A note to my peeps

Hi.  Maybe you’ve noticed I haven’t posted in a while.  Maybe not.

Regardless, I have an update for you.  I owe you something.

I haven’t posted in ages.  That will change.  A couple months ago wackiness opened a door and chaos just waltzed right in.

I also have some exciting plans to revamp this blog (I’ve always loved the word revamp) so that should be cool.  The general topic will still be human nature, with anecdotes and observations, but it will be more than that.

However, I need a little time to get my act together.

Hope you’re all doing well with what is important to you in your lives.

Back soon!

How do you want to be remembered?

Several years ago I wrote my obituary.  It sounds like a high school writing assignment doesn’t it?  But I did.  I wrote it a time in my life when I felt like I was at a new crossroads every day.  Family, friends, babies, career, live, life.  I wasn’t sad or depressed, just giving my life a lot of thought and the direction I wanted it to take.  Which made me think.  How do I want to be remembered?

I don’t believe in destiny.  Nothing is pre-determined.  I don’t think that I will end up at a certain place no matter what I do between now and then.  Do you?  The way I see it, I wouldn’t be where I am now in my life if I hadn’t made the decisions I did along the way.  That’s why I try not to regret anything I’ve done, for better or worse.  Had I not taken certain paths, I wouldn’t be where I am right now, and I really like where I am right now. Everything about it.

Where am I going with this?  My life.  Your life.  The things we do with it.  We work, we play, we love, hopefully a good balance of of all, and hopefully leave the earth in a little bit of a better shape than how it was when we got here.  I think all the deaths in the media lately have gotten to me and I’ve been thinking quite a bit.  So hang with me for a few minutes and I promise the next post will be on a lighter note.  Maybe featuring puppies, rainbows and babies.

puppies

Back to the obituary.   Here is what I wrote more than 5 years ago.  5 years ago people:

“…she is remembered for her warm heart, sense of humor and generosity.  She had a wonderful career but her real talents were in working with non-profit organizations around the world and helping millions of people with not only monetary donations but many hours of work and dedication.  She specifically focused on helping women and children who had been abused, mentally and physically.  She shared a passion with her husband for travel and adventure.  Together they also started a Foundation which supplies 100 scholarships a year to college students.  She became a renowned artist late in her career and currently has pieces featured in exhibits around the world.  She was loved by her husband, family and friends and will be missed.”

So, evidently I thought I’d be the awesomest person alive.  That artist thing and helping millions of people?  I’m still going to work on that.

I think I would just like to be known as a good person.  I want my children and my husband and my parents to be proud of me.  I want to raise my kids to be the best grown-up versions of themselves possible.   I’d like to make a difference in someone’s life, and I’d like to have some fun and adventure along the way.  That’s reasonable right?

Here’s the thing.  I don’t know how long I have to accomplish all that.  I don’t want to be saying, “when I retire then I’ll …” because life is unpredictable.

So, my new plan is to do all of those things, just work on them along the way.  So yeah, I’m getting on that artist thing and helping millions thing.  In the meantime, I’m just going to try to live in the now and have fun, live, love, and play.  And you know what, we should all try to be the awesomest person right?  Thanks for listening.

Just one question.

Why does powdered formula harden like cement when you’ve spilled a little and then it gets wet? That’s not right.

The Best New Drink- A PSA

Hi.  I just got back from a walk to Trader Joes, which I love, and have made myself the best little cocktail to sip on the deck while the bundle is sleeping.  Vodka, with… sparkling blood orange juice.  Get it.  Over ice.  Very refreshing and highly recommended.  I care, that’s why I share this with you.

This was in our driveway last night.

not cool- about 2 feet long

A New Low

People.  I wiped ginormous amounts of baby snot onto my T-shirt while we were in the grocery store today.   I just got home.

Maybe that’s not weird for a parent.  But it is a first for me.

I picked up the now 8 month old bundle at day care and stopped into the grocery store, with him in the front part of the cart, for a few things on the way home.  Bananas, broccoli, soy milk and normal milk.  And cereal.  And then snow peas, and then baby food.  But that’s it.

As we walked through the cold cuts the bundle sneezed.  And a snot bubble the size of his head came out his left nostril. Followed by what can only be described as a river of goo remaniscent of a scene from Ghost Busters poured out of each nostril.   I was just running in!  I had no diaper bag.  No wipes, not even a McDonalds napkin in my pocket or a skanky tissue in my purse.  Not even a pantiliner, which I probably would have used even though I fear it would not have contained it.

A river of snot is running down the bundles’s face and then I see it, he is reaching up, he’s going to smear it across his face and arms with his little fists and fat fingers.  So I rush to the meat department.  They have paper towels there right?  No.  So  I did the only thing I could do.  I grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt and reached up into the cart and wiped his juicy little nose.

We’re home now.  All is good.  Thanks for listening.

To the turkey in the black SUV behind me:

Hey buddy, I’ve been signaling to get over for a block, and now you speed up so you can block me?  I don’t think so.  Karma will come back to bite you in the ass.

Saving you a seat.

Shoes. I have a problem.

Those ones in the front right are my faves. Look at that heel. The detail in the back. Plus, they make my calves look amazing.

Stream of consciousness from fantastic pesto to a trip down memory lane

At least I thought I made fantastic pesto.  Fresh basil, a little parsley, a little salt, garlic, a little pepper, a little cheese, swirl it up, add a little olive oil… taste, taste, taste… hmmm, a little salty but it will be fine on the pasta with all the veggies.  Cook pasta, blanch asparagus, sautee ’shrooms, done done done…. throw it together, add on the pesto… oh my god.  It got saltier.  How does that happen?  I think it was the cheese.

So what did we do? We picked out the veggies and then had toast.  Yes, that’s right.  toast.  Someone needs to go the grocery store.  That would be me.  In the division of labor at our house, I do the groceries, except for the random occassional needing of one item.   I find some chores horrible, some less horrible, and some I don’t mind.  I don’t mind cooking but I hate the idea of mowing our lawn (front and back!); I don’t like cleaning, but I’d rather vacuum than do the dishes each night.  I don’t even want to consider doing anything with a weed wacker in the back yard where it gets a little hairy by the creek, but the grocery shopping doesn’t bother me.

This has made me think of my mom.  She did all the chores in the house, my dad the chores outside the house. Except for some gardening. Mom loves gardening.  She was a new mom in the second half of the 70’s with 2 little girls.  She stayed home with us until we went to school, and then was there for us when we did go to school but came home at 3.  I asked her about it last time we were together and she said she wouldn’t have had it any other way.  They didn’t have tons of money, but my dad worked and it paid enough that if they watched their funds she could stay home with us.  And she did.  I have a lot of great memories as a kid, playing with mom or just being out with her.  She’d let me help in the kitchen, using ‘help’ pretty loosely here. I think that’s my word, not hers, any way.  She’d do puzzles and take us to the park.  I remember coming home after school and we’d sit at the kitchen table and talk about the day for a little bit, have a snack, and then off to do homework.

sigh. those were the days

I have good memories of my dad too, but they are fewer from that age.  I think that’s just a by-product of him being at work all day and coming home in the evenings, at 6 on the dot.  But we all spent a lot of time as a family on the weekends.  Until I became a teenager and it wasn’t cool.  But even then, we’d still do family outings.  My parents knew it was important that we spent time together as a family.  They must have seen my sister and I growing up, too fast I’m sure, and wanting to spend time, and instill as much goodness and make as many memories as possible.  All of this makes me think of my new family.  Husband (10 years!) and the bundle (7 months!).  Time goes so quick doesn’t it.  All we have are choices.  Each choice leads us to something new.  It’s exciting isn’t it?

Cheerios. Smells like feet or the best dinner ever?

no bling required

What’s the one cereal I could eat for every meal?  Cheerios. Not honey and banana or cinnamon nut or whatever, but the original O. I know they aren’t the flashiest cereal. No colored marshmallows, the milk doesn’t turn colors, they don’t talk to you, there’s no bling, but they are so good. However, I think there is something addictive about them. What are toddlers introduced to as one of their first finger foods? That’s right. Here is a tip I learned from my mom and I swear it is so good it’s going to make you want to get some immediately. Unless you’re my husband. He thinks Cheerios smell like dirty feet. Anyway…. melt a little butter in a pan, while it’s still hot, add in a cup of Cheerios so they get a little toasty and buttered, sprinke of salt and voila! Better than popcorn! Try it. Go on, the first one is free.