The Conversationalist

My favorite subject in school was English. I loved it. I bought Cliff's Notes just like the next kid, but I loved writing, and if it was my choice of reading material, I loved that, too. My friends often asked me to 'help' them write their papers. My friend Amy once told me I could bullshit my way through any subject. She was right.

I know now that life is very much made up of conversations... words. If it were not for words, we would just be thrusting our bodies around to attract the opposite sex, and beating people up to get a point across. Words can be beautiful... they can be manipulative... they can be sweet, and they can be evil.

Math was always my downfall. I hated it. I still do! Admittedly, I count on my fingers when I'm playing Yahtzee. I carry the one, count like a child and often cannot remember "simple" multiplication... I simply don't like it.

To me, English (or your language of choice) is so much more relevant. While we have dictionaries and thesauruses (which I LOVE by the way), much of our individuality has to do with our words, the way we use them and our knowledge, which would not be properly expressed without conversation.

There is no uniqueness in numbers. I understand why people are fascinated by them. I once knew a man who could multiply 1,549.268790385 by 3,453,209.44123430 in his head! He amazed me! Honestly, I thought he was odd, but I'm sure numbers people see us language people as equally as odd. I get that.

I've started journal after journal over the years. I've always had a love for terminology, expressions, grammar and the pure amusement of words.

I absolutely love it when someone says a word that is not spoken on a day to day basis. I like to throw "hiatus", "nonchalant", "passive", "mediocre", "dung" and other random words into sentences. It's not that they're difficult words... they just aren't used as often as "poop", "vacation", "quiet" and "okay"... see what I mean? Boring compared to BAZOW! I like to be that BAZOW girl! One thing I never, ever want to be called... BORING! That is worse than a slap in the face!

So, while the math nuts hang out, crunch numbers and don't spend money on huge desk-size calculators, I will enjoy my fascinating, and often foul-mouthed vocabulary, while I count on my fingers & use my calculator to multiple 4X12.

Often, it's the words we use that make us the person we are.

Well, dung!

Risky Business & Late Night Picnics

I've drank both nights this weekend. After Friday night's solo drinking, I had no next-day side effects. Unfortunately my luck didn't carry over into today. I'm so tired. My head hurts. And I now know that Jack Daniel's Down Home Punch is not the best beverage for a calorie-counting weight loser. I've concluded that skinny girls who drink every night must not eat... they drink their calories. I've realized that unless I can bite into it, it's probably not worth the calories... unless it's a cappuccino, or some other type of fancy coffee. I think I'll stick to my natural high-on-life perspective. It's much cozier here.

I was quite amused when one of my best friends stopped by at 1:30am yesterday. We had a middle of the night picnic outside. These are the activities that can only be truly appreciated while intoxicated. We laid there & talked... I drank my punch. She drank her Koolaid. We act drunk even when we're not, so the picnic wasn't much of a stretch for either of us. We ate Doritos together, and attempted to play Marco Polo with other drunken neighbors. We thought about fishing in the creek next to my house, but resorted to just laying there... I love laying in the grass... whether I'm under the influence or not. It's a strange fixation of mine. I could probably sleep outside every night & be perfectly peaceful... if it weren't for psycho serial killers & the crazy neighbor lady who asks us to petition for big trucks to be moved from the immediate area. Yeah, she sucks.

On a happy note, I'm starting to be able to feel a difference in my clothes since I've been losing weight. It feels good! I am appreciating the ride... I decided to do that... to enjoy the process, rather than only appreciating the end result. I feel better about myself after a straight month of journaling and hard work. And, other than this day-after-drunkenness setback, I have had very few days where I go to bed or wake up feeling exhausted. I'm much more energetic, and that makes me one seriously happy loser!

I've gotten away from posting a quote each day. I'll try. No promises, but I do promise to try ;)

Today's Quote:

I drink too much. The last time I gave a urine sample it had an olive in it.

-Rodney Dangerfield

Have a great day! I'm off to drink lots of water now... need to stock up on the ripply goodness of Cottonelle.

Kell ;)

Quickies in a Dream State...

Sunday nights are bittersweet. I'm sitting here, deciding whether to go to bed with my ever-available Nicholas Sparks, or watch Desperate Housewives. I really don't want to go to sleep. If I do, that means the weekend is over, and it's back to my simply chaotic life. If I don't, I'll wake up tired and groggy in the morning, wishing I had opted for a quickie with Nicholas, and then turned out the light, escaping to my vividly romantic dreamland. In all honesty, I rarely remember my dreams, but I know they are vivid from the few I have remembered.

A few years ago I had a dream that Eminem took full advantage of me, just like the hot French guy who took advantage of Diane Lane, in the steamy bathroom scene in Unfaithful. Although I had never thought of Eminem as hot, he became a short-term crush, solely based on his seemingly perfect bathroom love-making skills. I told my husband about it. He found it to be hilarious. Even now, if Eminem ever comes up in conversation, which very seldom happens, I see amusement in his eyes. It's been a while since the rapper has come up, but I'm sure I'll never live it down. My crush has long subsided.

I think it's incredible how our imaginations work when we're not even aware of it. I once bought a dream journal. I had good intentions to leave it by my bedside, and after a dream, I would open the book, scribble my dream details, and then look in the back to see how I should interpret them. I didn't even think about the fact that I am so muzzy when I wake up, there is no way I would take the time to write in a damn dream journal. I'd rather sleep. Jeez! What was I thinking? It sounded like a good thing to do at the time...

I do think it would be neat to have a compilation of all the dreams I've had, whether I've remembered them at some point or not. Maybe when I get to Heaven one day, I'll ask for the DVD. Actually, that surveillance alone may send me directly to the subterranean vault. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut, and hope that God doesn't judge us on our subconscious thoughts.

Alright... I'm off to have that quickie now...

Quote of the Day: “Dream what you want to dream; go where you want to go; be what you want to be, because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do.”

Toothpicks & Confidence

I don't think confidence is something that comes naturally for most women.

I noticed while I was at the gym earlier this week that many thin, beautiful girls & women are quite self-conscious. There was a girl on the treadmill in front of me who was looking around, tugging at her shirt to cover her barely-there booty, obviously about to have a panic attack, thinking someone may think or say she was fat.

On a machine beside me was a very pretty, round woman with a larger derriere, listening to her iPod, smiling and humming without a care in the world. She rocked! I stared at her for a long time. In fact, if she hadn't been in her own happy place, she may have wondered what the hell I was staring at. This woman did not care. She had no problem with her shape, and from the way she was working out, I have a strong feeling she is in excellent physical condition. The toothpick on the treadmill was walking at a snail's pace. The entire comparison was just eye-opening, and amusing.

I have never exuded self-confidence. I take that back. I was once told that I look stuck-up because I walk tall (I'm 5' 10" so I really have no choice) and look straight ahead. Since I was hit with this unsettling information, I am now always careful to smile at everyone, and normally I speak to them as well. That is, unless they are the type to interpret 'hello' as an invitation to talk for an hour about their perfect dog, and perfect kids and perfect flower garden... then I smile widely, and start walking just a little swifter.

So, okay, maybe I radiate self-assurance but it's always been a bit of a facade. I have very pale skin. I always have. I don't tan... at all... ever... luckily some guys think that's hot! :0) In all seriousness, kids find something about every other kid to pick on. Mine was obvious. And the mean things those kids said hurt me... for a long time.

Just the other day I wore a shorter skirt to work. Many of the residents commented on how nice I looked. They are all painfully pale, too. They understand. :) One of the first comments I heard from a staff member? "Girl, you need to find yourelf a tan"... other remarks included, but were not limited to, "have you ever heard of bronzer in a bottle?", "I never realized how white you are"... It was annoying at first, but then I realized it was actually amusing. Imperfect people pointing out my imperfections. Finally one of my favorite nurses said, "Well, what do they expect... your face is pale, and your arms... why would your legs be any different?" I loved her fori t.

See, I have very long legs. I actually think I have fabulous legs! Yes, I have tried the tan in a bottle, and I'm not writing it off... I may try again. But it streaks me. I know, I know.. there are lots of good braands out there... blah blah blah... the point is, when you are as ghostly as me, they are ALL gonna streak... between the fingers, on the ankle nubs... and should I go ahead & rub my ears with it so they will match my face? See? It's not so simple for a melaninless chick with daddy-longlegs! Seriously!

I realized that day at the gym how much less self-conscious I am now. I compare myself to the two chicks at the gym, and I realize I am a healthy in-between. I don't exactly hold my head up high, thinking I'm a hottie, but I don't stare nervously either, wondering if I'm the center of everyone's attention. I am not flawless. I have many imperfections. But I also have some pretty great qualities! I hear I am funny. I was just voted the most happy-go-lucky employee at work for the 2nd year running, I (as I mentioned before) have pretty damn good legs, I get the occasional boob compliment, I have good hair and I am going to have FABULOUS skin and look EXTREMELY young when I am old!

I enjoy my enhanced self-confidence. Nothing has boosted it except for time and experience. Ten years ago I would have never even noticed those two ladies at the gym, because I would have been too concerned about my own appearance. Today I can see the world, and not see only myself... just me in it.

Today's quote of the day:

“They can't hurt you unless you let them.”

Until tomorrow...

Kelly :)

Mother's Day: Damn It

It's Mother's Day! It's 2:21pm, I'm still in my pajamas (heaven!) and my kids are quietly watching a show (Powerpuff Girls... ugh) before naptime. In all honesty, we all still have our PJ's on. I decided this morning not to do anything today except relax, read, enjoy the babies and do whatever came to mind that did not involve work, other than the necessary diaper-changing for our 2-year old. Since then, I've loaded the washing machine 4 times, the dryer 3 times, I've cooked lunch & I've unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. I'm sitting here sweating from helping the kids pick up their toys (in conjunction with a very hot house) and I wouldn't have it any other way...

When I became a Mother, I realized how incredibly huge my heart could stretch! I remember the first time I heard each of the babies cry... Abbi and Aiden 4 minutes apart, and Logan exactly 2 years to the day later. There is nothing like those memories. They say never to let your memories be greater than your dreams. I believe that, but I also believe that such memories can never, ever be surpassed.

That brings me to my Quote of the Day:
Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ~Ambrose Bierce

I interpret this quote two ways, and I believe that both are true. Firstly, I believe that it is meant in a literal sense. If we believe it's cool, we automatically grab a jacket, a sweater, etc for our kiddos. Depending on the Mom's OCD level, she may also grab earmuffs, a scarf and snow boots. Hey, it's March, but you never know... it could go from the 60's to snow in 0-60 seconds. I happen to be in Ohio, where this is not far-fetched whatsoever.

I often help the kids get dressed and ready to go, check myself in the mirror by the door (I placed it there intentionally) and realize I forgot to fix my hair. Even more often, I start to walk out the door, only to realize I haven't put on my own shoes. It makes me laugh thinking about it. And a coat or jacket? Forget about it! Rarely do I leave the house in layers. But the kids... that's a completely different story. They are layered up like little onions... Once again, I wouldn't have it any other way. :)

I also interpret the fabulous quote of the day... here's a reminder... Sweater, n.: garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly. ~Ambrose Bierce to mean we struggle to protect our children. I, like most Moms I know, do not want their children to hurt... ever. We don't accept that other children are 'just mean'... that does not make it acceptable that they are mean to OUR kids! When we hear a story about a child being beaten, or worse, we automatically put ourselves in the position of the parent, and cannot imagine the deep pain they are feeling. We just want to protect them.

Before our babies were born, I never understood unconditional love fully. In an instant, one single solitary moment, we are taught so much. The more children we have, the more our hearts expand. It is absolutely accurate that we don't have to divide our love between our children... our hearts just swell more and more... and enable us to love each child more and more, unconditionally.

I must close this entry by telling you that my 4-year old daughter said, "damn-it" for the first time today. Although I do drop the occasional 'bad' word (see nearly all previous blog posts.. lol), Joel & I are very careful not to drop those words in front of the kids. Today I realized they are going to hear and learn these words one way or another... it made me a little sad when she said it, but it made me laugh, too... many more bad words to come, I'm sure. My heart will continue to swell, and to hurt, more & more...

Motherhood is so achingly sweet.

I Miss You

We spent another evening at the hospital. I promise to post a proper entry this weekend.
In the meantime, here is a wonderful quote/poem that matches my feelings right now precisely.

Where you used to be,

there is a hole in the world,

which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime,

and falling in at night.

I miss you like hell.

~Edna St Vincent Millay

Can't wait to talk to you again. -K

Hope

Today has been a long day & emotional day. I have been at the hospital with my best friend, and I do not have an ounce of energy left to write a fun or fancy blog post tonight. Instead, I will share this quote of the day. I believe it speaks for itself:

Hope is not a dream, but a way of making dreams a reality.

Talking Myself Through It...

I'm avoiding bed. When I go to bed, I know that in the blink of an eye I'll be awake... then off to the center... to have my surgery. I'm so extremely tired tonight, but I just can't make myself go in there... the bedroom... it's normally one of my very favorite places. Not tonight.

I often live my life in quotes. I think of uplifting sentiments constantly throughout my day. It helps. It's similar to positive affirmations with one whopping difference... I don't have to talk to myself in a mirror. That's just strange. Strange for me. If you enjoy talking to yourself in front of yourself, by all means, do your thing... say hi for me!

Anyway, I strayed from the topic a bit there... where was I? Mirrors... affirmations... quotes... oh yeah... avoiding sleep!

So my surgery tomorrow is outpatient. It's supposed to be a 30-minute procedure. I have had 3 surgeries in my lifetime. I have had 2 cesereans, which produced 3 beautiful babies, and I have had my wisdom teeth extracted... one caused pain... wait... they all caused pain... but the cesereans brought me beautiful blessings! The extractions just left me with big holes in my mouth.

The operation I'm having is common. It could be a quick in and out thing, or it could rock my world. I won't know tomorrow. It will take a bit to find out I'm sure. Results like that rarely come back quickly. They prefer for you to sit and stew and brew and turn blue. Then, normally, in my experience, after not hearing from the doctor's office on the day they tell you to expect to hear from them, you sit and stew and brew, and even begin to turn shades of purplish blue, until you finally break down and call them, and they nonchalantly say, "oh yeah... everything was fine. We received your report two days ago."

I am praying for that nonchalant phone call, which at the time will piss me off, but in foresight, I know I will be breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief, while bitching to my friends about the incompetence of the would've been caller.

I have had some issues which have led up to this itty bitty operation. The wonderful news is that the pain I've been having should go away. The bad news is, it's a short-term fix for a long-term problem. We'll probably have to make a decision in a year or two, but right now I'm perfectly fine with just a patch up! It allows me to hang out for a while longer in my state of denial (or my personal lala land, as I enjoy calling it).

In the grand scheme of things, I realize this is not a big deal. It has been a big deal to me, because it's there... going on within my body. It's a strange feeling knowing I'm 'off'... I mean, I have always known I'm 'off', but more mentally so... at least that's what my buds tell me. My physical self has always been pretty much okay... great blood pressure, low cholesterol... nothing to report... well, some poundage to lose, but... I'm straying again...

After typing this, I realize that the goods of this situation outweigh the bads. Whether I avoid bed or not, I still have to be at that center at 7:15am. I might as well go in there well-rested.

Sleep tight!