tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27128271968465068262024-03-13T12:32:13.015-07:00Don't make me yell at youthe life and times of a follower, a mother, a friendAn Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.comBlogger229125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-61068215388824766192016-11-12T09:00:00.000-08:002016-11-12T09:24:03.221-08:00From Pillbox Hat to nothing at all, in no time flat<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is not a political post.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lately, I've noticed the bulk of the posts on Facebook fall into two categories: Hatred and fear of either those who voted for our President Elect or those who voted against him....or kittens. Okay, maybe not just kittens, but you get the idea. People, including me, have been posting "light and fluffy" to distract us from very real fears. There is nothing wrong with either type of post, but I'm diving back into blogging with something a little different. Just a little.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I was a little girl Jackie Kennedy (Onassis) was First Lady. She was the epitome of style, grace and elegance. I imagined growing up and dressing just like her. My mother did - from the hat to the gloves to the full-skirted dresses. I loved watching my mother get ready, and couldn't wait until I was old enough to dress the same.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eight years ago, everyone was in an uproar because Michelle Obama wore something sleeveless. We got over it. Boy, did we get over it. She has an elegance and style that many emulate and no one blinks an eye at armpits anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Will our daughters seek to be just like </span><a href="http://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/donald-trump-melania-trump-knauss-first-lady-erections" style="background-color: white; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;" target="_blank">our new First Lady</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">By the way, the parental controls I've set on my home router do not allow me to even read the linked article without me overriding them.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-28480502959918673352016-01-19T19:30:00.000-08:002016-01-19T19:32:23.113-08:00And this is why some animals eat their young....<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know you all had kids young. I didn't. Ended up adopting at 40. Maybe it was 41? I can't remember right now, but what's the difference, anyway...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before I say anything else, I say this. I love my kiddos BEYOND MEASURE. Seriously. But I just have to vent, and this is a safe place. You know the sit-coms where teenage girls are snarky to their parents or roll their eyes...and the parents lift a glass of wine together or laugh about it? That's what I covet. That's the hardest part....doing this alone, and coping with a 13 year old girl. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Anyone who's done it before me, and anyone who will do it after. I lift my glass to you. Forever and always.</span><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0px;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-42195415094541888492015-08-22T07:50:00.000-07:002015-08-22T07:50:06.097-07:00Kelly Clarkson is a flippin' goddessSo, I know I'm late on the bandwagon. Did you know who she is? Of course you did. I mean I know the name. I don't actually watch more than one episode of "American Idol" a season, but I knew she'd been on there. Why don't I watch it? It's entertaining, right? Too much damn talking....I guess that's it. I start out watching the first episode...and then I get bored. Just flat bored. Forget it's on...next thing you know everyone is talking about the changes for the next season...what? It's over? Who won? Never mind...I wouldn't remember them anyway.<br />
<br />
That was her, right? Until she came out with "Because of You" in 2004. Everyone said it was a bad love affair, but I read she said it was about her mom. It was a great song...and then I forgot about her again. Sometimes I have the attention span of a flea.<br />
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How do I know what the attention span of a flea is? I have two kids, both diagnosed with ADHD. I wasn't. But I went through school being the girl always looking out the window. Never paying attention. Always interuppting. Always moving...ever in the back of my mind is my Aunt Bunne saying, "Just stop jiggling your leg!" But the assessment I took says no. I think I was just bored. And distractable. What was I saying?<br />
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Oh, yeah...Kelly Clarkson is a freakin' goddess. After that song I liked in 2004, I kind of forgot about her. I knew her name was always around, but I couldn't tell you what she was doing.<br />
<br />
But then...she had a baby! Cut the side of her hair super short! Slammed the haters who tried to body shame her! And all of a sudden there are all these YouTube videos of her doing cover songs...like this cover of Taylor Swift's "Blank Space":<br />
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or this one, Adele's "Someone Like You":<br />
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And then, there she was singing Tinder profiles, of all things:<br />
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Holy mother of all things good and wonderful...this woman can SING IT.<br />
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But I think this new one may be one of my favorites...it's Prince's "Purple Rain."<br />
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So, yeah, I may be late to the game....but I'm now a Kelly Clarkson fan..atic.<br />
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She's so open and honest, announcing she's "totally pregnant" the other night. Now to go listen to every song she's sung since the beginning.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-10178781155609009262015-05-19T19:41:00.001-07:002015-05-19T19:41:48.627-07:00The Keto Project - Day Three<br />
I know, I know. Where is Day Two? I said I'd update daily, and I've already failed. But I had a good reason - promise.<br />
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My daughter flipped over a basketball and landed on her forehead. Why didn't she break her fall, you ask? Go ahead, because it won't offend me...I thought the same thing. Right after I thought, "Oh, God...what's wrong with her now." If you've ever parented a middle-school girl, you may know what I'm talking about. I mean..CRAMPS! HEADACHES! BRUISES (from gymnastics and cheering and dancing)! It's unending.<br />
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Anyway, I got off track. Why didn't she break her fall? She said she didn't want to break a wrist. Wrist...brain...hmmmm. Thank goodness for the healing power of the young body, as she's pretty much back to normal after a rough 24 hours.<br />
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Anyway, today is Day Three, and I have to say, this is probably the easiest diet I've ever tried. I'm not really hungry. No cravings. Heck, I get chocolate every night! The food is delicious...so delicious. Tonight's dinner was <a href="http://www.ibreatheimhungry.com/2013/12/cheesy-chili-spaghetti-squash-casserole-low-carb-gluten-free.html" target="_blank">Cheesy Chili Spaghetti Squash Casserole</a>, and oh. my. yum. And it's REAL FOOD. And...the scale has already moved!<br />
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More later, hopefully....until then:<br />
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Weight change: - 1.5 pounds (yippy!!)<br />
Exercise: Zilch. I had to wake up my girl up every hour last night, so there was no way in tarnation I was going to climb on that bike this morning.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>
Tweet<script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-21554886727524443722015-05-17T08:35:00.000-07:002015-05-17T08:35:21.341-07:00The Keto Project - Day One<br />
Well, isn't this embarrassing. It's a weighty issue...arrgh. If you've read anything here, you'll know I've tried paleo, I've been vegan, vegetarian...my eating habits have run the gamut. They all have benefits - I was vegan the longest. I felt light and energized at first...then run-down and anemic, later. Paleo - probably should have stuck with it. But I have trouble sticking.<br />
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But now I really need to lose weight. I really need to get lean. My left knee has been an annoyance since I hurt it at 14. It would flare up now and then, most noticeably after I walked the Breast Cancer 3-day back in 2003. A few years later, my doctor said I had equal chances improving it by surgery or physical therapy, and I chose the therapy. That got me through another eight years. The first weekend of March this year, I fell on it, and it's been the worst it's ever been. I'm having an MRI this week, but no matter what the outcome, I know it will feel better if I lose a few pounds. Okay, more than a few.<br />
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I've flirted with different ideas. One was tempting, and that was a ketogenic diet, and then a good friend brought it up while we were hanging out the other night. Her step-daughter has been trying keto, and started losing weight quickly and easily, also losing cravings for bad stuff along the way.<br />
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I've long found <a href="http://www.ibreatheimhungry.com/" target="_blank">I Breathe... I'm Hungry</a> to be one of my favorite blogs. Melissa Sevigny makes beautiful food that sounds just delicious. And she's done all the work! Eleven weeks of meal plans, plus a three-day trial. I dove right in, skipping the three-day and going right for Week One.<br />
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Yesterday I went grocery shopping. I already had a lot of the items on the pantry list, but there were a few I needed to pick up. I found nearly everything at my local low-price grocery store, and a quick trip to Trader Joe's filled in the rest. It was definitely pricier than a regular week's haul for me, but not by a whole lot, and quite a few of these items will last a while.<br />
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I returned home with great hopes to complete all the prep work for the week as Melissa describes. It was a little more time consuming than I thought, but it was all super easy. I'll finish most of it today, and then I'll have a whole week of meals pretty much ready to go.<br />
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This morning was Day One for me. I started off with the delicious <a href="http://www.ibreatheimhungry.com/2013/11/sausage-spinach-feta-frittata-low-carb-gluten-free.html" target="_blank">Sausage, Spinach & Feta Frittata</a>, and let me tell you...it was absolutely delectable. Yesterday while it was cooking, my 12-year-old daughter kept saying how delicious it smelled, and when it came out of the oven we were actually tempted to eat it right then! I wish I'd taken a photo of my own, but it wouldn't have looked as good as the originals. I made it in a 9 x 13 pan, but I think next time I'll try a muffin tin for variety. I rounded off breakfast with <a href="http://www.traderjoes.com/fearless-flyer/article/1708" target="_blank">Trader Joe's Cold-Brewed Coffee Concentrate</a> and some heavy cream made into an iced coffee drink that was better than anything I've had in years. Drinking iced coffee always reminds me of my mom. It was a favorite summertime drink in the heat of the small Arizona town where I grew up.<br />
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I'm going to use this as an accountability tool, so I'll be updating this daily. I can't wait to try more of the recipes!<br />
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Weight change: 0<br />
Exercise: 26 minutes recumbent bike (yes, I know it was a weird number, but that's when my knee started hurting)<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-1162038158484509212015-01-05T18:45:00.000-08:002015-01-05T18:45:00.501-08:00No, I'm not superstitiousI'm not superstitious.<br />
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How can I be? When I was a child, I was always so careful never to step on a crack. I never wanted to break my mother's back. My mother raised me to be superstitious. Never to walk under a ladder. Never to put shoes on a table. Never open an umbrella in a house. I still managed to break mirrors, no matter how careful I was.<br />
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When I was 10, my mother died, and I realized that none of these things protected me from the bad things of the world. The only thing that would get me through was my faith in God, my belief that no matter how awful things are here, there is a greater purpose and plan.<br />
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Because of this, probably (I can't say for sure), I don't believe in signs or ghosts or other things I cannot see or feel or touch. Yes, I know that's contradictory. Believe me, I know all too well. But that is how I am, and I really don't see the need to change.<br />
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But then there is the ring. It's always a ring, isn't it?<br />
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My mother was married three times.<br />
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The first time, she was 17. Her husband was 31. They had four children, though only two lived. When my brothers were babies, he left.<br />
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The second time, she was 25. Her husband was 54. From all accounts, they were wildly happy, and had me 14 years later. My father died when I was two.<br />
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Her third marriage came when she was 43. I'm still not sure how old my stepfather was, but I know he looked far older. He always told me he was 39. They were married until my mother died when I was 10. He followed her to the grave three years later.<br />
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I inherited her wedding rings from my father and step-father. Sadly, the ring that my father gave my mother was in my car when it was stolen years ago (I was moving and hadn't unpacked that last load yet). But I still have the ring from my step-father. It's simple white gold, with pretty ridges and some small diamonds. I used to wear it on my right hand.<br />
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One day I realized it was gone. I was in my early 20s, and realized I hadn't seen it since putting hand lotion on at my desk at work that day. I searched everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. Heartbroken, I finally stopped looking.<br />
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Months later, there was a note posted on the bulletin board at work. "Ladies ring found, please identify. See guard on duty at desk." Knowing it couldn't possibly be mine, I checked anyway. It was my ring. They had found it moving furniture - it was under the heavy leg of a desk.<br />
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I started wearing it again, and several years later, I wore it out dancing with friends one night. My hands got hot and puffy, so I took it off and put it in the pocket of my jacket. When I got home, it was gone. Another night crying. I called the club, and no one had turned it in. It wasn't in my car.<br />
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A year later, I was moving. During my last sweep of the apartment, I climbed a stepladder to dust the top shelf in my bedroom closet. I only kept a few boxes and shoes up there - nothing else.<br />
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There was my ring.<br />
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Once I got over my initial tears of joy, I thought it must be a sign. It had to be. There was no earthly explanation.<br />
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Not wanting to press my luck (and yes, I do know how silly that sounds), I stopped wearing it and kept it stored in my jewelry box. Years have passed, I've gained weight, and it doesn't even fit the ring finger on my right hand where I'd worn it.<br />
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A couple weeks ago, my son was discovering the treasures there. There's a story for nearly every pin and necklace inside. I told him who I'd received them from, where I'd worn them, what the memories were for each one. Then he found the ring, and I told him the story. He told me I should wear it on a different finger, so I did. It was a bit loose on that finger, but not loose enough that I thought I'd lose it...but I did. By the end of that same day, it was gone.<br />
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This time I didn't look for it. It could have been anywhere - home, church, grocery store, gas station. I didn't say a word to anyone. I waited.<br />
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New Year's Day I woke before my kids. No surprise, I'd gone to sleep before they did. I went out to the kitchen to make coffee.<br />
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And there, right by the coffeemaker, was my ring. When the kids woke, I asked them if either one had put it there. My son Jake answered quickly. "I did. It was right in the middle of the living room floor last night. You really shouldn't leave it out like that."<br />
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The floor that I'd swept and dust-mopped and mopped at least three times during those two weeks the ring was missing.<br />
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This time I am going to say it's a sign.<br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-41570366228363053142014-02-10T20:45:00.000-08:002014-02-10T20:45:48.098-08:00Can I freeze my daughter?I have an 11-year-old daughter, and she is beautiful.
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Perhaps...no, probably...I'm slightly biased. No, I'm not. She is gorgeous. Tall, leggy, blonde, blue-eyed.
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She wants to wear make-up. I remember those days...but I could swear it hit me a bit later. Sixth grade? Nope. Maybe seventh, certainly eighth. I don't think I'm terribly old-fashioned, but I want her to wait as long as possible. She's 11. Still a little girl in many ways, and I want her to hang on to these days...they are too short and can never return. I let her wear make-up for play, but not out of the house, except for a bit for a dance or violin performance (stage lighting isn't particularly friendly to blondes). <br />
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I wear make-up nearly every day, and I believe it's a wonderful thing. It's fun, it's pretty, I can accentuate what I want and minimize what I don't. And at my age, baby, it's all about the minimization. <br />
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But not my girl.
Sometimes I get a glimpse of the woman she'll become, and it excites me and scares the stuffing out of me. I picked her up after school the other day, and I saw a beautiful young woman come around the corner, skinny jeans tucked into boots, a pretty blouse, a leather jacket, hair up in a bun. It took me a moment to realize she was my little girl.
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I know we'll struggle over this. We already do. Yesterday we all piled into the truck to go somewhere. No place fancy. I turned over my shoulder to look before backing up, and just about choked. "Are you wearing make-up?" She had all of it on...mascara, liner, eyeshadow, blush, lipstick. Beautiful still, in spite of the stuff. I marched her back in the house to wash her face before we could leave. She was upset, and so was I. Until she looked in the mirror. I think she saw herself as I do, maybe for the first time. She looked so grown-up, and I know as much as she longs for it, she's not quite ready for that.
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This is a mother-daughter dance that doesn't surprise me, that I expected would come. In my eighth-grade days of applying mascara in secret in the bathroom at the school dance, swearing to myself I would let my daughter start wearing make-up when she wanted to - but knowing in my heart I probably would make her wait...not knowing the reasons why.
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If you are a mother of a girl, what age/grade did you/will you allow her to wear make-up every day? Share in the comments below...it won't change my mind, but I'm curious.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0px currentColor !important;" /></a>
<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-31365082603277767522013-11-02T22:52:00.000-07:002013-11-02T22:52:48.345-07:00The post where I say butt too many times, and talk about Ender's GameAs in, put your money where your mouth is, but this relates to a movie, so I'll say put your money where your butt is. Where I paid a lot of money to put my butt in a seat. Oops, I said it again. And I will, because I like to say butt. I wasn't allowed to when my mom was alive...see, she died when I was 10, but there are still so many things every day that make me think of her. Somehow, saying butt instead of bottom makes me feel just the slightest bit naughty.<br />
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We went to the movies tonight, my teenaged son and I. This we had planned since the day he started reading Ender's Game. He came home and asked if I had read it. Of course I had, being a science fiction fan. But it was years ago, so he asked me to reread it so we could talk about it each night. It was a pleasure, and I enjoyed it more the second time round, probably because I could now critique it with one of the most important people in the world to me.<br />
<br />
I had to stop and think about the movie visit. I know many will not go to see it, because of the strong views of its outspoken author, Orson Scott Card.
Put your money where your mouth is. Live your beliefs with your wallet. I've heard a few more of these, though more don't quickly come to mind.
Would I see this movie knowing how much hatred this man holds and inspires? Would I refuse to see the film to prevent him from making any more money than he already has from the book?<br />
<br />
I chose to see it tonight with my 13-year-old son. We talked about the things that Mr. Card has said. We talked about the fact that there are people we love and care about that are the targets of some of his hatred, though I think some of that still went over my son's head.<br />
<br />
Because I thought about other things, too. About Jesus' call to love. About my own faith and beliefs. How would I feel if an atheist chose not to visit the business I work in, because he didn't believe what I do?<br />
<br />
Ultimately, Mr. Card wrote a tremendous story. And if he makes money from the movie and uses that to advance his own agenda, then so be it...because that's what I do with money I earn. We live in a country where we can believe things that others find absurd and even offensive. The fact that his book made it to film has got people talking.
Do I judge him as he judges other? Probably. After all, part of the definition of judgment is to form an opinion, to discern.<br />
<br />
So ultimately I am glad I got off my butt and put it in a movie seat tonight.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Have you seen Ender's Game? Will you? Let me know in the comments below.</i><br />
<br />
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<script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-35989859934319439712013-11-01T21:15:00.001-07:002013-11-01T21:15:16.793-07:00Five long yearsWhat a difference five years make. Everyone says, "Enjoy every minute. Time flies so fast." I know they're right...but still I'm continually astounded.
This was five long years ago:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k7FumPeSMnM/UnR5hsHwvoI/AAAAAAAAE5I/tNMXiil6i04/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-k7FumPeSMnM/UnR5hsHwvoI/AAAAAAAAE5I/tNMXiil6i04/s320/003.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
My princess was Hannah Montana, back before Miley washed her hands of Disney and delight, and traded them for flash and skin.
My boy was a Stormtrooper, following his method of refusing to wear the current year's costume and ending up in the last year's. Happened every year until last, when he suddenly was "too old" to trick or treat.
Also, you can't catch him in a photo with his sister, because they continually pick at each other.<br />
<br />
This year, my sweet girl was a cheerleader, and this photo gives a hint of the woman she'll become. Visiting houses with a friend, because brother wouldn't go, and stayed home with dad.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qCp8Comj1jc/UnR7KTkvowI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/OsC-4Tgh29M/s1600/IMG_1915.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qCp8Comj1jc/UnR7KTkvowI/AAAAAAAAE5Y/OsC-4Tgh29M/s320/IMG_1915.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
Sweet memories, old and new. I treasure them all.<br />
<br />
The dog? He still looks the same.<br />
<br />
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<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a><script src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-3534364800779843032013-04-12T20:45:00.001-07:002013-04-12T20:45:31.650-07:00Day Six Update - 21-Day Paleo CleanseEnd of a long, long week. I've been sick for three weeks, and I'm tired of it. No rest.<br />
<br />
No change in my asthma. Last year I had a nice reprieve from it, but this year it is ferocious. Don't really expect anything yet, but it would have been nice.<br />
<br />
I don't get the evening munchies that cannot be tamed. Those "I'll just have a few chips. They will hit the spot." "No, that wasn't it...maybe a cookie." "Hmmm, maybe just a few more chips." <br />
<br />
Yesterday I really felt some of my tummy bloat was tamed - and I have lost three pounds. That's a big plus, since I haven't felt hungry at all. In fact, I believe the volume of food I am eating is less, yet I am more satisfied.<br />
<br />
I think I have been sleeping better. I usually wake up several times a night, but have slept the last two nights through. In fact, yesterday morning I slept right through my alarm. Haven't done that in YEARS. <br />
<br />
My favorite meal of the last few days is simply called the "Breakfast Smoothie." That doesn't come close to the deliciousness in a glass that it is. Simply frozen mixed berries, banana, coconut milk and shredded coconut blended together. Nothing to sweeten it at all. I'm making extra tomorrow for Emma. Will be interesting to see what she thinks of it.<br />
<br />
She and her friend raved about the chicken tonight - Grilled Bacon-Wrapped Rosemary Chicken. But she didn't like the "leaves," and pulled them out of the chicken. <br />
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<br />
Ok, so maybe I don't know what the big-gun withdrawals are like - but caffeine withdrawal is no fun.
I've quite coffee before, and I don't remember it being this bad. Maybe it's a combination of caffeine withdrawals and carb flu. Headaches, light-headedness, lack of focus. This afternoon is going better, though.<br />
<br />
I didn't weigh myself the first morning (Sunday) because I was so busy researching and writing on my theory of why man....oh, who am I kidding? I just forgot. I did weigh when I got to the gym that afternoon, so I'm using that as my starting weight. And, no, I'm not posting it here (are you CRAZY?)...though I will update with any changes. None so far. I need to remember that I am in this for the long haul and not the quick fix. Every time I've gone "on a diet" I immediately regain that weight I had so quickly lost. <br />
<br />
I know I haven't been drinking as much water as I should. I misplaced my water bottle. <br />
<br />
The food has been GREAT. I've been using the recipes right out of Neely Quinn's "<a href="http://www.paleoplan.com/shop/21-day-paleo-cleanse-ebook/">21-day Paleo Cleanse</a>." I love the fact that she has lined out the shopping list and prep work as well as the recipes. Our favorites, though, are the breakfasts. No eggs? No cereals? No dairy? No problem, when you have Neely's great recipes. My daughter and I love the Tex-Mex Breakfast. It's a yummy combo of ground beef, onions, zucchini, and spices. And the Ham Stir-fry with ham and sweet potato. Mmmmm. <br />
<br />
What do I miss? Coffee. So far that's pretty much it, but it's only been a few days. <br />
<br />
I don't have daily arthritis pain, so I cannot say if there is an improvement yet. Saturday was a very bad day, but I'd spent six hours in the car and nine and a half hours in meetings the day before, so that isn't surprising. No typo there...my bosses apparently think I am so amazing I don't need sleep. <br />
<br />
I was having some digestive problems after being on antibiotics for bronchitis, and those cleared up the very first day eating this way. That was fantastic. And Sunday afternoon when my caffeine-withdrawal headache was at its worst, I sat in the sauna for a few minutes after swimming and the headache disappeared without even an aspirin. <br />
<br />
These are some of the tasty things I have been eating:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DIcMXNFfdoI/UWSfjcVK4PI/AAAAAAAACUg/sK4C7Eh7Ckk/s1600/IMG_1102.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DIcMXNFfdoI/UWSfjcVK4PI/AAAAAAAACUg/sK4C7Eh7Ckk/s320/IMG_1102.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ham Stir-fry Breakfast<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I know I said some, but that's the only picture you get, because the picture of my tuna salad was taking too long to upload and I'm cranky from not having my cuppa joe for three days!<br />
<br />
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<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-2703822505634708022013-04-06T20:32:00.000-07:002013-04-09T15:48:44.422-07:00Hack thisI'm a flirt. Nothing but a flirt...I flirt with this diet and that diet. I was a vegan for seven years, with a few two weeks cycles of that since (that's all I have to do to remember it doesn't work for me). South Beach, 17-Day, Omega...you name it, I've read about it. And probably failed at it.
This is where I find myself today: Overweight. Arthritic. Asthmatic. Still cute, funny, and smart, but those things are harder to keep up these days.<br />
<br />
I've done the research. Unending research. Everything conflicting. But I keep coming back to two major theories: there are a lot of fat-free vegans who have "cured" themselves of issues like mine. But I know that doesn't work for me. I'm hungry all the time, which equates to cranky. My skin and hair are dry. My stomach hurts. I don't sleep well. And then..there are the Paleos/Primals/Ancestral Eaters. I've tried that, too. But haven't quite found the right style.
So now I will try this...the "21-Day Paleo Cleanse." Have to love it...the author knows how to use a hyphen, right? And 21 days is doable. I did the 21-Day Sugar Detox a while back. Felt pretty good, too...but it wasn't quite right.
Neely Quinn, the author of the e-book, calls this "A step-by-step guide for people with auto-immune diseases, food allergies, and gut health problems to reduce inflammation, reverse symptoms and lose weight." How can you argue with that?
So, here are the rules:<br />
<br />
No:<br />
Grains<br />
Beans<br />
Refined sugar<br />
Dairy<br />
Vegetable oils<br />
Artificial additives and preservatives<br />
Caffeine (what? Wait a minute, here...did I really sign up for this???)<br />
Sweeteners (artificial and natural)<br />
Nuts and seeds<br />
Nightshades (tomatoes, eggplants, etc.)<br />
Eggs<br />
Alcohol<br />
Dairy<br />
<br />
And this leaves me with..what? Styrofoam?<br />
<br />
Meat<br />
Seafood<br />
Fish<br />
Veggies<br />
Fruits<br />
Good fats<br />
<br />
Thank heaven I went to Johnny Garlic's yesterday. That pretzel bun and those garlic fries will carry me for<br />
the next three weeks.
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5qXgQVVUzZM/UWDoHFTu54I/AAAAAAAACQ0/hVW1kTsF4Oc/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5qXgQVVUzZM/UWDoHFTu54I/AAAAAAAACQ0/hVW1kTsF4Oc/s320/IMG_1100.JPG" /></a>
Tune in tomorrow to see how it goes.
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<a class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle" href="http://twitter.com/share">Tweet</a>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-48180113110162364762012-06-12T20:06:00.000-07:002012-06-12T20:06:46.062-07:00This is not a food blogNo. Seriously. I love to cook. My mother taught me how to scramble an egg when I was four, and how to make a mix cake at six. She was a basic meat and potatoes cook, so she never taught me anything too fancy.<P>
When she died, I had just turned ten. My stepfather was not a cook. I found her copy of "Joy of Cooking" and a couple of other cookbooks and started working my way through. I mastered hollandaise, steak and kidney pie, liver pate, and beef Wellington. No one told me I couldn't.<p>Fast forward three years to a foster home. There were never less than 20 mouths to feed. We ate fried chicken, Hamburger Helper, swiss steak...simple meals, easy to multiply. I took four years of home ec, and loved cooking in the little kitchens. I also loved the attention I got from the home ec teacher, Mrs. Zumwalt. She always encouraged me...and we got to make doughnuts during first period.<p>What did I never learn? How to cook without a recipe.<P>I have cooked my way through decades of dinner parties and family meals, and until the last couple of years, I never even tried to make anything without explicit directions. And pictures, if possible.<P>Something happened after my divorce. I had two young kids to feed, one of whom is incredibly picky (blame it on a sensory processing disorder) and my repertoire took a turn for the limited. <P>Then it happened. One day, I made a meatloaf by memory. Not specific memory, just a general one. And it turned out great. The next time, I decided it might be good with the addition of some grated zucchini. And it was. And a new, adventurous Annie was born.<P>Alas, nothing I made was ever spectacular. If I wanted to impress, I still turned to my recipes. Until last weekend.<P>I had a pork roast, and I couldn't find a recipe that fit exactly what I was craving. So I jumped in and winged it...totally winged it. My daughter gave it the highest praise ever. It was spectacular, if I say so myself. I think it was the cumin/cocoa combo. <P>Tonight, we needed something for dessert, but I am working very hard to stay away from sugar. <P>I stuck a can of coconut milk in the freezer when we got home tonight, and after dinner, I opened it and scooped out the thick part from the top of the can. I threw that into the food processor with three previously frozen bananas (I always keep them in the freezer for smoothies). A splash of orange juice to get things moving in the food processor, and within a few minutes, we were feasting on a tropical treat. So yum. <p>I have always said I am not creative, and I don't think that is changing anytime soon, but I think I will have some fun in the kitchen.<P><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a>
<a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-30352237873893442692012-06-05T15:11:00.001-07:002012-06-05T15:11:55.359-07:00A change of colorThis is my daughter. She simply knocks me out. Her beauty radiates, from the blue of her eyes to the kindness of her heart. She is a bundle of explosive energy, a dynamic dancer, a good friend.<p>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TC9rhGG3Skg/T86B4Ws9pgI/AAAAAAAAA0g/rxU_gBiUHe8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TC9rhGG3Skg/T86B4Ws9pgI/AAAAAAAAA0g/rxU_gBiUHe8/s400/photo.JPG" /></a><p>
I never thought I was a good photographer. I'm not. But she is a terrific subject. Did I mention she is kind to animals?<p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7EdHBNb4FJw/T86CWHJg5jI/AAAAAAAAA0s/-IoAT2DzTqo/s1600/photo%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7EdHBNb4FJw/T86CWHJg5jI/AAAAAAAAA0s/-IoAT2DzTqo/s400/photo%2B%25281%2529.JPG" /></a><p>
She adores her older brother. He tolerates her, most of the time. <p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-njXjwsF-NkY/T86ChKWJV8I/AAAAAAAAA04/0rlIUhzqaMA/s1600/photo%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-njXjwsF-NkY/T86ChKWJV8I/AAAAAAAAA04/0rlIUhzqaMA/s400/photo%2B%25282%2529.JPG" /></a><p>
She has been wanting to dye her hair. I have always said my kids can do whatever they want with their hair, as long as they could turn it presentable enough for a funeral (don't ask why that's my aim). No mohawks, because there is no way you can make that look good, IMHO...but color? Go for it. Cut? Whatever.<p>
Never been a problem until now. My baby wanted to go red. She wanted to jump in and go full blast cherry red. Her hair is so beautiful - grownups pay hundreds of dollars to get half the blonde streaks she has naturally. I told her fine, but nothing permanent. I am such an ogre. <p>
We found a 28-day auburn. I am sure it will last longer than that, and I am confident it won't be pretty while it's fading.<p>
But she loves it. And she is beautiful.<p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dd0gVJntZ0s/T86DjB8l2cI/AAAAAAAAA1E/fHNRQ_TTfD8/s1600/photo%2B%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="299" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dd0gVJntZ0s/T86DjB8l2cI/AAAAAAAAA1E/fHNRQ_TTfD8/s400/photo%2B%25283%2529.JPG" /></a>
<p>
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I did. Seriously, it was easy - I walked directly across the street from my house. I was disappointed that hardly anyone was there. I had my choice of kiosks, and only one person walked in before I finished. <p> As we left, my daughter asked, "Mom, why aren't there more people here?" I didn't have a good answer for her. <p>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-thY6BUQ9izI/T8uP05Z8VtI/AAAAAAAAAz0/vCz0vPNSaIE/s1600/Trocadero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="319" width="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-thY6BUQ9izI/T8uP05Z8VtI/AAAAAAAAAz0/vCz0vPNSaIE/s400/Trocadero.jpg" /></a></div>
Today would be my mother's birthday. She died when I was 10, just like her mother died when her youngest child was 10. A family legacy I do not plan on keeping. <p>
Yvonne Marie Wilson Bakaleinikoff Oakley <p>
June 3, 1919 - December 5, 1969
<p><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a>
<a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-65412602505499065682012-06-03T09:04:00.000-07:002012-06-03T09:04:36.278-07:00Vegan vs. PaleoJumping into June, jumping into summer, jumping into change.<p>I tried, I really did. Years ago I was a vegan for seven years, spurred on not by cuddly, furry animals, but by the great Dr. McDougall. My journey ended with my health not improved, but eroded. The OMD I was seeing told me to go home and make some bone broth. It worked. Of course, it did. What did my mother give me when I was feeling under the weather? Homemade chicken soup, made with homemade stock; bones simmered until they crumbled. Why didn't I learn? I love veggies, and meat and I have always had a love/hate relationship. Love as in...bacon, fried chicken, hamburgers (mostly), pot roast, ham.... Hate as in: the smell of raw meat. Handling raw chicken. Weird textures.<p>So, what did I do? Watched "Forks over Knives," which is a great film by a lot of well-meaning people. But I should have remembered that everyone's body is different, and I think my northern European body just needs the meat. My tummy rebelled, I was tired all the time, and HUNGRY ALL. THE. TIME.<P>I know I don't need, or even much like, the dairy.<p>I research the hell out of everything I do, and one WOE just kept coming up...call it paleo, primal, or ancestral eating, much of it makes sense to me.<p>Starting with bone broth, just like my OMD advised oh so many years ago.<p> One thing I didn't anticipate? My hunger has greatly decreased. I can skip a meal without wanting to tear off someone's head. I feel..mellower, for lack of a better word. The flattening of my tummy a bit, even before any weight loss. Bye-bye, grains. Bye-bye. <P>
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</script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-84072886514906202152012-06-01T21:44:00.001-07:002012-06-01T21:44:23.129-07:00JumpSometimes June 1 seems more like the beginning of a new year to me than January 1. The kids are out of school today, and ready to move on to new activities. What changes after January 1? Not much.<br />
<br />
We are so blessed to live within a few minutes of two lakes and a beautiful river. I think I will pack up the kiddos tomorrow and go jump in the lake. The warmer of the two. I know they are looking forward to the water park, but there is plenty of time for that on Sunday. I think we need a little more nature, and a little less concrete.<br />
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</script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-10807655622272852262012-05-31T09:27:00.001-07:002012-05-31T09:27:12.402-07:00Wish I coulda been thereMy daughter spends Friday nights with her dad and step-mother. Actually, so does my son, and they actually spend Wednesday through Friday nights with them, and while this information has absolutely nothing to do with this story, it...well, has nothing to do with this story.
My daughter's step-mom loves to do her shopping at the big, unnamed store I will no longer venture into. While no one sane is actually at the store. Or awake. My daughter goes with her because she can usually get a new lipgloss out of the deal. Last Saturday, their schedule changed, and the step-mom (we'll call her MKSM to preserve her privacy), her grown daughter, twin toddler grandchildren, and my daughter were at the store sometime a little later. Their party split, with my daughter staying with MKSM and one of the twins, and MKSM's daughter with the other twin.
MKSM's cell phone rang. She didn't have her reading glasses with her (really? How can you read labels?) so she handed the cell phone to my 9yo daughter. "Em, can you read this for me?"
It was a text from her grown daughter. With perfect enunciation, she loudly read:
"I'm in the shitter by the shoes."
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<a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-14814905763227425192011-10-30T21:59:00.000-07:002011-10-31T06:00:50.216-07:00Freeway etiquette 101<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KMEpDZa3czQ/Tq4sQUAJ5NI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/hg5PC2zu1ms/s1600/merge.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 224px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KMEpDZa3czQ/Tq4sQUAJ5NI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/hg5PC2zu1ms/s400/merge.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669517639664919762" /></a><br />Dear guy in the big, black truck: I tried to allow you to merge onto the freeway today. The #1 lane was full, or I would have moved over. I saw you coming, and tried to adjust my speed a bit. When I realized you were trying to pace and not merge, going exactly the same speed as the car I was driving with my nine year old daughter, I slowed, so that you could get over. I even waved you in, but maybe you didn't notice. After all, you were busy slowing down to 35. When I finally realized you weren't getting over, I sped up, so that I could get past you, since it's not really safe to drive 35 on a 65 mph freeway. Thank you for calling me a bitch so clearly that my daughter could understand. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-42836508680781662912011-07-23T12:30:00.001-07:002011-07-23T12:31:53.222-07:00CheaterDear Blog,<br /><br />I've really missed you. Yes, I've been cheating on you...with Facebook, Twitter, and now Google+. The time I have spent with them is time I don't spend with you.<br /><br />That changes now.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-48893069880025726302011-07-05T20:22:00.001-07:002011-07-05T20:22:36.115-07:00Today's Trending TopicSuch a sad day. I do believe that Casey Anthony had a great defense, and the prosecution suffered because they had no concrete cause of death. I think the jury took the state's burden of proof mandate seriously. Ms. Anthony will never really be free, and I believe she will be judged one day - by One greater than me. I am thankful it is not my job. <br /> <br />As hard as this is to say right now, I am glad that I live in a country where she got a fair trial, by a jury of her peers...and those jurors made an extremely unpopular decision because they believed it was the right one. <br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-83333311496097388572011-05-22T09:54:00.000-07:002011-05-22T11:35:37.254-07:00No need to teach an old dog new tricks, when she can learn on her own.I asked the associate at Best Buy what was so much better about the Sony Streaming Player than the Roku...they were out of Roku and she had just told me the Sony was "way, way, way better." She did repeat way three times. Not two, as that would have meant it wasn't fully awesomeized, I suppose. <br /><br />"Ummm, let me go ask (so she bothered to tell me it was way, way, way better without knowing anything about it?)...ok, he told me all this technical stuff, so I'll just repeat what he said. It has more stuff on it, it's DLNA, and it's wireless."<br /><br />Me: "Roku is DLNA compliant (not to mention wireless and with lots of its own stuff)."<br /><br />Her: "Wow! You know what that means?"<br /><br />Yeah. And in the last week I have also recovered my laptop and figured out the problem with our T1 at work - <span style="font-weight:bold;">way, way, way</span> before any of the technicians who get paid 18 times more than I do. <br /><br />Not bad for an old broad.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-60815508992120977112011-05-08T07:43:00.000-07:002011-05-08T07:50:29.611-07:00It is a Mother of a DayApparently, the position of the apostrophe was very specifically chosen, "It was to be a singular possessive, for each family to honour their mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world."<br /> <br />I don't care. I want to wish all the mothers out there a Happy Mother's Day, and I want to include those who stand in for mothers: foster mothers, aunts, even friends. To all the women who filled the gap (and still do today after all these years) after my own beloved mother passed, thank you. <br /> <br />I say a special prayer for the women who gave life to my two children, the foster mother who kept them safe and loved until God brought them to me, and to their stepmother. They adore her, and I am so thankful.<br /><br />Last year I wrote <a href="http://kyoodled.blogspot.com/2010/05/biology-is-least-of-what-makes-someone.html">this</a> and it reminds me that Mother's Day is always bittersweet for me.<br /><br />May you have a fabulous Mother's Day - Traditional or not.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2712827196846506826.post-24559742961488781262011-04-27T16:11:00.000-07:002011-04-27T17:10:23.544-07:00What I hate about my iPhone 4The vibration, or complete and total lack of what any human could remotely call a recognizable vibration. <br /><br />I am a woman. <br />I work in an office. <br />I have no pockets in any of my work attire. <br />My phone must be on silent, yet my bosses call me on my cell all the time. <br />I feel like an idiot holding it in my hand all the time...like I am just waiting for Justin Timberlake or Justin Beiber or Donny Osmond to call or something. <br />So I have to stuff it in my bra. <br />I. am. not. kidding. <br /><br />And now you know.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/384/5485C4B3D91F2A0A7E17EDC9E547B290.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a><a href="http://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-count="vertical" data-via="kyoodle">Tweet</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js"></script>An Unlikely Retirementhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01048658142680350189noreply@blogger.com2