Dear Moment Monday

Dear Moment,
I still hate you a little bit.

I mean, really...I know I do a lot of embarrassing things. I make it pretty easy to poke fun...but in all honesty, you could have let that one go by. You could have NOT humiliated me in front of everyone I've ever met in my entire life. You could have NOT made my most embarrassing moment EVER happen in front of half of the people in my senior class.

Moment...you could have just blown by. Quietly. Almost, dare I suggest, UNNOTICED. It would have been the decent thing to do.

But no...you had to take full advantage of the opportunity that I handed you. Shame on you. SHAME. ON. YOU.

It wasn't like I had a choice. She made me do it. And how are you supposed to say "no" to the sweetest most arthritic old lady you ever met? How? You can't. Hence, the embarrassment. I even tried to back out at the last minute. But she told me I was ready. She told me it would be fine. She told me it would "bless her little heart" if I went through with it. What was I supposed to do? What else IS there to do?

Absolutely Freakin' Nothing.

So I sat there...in front of half the people I think I've ever met in my entire life....20 other members of my senior class looking on....tears running down my face....embarrassment creeping up my neck disguised as ugly red blotchiness...

And everything I had learned...everything I had practiced...everything I had in me that would "bless her little heart"....

must have stayed out in the parking lot.

But, as the onlookers would try to comfort me with later, at least I kept going. At least I didn't give up. At least I didn't let it get the best of me. And in the final moments of my encounter with utter embarrassment, I poised my hands in the position that I knew they were supposed to end in, plucked an A, the only distinguishable note during this entire episode, and as always made a graceful exit from

the piano recital from hell.

Dear Moment, just so we're clear....sometimes you don't have to be so good at your job of "imprinting so as not to be forgotten." Every now and then it's ok for you to be a wallflower....to linger only as a "yeah, I vaguely remember this one time....but it's sort of fuzzy" kind of recollection. Sometimes....just every now and then...it's ok not to share.

(Which, ironically enough, is what all of the recital attendees were saying after I finished playing that night.)

Fatty Friday, Volume 3...better late than never

Yeah...I know it's Saturday. I've never been all that great about being on time. Oh well....

So I was all prepared to blog about the things I felt the need to confess this week...like the fact that I ate a huge plate of fried rice when the gang at work took me out for a goodbye lunch at the new hibachi place in town....or the fact that Soul Sister came over the other night and I totally crunched up tortilla chips and put them in my soup...which I then washed down with a strawberry daiquiri....you know...stuff like that.

I had intentions of having an awesome Fatty Friday though. I was going to take E strolling with Lora from Take Me The Way I Am. We've been trying to plan an outing for a while now...and yesterday was to be the day. We've never met in person, and the HM wanted to know if I asked her 10 times if she was a psycho freak like I did him before we met the first time. I indignantly replied that no...she could not be a psycho freak because HELLO....SHE'S A BLOGGER! DUH!

Anyway, I was getting ready to walk out the door, and I was already going to be running behind. I had put the stroller in the car. I had put E's shoes on him. I had my walking shorts on and my hair pulled back. Sunglasses? Check! Juice box and snack for E? Check! I was READY TO GO!

"I onna take see-saurs!" (Which translates to 'dinosaurs' for all you who don't speak toddler.) So I replied in true mommy fashion, "You can take ONE. Pick one and let's go!"

"I onna take ALL my see-saurs!" At this point I really wasn't sure how much energy I had to fight this particular battle. I mean, really...what's the big deal about taking ALL of the dinosaurs? Do I REALLY want to turn this into a lesson in discipline? Do I want to try to explain why all 6 dinosaurs aren't necessary? Do I want to watch E's bottom lip pop out of his face like a God-given reflex? No...I didn't.

"Ok...get ALL the dinosaurs." So we gathered them up...dropping them and picking them up again a few times toward the door.

"Take E." (This is E's new command, accompanied by raised arms that means, Carry me Please!) So I picked him up, and dropped a stegosaurus in the process. Upon seeing the fallen "see-saur" E hollered right in my ear. It was like a shrill little warning, and a meltdown was forthcoming. I could just tell.

So with my overnight bag and my purse on my shoulder, E in my other arm, and 5 dinosaurs dangling from my fingers, I bent down to pick up the rebel stegosaurus.

I walked outside, shut the door behind me, and headed toward the car. And as soon as I opened the car door I went cold....my keys were still in my house....locked....no spare key.....um yeah....crap.

BUT NO ONE WORRY. DON'T PANIC. WE HAVE ALL OF THE DINOSAURS!

At this point we begin wandering around the house looking for the easiest way to break in, E trailing behind me with all 6 dinosaurs in tow. My house, surprisingly enough, is extremely difficult to break into! The credit card thing just doesn't work...doesn't even pretend to work. And I...like a big overly cautious idiot....locked all of my windows.

So I call a locksmith, and then leave a message for Lora that I have encountered a slight problem. "But don't worry," I said to her voicemail, "we have ALL of the dinosaurs."

The locksmith shows up. His name is Danny, and the license plate donning the front of his van says, "Jesus Loves You."

So the Christian locksmith spends the next hour fiddling with the lock to my front door. I eventually text Lora and suggest we reschedule, due to my inability to be prepared with a spare key and the Christian Locksmith's inability to pick my front door lock. After a while, he suggests we try the back door. So he gathers up his tools, and E and I gather up ALL OF THE DINOSAURS and head to the back of the house. He begins picking the lock and after about 15 minutes, the back door pops open....

....and there....gleaming in the bright, glorious sunlight....is my stripper pole.

Without missing a beat, the Christian Locksmith says, "Well....that's just not something you see everyday!" and he packed up his stuff and headed back to his Jesus van.

So I really have nothing to report on this edition of Fatty Friday...except this little pearl of wisdom....

....if you're going to lock yourself out of your house....there are two important things you should remember.....

1. Take down your stripper pole.

2. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE ALL OF THE DINOSAURS.

I mean really...it's just good sense.

Happy Fatty Friday! (a day late!)

Bittersweet

The day is finally here....my last day of work at my current job. Of course, if we're being totally honest, my last day of "work" was probably two weeks ago. Today is the last day of me "keeping my desk chair warm with my butt while I check facebook and blog about aspartame."

It's actually going to be a little hard for me to walk out of the door this afternoon. BUT. I mean...it has turned into a HORRIBLE (did you notice that I capitalized that...yeah...there's a reason) place to work. The management lives for breathing down your neck, nothing is ever good enough, the product is declining faster than the economy, and there is just no money to be made right now. It's hard to adequately explain the frustration that hovers right at eye level in this office, waiting to attack you the moment you walk in the door. How can I make you understand.....? ...............

It's a horribly bad haircut, fuzz on your contact lens, wet underwear in your crack kind of experience. It just sucks...and when you find yourself in the midst of it...there's just no pretending it doesn't exist.

So yes, I'm glad to be leaving. However, there are some great people here that I'm really going to miss. This office, while being the general source of plenty of misery as of late, has also been the home to people who let me cry on them when my life fell apart, listened to stories about all my first dates, and in general helped me to believe that life was going to be ok again...and sure enough, they knew what they were talking about.

Sometimes moving on is painful. Sometimes it's sad. Sometimes it's just necessary. In this particular case, I think it's just the next leg of the journey that will get me a smidge closer to God's best for me. So in more ways than one that's a move I'm happy to make.

***********************************************

In Other News:

There may possibly be a road trip coming up for E and me! This excites me in a BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS kind of way! Details to come....

Auf Wiedersehen Aspartame

So the other day I read someone's blog. Sorry for this epic fail, but I really don't remember who it was. I was whoring around the blogosphere, and can't for the life of me remember where I saw this little tidbit. If it was your blog, speak up and I'll totally link to you. My bad. (She totally caught me in the midst of my brain fart...thanks to Robyn for ridding me of this poison!)




Anyway...this blogger was talking about how she loved diet coke until she read that aspartame was poison. Really? Poison? My diet coke? No! But because I felt in my gut it might be true, I googled "side effects of aspartame" and realized that yes...the makers of diet coke are trying to kill me slowly with their thirst quenching bubbly goodness.

As it turns out, there are 92...yes, 92 health symptoms related to aspartame consumption. Read about them here. http://www.sweetpoison.com/. Most of them, thankfully, do not apply to me...yet....but here are a few of the ones that do:

ringing in the ears

trouble with contact lenses

restless legs

drowsiness

insomnia (wait..didn't I just say drowsiness...I'm a freak.)

palpitations/tachycardia

low blood sugar

increased craving for sweets

memory loss...

(I blame not knowing which blog I was reading on the makers of diet coke. Totally NOT.MY.FAULT.)

So...all that said, I'm going off aspartame, which translates to no more diet coke for this diet coke lover. It's a sad, sad day here at Grace.Gets.Greater. I mean really...I've already limited myself to one chicken burrito a week and now this. Can life really get any worse? Yeah...don't answer that!

How am I ever going to cut diet coke out of my diet? Lucky for me, there is a 10 step program on the website to assist addicts like myself. Awesome, right??? Not so much. I mean the first step made sense I guess. If you're on a mission to remove aspartame from your diet, it makes sense that step 1 would be "Remove aspartame from your diet." Brilliant. There were a couple of other steps in there that seemed reasonable. "Replenish nutrients. Exercise and Get Plenty of Rest." But steps 4 and 10 really threw me for a loop:

Step 4: Be Happy With Yourself

Step 10: Get Control of Your Life

What a revelation! It wasn't the pain of divorce that caused me to be depressed or feel out of control! It wasn't the moving around and the starting over! It wasn't the fact that nothing was turning out like I had wanted it to! No....none of that had anything to do with my roller coaster life over the past year! IT WAS THE ASPARTAME! And now that I know that...I'm so much happier with myself and feel so much more in control of my life. Cursed be the evil coke company for slowly poisoning my self esteem and life's ambitions with their wretched faux sugar food additive! I shake my fist at you in dismay! You hear that??? I SHAKE MY FIST AT YOU!

Apparently I'm cranky this morning. It's a really fine line as to whether or not the blame lies with aspartame detox or the fact that I'm drinking gross unsweet tea and had yogurt for breakfast instead of a succulent chicken burrito. Yes...very fine line indeed.

Online Dating Queen of the South

I am the unofficial online dating queen of the south.

This isn’t a title that I aspired to when I first found myself single again. I mean…online dating??? Really???

But here’s the lowdown on yours truly. I’m divorced. I’m a mom. I work 40 hours a week. I go to school all freakin’ day long on Saturdays. I don’t really like going out. I don’t have a “group” of friends…just random amazing people from various points in my life. I’m not yet plugged into a church…and don’t really want to go to church with the intent of dating anyway. I HATE bars and clubs. And honestly…when I do have time to do something that isn’t related to work, school, or mommying…I tend to do it quietly, either by myself, or with someone from my list of favorite people.

To sum up…I’m boring. And damn it….I’M FINE WITH THAT!

I have managed to stumble across a few men in real life during the last year or so that ended up turning into dates. There was The Bad Boy…who was a total waste of my time. There was “That guy who is a cousin of a friend of a friend of a friend…” (you get the picture.) Obviously he didn’t last long enough to even warrant me donning him with a kick ass blogger nickname. And then there was Mr. Right? the son of The Neighbor Lady…who, while a totally awesome man…ended up not being so “right” for me.

I admit that the social stigma of online dating had kind of gotten to me. I mean…isn’t that for losers….for people who sit in their parents’ basements and masturbate during reruns of Saved By the Bell? I probably would have maintained this theory….save for my Freakishly Amazing Sister.

The FAS is in a loving committed relationship…with someone she met online. He’s not a loser. He’s not a creep. He’s not after money. He’s not even a fan of Saved by the Bell.

So in an effort to get back on the proverbial horse, I booted up my computer and pasted my pretty picture online. Viola! Multiple date offers in a matter of minutes. Literally.

I’ll admit that there is a lot of crap to sift through…but that’s true of the 3 dimensional men too. Some of my “favorite” online dating responses include:

“Well aren’t you just the cutest thing ever? Why don’t you write me back and tell me what dream I can make come true for you tonight.”

“Yo, let’s hit it.”

“wat up?”

And then there was the guy who sent a VERY long email with a VERY detailed description of what our future sex life and dream home would be like. He even selected a paint color for our future kitchen…because I’d “need a pretty kitchen to cook in…naked.” (I promptly flagged his profile, threw up in my mouth a little bit, and set off to shower.)

But in the midst of the crap, there’s always someone worth a second glance. Super Man and The HM are products of my online dating experiences, and while I don’t necessarily see a future with them, they have both made my life unequivocally better…and their friendship alone is worth all the crappy loser-laden emails that I’ve deleted.

The thing about online dating is that you never really know what a person’s reaction is going to be when you blurt out, “I met him online.” Sometimes they smile approvingly and want to know more. Sometimes they seem surprised that you would go that route seeing as how “you could get any guy you wanted.” And sometimes…sometimes they crinkle up their nose like they just smelled a really fragrant fart. (Just one more thing to add to the list of "Life’s Crap Shoots.”)

The result of my crazy dating life since the divorce is that I’ve dated enough men to know what I want and what I’m looking for, whereas before, I was willing to settle for a lot less than I deserved. Thanks to the handful of men that I’ve gone to dinner with, whether they made their initial appearance in my life in 3D form or with an online profile, I’ve learned to separate the bad from the good…the non-dateable from the dateable….”the one for right now” from “the one.” And in the midst of the vulgar emails and stuck up noses of naysayers….for me that translates to

Success dot com.

Dear Moment Monday

Dear Moment,
I've heard about you, but until now, I didn't really know what the fuss was about. There are a lot of people in the room. It's kind of dark...there are only candles to light the front of the room. It's quiet. My boyfriend is sitting next to me with his head in his hands. There is something stirring inside of me. I can't really explain it, because this is a place that I've never really visited before.

It's amazing how quiet it is in the room, and how loud it is in my head. There is an argument...a marriage of strange voices that I don't recognize urging me to act, yet ridiculing me for the thought of doing so. The man in the front of the room continues to speak...but I stopped hearing his words long ago. The voices in my head are louder than he.

My cranberry colored sweater is itchy. I'm hot. I'm uncomfortable. This room is not big enough for the size of the thoughts swimming in my head. Breathing is more difficult in this room than it should be. I look around....maybe someone will open a door and let some air in.

Moment, what if people are watching? What if people realize that I've been an impostor? What if they notice? What if they know...finally? I don't want to get up. Don't make me get up.

And then there's the voice in my head again...."Get up. It's time."

I stand and walk out the door to the side, where I'm met by a lady...her name tag is friendly, "Hello. My Name Is....Connie." We sit. She begins talking....I begin crying. And then nothing is the same as it once was.

Moment, I finally get what the fuss was all about. After years of hearing about this place, I have arrived. I know what it means. I know what it's about. I know....it's not about me. Connie hands me a book and an ink pen, and still friendly, instructs me to write the date followed by 4 words. I begin writing...my hand is a little shaky...my breath coming easier than before....easier than ever before....just 4 little words...but Moment, there was nothing little about them.

October 27, 1996

I accepted Jesus Christ.

Dear Moment, thanks for the memory.

Dear Lord....for everything else.

Fatty Friday Volume 2

Ok ladies...and Dad...the moment you've all been waiting for. Get your "laughing at me" pointer finger ready and swallow that drink of morning OJ, lest you see what I'm about to post and spit it through your nose in horror.

I weigh 155 pounds.

There....ripping off that band aid wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be! I really am a freak....how many 28 year old single women honestly go around blabbing their weight on the internet for all the world to see??? To date, I think I'm the only one I know of. Woo Hoo.....I'm a trend setter! (Ok, maybe not. I think the very definition of trendsetter is someone who does something that everyone else then gets all excited about doing. I doubt many of you will hop on this particular trendsetting train. Oh well....can't blame a girl for trying.)

I don't really have a firm goal weight in mind. I've always weighed kind of heavy, and God just did not design me to be skinny. And honestly, whenever I get to whatever weight I end up at...I want to eat a freaking brownie without feeling guilty about it. So my goal isn't to be super skinny or to "weigh what I did in high school." The amount of work required to keep that up just isn't lurking anywhere in the midst of this particular 155 pounds. True story.

My goal is to feel 100% sexy and confident in my own skin. I'm about 85% there right now....which is about an 85% increase over where I was just a year ago.....get a load of THAT progress! I know for a fact that I'm super svelte at 140 pounds...so I guess that's a personal goal. But I haven't weighed that post baby....so I don't know if it's an easily maintainable weight for me. All that rambling to say....I don't really have a goal weight....just a "goal percentage of personal confidence. "

Why did you feel compelled to broadcast to the world the one number that every woman guards with her life and lies about at any given opportunity? Why you ask?

Well...here's the deal. I'm traveling on my own little journey towards personal freedom. It is a process that for me, started with divorce, and will end somewhere that currently only God knows about. On this journey, I'm determined to be released from the shackles of the past that bind me. One of those particular shackles happens to be how I look and "Oh God, what do other people think of me?" For oh so long, what other people thought of me...how other people saw me....it all just felt like THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD.

Over the last 18 months I've been in a continuous process of "becoming someone I actually like," and I'm happy to say that not only do I like the person that I've become....I actually love her.

All 155 pounds of her to be exact.

I know so many women who are caught up on the number on the scale. Some of them even treat the obsession as a religious experience. I'm bound and determined that the number on the scale will no longer be a direct reflection of how I see myself. Does it matter how I look? Not really. As long as I feel 100% confident in who I am, and I'm able to love the woman that God has created me to be, then everything else is really JUST A NUMBER. It's the freedom in knowing THAT that allows me to share exactly how much I weigh. Do I want to lose some weight? Sure! But the end goal isn't really a number....it's just the knowledge that I am venturing down a path towards TOTAL confidence and acceptance of this woman who stares back at me from the mirror. It's not necessarily easy to share my weight with the ends of the internet...it's not all that easy to know that some of you may chatter about it....but that's your deal....

155 pounds is so much lighter than the weight of the world.

HAPPY FATTY FRIDAY!

Definition

This week has just been plain ol' weird. I'm in the process of working out my two weeks notice. I hated my job before, and now that I know I'm leaving, I'm motivated to do absolutely nothing. I'm trying to give a crap....but I admit it...I'm crapless.



Also, I had been right smack dab in the middle of reading "The Good Divorce" for class. I had to write a paper, and this book, by Constance Ahrons was on the list. Since I pride myself on being "The Best Damn Ex Wife Ever" I figured it would be a worthwhile read. As it turns out, I've been living The Good Divorce for quite some time now. Pat me and Ex on the back....we've done a bang up job!



Here's the irony....



Tuesday night, I was reading the chapter on what happens when you or your ex decides to remarry and what that does to your "binuclear family" (a fancy term for two households that function with one family goal in mind.)



Wednesday...the other dangling shoe finally dropped. Ex is marrying his girlfriend. I guess I should stand up and applaud this decision. She's pregnant with his baby girl, and them being married is a lot better than E growing up wondering why his daddy lives with his little sister's mommy but never married her. So way to go Ex....good decision...or something like that.

Dear Ex...I went to Wal-Mart today in search of the perfect card. The good news is I found my favorite gum on sale. The bad news is...it looks like Hallmark isn't quite ready for the likes of you!

So here's the thing. I blog in general about my divorce quite frequently, but I tend to shy away from specifics. There are a multitude of reasons for this, the biggest of which is that the specifics really no longer matter. I think it's safe to say that both Ex and I feel that our marriage pretty much bitch slapped us both, and we're better off now than we were two years ago.



Here's the part that does matter...in short story exchange of course. Picture this....



It's last week. We are outside my current office, and Ex has just brought E to me. This is an unusual occurrence in the middle of the week. E has been having a harder time transitioning between parents lately, so we try to give him time to adjust when pick ups and drop offs occur. During the time that E is adjusting, Ex and I are having friendly conversation as always. In the middle of me telling a (riveting) story, Ex grabs me by the face, looks entirely too concerned for my comfort, gets right up with me nose to nose and says,



"What the hell...are you ok?"



Me: Ummm yeah....what are you doing?



Him: Your eyes are yellow. The whites of your eyes are yellow!



(At this point I know exactly why he's freaking out. And I mean...HE WAS FREAKING OUT. His grandmother died several years ago of liver cancer, and just before she was diagnosed she became jaundiced to the point that no one could ignore it, and the whites of her eyes yellowed. She passed away very quickly.)



Me: Really? Oh wow...(now I'm all nervous)



Him: Oh wait....no they aren't....it's my shirt. (He's wearing a CANARY yellow shirt.)



Me: (indignantly) You scared me to death!



Him: Well you SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!



And then we did a big "E in the middle" bear hug, and he got in his truck and left.

You see...the specifics aren't important. The important thing is this...

We love each other. We have loved each other for 12 years now. It never mattered who we were with, whether or not we were married, or at what point we were at in our divorce. Getting divorced doesn't kill that kind of love. Ending your marriage, moving out of your house, setting up a split schedule, having a new baby, or marrying someone else....none of that is big enough to end our relationship. We are family. We will always be family. And we will always love each other like family.



Were we meant to be married? I can safely say no. We were stupid kids who thought love was enough and learned the hard way that it most definitely isn't. Were we meant to share a home, and finances, and goals, and dreams? No. Both of us are happier now that we are not trying to intertwine our lifestyles and our desires. They didn't mesh. They didn't work. WE didn't work. Were we meant to be husband and wife? Our situation speaks loudly and clearly...we weren't. That door has since been closed....and new doors have since been opened. Life has started over...and started differently. Were we meant to be a couple? No.

Were we meant to be family? What does this tell you?

Love doesn't dry like ink on a divorce decree. And family isn't something you're born into...it's something you make. Our living situation has changed. Our love looks differently than it did a while back. We are picking up and moving on, and there are new people taking their places in the picture. Is it easy? No. Is it pretty? No. Is it comfortable? No.

Is it family?

ALWAYS.

Dear Moment Monday

***Dear Moment Monday is a new weekly feature I've decided to include in my blog. It came to me the other day, when I was driving down the road and was struck by a memory that seemed to come out of nowhere. There are so many of those so often.....so on Monday's you'll get to read about them! Yay, you!****

Dear Moment,

This is the first, and only, time that this has ever happened to me. I'm sitting in the car, a passenger just enjoying the view. The radio is on. The destination is getting closer, and the anticipation is heavy. I'm looking out the window, and there is a navy blue Honda traveling parallel to the black explorer I'm riding in. Inside the navy blue Honda, there is a couple. They must be happy. The man is driving, and the woman, his wife I assume, is making eye contact with me. She's smiling and waving, and she's mouthing something to me. It takes me a minute to realize that yes, she's smiling and waving at me! What is she saying? I can't quite make it out. She mouths it again, this time moving her mouth slowly and deliberately so I can make out the word.

Moment, do you realize that I think of you and remember the feeling of accomplishment that I had experienced in the passing hours? Do you know that right now, in this black explorer, you are what defines me? Do you know that I waited for you and longed for you, and you're finally here? Do you know how much I wanted you? I'm filled with anticipation for what's to come. I'm ready to take on the world. I know that nothing will ever be the same. I know that there will be only good times ahead. I know...I just KNOW...that this is what it feels like to be at the beginning of forever.

I look at the woman in the navy blue honda again. She's so excited. She must be really happy to be so excited. She's still smiling and waving and mouthing that word at me.

That word is "Congratulations."

Because on the side of the black explorer, written in shoe polish, are the words, "Just Married."

Dear Moment,
It's a good thing I didn't know then what I know now. I may never have stepped out from behind the safety of the air bag.

But thanks for the memory just the same.

As promised....FATTY FRIDAY...volume 1

I know....you've been EAGERLY awaiting an opportunity to jump on this post like a chunky pole dancing, soapmaking blogger on a "trawberry nuffin." Rest easy, my friend....

IT'S FATTY FRIDAY!

So what exactly IS Fatty Friday, you ask? Well....it's my new method of being accountable for the amount of fat that is currently hanging on for dear life to my belly and back. And while there's not nearly as much there as that one time just after I spawned another human being...there're still plenty of jiggling bits hanging around...much to my dismay.

Since the human being that I spawned that one time is now 2 years old, I don't think I can get away any longer with blaming the jiggling bits on him. It's accountability time, baby! I had decided that I was going to weigh myself and ACTUALLY POST MY WEIGHT ON THE INTERNET FOR THE WHOLE WORLD TO SEE. I know....isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard!? I was really going to do it. I was just going to throw every ounce of pride left in me to the wind. I figured that if you all knew exactly what my starting weight was, that it might just "internet peer pressure" me into sticking to my gameplan of shedding some serious poundage.

But I couldn't find my bathroom scale this morning. I'll hunt for it this weekend, and in the meantime seriously consider that maybe the fact that I couldn't find the bathroom scale is a sign that God doesn't want me to experience such vast internet humiliation. Can I get an AMEN?

So instead of broadcasting my weight, I will instead confess that last night, just before I embarked on this Fatty Friday journey, I met up with The Musicmaker. And I MAY have had a tall, full fat, shot of sugary hazelnut syrup added, whipped cream topped hot chocolate.

And MAYBE.....just MAYBE...I chased it with a Rice Krispie treat the size of my face.

And MAYBE...just MAYBE....while I was eating the Rice Krispie treat the size of my face and she was chomping on a triangular wedge of fudgy goodness....there MIGHT possibly have been a conversational exchange about certain people we went to college with who have gained so much weight that we feel sorry for them. (Said, of course with love...and while throwing the last bits of sugary goodness into our mouths.)

The irony of that conversation is not lost on us....and I feel pretty certain that I, for one, will shortly be reaping the deserved punishment of "Raw Vegetables and Sugar Detox." Let the games begin. Anyone else want to confess as we climb aboard the accountability train?

Welcome to Fatty Friday!

PRAISE GOD!

Guess which pole dancing, soap making, single mommying, blogger freak just landed a new job!!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS ONE!

Thank you so much for all the prayers and support!

This whole blogger thing is definitely worth the money! ; )

Goodbye "trawberry nuffins"

A couple of weeks ago I was in the store armed with my snazzy little photo album of coupons. Cake mix was on sale, so of course I bought cake mix(es). And because I'm a Cracker Jack Mama, I went home and baked cupcakes for E....ok....and because I was craving cake. Normally, I would have gravitated toward some variation of chocolatey goodness, but this time around the strawberry cake mix was calling my name.

I opted not to frost the cupcakes for two reasons.

A. Because two year olds make one big muck of a mess with frosting...

and

2. Because if I left the can of frosting in the fridge, I could eat random spoofuls of it whenever I wanted. Embarrassing? Yes. True? Yes.

So for the two days that followed the baking of the frostingless cupcakes, E toddled around the house going, "I want trawberry nuffin peeeeaaase!" And I must admit....I was quite a "nuffin" fan myself.

Sadly, those days are gone. I am turning over a nuffin-less leaf and stepping back on the low carb band wagon. I really don't need to lose a lot of weight, but I would definitely not be opposed to shedding about 10-15 lbs. Twice in my adult life I have hit the low-carb diet faithfully with fat seemingly melting off my body on each occassion. Now, however, I think my body is at a very comfortable weight that is easy for me to maintain with little to no effort. I doubt anyone would see me and think I was fat...but I'm not as trim and toned as I would like to be.

And since it's difficult for me to lose weight when I try to do it secretively, I'm telling all 3 or 4 of you that regularly read this thing..."I'm trying to lose weight!" I need some accountability. So tomorrow, you are cordially invited to the first edition of "Fatty Friday." I make no promises about what "Fatty Friday" will consist of...as I haven't totally decided how much of myself I really want to put out there for the ends of the internet to point and laugh at....but there might be a before picture and a tear jerking story about how much I miss my morning Chick Fil A Chicken burrito. I know....you're in actual pain over the sheer anticipation of it all. Try to contain yourself.

And if there's anyone out there who would like to join me in "Fatty Friday," feel free to hop on board the accountability train! I'm pretty sure dieting is more fun if you aren't doing it alone...."NUFFIN" TOPS UNITE!

Stay tuned for riveting stories about my fat. (God...this blog just gets better and better.)

Meet the Cast

Looking back on college, there is one year that stands out above all the others. It is the year of "Apt. 507." It was my (first) senior year in college, and I lived in a 4 bedroom apartment with 2 amazing friends, one stranger of a roommate, and another friend who often rented our couch. There were a lot of good memories made in Apt. 507 and several good stories worth retelling. During the year, we realized that our collective life within the apartment was excellent sitcom fodder. Upon this realization, a screenplay was scribbled in someone's spiral notebook, and the running joke within this living space became, "That's one for the sitcom."

I was thinking about "Apt. 507" this morning, because the more I look at my life these days, the more "sitcom-ish" it seems. I mean really....do I have a job, do I not have a job, am I dating a guy, am I not dating a guy, if I am dating a guy is it the same guy I was dating the last time you read my blog...probably not...not to mention the fact that I'm a pole dancing soapmaker. Things these days are a little bit unpredictable...

...but there is a small cast of people in my world that when things go all wacky and unpredictable, they are there to peach things right up. MY GOD THEY ARE GOOD AT THAT! And I think it's high time you meet the cast. You see, I've been giving a lot of credit to the men that I've been dating...but you haven't had the honor of meeting the people who listen to me rant, rave, and confess on a regular basis.

Here they are in (mostly) random order:

The Parents: I lump them together because for the past, oh, 18 of my 28 years, they have been the very definition of Team Sara. They love me unconditionally, and despite their eyebrows, which are often raised in my direction, they are rock-solidly THERE. And I don't know how I could keep the little sanity that I have left if I didn't KNOW THAT TO MY VERY CORE.

Freakishly Amazing Sister (FAS): I used to think she was an absolute freak. Now I think she's "freakishly amazing." We somehow manage to be polar opposites and exactly the same all at once. I used to wish she was more "normal" and I used to think life would be easier if I wasn't always in her shadow. Now, she lives way too many states away from me, and I think life in the safety and coolness of that shadow wasn't so bad after all. She is the first place I turn when things go to complete shit...and she never seems to mind getting a little bit on her. And God, how I love her for that.

Now for the randomosity....

The Musicmaker: She was a resident of Apt 507 with me. I used to be afraid of letting people see who I really was. What if they judged? What if they didn't approve? She taught me that true friends know ALL of the bad stuff, and love your guts anyway. She makes cd's for me, because she knows I'm completely incapable of downloading music, and because of her, my car is full of various options for your listening pleasure. Want to party at the stop light? I have cd for that. Want to go all mellow and drive 10 miles under the speed limit? I have a cd for that too. She is, in fact, one of the most amazing people on the planet, and I am blessed beyond measure to call her FRIEND. Our friendship is not convenient and takes planning and understanding to nurture...but we do it...because we were meant to.

Mama J: She was the first friend I made at college. We lost touch, but have reconnected. Now she's my Mama friend. She understands the importance of your child doing something incredibly amazing....like peeing in the potty or dancing to the theme song of their favorite show. She is faithful and brutally honest. She is one of the most down to earth people I know, and she has an incredible way of snapping me out of the clouds and into a pleasant view of reality. She has also shown me a true demonstration of what trusting God's plan looks like, as her journey hasn't always been daisy-laden. She GETS IT...and gives it right back.

The Pillow: This, ironically enough, is my former mother in law, Ex's stepmother. The introduction at parties goes something like this: "Hi..this is my friend...she was my friend first...then I married her son...and gave her another grandchild....but then I divorced her son...so now we're just friends again....but she's still family because of E....but mainly we're just friends." And thank God for that! She went through the same Masters program that I am going through, so she's a mentor in that respect. But mainly she's a sounding board for all things life. And through all of the drama of uprooting and replanting, she has remained steadfast as my friend. I firmly believe that she has been blessed with a spirit of adoption, and I am blessed to be one of "her's." Over the years, she has provided a safe place in which I can dig into my core...and her shoulder happens to be a safe place to cry...I know...because I do it frequently.

My Peep: When I decided to move to a new town, she vowed to be "my person." This meant I had permission to call at all hours of the day or night and she promised to be there. She has exceeded this promise by listening to all of my emotional aches and pains over these past months, and she is always ready with some kind of supportive comment. I know I can depend on her to be there in a pinch, and the comfort in that has been tremendous.

Last but not least

Soul Sister: I met her only 8 months ago when I started my graduate program. We "just happened" to walk into the building together on that first day, and "just happened" to sit by each other. We went to lunch that day, and it's been history ever since. I have never in my life connected with a human being so quickly and so genuinely as I have with her, and I value our friendship more than chocolate itself. We can laugh doing absolutely nothing, and the soul baring that takes place over dessert is both reciprocal and respected. A lot of our conversations start with, "Ok...I need you to put on your non judgemental hat" and end with "You know I'm gonna love ya anyway." And that...is real friendship.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. There are so many people who love and support me on a regular basis. But these are the core people in my sitcom. I am blessed to the point of having absolutely no words to have them in my life. The fact that they choose to be there makes them that much more special...and that much more insane. But I'm sure glad they keep coming back.

PS...there is an open casting call for "Gay Guy to Shop With"....if you know of anyone, send him my way.

C-phobia

It's official. I'm a commitment phobe.

I realized this over the course of the past couple of days as I was sorting things out in my head about the HM. The HM continues to be remarkably sweet, available, and pleasant to be around. I enjoy his company and am glad that we met. He's one of those guys that I think any girl would be lucky to have.

However, the thought of committing myself to a relationship at this point freaks me out. As I sorted this out in my mind I realized it's because one of 3 things is bound to happen should dating turn into "Hey look, I just changed my facebook status, and now I'm in a relationship for the whole world to see."

1. I'll get hurt.

2. I'll hurt him.

3. We'll get married.

I DON'T LIKE ANY OF THESE OPTIONS!

Do I want a relationship? Um...do people like Paris Hilton better when she's made of wax? YES! HELL YES! What I DON'T want is another painful ending. With that thrown out there into the blogosphere, I think it's safe to say that what I want and what I'm ready for may be very different. The thing is...when I do something, I DO IT. I don't want to get into a relationship that I don't feel ready to give 100%.

And as much as I hate it...I don't feel up to 100% just yet. I'd like to think I was there...but I'm pretty sure that when the thought of making yourself vulnerable to a relationship again puts you on the floor in the fetal position sucking your thumb....odds are....you're not there yet. Just a hunch.

At any rate, the HM handled the "I'm scared poopless" conversation like the true champ that I believe he is...and he has agreed to stick around in true HM fashion for dates and dinner and other non-committed type activities with absolutely no expectation whatsoever. See what I mean??? Handy.

In other news, on Saturday I was the proud owner of a really old house with one lonely little prickly shrub out front. As of Sunday afternoon, I am the proud owner of this:

LANDSCAPING!!!

Obviously there is still a lot to be done....but I am now one of those people who can dance around like the true dork that I am proclaiming, "Get a load of my symmetrical foliage!" And even better...I did it all by myself.

Ok...that last part isn't true. I planned to do it all by myself. But then the Neighbor Lady, apparently over the fact that I broke her son's heart, came out and told me I would never get finished shoveling the way I was. So she may have helped a little.....

Overcast

Today, the sun is starting to peek out from behind the clouds. It's really pretty outside, and I'm loving that spring is starting to show its sweet face.

But in my head, the mood is drearily overcast. I can't seem to shake this funk. I blame it entirely on whatever Idiot came up with the idea of assigning value to paper and then exchanging said paper for goods and services.

If God hadn't made that idiot, then I wouldn't need a job. I also wouldn't be living in a day to day fog of dread over losing said job, thus being riddled with a deficit of said paper in which to purchase said goods and services.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm still in peril over my job situation. There are a couple of irons in the fire, so it's not hopeless, but in case you've been living under a rock for the past several months, the economy sucks, and it's not easy to make a career move right now. The thing about my situation is that I do have long term direction in my life. God very clearly instructed me to go back to school. In about two years, I will be ready to make a long term career move, so in the interim I just need something to get me by. You see, the mortgage company, for some unfathomable reason, insists that I send them money every month. So does the electric company. And the water department. And the people at Victoria's Secret. Rat bastards, all of them!

At any rate, I'm tired of my lack of job security translating into me being in a piss poor mood. My life is actually pretty great! I have good friends, my child is happy, healthy, and remarkably well adjusted (despite having complete loony toons for parents!), I am in no immediate danger of the powers that be coming to take away my house or my Victoria's Secret flat pocket linen pants, and last night, I enjoyed a wonderful dinner date with The HM, who is also planning to change the oil in my car...A. Because he knows how...and 2. Because he likes me. He didn't even give me a lecture when the subject of oil changes came up and he asked, "So when are you due for an oil change?" To which I replied, "Two thousand miles ago." So maybe, just maybe, I should stop being so "overcast" and start being all "sunshiny."

Nevertheless, I wish I had been around when all of this "money in exchange for goods and services" crap originally came up. I feel certain that I would have spoken up and said it was a bad idea. I feel certain that I would have demonstrated to the Idiot how such a system would inevitably lead to frustration across the board. Then I feel certain that I would have regaled him with stories about a single mom whose job is in peril...so she has been living off of yogurt for the past week...not because she likes yogurt....but simply because there were really good coupons in the paper and a buy one get one free special at the local Kroger...and because of His Idiocy, she is afraid to spend money on food she actually likes but has no coupon for.

Yeah....a horror story like that would have changed everything.

WHAT?!?! I won something!!!

Many thanks to my new blogger friend, Lora, who gave me this award!!! It's my first, and I'm excited about it to the point that I think it's safe for all of you to point fingers at me and call me a big giant dork! But at any rate, it totally made my day! Thanks so much, friend! When are we going to get that coffee???


So the rules are:
1. I link to the person who gave me the award.
2. I share 7 things that I love.
3. I share 7 blogs I love (and link to them)
4. I comment on posts by those seven people telling them that I gave them the award.

Seven things I love....geez...just seven???
1. E...of course
2. couch cuddling
3. discovering a new homemade soap recipe
4. being in the park when it's sunny outside
5. finding a kick ass dress on sale
6. good conversations with great girlfriends
7. actually having peace that God has IT...whatever IT may be...completely under control.

Seven blogs I love....geez....just seven???
1. Married Without Children...because she's incredibly encouraging and I adore her!
2. Just Playing Pretend...she is witty and tells it like it is
3. Just an Everyday Bitch....her issues are shockingly similar to mine, so when she blogs about therapy, it hits home hard!
4. I Married the Pastor....she's a lover of clothes and Mexican food, and she makes no excuses for anything!
5. Lady Tells All....because she's not afraid to do just that!
6. The Soundtrack of My Dreams...because she knows everything about me and loves me anyway. And I love her guts.
7. Journey of Jen...because old friends made new again are God's nifty little thumbs up.

Thanks again, Lora!!!