Things that come up #2

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Lying around in last week's Doritos.

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Nope, not a description of me.  As slovenly as I get, I don't get that pathetic.  Truly.  I don't.  But this whole one-liner came about when we were just casually talking about going to the doctor, and how you have to face THAT LOOK when you go in for your yearly checkup.  You know, the look.  The look the doctor gives you when she glances at your rolls of fat, peers you up and down, judging the quadruple chin, the bags under your eyes, the slouch, and the pronating feet and LOOKS at you, thinking REALLY LOUDLY about how she would love to tell you that eating bad crap is really horrible for your health, and how you really need to lose upwards of 140 pounds and how sleeping more would really help with those bags under your eyes and the balls of stress you're carrying on your shoulders, and how gosh, gee, diabetes and heart disease and kidney failure wouldn't be threatening on your very doorstep if you'd just get off your fat and lazy ass and go walk around the block once every now and again, but, INSTEAD, she just gives you the LOOK.  And she cluck clucks when you tell her you exercise five to six days a week because honestly, she knows, and we know, and you know that THAT isn't true.  Kinda like when you go to the dentist and the hygienist is scraping the crap off the back of your teeth and your gums are bleeding to high heaven and she asks you how often you floss and you say, "a couple times a week," and YOU know and SHE knows that we're all lying here.  

And after cluck clucking about your exercise routine, and frowning at the blood pressure cuff which MUST be broken because the numbers come in surprisingly fine, the doc orders blood tests, "just to check" to see what your numbers are as WE look over YOUR overall health plan.  And you know she's secretly rubbing her hands together and mwah-ha-ha-ing and plotting in her wee little office in the back of the building with the window that overlooks that over-priced wild-life refuge, praying that your glucose levels are high enough that she can grab the results, slam open the door, and say, "ha ha!  You have diabetes, you fat cow!  Now look where your slovenliness got you!!!"  But, alas, she's truly heart-broken and crushed when your cholesterol numbers come back just fine, and there's not a drop of sugar in your urine, and, for all intents and purposes, you're actually JUST HEALTHY ENOUGH for her to have give up her lectures on healthy living.  Because God forbid, if she actually hinted around that you might be a teensy weensy itsy bitsy bit overweight and a might tad bit less than ideal in your BMI chart, and your blood pressure might be just on the edge of normal, that you might backslide down to the dark path, and bury your feelings in a bag of Oreos or a box of un-toasted Pop Tarts.  So instead she hands you the check out sheet and tells you to get your flu shot (which I won't) and a pneumonia vaccine (nor will I do that), and God forbid, go get your breasts squished in that evil wicked machine because only 1/2 of all breast cancers are actually hereditary.  Now, with THAT one, I listen. Because as much as I hate the flu, I never actually LEAVE THE HOUSE or SEE other people hardly ever, so honestly there's really no reason to get a flu shot or a pneumonia vaccine. Because how can you get the flu and pneumonia if you never leave your own house?  Chances are pretty slim.  So I'll just skip that one, thank you very much.

But my boobs?  They're pretty awesome and I love them. And my husband loves them.  And they make me look fantastic.  And heaven knows, every woman needs to have SOMETHING that makes her look fantastic.  And, though my eyes are UP HERE and are pretty darned amazing, my breasts are truly spectacular.  And I would NOT want to have to have them hacked off simply because I was too damned lazy to get them squished once a year in those evil wicked machines, even if the machines are as evil and wicked as I remember.

And yes, I'm pretty darned lazy.  But honestly, it's not like I'm lying around in last week's Doritos.  I do, actually, get off my fat ass and exercise 3 days a week.  It's not much, and it's not fast, but I do it.  And I watch my guilty pleasure on my Netflix (yay Netflix) while plodding along on my treadmill, and I sweat and wheeze and plod along until my 48 minute program is over, and I can collapse in a chair and feel smug and self-satisfied at my burnt-off 200 pathetic and measly calories.  And it's not like I'm not busy on my other four days a week.  Shopping for clothes, and trolling through the grocery stores buying food and day dreaming of hollandaise sauce and caramelized onions has to count for SOMETHING in the exercise department.  Or running after 11 un-ruly, but truly fabulous 2 year olds for 3 1/2 hours each week -- that's got to count for something too.  And each poopy diaper you change from a toddling child that isn't yours should count for double points.  Just sayin'.

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Things that come up... #1

Things that Come Up

Entry 1

So my family is weird.  I think we have established this already.  But sometimes, things come up in conversation that just seem a bit, well, odd.

I've decided that, perhaps it's best if I just randomly post the one-liners that come up in our daily conversation.  Today's entry:

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Playing the cello side-saddle.

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For those of you who want a bit more, read on...

I've been researching colleges for my kiddo who is rapidly outgrowing our household and ready to move on to her next adventure.  I came across Skidmore College in Saratoga Springs whilst perusing the Fiske Guide to colleges.  I highly recommend the Fiske Guide, if you'd like a more in-depth discussion regarding what each college is "really" like.  The Guide includes discussions regarding whether or not the campus is conservative or liberal; competitive or collaborative; general course requirements; dorm descriptions; dining hall food descriptions; social life; interesting happenings on campus and in nearby towns;  study abroad options; and of course, the intellectual atmosphere of the campus itself.  I have found the Guide to be quite helpful so far at ruling out colleges and narrowing down the process.  

You can buy it here:  Fiske Guide from Amazon.  

So, back to the story, I was reading up on Skidmore College. According to the Fiske Guide, "Founded in 1903 as the Young Women's Industrial Club of Saratoga, co-ed Skidmore College still excels in the fine and performing arts that were then deemed proper for young ladies." (Fiske Guide, p. 638).

This description then led to a lovely discussion regarding Industrial Clubs.  Then a further discussion progressed regarding which performing arts were deemed proper for young ladies.  This led us down a brief path of why playing the cello perhaps was not deemed proper (along with a lovely physical demonstration by dad), and then the quick remedy of playing the cello side saddle.

This quick conversation is but one of a gajillion (in technical terms) of odd conversations that come up in our household on a daily (and hourly!) basis.  And, what may even explain a wee bit of why it is I never get any work done.

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I don't want to be old!

I'm having a moment over here.

Maybe it's a midlife crisis.

But I just don't want to be OLD.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to die young.  I have great plans on living well into my 100's like 3 out of my 4 grandparents.  This has nothing to do with AGE, but rather to do with being OLD.

My favorite friend (who is 71) fell last week.  Horrific fall.  Her screams still give me nightmares.  When the ambulance arrived, they thought she'd broken her hip, back AND coccyx.  She lucked out, thank GOD, and nothing broke.  But she had a 3 day stay in the hospital, and is now in a recovery center for a week with occupational and physical therapy.  She's still in a lot of pain.  And they are quite sure that the only reason why she didn't break everything is because she's so active.  She takes Pilates classes.  She walks on the treadmill and rides the bike.  She's training for a 5K.   She goes shopping and goes out to eat.  She makes goodies and treats for the volunteers at her cousin's shelter. She bakes biscotti for her cousins, and meatballs for her grandkids. She's dating a very nice man, and hopefully their new romance blossoms into something wonderful.  She travels to visit her children and grandchildren as often as her schedule allows.

And as I stood there in her house doing her dishes and folding her laundry, making sure her house was clean and ready to welcome her back, I realized I just don't want to be old!  

I don't want to sit around and wait for Tuesday to come along so that I can play Bunko with my friends.  I don't want to take naps at 3 in the afternoon, or sleep in until 10.  I don't want someone to come in and change my grown-up diapers and feed me tapioca, with the highlight of my week being some senior citizen special edition of the Pinewood Derby or BINGO night.

I don't want to sit idly by while life passes along.

I want to LIVE LIFE for the next 50 years.  I don't want to watch my husband putz around, shuffling along with his little walker.  I don't want Depends, and cupboards full of medications.  I don't my house smelling vaguely like pee and week-old coffee.

I want the LAUGHTER.  I want travel.  I want great gobs of friends.  I want to be so busy having fun that I FORGET that my years are creeping up on me.  I want dinner parties, and out door get-togethers.  I want TIME to spend DOING, not SITTING letting life pass me by.

Why do people just give up?  Why do they just decide to be OLD?  Maybe I've just befriended too many elderly people.  Maybe I just need to surround myself with lovely young women who have just had their babies and are just starting out on that wonderful and crazy, chaotic time of their lives where they can hardly keep their heads above water.  Maybe I've just been hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I know someone else quite well who has decided she's ready to die any time.  She's 75.  75!!!  Her own mother died at 74, so she figured it's her time.  But her own mom was a raging alcoholic and smoked 4 packs of smokes a day.  It doesn't matter. This woman is dead set (bad choice of words) against living.  She sleeps until 11.  Eats half a banana, is too tired to do anything, goes back to bed, has a light dinner, watches some tv, and goes to bed.

UGH!!

I am choosing LIFE, my dear friends.  LIFE.  Picture Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society, standing on the desks and urging us all to CHOOSE LIFE.  Seize the day.  Carpe Diem.

Let's all make better choices.  Let's exercise today, even if we just don't feel like it.  Let's make and eat something yummy and healthy for dinner and smile at our kids.  Let's take a moment and listen to their stories about what they did today.  Listen.  REALLY Listen.  Don't just stop and say, "mm, hmm, that's nice."  I want you to stop what you're doing.  Look them in the eyes, and just LISTEN.  Listen until they are done talking.  Listen until they've used up all that they needed to use up.  What was their favorite thing they did?  What would they do differently?  What do they wish they could do tomorrow?

The dishes can wait.  Dinner can be late.  Laundry can be folded and put away later.  Just stop and LISTEN to your children.  Love on them a little bit.  Eat a lovely meal with your family.  And then share with them YOUR favorite parts of YOUR day.  Share stories.  Laugh at the silliness of it all.  Enjoy every moment while it's still there to enjoy.  This moment. Today.

Let's make a difference in someone's life.  Let's go out there and LIVE!!  Let us keep on living and living and living and loving life until we're well over 90, and our bodies collapse from all the great living we've done.

And may we never get OLD.

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Hot Pink, Lime Green, and Aqua Birthday Party -- With Owls

Hot Pink, Lime Green, and Aqua Birthday Party -- With Owls!

The dessert table

Close up of the cookies and cupcakes

The gift bags, before stuffing

The banner, before hanging

How cute are these fun short bread sugar cookies?

Cake balls!!  These were vanilla

I HATED the way these "lime" green cakeballs turned out.  They looked like Grinch cakeballs rather than lime colored cakeballs.  Such a disappointment. Fortunately, they *TASTED* great, and they were gobbled up so quickly I'm not sure anyone even noticed they were ugly!

Marshmallows on a stick, dipped in hot pink melted chocolate and dipped in blue nonpareils.

The banner!

The centerpiece, once again 

Pretty, pretty cake balls

My various apothecary jars filled with treats.  I had a hard time finding green and blue, so I ended up buying Crunch Berry cereal and pulling out the hot pink ones.  Then I bought fruit loops and pulled out the green and blue ones.  The hot pink fruit loops I added to the hot pink Crunch Berries.  These were cute to look at, but no one ate them.

Then I had cookies and cream Hershey's kisses, Dove chocolates, jelly beans, and some sour patch something or other.

On this side of the table I had more sour patch somethings, Hershey Kisses (Valentine's Day colors), and three Sundae cups filled with various m&m flavors.  I served pink lemonade (not pictured) in the pitcher.

The goodie bags turned out so cute!  Each girl went home with a movie ticket (we took the girls to the movies), a large candy version of their favorite candy, a curly straw (because they still love curly straws), and I made each girl a personalized bookmark with the leftover banner poster paper and a coordinating owl.  The girls LOVED their gift bags!!

One last look at this darling hot pink, lime green, and aqua birthday party!  Such a great hit!

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