of x'ing out and going about my merry business (ie: doing laundry), I decided to leave a post. AHHHH!!!!! The power of an unsolicited opinion! I spent more time on this missive than I did on my last email to my boss. Why I should care about a vapid, spoiled woman's view of herself and the world is well-beyond me. But it pulled my chain and riled me up. Handing your children over to the nanny while the maid makes the beds so that you can go to the spa while wearing your diamond necklace so that you can go to dinner later is not my idea of "working." If this is your lifestyle-then fine. Enjoy! But don't insult the rest of us who do scrub toilets and pick up #@#! off the floors and counters 24/7 that you WORK, k? Do I wish that I had more luxury in my life? Absolutely! Do I LOVE cleaning my boy/man domain? H$LL NO! But there's something pure and honest and liberating about living your life with your sleeves rolled up around your elbows while taking care of your own business. Imagine making your impeccable manicure your life's work?!? Seriously....I'm just really disgusted by some of those vapid OC "housewives." OC Ladies: GET A JOB! (Oh-and selling your naked pics of you and the vibrator that plugs in-doesn't count. Sorry.)

Of course....I will be tuning in on Thursday. (...insert ironic shrug and sigh of self disgust here)

Oh!!!-if/when my comment gets published on Bravo.com-I'll let ya'll know!!! Blither Blather is going coastal!