Myth Busting

Evil J likes to torture me. I was telling him how Regina Spektor wrongly sings about how hair grows even after we die in her song Ghosts of the Corporate Future. The lyrics are as follows..

Maybe you should cut your own hair
'Cause that can be so funny
It doesn't cost any money
And it always grows back
Hair grows even after you're dead

Not true!

Hair doesn't grow after you die. It can't. Dead is dead. That means no life.

Then why do hair and nails appear longer?

Good question. They appear longer because the skin around the hair and nails lose water, shrink, and retract. No growth, just shrinkage. And here's the proof!

They don't call me Wonder Killer for nothin'..

Graaaarrrrgh!

Can I just tell you how much I hate spring break?

I love my kids. Really. I do. Quite a lot. But being stuck with them for a whole week should be considered a form of torture. Cruel and unusual torture. I was considering writing to Amnesty international for help.

There was whining, complaining, yelling, tears, puking, and stomping. And that was just me. They were much worse.

Much, much worse.

Thank god spring break's almost over. Do you think I can fetch much for them on ebay? Maybe I can send them to bad, bad people who need punishing. Or I could send them off to kids who think they want kids. My kids are the ultimate in birth control.

Stay tuned: Tomorrow's The Boy's 9th birthday. Pity me. And send lots of alcohol.

Born On a Rotten Day

I took a stroll down to my local library today. I practically live in libraries. I should've gone for a library science degree. I saw this one little book that piqued my interest.

Yes, I'm somewhat addicted to astrology. That is my shameful secret. Not that I believe what I read. I take it all with a huge grain of salt. I just find it interesting. And sometimes-- like with this book-- the similarities are eerie.

I'm a Libra. The only sign of the zodiac that isn't a living thing. I'm represented by scales. So unfair. And ironic considering I spent most of my life battling the scales in one way or another. Here are some tidbits from the book that I feel totally describe me:

Favorite Pastime: Smirking.
Favorite Book: How to Marry Yourself.
Dream Job: Devil's advocate.
Key Phrase: "On the other hand.."

Your sole purpose in life is to be right all the time, and you constantly change your mind in order to ensure that fact..

You are a font of useless minutae, forever analyzing your problems, like a cow chomping its cud..

You don't want a partner; you want a clone..

However, you are also capable of pursuing a goal with a singleminded determination that borders on obsession..

You believe in living in the moment versus planning an uncertain future..

Scarily enough, all are true about me. I've even said those very things about myself before. So I looked up the kids.

The Boy is a Taurus. About my little Raging Bull..

With practice, you can spot an imminent charge. His or her face darkens visibly as the temper rises. The eyes veil, the jaw juts, or sets, ever so slightly. Some unconsciously lower the head a bit and look up at you as a real bull does before it charges. Depending on how self-controlled yours is, you have from one second to a few minutes to brace yourself.

Taurus is the laziest sign in the zodiac..

That's him alright.

Now The Girl, on the other hand, is a Gemini...

Gemini is headstrong, not independent. They skim through life. Twins demand freedom, but it's the freedom of a teenager. They are too busy rebelling to listen to any other point of view. Being born without the objective-assessment gene has voided the ability to see any other opinion but theirs as valid. Argue with one, and suffer an interrogation that could make a trained spy crumble. Win your case, and Gemini will say, "That's just what I was trying to tell you."

Is it any wonder that I'm not completely sane?

Not that I ever was completely sane..

Yet Another Meme

Stole this meme from Ms.Q.

1) My uncle once: taught me how to swim in a baptism gone wrong. Ok, not really. He threw me into the pool and was shocked that my skinny little body went through the hole in the inner tube. But I did learn to swim that day.

2) Never in my life: have I ever liked bananas.

3) When I was five: I thought Willy Wonka was my dream man.

4) High School was: interesting to say the least.

5) I will never forget: the moment I first held my babies.

6) I once met: these guys who looked and sounded just like Ren and Stimpy.

7) There’s this girl I know who: works at this club in the city and always told me about her celeb sightings.

8) Once, at a bar: I put a guy in an arm lock for getting too friendly with me.

9) By noon I’m usually: fixing lunch.

10) Last night: I totally got checked out while I was all icky sweaty and out walking.

11) If I only had: an ipod. I need a friggin ipod!

12) Next time I go to church: I will wonder what I'm doing there. I'm not the mass religion type.

13) Terry Schiavo: is gone. Let the woman rest in peace.

14) What worries me most: is my kids.

15) When I turn my head left, I see: the livingroom closet.

16) When I turn my head right, I see: the sky turning threateningly dark out my window.

17) You know I’m lying when: I tell you I'm lying.

18) What I miss most about the eighties: I miss the kickin' music.

19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I’d be: Beatrice.

20) By this time next year: I will be another year older.

21) A better name for me would be: Wonder Killer.

22) I have a hard time understanding: jealousy.

23) If I ever go back to school I’ll: actually finish this time?

24) You know I like you if: I tease the hell out of you.

25) If I won an award, the first person I’d thank would be: my mom.

26) Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: had unfortunate hair.

27) Take my advice, never: settle for less. You're worth it.

28) My ideal breakfast is: belguim waffles with strawberries and cream.

29) A song I love, but do not have is: Heroes by David Bowie.

30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: not blinking. It's small

31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: are fascinating.

32) Why won’t people: use their brains more?

33) If you spend the night at my house: you'll never see the bathroom.

34) I’d stop my wedding for: anything. Hi, commitment-phobe here!

35) The world could do without: ignorance.

36) I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: deal with a chauvinist.

37) My favorite blonde is: my little girl.

38) Paper clips are more useful than: spam.

39) If I do anything well, it’s: confusing the hell out of everyone.

40) And by the way: this was much harder than I expected.

Quitters Guide

I thought that since there were so many ex-smokers out there, that it'd be nice to compile a list of tips that helped you get and keep smoke-free. That way, should there be any wannabe quitters out there, they'd have their handy-dandy list to help them along.

I'll list mine:

• I'm not much of a joiner, but signing up at quitnet.com really helped me out in the beginning. I found a ton of tips and supportive people there.
• Gum. Lots of gum.
• Candy, too. I still have a jar of lollipops on my desk.
• Water. Oceans of the stuff. You'll be too busy peeing to even bother smoking.
• Straws. I cut straws down to cigarette size and twiddled them whenever I needed to keep my hands busy. I even sucked on them a few times. It helped.
• Fiber. I got so constipated-- tmi, I know-- during the first week. I wanted to die.
  
• A buddy. I really needed one during that first week. I hated everyone, was constantly dizzy, couldn't shit, and everything smelled bad-- another weird side effect-- and needed someone to bitch to. It helped that the buddy was going through the same hell as I was.
• Vitamin C. Smokers don't get enough of that vitamin in their diet. Stock up on it, any excess will leave the body through urine anyway.
• Get rid of everything! When you quit, shred your smokes, toss the ashtrays, get rid of lighters and matches. You don't need the temptation. I've shamefully dug through the trash hoping to find just one-- or even part of one-- cigarette. That's why you need to shred 'em good. Then dump something nasty on top of the mess. Something you couldn't be desperate enough to root through.
• Exercise. It'll keep you busy and keep you from gaining weight. Or find a hobby. Anything to keep you occupied.
  

What worked for you?

Time Travel

Yesterday went too fast, today is moving in slow motion. I could've sworn it was several hours later than it actually is. Maybe I'm in a hurry to see Lost tonight. I'm horribly addicted to that show.

That's not the only thing I'm happy about today! Yesterday, I had someone return some sweaters I'd bought whilst in panic mode prior to my interview. Once I'd gotten them home and tried them on, I realized I didn't actually much like them. They looked ok-- the cardigan was kinda cute-- but they weren't me at all. The person I gave them to (to return to the store) said she could return them for me as it was on her way. When she came over to give me my money, she realized that I'd been shorted $10. Needless to say, she felt awful about the whole thing even though I assured her it was alright. She called today to say that she couldn't rest (the missing money haunted her-- silly isn't she?) and she called the store to hunt down the missing money and was victorious in finding it. So-- yay!-- money back.

Money that will probably go towards purchasing a copy of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, preferably the 2-disc Special Collector's Edition. I'm a collector's edition whore.

I also completely forgot that yesterday was also my 1-year quit anniversary. I quit smoking a year ago yesterday. Amazingly enough-- with all of the bullshit that happened so soon afterwards-- I stayed quit. Yay me again!

Oh, yeah, and also a redesign. This will do until I get bored-- or find time to be bored and work on a new design/color scheme-- and change it again.

It's that late already?

The day really flies by when you're fried..

Last night, out of the blue, The Girl started puking. Then came the diarrhea. This, of course, signals the beginning of spring break. Or any vacation the kids get, really. That poor girl has the worst luck. I still remember the time she caught a similar bug and missed the field trip to the circus. She cried and cried, then puked, cried a bit more, etc.

She's much better today. These bugs usually only last 24 hours for her. A miserable 24 hours in which I can't give her anything because nothing will stay down-- or in ( ick, I know)-- her. But today she managed some food. She's on her way to recovery. Or she'll be evil and relapse. That's happened before, too.

I woke up with the worst headache. Probably because I got no real sleep last night. All of that half-dozing while keeping an ear tuned in to The Girl. Then my allergies got all evil and I sneezed until my nose fell off. Ok, it didn't fall off. But it did want to defect. I think it's petitioning to seek asylum on someone else's face. Perhaps someone cuter and with less allergies.

In order to appease my tempermental nose, I popped an allergy pill. When that didn't work, I added several inhalers and some nose spray into the mix. I even sought to soothe its raw skin with lotion. It's staying put for now, but it's grumbling about it.

The Boy is disgusted with the both of us. He's stayed outdoors for most of the day. This is a very shocking and rare situation since usually I can only get him outdoors via threat or bribery. He is not at one with nature. But neither am I.

I think nature's pretty an' all but there's bugs and stuff out there. I never understood the appeal of camping. Speaking of which, I once threatened The Boy with a camping trip-- it would've been punishment for me too-- if he didn't help us bring groceries indoors. It worked remarkably well. I try not to use it often. It's more effective this way.

Can you tell that I'm fuzzy-brained? I haven't been able to focus on anything today. I've been trying to come up with a redesign-- or even an idea for one-- for days now. All to no avail. I've also been meaning to clean out the closets. Yeah, that's not happening either. Have you seen my closets? I wish I hadn't.

Who?

The kids are playing Guess Who? and The Girl keeps winning. This is not going well with The Boy. Not at all. He hates to lose. The Girl was trying to comfort him with...

The Girl: "It's ok, (The Boy). I think I'm a sidekick or something.."

Me: "A what?"

The Girl: "A sidekick. It's like I know who it is and I'm not cheating or nothing!"

Me: "Anything. Not nothing."

The Girl: "Anything. It's like the answer just came to me!"

Me: "So you think you're a sidekick because of that..?"

The Girl: "Uh huh!"

Me: "Not psychic. A sidekick."

The Girl: "Uh huh. Sidekick."

Me: "Ok."

The Boy: "I still think she's cheating."

Picture-y Goodness

A lame cop-out, I know. But I'm tired, people! I've got kids home for spring break. I'm running myself ragged trying to wear them out. So, in lieu of an actual post, you can stare at my cat. And the humiliating pictures I take of him.

Well, he acts as if I'm humiliating him..

Don't you love the look of utter contempt?


He seems to be saying, "I'll cut you!" The little thug.


He pouts. Often.


He knows he's cute.

This is why I follow him around like a demented paparazzo. If I really want to annoy him, I sing while I snap pictures.

The Interview

Well, the second interview. I was a bundle of nerves this time. I was ready really early, there too early, pacing around, trying to calm down. I met with S (the department manager I'd run into yesterday who called me back today). She said that when she saw me with my kids after the first interview, she knew she wanted me in her department. Yay kids!

We discussed all of my (future) duties, salary (she's asking them to pay me more than they usually pay recent hires-- again, yay kids!), everything. I'll be starting in a few weeks. I still have more forms to fill out. I'm not sure if I'll die from the cramps in my hands, the paper cuts, or if I'll be found burried underneath the most recent stack.. And I think I'll get even more forms at training. But the discount isn't too shabby-- 20%-- and my (future) manager is going out of her way to work with my schedule, so I'll suffer a few papercuts and hand cramps.

I really like S so far. She seems to be a genuinely nice person and has a sense of humor-- unlike previous blah interviewer. Speaking of previous blah interviewer, I still don't know exactly what she does. The woman I talked to on the phone-- I really hit it off with her-- was the store manager, so I think Blah was an underling. I'll find out eventually.

Bloat update: Getting better every day. Was able to zip up previously unzippable pants. Yay!

Update

I went in for my interview today. I was told to fill out more forms and wait. So I filled out the forms and I waited. And waited. And then waited some more. I grew a little frustrated when nearly a half hour had passed and the woman hadn't returned. Finally she did.

We sat and chatted. She asked questions, I answered them with whatever charm and wit I could muster. Just my luck, I got someone without a sense of humor. She sounded as if she were reciting from a script. She probably was. I admired her funky little glasses, but couldn't help but notice the eyebrows. The overgrown eyebrows. I tried not to stare. Then she hit me with, "The manager isn't here today to do your interview. You'll get a call back for a second interview. If no one calls within two weeks, you can return and apply for another position."

I very nearly groaned out loud. Instead, I smiled, shook hands and made my way out. As I made my way out of the store, I ran into a lady I chatted with a bit while I was doing all that waiting. Turns out her department will be needing a replacement in a few weeks. And she was looking for someone who wanted to work the hours I was working. We chatted some more.

Guess who has her second interview tomorrow?

More Letters

Dear Bloat,

This is so not funny. Do you realize I have an interview tomorrow? I cannot go pantsless. You do realize this, don't you? I even tried to walk through massive cramps yesterday because of the bargain we made. When I said that I wanted to be able to zip up a pair of pants, I kinda sorta meant that I'd also like to be able to sit down in them. Why do you hate me?

You're a cruel and terrible master.

Your whipped little puppy,
R

Dear Stephenie,

I used to hate you. Really. That first day when you stupidly jumped off the boat and thought you could beat it to shore. You swimming vs. a boat. Stupid.

But I don't hate you anymore. In fact, I'm almost smitten with you-- in a non-sexual, totally platonic way. You've kicked so much ass. I totally respect that. I so want you to win. This, of course, means you won't. I'm sorry. They're so gunning for you.

Rooting for you,
R

Dear Katie,

I don't like you. At all.

In fact, I kinda hate you.

Also, how is it that you're the only one with some pudge still? I don't get that.

Hating you,
R

Dear Janu,

You're weird, lazy, and a bit whiney. But, on you, it works. Go figure.

Thanks for quitting so Stephenie could stay. You rock!

Admiringly yours,
R

Dear Gregg,

Shut up.

Also, your dead eyes and sharp, pointy little teeth disturb me. A lot.

Not liking you,
R

Dear Tea,

Ohmygod!!! You are so good!

Orgasmically yours,
R

Wow

Talk about speedy service. I already got my tea from Adagio Teas for linking to them. Yes, I linked to them yesterday and got my tea today. I'm very impressed.

I got a lovely 4 oz tin of Ceylon Sonata. There's really quite a lot of tea in the 4 oz tin. It would even take a tea-aholic like me quite some time to sip my way through all of it. It smells heavenly, too. My mouth is actually watering. I can't wait to try it.

The tin is very cute and I'm sure I'll find some use for it once the tea is gone. Also, with the tea tin, I received an instruction leaflet, some tea bags, and a handwritten note thanking me for the link. Isn't that lovely?

Mmmm..

I saw this nifty lil link for Adagio (heavenly) tea over at Louise's blog and couldn't resist. I'm such a tea whore. And I'm not even ashamed about it.

Seriously, though, if you really love tea-- as I do-- you'll want to try Adagio's teas. Yes, it's a bit more pricey than "regular" tea, but it's bloody marvelous stuff. But if you drink Lipton, or some other similar swill, then this isn't for you. And ew. Really. Lipton? Why? It should be illegal to call that stuff "tea".

Yes, yes. I know. I'm a snob. But I already told you that over in my profile to the right.

Yay!

I feel like I'll burst if I don't get this out. I'm pretty darn excited.

Emails have been swapped. Today, I got a phone call. There's still the formality of an interview on Saturday, but the phone call went so well that I'm pretty sure I've got it. Granted, it's not a salon job. It's nothing exciting. It's simple retail sales. But I'm still pretty darn excited about it. After all, I'll be working in my very own Disneyland. Hopefully, all of my money won't go to my very own Disneyland. I get all too "Oooh shiny!" when I'm there and the thought of a discount makes me feel faint.

And I really hope I can find a decent pair of pants to fit over my bloated belly for this interview. Damn you, PMS!! Damn you! At least the zits are going down.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

More Dream Weirdness

I couldn't sleep last night. I've been wound up tight lately. Can't sleep until I pass out from exhaustion. I was tempted to get up, get dressed and go out for a run or something, but it was 3 in the morning and I'm not crazy or stupid.

Well, not usually.

When I finally grew sleepy enough to close my eyes and try to sleep, all I kept seeing was an all black room with no light source and this..

Just a quick, general sketch

...floating towards me and never getting closer. I'd see intricate details, but she never got closer to me. The only thing that really disturbed me about her was how her head hung-- like her neck had been snapped-- to the side.

Yes, those are stitches on the sides of the mouth

I just wish I could've done it justice. But there was too much to draw. So many details. She had such a bony, emaciated frame, her skin the color of bone, the arms and legs longer than they should be, and these ghostly, snakey tendrils flowing from her. Kind of like a jellyfish.

It's a wonder I ever get any sleep..

Super Genius

Have you ever considered what cartoon character you and those around you most closely resemble? Either looks-wise or personality-wise? So it's just me then?

I've always compared myself to Wile E. Coyote (Super Genius). We both love scheming, plotting, and planning; our best laid plans often blow up in our faces; and we both often get injured in the course of our duties. But don't you love our enthusiasm? And don't you hate that bleeping Road Runner with his smug little "meep meep"s? I know I do.

I once had an ex who was rather like Pepé Le Pew. Which made me the poor cat who's always trying desperately to get away. Yeah, that didn't work out. Too clingy and overly amorous.

The Boy, at times, reminds me of Taz. He's a whirling dervish, a blur in motion, always moving and never still. And can that boy eat! I should sign him up for some eating contests.. Other times he's more like Daffy with the bad luck and temper.

The Girl reminds me a lot of Bugs Bunny. That girl has a fool's luck-- which, oddly enough, is what my mom used to say I had. She's also a smart ass (also inherited from me). Her quick wit and charm have gotten her out of quite a few scrapes.

The doctor who delivered my kids reminded me of Cecil Turtle. A lot. Looked just like him. Moved like him. It was eerie. The resemblance was most striking when he wore his green scrubs. I kept giggling. While I was in labor.

The comparisons aren't only limited to Looney Tunes characters, I've also known Eeyores and even met a real life Shaggy. Seriously. He looked, dressed, talked and acted just like Shaggy. It bordered on scary.

So, tell me: Which cartoon character are you most like and why?

Silent Protest(s)

Last night...

Me: "Mom?"

Mom: "Yeah?"

Me: "Have we been sitting here, in the kitching, in silent protest of the new tv he bought and put in the living room?"

Mom: "Hee! Yeah, I guess we have.."

Me: "Good to know that my back ache is all for a good cause.."

Mom: "These chairs aren't comfortable, are they?"

Me: "Well, I guess they're comfortable for 22 year old chairs.."

Mom: "They're not that old!"

Me: "They are. You know, they say the memory is the first thing to go."

Mom: "If only.."

Me: "What are we doing for dinner tomorrow?"

Mom: "Spaghetti!"

Me: "Another silent protest?"

Mom: "Oh yeah.."

Me: "It's a good thing I like protesting. And spaghetti."

Nerves

I'm not sure if it's all PMS or what, but my nerves are fried. It happened rather suddenly. Many little things adding up...

• My face? Freaked the hell out. Just call me Zitty Galore.
• I gained 5 pounds overnight. Yes, overnight. Even with all of the walking. See me pouting?
• Last night's episode of Arrested Development was the season finale. I totally didn't expect that. And it might be the last one. See me pouting even more?
• I'm studying and studying but wonder if I'm actually remembering things or will remember them once testing time comes. This, of course, brings about a lovely panic attack.
• It'd actually be nice to know when I go for my testing.
• Why do I keep trying to sew when I know I can't? This doesn't soothe frayed nerves.

I need chocolate. It's a good thing I made a huge brownie ice cream sundae cake. Sure, I'll gain more weight, but I'll be happy about it.

Spring Cleaning Continued

I've inhaled more dust than can possibly be measured. I've been hacking like a cat with a hairball. My eyes and nose are red. I look gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.

You'll soon be seeing models cultivating this look. They'll call it Allergy Chic. People will buy special pencils to draw on little red capillaries on the sides of their noses. Eyes will be lined with red liner. People will carry atomizers to spray their eyes just to get that teary, sneeezy look.

I am starting a trend. I am such a rockstar.

My frizzy, flyaway hair? It will be much coveted. The sprinklings of dust and assorted fuzzies-- god knows where those came from-- are mini accessories. Almost like stars in a night sky. Except dusty and fuzzy and not sparkly at all. This scrunchy I used to pull back my hair? Not at all early '90s. It's so trendy it hurts.

I'm so cool. I should be worshipped.

We won't even get into my dry hands and ragged nails. Nor the chipped polish or the wrecked cuticles. I know, I know.. It's too much to take. Forget the beauty of a sunset when there's me around. I'm simply breathtaking.

Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

Or hacked in your face. Sorry about that.

Huh? Wha?

The Boy and The Girl have been playing pen pals with my mom's boss. My mom's boss is an old friend of the family. I've known him since I was their age, so he's especially excited about me having kids. The Girl was reading us his latest letter when we had this misunderstanding...

The Girl: "Umm.. Mom? What's a 'vuh-ringe-a'?"

Me: "A what?"

The Girl: "A 'vuh-ringe-a'.."

Me: "Do you mean veranda?"

The Girl: "I dunno. He left his cat in a 'vuh-ringe-a'.."

Mom: "Uh.. Do you think she means a.. Umm.. Uh..."

Me: "What?"

Mom: "A...you know.."

Me: "Why would he leave his cat in a veranda? It can't be that.."

Mom: "A you know.. A girl part!"

Me: "Why would he leave his cat in a vagina?"

Mom: "SHHH!!"

Me: "Let me see that letter."

The Girl hands it over and I read...

Me: "Virginia? You don't know Virginia? It's a friggin state!"

The Girl: "Ooooooooh.."

Mom: "Oh, thank god!"

Me: "You're a sicko, mom."

***

Today, while walking...

The Girl: "Well, since The Boy doesn't seem very tired, maybe we should make him lawn the mow."

Mom: "What?"

Me: "Hee! 'Lawn the mow'."

The Girl: "Mow the lawn! Mow the lawn!!"

Me: "Too late. You'll never live this down. Now let's street the cross."

The Girl: "Ha ha.."

Despair

I had some spare time and I whipped this one up pretty quickly. Not my best, but whatever.

This time I used some filters. I sharpened the lines so they'd look a little rough and I blurred the white parts to make it look a bit doughy. It just made sense to do it that way. To me, despair is soft enough to sink deep down into and get trapped in, but has those jagged edges that scratch and hurt.

Double Feature

I had some weird little dreams last night. That isn't the strange part, though, because my dreams are usually weird. I'm used to that. I'm even used to seeing the odd celeb in my dream. But sometimes I see someone unexpected in my dream and it throws me. Not the dream me, the awake me.

The first dream: We're going on a road trip. I'm not sure where we are, but it's either near the beach or dessert. There's sand everywhere. I then realize we're near a beach because I can smell salt water and I see cars, trucks and jeeps with a variety of beach gear loaded on or in them. I'm sitting in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash, eyes closed, listening to Regina Spektor play. The windows are open and the wind is whipping my hair around. I feel warm and happy.

We stop at a large gas station. I know we're not in Jersey, because it's a self-serve station. Mom pumps gas and I clean the windows because a fine dust has settled all over the car. I squeegee the window and laugh when I see the kids making funny faces at me from inside the car. Behind our car, another car pulls up. Out steps Cameron Diaz. (Yeah, I...don't know..) She pumps her own gas and cleans her windows, too. We make some small talk. Then this guy on the other side starts harassing her. He's being totally obnoxious about it too and it annoys me 'cause she was really nice.

Cameron doesn't let the guy get to her in the least. She's funny and cracks jokes and winds up annoying the guy even more. I join in on the joking and we all have a good laugh. Then it's time for me to go. Cameron-- maybe I should call her Cam?-- and I exchange numbers. Then I wake up wondering where I've left the slip of paper with the numbers on them.

The second dream: I'm walking around town. No real purpose, just a casual stroll. That's when I notice a salon with a Help Wanted sign. I hesitate about going in because I'm sure I won't get the job. So many shops have closed down and the ones looking want licenses and sometimes want a stylist with a clientele. I'm standing outside of the shop, looking in the window. It's a cute little salon. Not overly done. Cute and unpretentious. That's when I notice S-- the manager/phone wrangler at my previous salon-- standing inside, chatting on the phone. She waves excitedly at me and tries to draw me in. I shake my head and think about leaving. She runs out to me and tells me to talk to the owner, she'll put in a good word for me.

Just when S has about convinced me to go in, my old boss, G, comes running out. She's excitedly yammering about getting the job. I get really angry and ask G why the hell she needed to take that job that she didn't need. She was retired and I really wanted it. G said how she couldn't stand staying at home any longer, she needed to keep busy. This only made me angrier. I told her that if she hadn't gone around stealing other people's clients that she'd still probably have a salon to call her own. That she needed to take responsibility for her own actions and suffer the consequences. The last thing I remember, before waking up, was marching in the salon to talk with the owner. I was going to get that job.

Is it sad that I still fume when I see my ex-boss? Even if I only see her in a dream? And I still can't explain the Cameron Diaz thing. That was so off the wall. I don't know what made me dream of her.

Night and Day

My kids. I joke about how if you mushed them together, you'd get me. They're undeniably my kids, they have a lot of my odd traits. But what traits of mine they have inherited are amplified and slightly distorted. It's like holding a magnifying glass up to various parts of me. It's a truly bizarre experience for a parent to notice these things.

The Boy: The Boy inherited my dark, thick, unruly hair, my habit of raising one eyebrow, my nose, my chubby cheeks and my mouth. He was always a bit too serious. A bit too intense. Even as a baby, he seemed vaguely brooding. But he was always well behaved. Conversely enough, he was a cheerful baby. Didn't complain much-- unless I was slow with his food. He never shows much emotion, preferring to keep his feelings hidden (much like I do). He has my long hands and feet. He always stuck to a schedule, is fond of quoting rules, and is very literal. He'll, from time to time, bend-- or outright squash beyond all recognition-- a rule if it doesn't fit in with his plans. He likes to keep lists. He cannot be rushed. He's slow and steady, but picks up speed until he bowls you over. I've compared him to a steam roller many times and others say that that description is apt. He can eat anyone under the table and is as skinny as a rail (unlike his mother). He is also a junkfood junkie and would eat it constantly if I allowed it. He loves pretty things, can save money like no other, draws well, and will notice the tiniest of details. He is also capable of making the most amazing messes, is quite the mercenary, used to draw on the walls, and hasn't been able to find things RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE. He is both intuitive and oblivious ( just like his mother). He is prone to laziness, is very sensitive and empathetic, and has a nasty temper. And, still, he's amazingly gentle and loves babies.

The Girl:The Girl inherited my almond-shaped eyes, chubby cheeks, obsession with hair, makeup and shoes and light-hearted nature. She, too, has my long hands and feet and my clumsy streak (but to a far stronger degree than any of the rest of us). She was the difficult baby. Terribly unpredictable. I never knew what to expect. She looked like a tiny fairy child and burped like a sailor. She inherited my allergies. She's still unpredictable. A whirlwind. Mercurial. And an artiste through and through. She lives and breathes art. She loves to write, draw, sing and dance (even if she keeps falling down). She can talk to anyone about anything and charm the hell out of them while she infuriates them. She's so stubborn, bull-headedly so. Even when she knows she's wrong, she won't back down. She loves animals more than people and will cry for days over an injured bird. She loves to take care of people. She's my little revolutionary, my rebel, the one who will change the world. She can never hold onto money because there are so many pretty trinkets she has to have NOW. She's somewhat vain and likes to stare at herself in the mirror. She will do this for hours if you don't stop her. She is also incredibly brave. She didn't even whimper when getting her ears pierced. But she also tried to beat up the nurse who gave her a needle. Even when I was practically laying down on top of her, pinning her arms while the nurse pinned her legs. She's my scrappy little fighter. She's also most likely to become a vegetarian. Ask her and she'll tell you her favorite food is broccoli. And she's not lying. She's whipsmart. They couldn't even pinpoint her IQ at age five. It was high. They considered putting her in an advanced grade, but were unsure of her emotional maturity. She was a little hellion that year. She even got suspended. In first grade. But she's also the hardest little worker I've ever known. She never complains about doing the work either.

Me: Somewhere between the two. And flummoxed. Also, saving up bail money for the little revolutionary.

Smoking Fingers

I'm the type of person who keeps things bottled up, lets them build up, and then I need to let the explode. I was notorious for my explosions. I've since learned to keep my cool and rant and foam at the mouth to a friend. It doesn't matter if they actually listen, I just need to rant. Ranting is something I'm good at. I've worked it into an art form. I spew vitriol until the bile is gone and then I can move on. That's the key: move on when you're done.

It's been building up again. I'd let it off in small doses here and there. But I knew, just knew, I was going to blow up soon. I can't always rant over the phone or in person. So I type to friends. I rant and type. My fingers flying so quickly over the keyboard. Faster than I could even attempt at any other time. I almost imagine smoke coming from my fingers.


Here's my rant (Sorry, J, but I'm not done yet):

I know what you're doing. I know that all of the ill behavior is being done just to get a reaction. I won't react. If you're going to be childish, I'll treat you like a child. I'll not reward bad behavior with my attention. I'll ignore. I'll stay cool. I'll be calm. And I know, oh how I know, just how much that irritates the living shit out of you. Go ahead and rant all you want at me, it just makes you look bad. If you want to show all of the maturity of an 18-month old? By all means, go right ahead.

You know what buttons to push. I also know yours. Never forget that. I could be cruel if I choose. But really? You're not worth the effort. You're not, and never really have been, that important to me. I don't hate you like you say. I don't love you either. You've always just sorta been there. In the periphery.

Sometimes you'd come into focus just long enough to annoy, but I'd know that eventually you'd fade once more. And you did. You always did. I was happiest during those times when it seemed like you weren't even around. You were always too busy. Busy being elsewhere, loudly telling anyone who'd listen how wonderful you were, how perfect things were. You didn't hear people mocking you, laughing at you, behind your back. I did.

Or maybe you did? Maybe that's why you got so loud. Why you talked so much. Were you trying to convince them or yourself? Maybe you saw how unhappy we were when you came into focus for just that little bit. Maybe it ate at you. Maybe it still eats at you. Always trying to bluster and prove something. To whom? Me? The one who never backed down? Or her? The one who pitied you?

Which did you hate more? The fact that I never thought of you as the golden god that you so wanted to be or that she pitied you? That I, so young, called you on your bullshit? Or that she knew you weren't anything special? That she was too good for you.

You can lie to others all you like, but they don't believe you. Don't you realize that yet? They don't want to take care of you either. They see what you're like. They know you. I wonder how you can reconcile all of your lies since you found your god. I wonder if you still know the truth or if you've told yourself your lies for so long that they're the only truth you now know. I wonder if this is why you fear growing old. Dying. Then you'll have to face your god with your lies. Will he forgive you for what you've done? Or, more importantly, can you forgive yourself for all you have done?

As for me? I wish you the peace you never will have. I forgive you, but I will never forget. And, no, I won't piss on your grave like you said. I won't be there at all. Do you know why? It'll just be any other day for me. Only you'll stay faded and away.

And I'm done. Now I walk away.

More Good and Bad

The Good:

I got the science project working and done. The magnet was fine after all. I just had it weighed down too much with the "flying saucer". I made a smaller, lighter flying saucer and it's now hovering beautifully. I even added some lovely cotton clouds to the whole thing. The Boy is thrilled. Now all we have to do is ready the big ol' cardboard display board.

The Bad:

My phone hates me! It won't let me send any pictures to my email. It's evil! J suggests going over to Cingular and stabbing people until I get my way. I reminded him that they tend to cry and bleed and I get nothing done when I start stabbing people all willy-nilly. But it is great for stress reduction. If I can't find a way online, I'll have to head on over to the store.

Unless anyone knows how to get my Motorola v551 to behave and send multi-media messages to my email once again? Any Cingular users out there? Bueller?

Grey's Anatomy

Well, crap. The one time I don't save my post and Blooooooooger ate it.

I'll summarize why this show is growing on me:

1. They play Tegan and Sara.
   
2. Patrick Dempsey and Sandra Oh rock.
   
3. Callum Blue was on it last night.
   
4. It's like the OC version of ER, but not as annoying as OC or dramatic as ER.
   

The con: The lead irks me for some unknown reason.

Eat that, Bloooooooooooooooooooooooooger!

How-To: Fingerwaves

I get an insane amount of hits from searches about fingerwaves and how to do them. I'll try to explain as best as I can. It won't be easy without visual aids, but here goes.

Fingerwaves work best with curly or wavy hair. Straight hair will be an überbiotch to wave. Believe me. There will be much tears and frustration. Stick to wavy or curly hair. It has the "S" pattern that you need. You want to work with the hair, not against it.

To hold the comb: Yes, there is a specific way to hold the comb. You want to hold it lightly with your fingers balanced on the top spine of the comb and the thumb under. It will be harder to control the hair if you clench the comb tightly, so if you find yourself becoming tense-- it will happen-- take a step back and relax before going on. You wouldn't believe how frustrating it can be to learn how to mold the hair into a fingerwave. I've thrown my mannequin head across the room. At school. And no one even blinked. I've seen people punch their mannequins and kick them across the room all because of fingerwaves.

You want the hair damp. Not dripping wet, not almost dry. You'll get no control with either. If you have a fingerwave lotion, use that. If not, gel works fine. I suggest applying the lotion or gel to the side of the head you're working on. Part the hair where it naturally parts-- you're working with not against the natural growth-- and arrange the hair to conform to the planned style. This is like making a rough sketch of your planned drawing.

You want to start the fingerwave on the heavy side of the head. This means the side with more hair on it from the parting. Comb the hair into a basic circular (or "C" shape) using the index finger of your left hand-- or right if you're a lefty-- as a guide. Start at the hairline and work your way back to the crown using 1 1/2" to 2" sections. Keep the sections small and easier to work with.

Forming the first ridge: Place the index or middle-- whichever is more comfortable for you-- finger of the left hand directly above the position for the first ridge. With the teeth of the comb pointing slightly upward, insert the comb directly under the index finger. Draw the comb forward about an inch or so along the fingertip. With the teeth still inserted in the ridge, flatten the comb against the head to lock in the ridge. Place the middle finger above the ridge (if you had the index finger there previously) and the index finger on the teeth of the comb. Emphasize the ridge by clamping fingers together and applying pressure to the head. Don't try to increase the height or depth of the ridge by pinching because it will screw it up for you later on.

Now for the tricky part. Without removing the comb, turn the teeth downward and comb the hair in a semicircular direction to form a dip in the hollow part of the way. You want your "C" shape to face the opposite direction of your previous one. Repeat the steps until you reach the crown, where the ridge phases out. The ridge and wave of each section should match evenly, without showing separations in the ridge or the hollow part of the wave.

Forming the second ridge: This time, you'll begin in the crown area. The movements are the reverse of those you followed in the forming of the first ridge.

I hope that helps those of you who were looking for directions on forming fingerwaves. Good luck! You'll need it.

May the force be with you..

Science is totally being a bitch lately.

First, we try to do this electromagnetic experiment. We go to our friendly neighborhood hardware store to pick up needed items. Alas, it was not meant to be. We couldn't find one of the needed items. Damn you, single stranded, insulated 18 gauge wire! Damn you to hell!

So we decide (Well, mostly I decided when I said, "Screw this! We're doing the magnet one.") to do the experiment showing magnetic force. I grab a magnet-- it seemed strong enough-- and we took off.

In the book, they show this really girlie butterfly as part of the experiment. I know it was really girlie because The Boy said, "I'm not doing that. It's girlie." I told him that we can switch things up and use a plane or a rocket or a flying saucer. The flying saucer idea was much loved. We set to work. Or rather, I set to work. I had to do some cutting and painting. We needed a partially cut box in which we'd put the hovering flying saucer.

So I cut. And I painted. And I painted some more today. I followed the directions. And I guess I didn't buy a strong enough magnet. The flipping saucer isn't hovering like it should. It has to be right up on that magnet. Which means another trip to our friendly neighborhood hardware store. Tomorrow. I'm done today.

Good vs. Bad

5 good things that happened today:

1. We've decided on a science project for the school's fair thingie. Well, he picked one, it wasn't happening, I picked another. But at least it's decided.
2. I made a killer cheese sauce for tonight's pasta. It rocked.
3. I was feeling well enough for a walk tonight.
4. Listening to Regina Spektor on the walk rocked.
5. I posted my obit over at Ink.

5 not so good things that happened today:

1. I didn't get to sleep until after 3 A.M.
2. I was awakened early, very early, by my evil children.
3. Who knew it was so hard to find single stranded, insulated 18 gauge wire?
4. Allergies + asthma = much gasping for air while walking.
5. I'm soooooo broke.

Life and Limb

My body and how it's falling apart.

The back thing: Yes, I have a bad back. Yes, already. I actually got it as a teen. Between my overly enthusiastic growth spurt in my chestal area and an injury I got while in Russia that never healed properly, my back is in bad shape. And that was all before I had the kids. So, yeah, it's a mess. It's why I work out. Pilates is great for core exercises that help the back.

The draft thing: I've always been overly sensitive to drafts. I get sick easily from them. It's weird, I know. Moist, cool air fucks me up. The kids unfortunately inherited this from me. Anyway, I slept with the window open a crack. It was a nice night. Until it turned damp and cool. And I woke up feeling all kinds of hellish.

The stomach thing: That's just an added bonus from the draft thing. Aren't I lucky? I've been sipping ginger ale, tea and water and chowing down Pepto Bismol tabs and Rolaids like a mofo. It's feeling better, but I'm still treating it gingerly.

I got no sleep the other night. Not last night, the night before. The back thing, the stomach thing all because of the draft thing. Screwed me up. I felt like a creaky old woman. Get off my front lawn, you rapscallions!

I kept dozing off yesterday at random moments. It was freaky. There I am, stirring my tea, and I wake up a half hour later. The tea's tepid and I have to dump it. I kept losing odd minutes here and there but it was only making me more and more tired. I popped a percocet before bed to make sure I'd get sleep. I got sleep. I slept so much that I hope I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Today, I knew I couldn't just lie around if my back was bothersome. I had errands to run. Luckily, my back isn't too bad today. I did some stretching. The hot shower helped, too. I go to check my email before I head out and pffffffffffft.

Cable's not working. I swear a bit and run off. After I ran around a bit-- what should've only taken maybe a half hour wound up taking at least an hour-- I come back to fiddle with the cable and get it up and running. Only to find out that either gmail isn't behaving or my phone because I haven't gotten the messages I've been expecting. Resend. Wait. Same. Grr. Stress. Back. Ow. Owwww. Ok. Relax. Think about raiding liquor cabinet. Worry about how kids will take advantage of inebriation. That thought alone will keep me sober for a very long time. Sigh as mother nags about me going to the doctor.

I hate going to the doctor. But I should. But I hate it. Sigh. Stupid back.

What's your type?

Conversation between me and mom during Lost last night.

There's some talk about blood types. The victim needs a blood transfusion. They find out that the victim has an A-negative blood type.

Mom: "Woo! A-negative! I'm A-negative!"

Me: "Did you just cheer a blood type?"

Mom: "But I'm A-negative."

Me: "Yeah, so? You don't normally hear people get all 'Woo! Type A-negative in the hizzouse, yo!' And it's not like it's as rare as O-negative, like The Girl has. Imagine trying to find that on an island?"

Mom: "I got excited.."

Then we hear one of the other characters mention that he has type O-negative blood. Mouths drop open.

Mom: "You just said.."

Me: "I think I'm psychic.."

Awww...

Slipping into bragging mommy mode for several reasons..

1. Because I can.
2. Because my stomach and my back are battling it out to see which can cause me more pain. This is what I get for sleeping with the window open.
3. I just got the sweetest thing from my son.

I'm guessing that this is an early Mother's Day sort of present. It's a bright hunters orange heart with virulently green checkers sponged onto it. Unfortunately, it is too large to scan and you wouldn't get the extreme brightness-- Who says I can't be tactful?-- of the colors. In the middle is something my bouncing baby boy wrote:

I Love My Mom

I love my mom. She cares about me. She helps me feel better when I'm sad. My mom helps me with my homework. She helps me fix the sentences for spelling. She loves me so much. Yesterday she made me chocolate chip cookies. My mom is the greatest parent ever!

Doesn't that just melt your heart? If not, you're not human!

No Title

I've got nothing today, folks. Really. It's so pretty outside that I just want to run out and jump rope or something. It's actually warm and I'm wearing a t-shirt. It's in the low 70s and I could die I'm so happy.

I'm also obsessing about the upcoming episode of Lost, so my brain? Barely puttering along. All I can think about are theories, speculations and spoilers. I'm in a sad, sad state. Wednesday night's set my heart aflutter with Lost and Alias coming on back to back. We schedule our nights around those shows. Yes, we're pathetic. Why do you ask?

Also, I can't stop staring at my ass whenever I walk past a mirror. All of that walking has given me a fantastically bodacious badunkadunk. I'm in awe of my own ass, people. Now to work on the thighs some more...

The Boy announced that he needed a project for his school's science fair. He then added that said project was not to be a robot. He was mightily unhappy about this. He's obsessed with robots. I grabbed a crapload of books on science projects that we shall peruse later in hopes that he will find something almost as cool as a robot to bring in. This is my thing. I love science and I think I'm more excited about helping him with the project than he is about it. I'm hoping to find something to do with chemistry. Did I mention that I wanted to be a mad scientist when I was little? And that, also when I was little, when I asked for an Easy Bake Oven, I instead got a chemistry set and a microscope? That by the time I was 10, I had 3 chemistry sets and could make a diluted form of hydrochloric acid? Parents, just buy the Easy Bake Oven. Trust me.

(Mis)Adventures in Waxing

Guys: Be forewarned. You may be put off by this post.

Girls: I'm sure you're like me. You're sick of shaving all of the time. It's annoying. But you love having smooth legs, right? And if you're like me, you have to shave practically every day to keep the smooth legs. And if you're also so pale that you match a sheet of paper but have very dark hair, well, you pretty much need to shave.

I thought I had the perfect solution. "I'll wax! I've got the warmer, the wax, the muslin, and all of the other stuff I need. I'll be hair-free in no time and it should last longer than shaving at the very least!" People, I'm stupid. I should never listen to myself. Did you know that there's a whole area on the back of your legs? And do you know how hard it is to do a half-back bend to get to it? Also how messy it is to attempt said half-back bend while applying wax? That's when I realized that I should lay out paper towels everywhere. That was the only smart thing I did.

So I waxed. I grimaced, but I got through it. It was, after all, less painful than waxing my own eyebrows (which I do every month). The kids came home from school while I was half way through. "Mom, why are you bent like that?" asked The Boy. "Shh.. I'm concentrating," I muttered as I balanced precariously-- very much like a demented statue-- whilst slathering wax on to my calf. The Girl caught on quickly, "You're waxing your legs, right? Doesn't that hurt? Why is your tongue sticking out?" I ripped off the wax and sighed, "Yes, I'm waxing my legs and it doesn't exactly feel good. And I can't help it if my tongue pokes out when I'm concentrating. God, my back hurts." "Maybe you shouldn't stand like that, " suggested The Boy and then quickly ran away from the Death Rays I was shooting out of my eyes.

I finally got done. I was sticky, but I was done. Now I only had to do my facial de-fuzzing. Again, pale skin + dark hair = fuzz above the lip. That went smoothly and quickly. Now, onto my brows. I'd been thinking about going thinner. I'm a cautious waxer. If I want to change the shape of my brow, I work with tweezers. I just use the wax to get rid of the superfluous hair. Well, I accidentally gobbed on too much wax and I got that thinner brow. Thank god it actually looks good, even if it was unexpected. Since I changed the shape of the one brow, I had to tweeze the other to match. Ain't nothin' worse than mismatched brows, people. Then I went on to wax the other brow.

Right in the middle of pressing down the strip of muslin onto the wax, my contact popped out. It took me a second to realize this. I thought I'd stupidly dropped wax onto my eye and panicked for a bit. (I once glooped some wax on my eyelashes. That was a bitch to get out.) Once I realized what had actually happened, I tried to scoop up the lens with a non-sticky part of my hand and dropped it into my case with some saline until I could wash my hands and pop it back in. That's when I noticed a glob of wax in my hair.

After scraping wax out of my hair, checking the brows and scraping wax off the floor, I sat down and wondered what had gone wrong. Having not found a solution, I've decided that leg waxing? Not worth it. I'll have to seek a less messy and contortionistic method for hair removal. Or pay for it.

Dust Bunnies and Dream Phones

Two totally unrelated topics.

Dust Bunnies:

Started our spring cleaning this weekend. I cleaned the bedrooms top to bottom and found some scary ass dust bunnies-- almost bigger than my cat-- that eventually succumbed to my mighty vacuum cleaner. I inhaled so much dust. My lungs are still heavy with it. I had to use my inhaler several times yesterday. I usually use it only several times a year. My nose is still red from all of the nose blowing that occurred.

And I haven't even touched the closets yet. I expect to finish spring cleaning some time next spring.

Dream Phones:

I had the strangest dream last night.

I was in a McDonald's for some unknown reason when I ran into an old friend, L. L was upset with me for not calling. I told her how I'd lost some numbers and that hers was one of them and asked her to give it to me again so I could program it into my phone. She said she'd gotten a new number for her new phone and she hadn't yet memorized it. She asked me to wait while she looked it up on the phone. She pulled out this odd little phone. It looked almost like a computer mouse.

The phone unfolded itself all Inspector Gadget style. Out popped a monitor and a mic. She spoke into the mic and soon, paper came out of the printer that was built into the side of the monitor. I took the scrap of paper, told her I'd call and left.

I thought it was odd that this was the second dream I'd had with L in it in a month. In the other one, she had metallic green skin that was almost beetle-like. I remember the skin clearly because I'd offered her an eyeliner pencil in a similar shade that I said would look lovely on her after her skin went back to normal. Guess this means I should hunt her down, huh?

Isn't yoga for girls?

That's what The Boy asked me. I told him that it was an equal opportunity exercise and made him join us yesterday.

The Girl took to it quickly. I already see a great improvement in the way she stands, sits and walks. She stands tall and is actually less clumsy than usual. We've been working on her breathing. She's learned to relax into poses, but she forgets to breathe. I can tell because she starts turning alarming colors and I have to remind her that air is good.

The Boy is very stiff. So inflexible for someone so young. You wouldn't be able to tell how out of shape he is just by looking at him. He's so skinny. I've always had to force him to go outside and run around. He would rather sit on the computer or play video games. Since I've taken them away, he's had to find other things to do with his time. None of them include going outside and running around. To my surprise, he's really gotten into the walks. He enjoys them and looks forward to them. I hope to get him more interested in the yoga. Last night, I worked mostly on his posture. He slouches terribly. When he got a pose dead on, I cheered him on and gave him high fives. He needed that bit of masculinity interjected into all of the "girliness".

I've even gotten them to look forward to the warmer months and not only for the lack of school. They're eager to try different types of sport and exercise. They even enjoy the healthier meals we've been making. Granted, I don't expect them to eat the barley butternut squash salad, but they chow down on that fruit salad for dessert. Overall I'd say this has been a relatively easy switch, mostly because I've included everyone in the decision making process. The hard part will be keeping it up, but since I've gotten the kids into it, they've been pulling the rest of us along.

Stormy Weather

There's some crazy ass rain going on over here. Lots of wind, too. The lights have flickered a few times, so I won't try my luck. Looks like it's going to be a sucky weekend over here.

Me: Coming out of the library, I notice the rain is very heavy and say, "Woah! Looks like the sky opened up while we were in there.."

The Boy: Looks up at the sky and says, "Wait.. Really?"

I then had to explain the expression because he was looking for a zipper.

Work It

I'm feeling very antsy. I haven't been able to go on my daily walk the past few days. The Girl has been sick. I thought she was getting better yesterday, but then she got worse. She seems better again. The fever hasn't returned. I've had to threaten to tie her to the couch in order to make her rest. She misses the walks she says. They've been good for all of us.

Even The Boy enjoys them. I didn't think anything that wasn't a video game would be enjoyable for him. He does try to fake a cramp on the fourth lap. I'll play along and suggest we start our cool down. During the cool down he winds up jumping around and sometimes jogging, exerting himself more than he did during the walk. He doesn't realize that I know he's faking the cramping.

Mom didn't realize that he did the fake cramp thing when she went with him for a walk last night. Usually, The Girl teams up with her and The Boy teams up with me. The Girl is too full of energy for me. She's usually running up ahead and then running back to walk with mom, then running up ahead again and so on the whole time. I tried walking with her and wound up tripping over her and walking into a thorny bush to avoid her because she can't seem to walk a straight line.

Mom can't walk with The Boy because he whines and fakes cramps. I can distract him from that and keep him going. I'm also asthmatic, so I need to keep my pace a bit slower than The Girl. My pace is faster than The Boy's so he gets a decent work out going. I told The Boy that I'll have him jogging by summer. He gave me a worried look. I make sure he warms up and cools down and stretches because if I don't, he won't. The pairings work well.

I also mentioned maybe getting some jump ropes and hula hoops. I want to make exercising fun for the kids-- and, to be honest, for us adults too-- to keep them coming back for more. And jumping rope and hula hooping burns an insane amount of calories. We might also get swimming lessons during the summer. I can swim, but I want to learn the real way. All of the different strokes. I want to throw in some yoga and pilates back into my exercise regime for the stretching and the toning. It seems more fun than just lifting weights. The Girl seemed very interested in both. I just need to find a place big enough for our two clumsy selves to do it and hopefully keep from getting bruises and bumps.

Anyone have any work out tips for kids? Any suggestions would be appreciated.