Getting BACK in shape...

For May's SPT challenge Lelly went back into the vault to an spt challenge she really loved.
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I remember it well not only because it was a fun one, but also because it was during that challenge that I became a brunette. Who knows maybe this time around I'll go back to being blonde. Hmmm...
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Tuesday, May 5~ something old
Tuesday, May 12~ something new
Tuesday, May 19~ something borrowed
Tuesday, May 26~ something blue
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Take it literally, take it figuratively, but by all means, make a commitment to complete all four challenges for the month of may!

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SOMETHING OLD

And here it is, something old. I'm not necessarily talking about my husband and myself. Though we might be considered old by some, we are still relatively young to others, and to ourselves, well, I don't think we'll ever feel completely grown up. But what is old in this picture is our backs and the pain they are giving us.
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My back is tweaked from my neck to my ribs and Rick's lower back is all messed up. He is absolutely miserable. It's hard for me to see my big, strong, hard working, independent man in so much pain and it is frustrating for him too. This is a man who never stops. Come rain, shine, barf, fever, chills, pneumonia, whatever... he's going to get the job done. And he's still working now even with his severe pain.
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Neither one of us wants to have to slow down because our bodies decide to get old and run down. This is my number one motivation for working out everyday. Sure I want a cut, ripped, toned body, and I dream of my own Valerie Bertinelli bikini moment, but what drives me most is that I know this is move it or loose it time. I have to fight to keep my body running well and with every year that passes it's only going to get harder.
In fact I feel myself growing older even as I sit here.
So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to work out.
Even though I HATE it with a fiery passion.

Freckle Power...

I took this picture of Easton's black eye a month or two ago. It was taken a few days after she got her shiner from slipping in the bathroom and hitting her eye on the corner of a cabinet door, so it doesn't really show how bad it was. But what it does show are all of her delicious freckles. I just love those freckles. So cute.
Easton loves her freckles too. She is such a strong, confident, amazing little girl. I really admire her sense of self worth. A couple of years ago she even wrote a poem about her freckles.
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Pick a freckle off a tree
Freckles will-a- fall on you
When the freckles fall on you
You will look-a- great- a- too.
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Easton is my little writer. She is so creative and imaginative. Her work keeps me smiling all of the time. And with April being National Poetry Month, I am proud to announce that Easton completed a poetry challenge given on the Writer's Digest poetry blog, Poetic Asides.

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/
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The blog gave a poetry prompt for each day in the month of April and Easton completed all thirty poems (I only got to day 13).
I am so proud of her for her perseverance and for the fun poems that she wrote.
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Because of the large volume of poems that were posted during the challenge she won't receive her certificate of completion until July, but I couldn't wait until then to tell you what an amazing job she did. I'm sure she is the only one her age to take the challenge let alone complete it.
Way to go Easton.
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I wish I was more like her.
Then maybe I would have finished too.

Beware...

My years spent being terrified of taking the trash out after dark must have been a premonition, warning me that this night would come. Because there he stood, the vision of my childhood fears, blocking my path to the house. I waited, paralyzed, unsure of what to do. If he was someone I knew and I bolted I would feel like such a fool, but if he wasn’t…

As he stepped closer the moonlight confirmed it, I had never seen this man before and instinct told me not to wait for an introduction. With no other escape I ran down our street. My dream of living on acreage fighting against me as I stumbled through the darkness, trying to make my way to the nearest house.

Coming up behind me the stranger threw me to the ground, then laughed as he hovered over me, explaining that he always kept his victims alive for five days before he disposed of them. Five days! My head spun around his words as thoughts of what could happen in those five days sickened me. Still laughing, he moved in to bite me with his snarled tobacco stained teeth. I quickly turned my face, forcing him to...

Kiss me gently on the cheek. Huh? There could be only one explanation for why I suddenly had control over someone so evil. Forcing my eyes opened, I sat up in bed. Then, with heart pounding, did what I always do after a nightmare and got up to check the locks.

Approaching the living room my heart was calmed by the sight of my hero, my protector rising up to greet me.

And even though having him sleep in the house brings the occasional stray clump of fur,

if it means protection from a psycho killer who wants to torture me for five days,
I’ll take it.

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

The pig flu...

Jamie got into the car after school and told me that she was sick all day and had almost thrown up.

She then said,

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"...And my friend said it's Obama's fault because he is spreading around the Flu Pig and making everyone sick."

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Ahhh, children talking politics,

is there anything cuter?

So funny.

Free spirit...

I found out what I was up against when Jamie was still a wee babe, not quite able to crawl. It was then that we decided to take a family trip to Snowflake, Arizona to enjoy a tour of the new temple before it was dedicated.

The idea that the temple brings shelter form the storms of the world took on a new meaning that day. Years of traveling to Snowflake to visit my husband’s family had not prepared me for the bitter gales that awaited us there. It was miserably, miserably cold and my thin valley girl blood welcomed the refuge of the warm temple lobby. I had no idea, in that peaceful moment, that I had carried my very own storm in with me and that it was about to erupt.

My storm lay dormant for awhile as we walked through each room of the temple, enjoying the beauty and craftsmanship, but then it began to bubble and brew beneath the weight of my loving arms until with a loud, obnoxious wail my storm—my Jamie—shattered celestial serenity, making each and every visitor stop and acknowledge her existence.

Not wanting to take my disruptive baby back out into the cold, I tried everything I could to calm her, then in desperation cried out in prayer, “Heavenly Father, please bless Jamie that she will be able to quiet down so that we and the others here can enjoy the sweet spirit of Thy temple.”

His words—clear, precise, unmistakable—both surprised and taught me, as he answered, “I cannot control her free agency.”

I learned that my baby was not tired, cold, hungry, or plagued with indigestion. She was just Jamie, a precious child of God, exercising her free agency to be heard when she had something to say (or bellow as the case may be).

So if you see my Jamie today and are alarmed by her high-water jeans that were the only ones “comfortable” enough for her to wear, and her untamed hair that she won’t let me touch, please know that she is not neglected. She has a mother who loves her very much, who wants nothing more than to send her out into the world looking cute and put together, but who has learned long ago that she cannot control her daughter’s free agency.

And to be honest, I don’t think I’d want to.

If I did, just think of all the fun I’d miss.

Don't be a stranger...

Tuesday, April 28:

Gift a total stranger

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I thought I might have to skip today's challenge because I don't have plans to go anywhere today and although I was able to find a "co-worker" to gift at home last week (my dear hubs, my very favorite co-worker of all) I can't get away with that this week because, near as I can tell, no strangers live in my house (growing up we had a stranger that lived in our detached workshop/shed and ate from the freezer we kept out there, but that is a different post entirely).

But as I thought about it further I remembered something that I have been trying to become better at that totally fits into the category of gifting a stranger, and that is leaving comments.

I have become very lazy about leaving comments when I read blogs, for friends and strangers alike, and I have set a goal to get better at this. I think we all get warm fuzzies when someone takes the time to acknowledge us and say something nice.

Just the other day my friend Betsy left me a comment that was so sweet and really made my day. I think we often forget what a difference our little efforts can make.

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In keeping with the Golden Rule, I've decided to start leaving more comments for people. I used to shy away from leaving comments for strangers, I felt like such an intruder, but I love the friendships I have developed with those who have been brave enough to leave comments for me and I'm ready to do the same.

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So if you've happened upon this blog by accident or if you've traveled over because of a comment I left on your blog, I say, "Welcome stranger. I hope we can become good blogging friends."

Good enough for ME...

I’ve recently struggled with feelings of wanting to trade myself in for someone better, just as we did with our old run down Suburban three years ago. We took it down to the car lot and presto, came home with a beautiful new Sequoia. Other than the hefty new payment to go with it, it was a fairly simple trade.

So I thought it would be nice to have a people lot to go to, a place to swap lives, to become someone new. I was leaning toward the Carrie Underwood model for beauty.

Not that she is the only beautiful person in the world, there are many others I could choose just as well, but seeing her in an interview a couple of weeks ago, I became jealous of her glowiness. The girl is radiantly beautiful and I want that too. I want to glow Carrie Underwood. I want to glow. What's your secret?

Then there’s Kristin Chenoweth in the personality department. I love her bubbly cuteness. She oozes joy, she oozes fun. I want to ooze joy and fun. I want to walk into a room and be the loud, cute, happy, fun one. Teach me to be you Kristin Chenoweth. Please, I want to be bubbly too.
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Shall we pause a moment to notice that both of my models are also great singers. I don’t think this is an accident. I’ve always wanted to be a great singer, but I’m not. Why can’t I be a great singer too? Why?

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For all have not every gift given unto them;
For there are many gifts, and to every man
[and woman] is given a gift by the spirit of God.
To some is given one, and to some is given another,
That all may be profited thereby.
D&C 46: 11-12

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Well Carrie, I guess you can keep your beauty, and Kristin your super awesome bubbliness because it turns out that I am me, just the way I am, for a very important reason.

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I have been given my own personal combination of gifts and challenges so that I can accomplish what I have come to this earth to do.

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I was not chosen to be radiantly beautiful or endearingly cute and bubbly because those traits were not right for my test, my experience, and frankly that’s not me and never was. I believe that I have had this personality since my existence began (I’m talking pre-earth life) this is who I am, who I’ve always been.

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After all, if we were all the loud, cute, bubbly type, just think how obnoxious the parties would become. I mean, who would be left to serve the jello salad or be the adoring audience?
We have to be different so “that all may be profited thereby”.

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I will always admire beautiful, radiant, bubbly, fun, talented people, but that doesn’t mean that I have to dislike myself in the process.
I was meant to be the quiet, introspective, reflective type. The one that ponders and shares, that listens and loves.

This is me.

And all I need to focus on is becoming

the best me possible.

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And today the best me possible just wants to get this pile of clean laundry put away.

It’s getting ridiculous.

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"Be yourself, because everyone else is already taken." ~Oscar Wilde

The Man of Steel, um, I mean Socks...

While reading blogs tonight, I noticed that my cousin Shellie participates in what is called "Photostory Friday" and I thought, "Oooo a game and Oooo, it's only 11:30 pm here which means it's still Friday and Oooo I think I want to play this here Friday game."
So 1, 2, 3
Ready or not here I come...

MEET SOCKMAN

SOCKMAN IS VERY POWERFUL

SOCKMAN

IS EVEN STRONGER THAN

(brace yourself)

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THE HULK!

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Man I'm going to sleep better tonight knowing that he's lying here beside me.

Please don't ask me why my four year old is in my bed, separating me from my hubs and punishing my ribcage with his ever wandering knee.

This is not a post about bad parenting. It's a post about SOCKMAN okay, and if you're not careful I just might sick him on you.

So unless you are stronger than the HULK, you might want to keep your judgements to yourself.

But advice?

Now that is very welcome.

Seriously, how the heck do I get this kid out of my bed?

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

Dirty little secret...

Racing against the footsteps that approached the front door, she shoved the bulky sleeping bag into the closet, its contents oozing down each shelf, puddling onto the floor. She knew that she should clean it up, but there wasn't time. Slamming the doors shut she ran downstairs to greet her guests.

"Let's visit down here." She said coolly, trying to protect her secret. But she forgot about the children. The children whose voracious appetites for moving, jumping and exploring had them up the stairs only moments later, running through each room, examining every corner.

Eyes fixed on the closet, her heart dropped with the questions, "What's this room? Is this the bathroom?"

"No, no." She quickly answered. "That's just a closet. Nothing to see in there."

At night's end, when her last guest had departed, she wiped her brow and smiled. Her secret was safe, prosecution avoided.

UNTIL...

Until the day that her very own children betrayed her by revealing the contents of her closet on YouTube, claiming that they hadn't noticed that it was opened in the backdrop of their video.

Her secret exposed, in all of its oozing, dripping glory, she (after reprimanding her children for their thoughtlessness) said, "What the heck", snapped a picture, and posted it on her blog for all to see.

Ain't it purty?!

(organizing my closets is part of my fabulous by forty quest. Hmmm, three and a half months to go, think I'll make it?)

Find a happy place...

Tuesday April 21:

Gift a neighbor, teacher, co-worker

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I recently got rid of the couch in our "office" and this greatly upset my co-worker (he's a great one, even does the dishes). He loved his couch it was his special unwinding spot, but when we got new furniture it simply no longer fit (it actually never did fit well, but I let it slide because he loved it so).

I tried to make amends with a small wingback chair but this offered little comfort to my dear co-worker and soon his unwinding TV time lost all appeal. He was a broken man in spirit and body (literally, his poor back is out).

So today I decided to gift him the recliner from our living room. It was to be a simple act of love, trade the wingback chair for the recliner, how hard could it be?

How hard?

I'll tell you how hard.

Really, ridiculously hard.

Because the chunky recliner didn't fit in our bedroom full of chunky furniture either (someday I will do a post about the fact that our fairly large home, built in the 2000s, has such a tiny (relatively speaking) master bedroom and how we bought it anyway, after only one walk through).

At this point I had my heart set on giving my co-worker this gift of comfort so I had to make it work. Somehow I just had to.

And soon my quick fix turned into an all day, moving furniture to and fro, extravaganza.

After much swapping between the living room and my bedroom (someday I will do a post on how my smallish master bedroom is in direct view of the living room and how we bought it anyway after only one walk through) I finally made everything fit,

and my co-worker finally got his happy unwinding place back.

Whew, I'm EXHAUSTED,

and I have now thrown my back out too.

No kidding, I really did.

Guess the "office" will be closed for awhile.

Listen to the rabbit...

I'm so happy. I changed the setting for my comments and now I can receive comments from my mom in far away Georgia. Hooray!
Of course this also means that other anonymous folks can leave comments too
(that is if anyone besides my family and friends read this thing. Or maybe it's my family and friends who have been dying to anonymously tell me what they think for years and now they have their chance. Now there's a subject for a juicy post, If you could anonymously tell your family or friends something what would it be?).
Anyway, this is just a plea that you remember the lesson taught by Thumper...
"If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all."
Thank you from the bottom of my tender, easily broken from mean comments heart.

Fly me to the moon...

Today was a bad day, (or should I say yesterday since I'm posting this after midnight) a very bad day, a "how the heck did I end up in a small town" kind of day.
I apologize to all of my friends and family who LOVE living in a small town and to those who wish they could live in a small town. I know it has its redeeming qualities. I know-- I've seen them, I've lived them, but it's still hard for me.
We are all cut from a different cloth and apparently this isn't my preferred pattern. Apparently I'm cut from a bold, chunky, funky city print, not a country calico. Or maybe it's just that I wore the city print for so long that I don't know how to dress down into sweet simplicity.
But tonight (or last night) I think I found my answer. I know what I must do to be happy here.
I NEED TO BUILD A ROCKET.
We watched the movie, Astronaut Farmer tonight and the main character, a man from a very small town, had a passion to build a rocket and fly into space. Now there's a lofty goal.
While watching this it hit me. What I'm really missing is not the city at all, but my passion.
I had passions in the city, routines, things I loved to do, and these kept me feeling alive and happy. I need to find my passion here.
I need to start BUILDING MY ROCKET.
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What "rockets" keep you feeling alive and happy?

Eggs and a tag...

Now today I DID eat chocolate marshmallow eggs.
Lots of 'um.

And they were so good.

P.S. Do you see that I am wearing a coat in my house? A coat, in the house, in April. I can't bring myself to waste any more propane or wood to heat my house in the middle of Spring. Cannot do it.
Maybe I just need more meat on my bones.
Send more chocolate marshmallow eggs fast
(no really, send some. I'm... I mean the kids are almost out).


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Now for a tag.

I was tagged by Erika

She and Patti were my favorite roommates, my partners in crime (literally, but don't ask), in college and I found them both again through blogging. How cool is that!

So Erika tagged me to

Go to my 6th folder
Get the 6th picture
And blog about it.

Miss E's baptism last year.

So beautiful.

The sad thing is that this beautiful white dress has fallen off the face of the earth.

How does a beautiful white dress fall off the face of the earth I'd like to know.

Frustrating.

Please shine down on me...

It's the middle of April

and look where I am.

That's right, sitting in front of a fire. A fire! It has been so cold today. It even snowed (very lightly but still).

I know this might be normal for some parts of the country, but this is Arizona and mountains or not, this is not right. Not right at all. I'm a valley girl, born and raised, and you can bet my frozen flip flopped feet that being cold in April is not my idea of fun.

I traded swimming pools for fireplaces, sweat for shivers, flip flops for... well I haven't exactly given up the flip flops (dumb I know).

I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but I really miss being warm. I want to be roasting in the hot sun right now. Of course if I did find myself roasting in the hot sun I'd probably start wishing for a trip to the mountains to cool off.

What fickle creatures we humans are.

Well at least I have fire. That's something to be grateful for.

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P.S.

You must excuse the hair. It was soooo windy today (I mean crazy Wizard of Oz windy) that I decided, "What's the point?"

What's the point indeed.

My return to SPT...

Lelly's challenge for April:

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"…wouldn't it be great if we spent this month giving gifts!
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And before you lovingly remind me of the economic recession, let me add that no money is to be spent on these gifts! let's focus on the gift of service, the gift of a smile, the gift of a repurposed or gently used item, the gift of a kind word. you know, those gifts that would be hard to wrap in a box with a pretty bow.

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For Tuesday, April 7: gift a family member

For Tuesday, April 14: gift a friend

For Tuesday, April 21: gift a neighbor, teacher, co-worker

For Tuesday, April 28: gift a total stranger

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I have a feeling that by the end of this month, the person who will have received the greatest gift is...YOU!"

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Tuesday April 14

Gift a friend

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I suppose it should have begun after my wedding, well my bridal shower really. I should have, from that moment on, become an official "thank you note writer".

But I didn't. For whatever reason I didn't.

I always think about sending thank you notes, special cards and letters, I love the concept of it, but I have a hard time getting past the thinking to the doing.

Until today...

Today, in celebration of SPT gift a friend day, I finally wrote notes and thank yous to friends.

And you know,

I just might make a habit of it.

Now to get them in the mail

(That's half the battle--for me at least)

Have you snail mailed a friend today?