'The Force Is With You’

So you guys know Dad’s whole ‘the force is with you’ thing. (He always says it when we’re nervous or scared about something… Come on, you guys know what I’m talking about).
Does that work for you guys too?
Or am I just overly abnormal?

The Sausage King Has Spoken

His three-year-old Majesty has declared he will now have French toast for breakfast every single day. Yes, it's official. After 24 days of his special request, I know it's no phase. The Sausage King does not have phases; when he likes something, he sticks with it.

What would you like for breakfast?
You better not say French toast.

Weird Word Wednesday

Week One

It's probably quite rare to come across a word you've never seen before, but it happens every once and a while. Probably more common is a word you've seen before, or looks familiar, but you're not 100% sure of the definition. So, in honor of the little used and occasionally misunderstood words in the world (OK, and an attempt to learn some kickass words for scrabble), Wednesday shall henceforth be dedicated to new and/or unusual words!

chimerical (adj.) existing only as the product of unchecked imagination
Example sentence: My chimerical plan for the perfect closet completely fell apart.

chivy or chivvy (v.) to tease or annoy with persistent petty attacks
Example sentence: The children do so love to chivvy each other.

pelf (n.) riches, especially ill-gotten gains; booty
Example sentence: The pirates' pelf had nothing to do with Johnny Depp's bottom, only the gold and fine wine they took from the Royal Navy's ship.

My work in progress evil plan (liable to change)

To begin, I must first seduce a wealthy heir. Doing this will cause the world to choke on their food, bewildered by my arrival at their family beach house. They will then all ask in amazement: Who is this unholy menace? Where did she come from? And why does she look so good in a business suit?

Next, I must obliterate that opera house in Sydney that my boyfriend never took me to. This will be done from my corporate tower of doom, a mysterious place of unrivaled dark glory. Upon seeing this, the world will weep uncontrollably, as countless hordes of robot, ninja, warrior cronies hasten to do my every bidding.

Finally, I must tauntingly wave my needlessly big weather machine, bringing about something really, REALLY bad. My name shall become synonymous with all that is wrong with the world, and no man will ever again dare roll his eyes at me. *evil laugh* Everyone will bow before my dashing good looks, and the world will have no choice but to elect me dictator for life and name me Evil Woman of the Year forever.

Missing Identity --The Face on the Milk Carton

  I felt the need not just to comment but really reply to your post, darling Sister, not because I suffer from any kind of identity theft, but because I seem to be constantly misplacing my identity.

  It’s easy to try to brush it off by saying that I’m still “developing” an identity, that I haven’t “cemented” it yet, but I know that’s not true; I know I have an identity, I just keep losing it. It pops up every now and again when I’m looking for something else (we all know how that goes), but as soon as it’s found, it seems to vanish again just as quickly.

  When I’m in possession of my identity, there are amazing moments of clarity, and they can be found in simple actions, daily activities, and the universe all seems to be spinning in the proper direction. The problem when I lose my identity is not the lack of clarity, not the universe turning backwards, but the very frightening knowledge that I do not even notice, do not even miss Myself. I don’t even know I’ve lost my identity until I stumble across it again! It’s really quite disturbing.

  So lately I’ve been trying to anchor myself. I bought a 750-piece puzzle (which must be a metaphor for my lucky star, because I feel like I’ve hung all my hopes on it). I’ve also picked up some books from the library and started a Magnum Opus-type journal. The idea is that if I force myself to spend more time with Myself, then I’ll either a) hang unto my identity for longer, or b) at least notice when it goes missing again.

  Which brings me to my final note: where does my identity go? How does it pass the time while we’re separated? I think I’ve finally discovered it’s hiding place, but it is never the same hiding place. My identity just gets stuck in moments, whether frozen on a corner waiting for the walk-signal last week, or memories from years past. It settles in and stays a while instead of leaving with the rest of me when the moment or the memory passes.

  Sometimes…I swear I’m going crazy.

Identity Theft

A Personal Service Announcement

Do you know who you really are?

A challenge exists in adolescence to establish your own identity. Some people do this seamlessly, as if they've known from the beginning of Time who they are and who they will always continue to be. Others struggle with who they are and who they want to be, trying on different identities and sometimes making dangerous decisions in their attempt to discover what really fits. The struggle may even leak into adulthood, and unfortunately, even middle age (do you know any of these? I do).

School offers a wealth of opportunity for young people to find themselves. But then sometimes a "relationship" takes hold.

*Identity Theft Alert No. 1*

Do not ever, EVER let a boyfriend/girlfriend snatch yourself away from you. Only you can prevent this from happening. When you give away your heart, don't give away your mind. Don't forget that there is still a you outside of the relationship. PLEASE. Pretty please?

So you make it through school and enter the workforce? Great. You must work hard and do a good job. This does not include becoming a distorted freak to please the corporate psychopath.

*Identity Theft Alert No. 2*

You do not wake up in the morning and gaze into the eyes of your supervisor (um, if you do, you're either on the fast track out the door at work OR you have already let your identity be snatched). You wake up and see your own face in the mirror (or your spouse if you are the first one up in the morning...but see Alert No. 1). Oh, what's that? You don't look? You had better. If you don't, the next occasion you take the time, you won't recognize yourself. You are not your boss's doormat.

But you survived that? You made it through school? You fell in love? You have a great job?

*Identity Theft Alert No. 3*

The babies. They steal your heart. They warp your mind with joy. They become toddlers and BAM! You're gone. You--no more. The parental role can overtake you in the blink of an eye if you don't watch out. Assuming you are not totally self-absorbed and still dwelling in the mental state of party animal (not a valid identity. sorry!) while parenting a child, this is where millions will meet their identity demise. You ossify at light-speed. Without you.

The balance of identity at this point is beyond delicate--it makes an eggshell seem like a rock. If you look away for too long, your identity is gone...

And just like the other kind of identity theft, it's hell trying to get yourself back so that everyone knows it really is you.

Are You Prepared?

It pays to be prepared. In fact, it's a popular theme. If you google PREPARED, you'll find a government site all about how to get READY (you know, just-in-case). And if you don't get a chance to do so, let me assure you that plastic and duct tape are on the list. But that is not the focus of this post...

I like to be prepared for the little things--a band-aid in the purse for the scrape on the go and some pain reliever for the screaming child induced headaches. I also stash extra napkins and straws in the glove compartment (personally, I keep my gloves in my coat pockets). A couple years ago, an unusual, faked-a-brain-tumor, person was sitting in the passenger seat of my vehicle and used up all my napkins. At one time. Thirty napkins. A grown-up. When I found out, I yelled at my husband, who was driving my car during that incident. I mean, napkins=prepared. I have kids. They spill, they puke, they smear. And sometimes the drive-thru people don't give me enough napkins for our bagged meals. Sometimes they forget the straws, too, which is why when they accidentally put in an extra, I stash it in the glovebox. It all balances out in the end. Like Karma.

So, this morning, I ran a bunch of errands. I have to get 18 birthday party favors ready for Saturday. I ordered cupcakes. Blahbity blah, blah. I bought a salad at the store to take home and eat for lunch after I picked up the little guy from preschool. But I was really hungry. Hun-gree. But I bought the salad at the store, not a restaurant. No fork. I had to eat. Had. To. Eat.

But wait...

I checked my glovebox. YES! I had one of those little wrapped up utensil packets in there! I ate salad in the car!

I'm telling you, it pays to be prepared. I'm not gonna rush out to buy any plastic sheeting or anything like that, but I am going to go right now and put another fork in my car. 'Cause you never know.

So, gentle reader, have you ever had a moment of preparedness triumph? Or unpreparedness disaster?

P.S. I have since rebuilt my napkin stash.

The Gain Stress, Lose Weight, Gain More Stress, Get a Headache, Get Mad, Lose More Weight, Start All Over Again Diet

I lost four pounds this weekend. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm still carrying around some extra pre-pregnancy poundage. I say pre-pregnany, because I've lost all the baby weight, but I gained about twenty pounds before I got pregnant, so I'm working on losing that. Good news is that I only have sixteen more pounds to go.

I'm annoyed with how I lost the weight--I know it's not healthy--but I'm thinking about creating an infomercial for my foolproof plan. Can't you see it?

Are you overweight? Have you tried every fad diet, every weight loss and exercise program, only to be disappointed over and over again? If so, call 555-GET-A-STRESSFUL-LIFE, and you could lose four pounds in only two days! That's right! No calorie counting, no carb counting, no diet pills or powders or shakes. Just high-quality, pure-grade stress, guaranteed to melt away pounds!

How does the system work? "It's easy," says founder and president, Crazy Sister #2. "All you do is spend a few days experiencing the hell I've been going through, and before you know it, your stomach will be in knots, and your gag reflex will be so sensitive, you'll barely be able to brush your teeth without vomiting. Food will become a thing of the past, a four-letter word. You'll feel terrible, but people will tell you that you look great!"

Dear sisters, it's funny, but it's not. I really did have trouble brushing my teeth this morning. I know that ya'll don't know all the details, but my personal life is a mess. My professional life is leaving a lot to be desired. I have a heart condition that has gradually been worsening--and still no referral for a cardiologist because of my stupid insurance. I've been agonizing for the past month, impatiently waiting for my follow-up visit with my OB/GYN, because my last pap came back with "significant abnormalities". I'm really mad about a lot of stuff.

But you know what? When I went into my daughter's room this morning, her whole face lit up, she smiled and squealed out, "Mama!" and reached her arms out to be picked up.

I held her close, breathing in that special, warm, clean-baby scent. I whispered in her little ear, "Kisses," and she proceeded to open her mouth wide, partially stick out her tongue, and deposited a giant blob of drool on my lower lip.

In that moment, that single split second, I could clearly see the glimmer of light at the end of this very long, very dark tunnel.

Cancel that infomercial. I think my appetite is coming back.

Let me pause and give thanks for the curse and magic of motherhood.

Colorful Closet

  While I was in the shower tonight, I had an interesting thought I just couldn’t shake. You see, I’ve been feeling lately like people don’t see me. They look at me, kind of, but then it’s as though they look right through me, and miss everything that’s in between. My personality is all over the place: a little but of this, a little bit of that, there’s no pinning it down! How can they ever really see me? So then I was thinking, what if my personality were like a wardrobe? What would it look like? I came to the conclusion that I’d be all shoes and little else. Because shoes are so important… You need a different pair for every situation, and they’ll determine where you can and cannot tread. You need a classic black heel, for business and such, you need a strappy sandal for summer nights, boots in brown and black, a classic flat, a comfy loafer, tennis shoes, flip flops, shoes of so many shapes and colors and styles for every occasion! That’s why I think my personality is mostly shoes. I’m always so concerned about doing the right thing in every situation, and picking a pair of shoes to wear amounts to the same thing as choosing the right words and making a good impression. There is also, definitely, a pair of red shoes in my closet, although I don’t think they get out enough.

  When it comes to tights, I don’t like them. And no nylons either. Those things aren’t in my personality closet, although a couple of pairs of fun socks are (especially the ones with the toe slots).

  I’m also full of hats and scarves. Hats for every occasion: to frame my face when I’m feeling confident, or hide my face when I’m shy, and certainly to cover up bad hair days. I don’t mean baseball caps either, (I know you Sisters know). I mean fancy hats, dress hats, with feathers and bows and wide brims and ribbons. And scarves, of course, pinned with lovely brooches: conversation pieces. These little touches are what complete a personality, just like they complete an outfit. Scarves are soft, and romantic –there’s some of that in me, sometimes. And hats are full of history and memories, hazy like dreams that we hang on to for old time’s sake. Lord knows I have plenty of those hats. When it comes to jewelry, well that’s like imagination. Jewelry can make an outfit anything you want it to be, but for me…well, I always like to anchor mine with a pair of simple pearl earrings. They’re my imagination’s safety net, I suppose.

  As for the clothes, well…I have a feeling that my hangers and drawers are more empty than most. I’m not into the flash of designer labels and prefer a more comfortable and approachable feel. I mean, if I want to be defensive, I can just cross my arms or turn my back, I don’t need a black turtleneck for that. I think that’s why I’m into sweaters and skirts –not often a good combination. But the skirts aren’t too short, I don’t like to be vulnerable (that is, expose my legs), and the sweaters aren’t too thick. Sometimes they are, sure (winter's cold, after all), but what’s most important is that they’re huggable. As for the rest, well…maybe I’ll fill those hangers someday, and find things for those drawers, but right now they’ll just have to stay a little empty.

  Which might make it surprising that I think it must be rather disorderly in there. I bet that I have things stacked erratically on shelves, and there’s no way my sweaters are lined up in color order (uh-uh, no way). My shoes accumulate in piles, and sometimes one goes missing from its pair. It’s not entire chaos, to be sure, but it’s no Martha Stewart dream closet, either.

  And on top of it all? I don’t think I have a single matching outfit in my personality. If I were to summarize my personality in an ensemble, I think it would look horrid. I’d wear red shoes with a turquoise scarf, and a dark green brooch with a beaded cardigan, –a suede skirt with an elaborate grey hat, and of course an enormous tote bag. (All the handbags in my closet are certainly large, so I can take with me all the things I love to everywhere I go). Wouldn’t I look ridiculous walking down the street? So HOW is it, I wonder, that no one seems to see me?

  Tell me, Sisters, what do you think YOUR personality wardrobe looks like?

Twelfth Night

Crazy Sisters,

Khrystos rodyvsya!

Love,
Margaret

P.S. I'm so sad that my tree will come down after tomorrow. How about you?

Let Me Hear You Say, "Baaaaa!"

That's "baa" as in sheep. I became a miserable sheep today. I don't know how it happened, and I swear, I've never done anything like it before...

I bought my little guy swimming trunks today.

In January.

I bought swim trunks in January.

I can only hope that there are other sheep out there who have blindly succumbed to the marketers ploy and will cushion me now that I've leapt off the edge of the rationality cliff.

When is a Lie Not Really a Lie?

I found myself pondering this very question at 9:30 this morning. See, my baby girl has been very sick and I had to give her some medicine. She was in her high chair, happy and babbling while grandma (my mother-in-law, who was in town visiting) fed her cereal and fruit. Like most infant medication, this was the kind you have to dispense using a syringe, squirting it into the baby's mouth.

I was cooing at my baby, coaxing her to take the medicine. We were down to the last few drops, and I said, "Come on, sweetie. Last one." Of course, just as I started squirting the medicine, she batted the syringe away, letting out a merry little laugh. So, I tickled her chin a little, and said again, "Come on, sweetie. Last one." And she took it. Yay!

But as she was grimacing, swallowing it down, my mother-in-law said, "Oh! Your mommy is a liar. She said that the first time and it was a lie."

Now, of course she said this with a smile on her face and a light tone, but I still bristled. I am not a liar. Right? That wasn't a lie! Well, maybe it kind of was, but only by accident. So, it was less than a lie. A little white lie? No, smaller. Maybe a fib. Nope. Still smaller. A fiblet.

It was a slight miscalculation on my part. The first time around, I thought it was the last dose! I didn't purposely tell a fiblet. And that, I think, is the difference.

Lies are told on purpose, sometimes with malice and forethought, sometimes not, but the end result is still the same. The person being blatantly lied to ends up hurt. And isn't it funny how liars always have justification for the lies they tell? It's really quite comical. I believe that when people lie, it's because they're boring, scared people, who are trying to make up for their own inadequacies as human beings. By lying, they stroke their own egos so they can feel bigger and better than they really are.

So, I am not a liar. Yes, I am a fibleter, and I will probably end up telling more fiblets to my daughter as she continues to grow.

If you notice, though, at no time did I tell her, "Come on, sweetie. Last one. I promise."

I might be a fibleter, but I'm no promise-breaker. That's a story for another time...

I finally got it! I hope I didn't post it twice!

In 2005, I gained the most precious, beautiful baby girl. And the knowledge that after I see her smile, there's not much in the world that matters a whole lot.

I lost my ability to be patient with stupid people.

I stopped listening to what people tell me I should do.

I started a conscious weight-loss mission.

I was hugely satisfied by finding the courage to walk the walk after I've talked the talk.

And frustrated by how long it took me to find that courage.

I am so embarrassed that my daughter can burp louder than me and fart louder than her dad.

Once again, I have a list of stupid things that I’ve done.

Once again, I did not follow through with a promise I made to myself that I would figure out a way to become independently wealthy.

The biggest physical difference between me last December and this December is I have a lot of stretch marks and a tummy pooch, thanks to my beluga-sized baby.

The biggest psychological difference between me last December and this December is how I am able to turn off the noise around me and truly focus on what I need.

I loved spending time walking around outside with my daughter and having people comment on how adorable she is.

Why did I spend so much time agonizing over that person (sisters, you know who I'm talking about) and how she was messing up my life?

I should have spent more time plotting ways to have Scotty beam her up!

I regret buying really expensive make-up. I don't indulge too often, and it was worth the money, but it was SO expensive!

I will never regret buying my favorite pair of butt-kicking, high-heeled, brown leather boots. I feel like I can conquer the world when I wear them!

I cried way too much in the past five months. But I'm better now!

I didn't share my frustration with the person who needed to know about it the most.

I drove me crazy. And it should really be I drove myself crazy, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to change me to myself… (I like this answer. I'm copying it!)

Was my life crazier than ever last year? Or was it me? (This one, too!)

The most relaxing place I went was...nowhere. I haven't gotten out much.

I feel so stupid when...never. I refuse to waste my time feeling stupid.

Why did I waste time in the past feeling stupid? It's pointless!

The best thing I did for someone else was was offer words of kindness, even when I wasn't feeling kind.

The best thing I did for myself was giving up trying to encourage someone to change when he/she doesn't want to.

The best thing someone did for me was telling me I looked like I was one of Charlie's Angels the day I wore my above-mentioned boots to work.

The one thing I'd like to do again, but do it better...hmmmm. This is a tough one. I have a lot of things that I'd like to do better, but I'm too busy to regret how it was done.

Do You Ever Get Stuck?

literally?

Botheration! My head got stuck this morning...

The new (three months old) washing machine is higher than the recently deceased machine. And it shakes a lot on the wonderfully uneven floors of my equally wonderful vintage home. I think that is because it is a front loading machine and therefore capable of amazing and powerful spinning action. And since it is a front loading machine, that means the top of it is available for me to stack odd and ends on it. So even though I knew it was not smart, I put all of the empty boxes from the Christmas china up there.

Then I did laundry.

The boxes were all shaken to the floor during the first phase of the spin cycle. No problem. But then I realized one box was missing...

It was behind the machine.

So, I hopped up, with my head turned sideways to peer behind the washer, reached my arm around to pull the box up from where it was wedged between the wall and the machine, then I turned my head.

There was no room for me to turn my head. And in that micro-second, my brain registered that I was trapped. Thank goodness it also remembered that all I had to do was turn my head sideways again so I could slide down off the top of the washer.

If only it was that easy to get mentally unstuck... Or is it? Is it that easy? To get unstuck from a situation? Next time I feel trapped, I'm going to try turning my head a little bit sideways.

I'm game

Let's play!


In 2005, I gained an adorable goddaughter, a new job, trust in someone who I never thought I would trust, and a new outlook on life somewhere in between those things.

I lost my sanity as well as my ability to tolerate liars and cheats.

I stopped listening to what people tell me I should do.

I started a real live paper journal!

I was hugely satisfied by growing some guts and saying hello to people and developing a few good relationships with them.

And frustrated by my stupid ex-stand-up-comedian-English-teacher and the horrible grade he gave me on one of my papers.

I am so embarrassed that I am friends with some of the people that I’m friends with.

Once again, I have a list of stupid things that I’ve done.

Once again, I did not follow through with all of my new year resolutions.

The biggest physical difference between me last December and this December is I have 4 less teeth! (Though you can’t tell unless I open my mouth).

The biggest psychological difference between me last December and this December is how I view others and the way that I value their opinions.

I loved spending time buried underneath a ton of blankets… It was quite warm.

Why did I spend even two minutes thinking those silly thoughts?

I should have spent more time working on the projects that really needed to be done.

I regret buying a certain CD because it turned out that’s the only band my friend and I DON’T have in common.

I will never regret buying a present for that one person even though with that money I could have bought a gift for someone who would have actually appreciated it.

I laughed and thought way too much. With emphasis on WAY.

I didn't write or share my thoughts enough.

I drove me crazy. And it should really be I drove myself crazy, but I don’t know if I’m allowed to change me to myself…

Was my life crazier than ever last year? Or was it me?

The most relaxing place I went was anywhere outside of this house that wasn’t my work on the night of a full moon or that one person’s house after that one big blowout we had.

I feel so stupid when I write that down. When I write almost anything down actually.

Why did I go to meet that one person… that one day… at that one place…?

The best thing I did for someone else was tell them that I was happy for them- even if I wasn’t really happy.

The best thing I did for myself was stop caring about what others think and go for what I want. Of course, this was done with a push, but that person gets their credit.

The best thing someone did for me was tell me that he was proud of me for letting go of someone who I thought was very dear to me because I could do much better.

The one thing I'd like to do again, but do it better, is a certain conversation that I had a couple of nights ago…