Well-Adjusted

Well-adjusted. What does that even mean?!?! As described by the synonyms on Word: Stable. Normal. Happy. Secure.

How about simply 'adjusted'. Sometimes it is challenging, to say the least, to be or do things 'well' period, let alone 'well' hyphenated anything.

We go through life coping with things and adjusting to them, none of them 'well'. A little tweak here, a little tweak there, 180* turn to this and complete denial about that. All adjustments. Each should have a level of difficulty assigned to it. A technical rating. The smaller the tweak, the smaller the level of difficulty. The greater the denial - well, now we're talkin'!!

How many of us can really say we are adjusting 'well'? If it is thought that one is excelling at being a jerk, they will most likely succeed in upping the ante in denial. If it is thought that one is doing something fantastic and achieving their dreams and goals, they are most likely going to succeed at denial in not wanting to draw attention to themselves. I see a trend here.....

Why is it we can all see what we think and not what we know?

We think we aren't as awful as we can be and don't know we are as powerful as we are. Or for those that need to reel it in a bit: in constantly telling everyone how wonderful they think they are - it is thought that they are not.

I have no idea where I'm going with this. It's late. I can't sleep and the dogs are taking up 1/2 of the bed. Regrouping....

Being adjusted, or well-adjusted for that matter, has got to come from within. I figure this not from experience but because that seems logical. Look - as many people don't want to be like their parents for one reason or another, where else would learning to adjust come from but each individual?

Discomfort. Discomfort causes adjustment. Now we're getting somewhere and nowhere at the same time.

It comes in many forms and even more adjectives. Most recently for me it came in a very abrupt response to seeing a class schedule that involved 3 cadaver sessions. I don't think so! No way in Hell is somebody's aunt/uncle/mother/father/grandparent/child/sibling/cousin/neighbor going to be my science experiment. My discomfort, one of many, lies in death. Period. Being with a cadaver is not anywhere near my level of comfort or acceptance. I will order the plastic skeletons and muscle groups from the Internet. Thank you.

Apparently this makes me not well-adjusted by definition. However, I am adjusted. I have changed my course of action due to discomfort, however severe. The interest in the classes also comes from discomfort and wanting to proceed in a new direction. Even when there's a positive spin on the decision or adjustment, it is derived out of some level of discomfort.

The way I see it: recognize the discomfort and move with or around it until whatever it is works. That's got to be the key to being well-adjusted vs. simply adjusted.

That notion has faults, there are plenty of things and people I absolutely walk away from because I cannot tolerate the level of discomfort or figure out a way to make adjustments. But, then, maybe the part about being well-adjusted is knowing when something has run it's course and it's time to move on.

Presentation

It’s all about presentation.  Food. Drinks. Marketing. Dress codes. The way we say things.

I made a Facebook post asking for help looking for a certain type of chile, as it is that time of year.  Opposed to answering the question of ‘does anyone know how much a bushel is’ with a yes, no or an amount, I received, instead, other chile options.  One of them was suggested quite nicely and I think I’ll try that one.  One person simply questioned my choice and redirected me toward what he suggested in the “I’m-serious-but-this-winking-smiley-face-looks-like-I’m-kidding way”. (Actually, I totally love this guy, so I do think he was being funny!) A third person was genuine and simply gave me the name of a place to find what I was looking for.

Then there was a final post – this one clearly unhelpful, rude and totally lacking presentation. First of all, he described was I was looking for as “lousy” and posted “yuck!” and went on to tell me where to get them if I ‘must have them’. No further suggestion. Okay. I get it. You don’t like what I like – in all fairness, that’s perfectly acceptable.

What was I supposed to say? I know what I wanted to say – it was going to be just as presentation-lacking as, and coincidentally rhyming with, “yuck!” and would have ignored the small amount of grace and humility I have managed to acquire. So, instead, I wrote back that I was unsure how to respond to the insult but that I appreciated him for taking the time to reply. No F-Bomb dropped, grace and humility intact.

Still I go back to what isn’t acceptable: the way in which the reply was presented.  There were so many other options for a comment, the first one being none at all. The second one could have been a suggestion and perhaps a reason or two as to why the suggestion is preferred – it could have included why the original chile wasn’t preferred using something more articulate than “yuck” and “lousy”.

What is it that leads one to believe that a simple question calls for an insult for a response? I’m not his buddy, his pal, his sister….I’m some chick he went to high school with that I haven’t seen in 12 years and we happen to be Facebook 'friends'.

I’m not angry, irritated or annoyed by the reply. Instead, it is called into question for showing up on my radar as a lack of presentation by someone I don’t exactly know. In all fairness, he doesn’t know me either. No, this isn't where I attempt to have my attitude go from 10 to 1,000 in .00003 seconds in the form of “YOU don’t know ME!!”.  This simply questions the reply itself. If you don’t know your audience, it is simply better to be polite rather than insulting. The insult was uncalled for and really out of line with the question posed.

Perhaps I ask too much of people. Oh, who are we kidding? I set the bar so high there’s no possible way for others to not fail. You know it, I know it, and really, it should come as no surprise.  It isn’t something I strive for, but I'm not uncomfortable with it either. I can’t help but wonder what my reaction would be from someone I am close to. Would I take it as poor presentation? Would people that know me better not respond to a generic question with an insult to begin with?

As I did the final read-through of this post, I received another Facebook reply from him stating "not intended as an insult, just a comment :-)". Perhaps the original reply was meant as more of a comment opposed to an insult, but it didn't come across that way, and therein lies the problem.

It’s all about presentation.

Perspective

I find it interesting how others perceive me.  Within the past month or so I've been given a lot of insight - most of it was volunteered to me. I know, right, nobody likes when somebody else's opinion of them is put out there - but this has really been welcome!

First of all, my Uncle posed a question which I answered and his reply was "I've never met anyone so comfortable with their own dysfunction". This was a surprising answer to say the least. Look, if you're the owner of whatever it is that other people call into question and if you're honest about it, the judgment can really only go so far. If you're argumentative and defend yourself without need, well, people act like piranhas that haven't eaten in 2 weeks and will eat you alive before you even know what happened. I don't pull any punches. Being up front and open means nobody has anything to talk about because everyone already knows and it is old news.

A few days after this I was told by a friend how conscious I am of everything and everyone. Never before have I thought of it in this way. Unsure. Worrywart. Obsessive. Nervous. Neurotic. Spaz. Mess. All of these things come to mind....not conscious! What a wonderful way to look at that! Quite often I wish I could go through life without noticing everything all the time. It takes so much painstaking examination. I put myself in everyone else's shoes and it takes forever to compose an email because I think about the person I am sending it to and how it will be received. A simple blog post takes many revisions because the people written about are done so in a loving way, but I'm concerned because it is in print and may come across poorly.

Last year I was told by a woman I had just met at a party that I looked like I had it all together. I chalked it up to her absolute friendliness. Since then though I have been told that there's no way I would have self-esteem issues and I am always very confident.

Speechless. As usual, it's news to me.

I was always the last one picked for sports in elementary school. The last one to know the newest, latest, greatest, IT thing. The one who always needed some obscure punch line explained and until recently, I hadn't embraced being all that funny either. There cannot possibly be any way to overcome that and transform into being confident. So either I play all of this off very, very well or others are better at pinpointing me than I am. I feel like a disaster most of the time and quite uncomfortable in my own skin. Dysfunction is one thing, skin is by far another.

Bizarrely enough, the very thing I was afraid of, turning 30, is the very thing that is helping me. I constantly find myself saying "I'm 30, this is BS and I don't have to put up with it" or "I'm 30, I don't care about that anymore". Of course, the 'I'm 30' part is irrelevant but seems to be the justification in any statement. None of the negative things remembered from the past matter anymore. It doesn't matter who picked who for 1st, 2nd, 3rd or any other grade kick ball. It doesn't matter that I did not play sports because not only am I unenthusiastic about them but I barely understand the rules to begin with. It doesn't matter what went or still goes over my head. People at parties don't know these things and if they did, they wouldn't care.

'I'm 30' needs to be part of the "I'm 30 and it's time to be comfortable in my own skin" statement. It's time to be the way that others see me. And really, without the 'I'm 30', the sentiment is the same.

It's time to just be me.

My Grandparents

Families are funny, aren’t they?

I just spent 4^th of July weekend with most of mine and some things never change while others are constantly evolving 6 months at a time.

We are, by definition, a loud bunch to say the least. We are, also by definition, a little overwhelming…and if you aren’t overwhelming someone you are being overwhelmed. Take it or leave it, this is my family. (I’ve gained quite a bit of perspective in the past few weeks and have already started a separate post on that.)  

From the time I was born and for many years after that I spent summers with my Grandparents in Loveland.  I thought it was great!  Jennifer and Joseph didn’t always go and I felt like an only child! I helped build the brick planter in front of their house; I helped take care of the gardens and, I’m sure, was a gigantic pain! I will never forget the smell of the auto shop and bringing lunch there while it was still open for business. To this day, grease and car smell can bring tears to my eyes.  My grandmother makes the best mashed potatoes and I loved having toast with a hole cut out of it for my fried egg!

After the 5^th grade, my mother let me out of the last 2 weeks or so of school to drive to NY for a whole month with my Grandparents.  My job was the helper (I remember quite distinctly being the sleeper…). I helped so much Grammie and I left the expensive shampoo and conditioner (expense is relative when you’re going into the 6^th grade) in the first hotel we stayed in! What I didn’t exactly want to acknowledge then is this: it was the last time Poppy would travel to NY to see his family and he invited me along to be a part of that.

He had Emphysema and was typically unwilling to leave the house much due to the oxygen tanks and fearing he would run out before returning home – this trip was nothing less than an act of absolute bravery. I was the hugger.  Anytime he felt weak, I was, and still am, absolutely convinced I could transfer energy to him. We had tea time at night, probably around 8 when 60-Minutes was on. (I hated 60-Minutes and would watch TV instead with Grammie in the sitting room.)  I made him tea by heating up water in a pan on the stove, putting the spoon and tea bag into the mug and adding honey and lemon to it…then the water.  We also had cookies and I was allowed no more than 3, sometimes 4.  I sat with him during routine nebulizer treatments and watched un-phased by the use of an inhaler. To this day when I go to the house, it still seems empty in that part of the kitchen where the oxygen tank used to reside.

Then I lost him and my heart broke.  It is still broken. There are so many times now I wish I had sat through an Indy-500 or 60-Minutes with him or learned how to build the tiniest little fire opposed to my rip-roaring-raging infernos. Would it have been so awful to watch a holiday parade? But, I didn’t. I was young, didn’t realize how sick he was and I hated 60-Minutes.  Golden Girls was better.  Watched every episode with Grammie in the sitting room.  She used to let me watch TGIF when I was there and when there was a divorce on Blossom or some other show and I got upset, the only thing I had to do was sit in her lap and cry.  I didn’t even have to explain myself to her.

This is the same Grammie that took me all over NY and didn’t let me use my new camera in the city for fear someone would take it from me.  We rode the Subway with Cousin Cathy and I was allowed to stand up even though I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.  One day I went  to work with Cathy – I don’t remember much, she put on makeup in the car during rush hour traffic and there were gardens outside of her building that were shaded and very pretty. We went for pizza when we were there and I didn’t realize how LARGE the slices were, so I ordered 2….and then ate them both because it was totally fantastic!!  I asked her, “how big are the slices?” Cathy’s response, “regular sized.” I’m from Colorado, regular sized is Dominos, not the size of a dinner plate!  She showed me how to use a combination lock because I didn’t know how and was quite nervous about 6^th grade orientation and missing that part. We watched Johnny Carson on TV at night and I believe I watched his last show while I was there.  The shower was one of those cool tubs with the curtain that went all the way around – I still want one for my house! I went to a Birthday party and decorated t-shirts for someone I wish I hadn’t lost touch with – I still have that shirt, and the puff paint still glows in the dark. And, of course, no trip to NY is complete without the I heart NY shirt exactly like the one Madison wore in Splash!

I don’t remember much about Uncle Angelo or Aunt Lee….Uncle Angelo was very, very funny though!

After NY we went to PA to visit Uncle Johnny (Poppy’s brother) and Aunt Millie.  It was great! They had the best house and a big Collie named Jake!  Jake was fantastic!  We drove around Lancaster County and I saw horses and buggies. We went to a restaurant, Grammie, Aunt Millie and me, where it was family style so there were rows and rows of tables seating many people.

Last year we went to a German restaurant in Denver and it was a riot! Grammie was ordering another glass of wine before hers was even ½ finished and she was madly in love with the restaurant! It was a ball and she was in her element at that very minute! She taught me how to clean at this dinner: if you don’t clean anything, it all turns the same shade of grey and nobody will ever know – brilliant! Untrue because I have seen her clean before though!

All of these memories are the reason that when Grammie walked through the door a couple of weeks ago using a cane I lost it. I suppose she has used it for a while, but to me that isn’t the point. It’s difficult to watch the woman who speaks of dating when she was younger and going dancing with gay men just so she could go and have fun need assistance. Conversations aren’t what they once were either.  She has this excitement to her and her voice carries and her blue eyes twinkle when she tells stories. This time there was less excitement and a little less twinkle; I don’t remember many stories either. She spoke of death and at that point, much to my relief, my Uncle told her “death is boring, let’s change the subject”.  She’s only 80…I don’t think it’s time for the death talk either…but it is an incredibly uncomfortable topic.

She patted Patrick’s stomach and told him he was “middle-agey” and then did the same to my Uncle and told him he was “prosperous”. I’m just glad she stopped telling me I have a speech impediment and must have finally lost my baby fat.

Here’s what I know:  I miss Poppy very, very much and would trade many things for another day with him. I know he’s with me, especially when I do something foolish because I can hear him telling me how it should have gone. “Don’t be impatient”,” don’t be greedy”, “save some for tomorrow” and “next time don’t be so hard on it and it won’t break”.  One of those covers just about every issue I run into. 

When the time comes that I miss Grammie that much, I will have very fond memories of the trip to Utah, just the two of us, to see Oma or her taking me to the Rec Center to swim until I was too pruny to be recognized.

These fantastic memories will ensure both of them are with me for the rest of my life.

Let me tell you something about you that you don’t know!

A few weeks ago our office participated in Insights Discovery. It begins with a word-association rating test that most of us sort of blew off and found irrelevant. Turns out it’s relevant and is based on Psychiatrist Carl Jung’s many years of Analytical Psychology. It is rather interesting and involved yet simple in presentation. This would have been handy information to have before participating. Basically, for the rest of us, it boils down to a personality test.

Mine was funny. Accurate, but true stuff is the funniest stuff! Rules are important to me as shown by their reappearance throughout my profile. True. I get antsy when someone breaks the rules; I hate being in trouble. Painstaking was another attribute that came up. True. When trying to solve a problem I don’t give up until it is solved. This is why I have begun to avoid problems in the first place – brilliant! Painstaking = exhausting. I am quizzical and probing, their description, not mine. Poor Patrick! I ask him question after question after question – and then follow that up immediately with “ANSWER ME!”….how lovely it must be on the receiving end of that!

The strengths are great – a real self-esteem booster. The weaknesses are much more noteworthy! ‘Can resist by being passive yet stubborn simultaneously’ What?! Personally, I think being passive yet stubborn simultaneously makes the conversation more interesting!

Strategies for communicating with me are hysterical and totally true! ‘Ensure she sees and agrees with the benefit of change before implementation’ ‘Do not touch her if you can avoid it’ ‘Do not hug her unexpectedly or at an inappropriate moment’ This is great stuff because I find myself often saying “why are you touching me!?!” ‘Do not give lengthy verbal instructions’ Correct. I will stop paying attention and then ask you to repeat yourself; that’s where I find the synopsis of what you meant to begin with.

I did learn something quite handy ‘Allison will benefit from assuming permission rather than seeking it’. Lightbulb! I just felt my Williams-Sonoma and Sur la Table budget grow by leaps and bounds!! Something not handy: ‘Allison may benefit from wearing something outrageous to work when it is least expected!’ My interpretation: ‘put on some whore-clothes and join the rest of downtown’!

The profile, even the things that are not flattering, is presented in a way that lessens the blow and doesn’t make you out to be the world’s leading asshole….or, um, the foremost overly-conservative rule-follower for that matter. This is a multi-page spiral-bound booklet of personality traits and I didn’t disagree with any of it. Patrick didn’t either, which I found funny. And, really, not so funny at the same time. It is, by far, one thing to be a certain way at work. To apply those same personality traits at home and ask, “why are you touching me!?!” may not be a relationship builder. I know, SHOCKER, right!?

I loved the Insights and wish I had them earlier - would have made dating easier. I'd like the family version....my goofball sister, if-you-don’t-know-I’m-not-telling-you dad and I-don’t-proof-read-my-texts mother would be a lot easier to handle if it was spelled out on paper!

Off to further expand my kitchen gadgetry and hoping nobody hugs me unexpectedly while I’m shopping!

Memorial Week Recap....

With our work schedules, Patrick and I were able to take 10 days away from the city and use only 3 days of vacation – it was fantastic! We spent Memorial week in Buena Vista – my parents own a house there on the Arkansas.

We drove up the Friday and it was gorgeous! Blue skies, a little snow left on the peaks and the mountain ranches all turning green! The river seemed like it was raging when we got there from the beginning of runoff. Little did we know, it would change daily and become even higher and run faster. They kayakers and rafters come down throughout the day; watching them navigate (or fail to) through the rocks can be scary! Some of the kayakers flip over and take what feels like forever for them to resurface! The rafters are like lemmings and when one falls out, there are usually others that follow suit – talk about a yard sale down the river. Bodies and paddles dispersed everywhere – especially after the raft has bounced off of a rock!

Patrick wants to start kayaking….does this make me Mrs. Kayaker? I’m already Mrs. The Hulk, and that seems sufficient. Looks cold – and like a lot of work. And how do you hold your beer when you’re paddling? I see no cup holder on the kayak either. Seems like poor planning – just saying! And the helmet will smoosh my hair….doesn’t matter that I always wear it up, it would still be smooshed. Rafting is no different – still looks cold and everyone on the raft has a job…and none of them seem to include sitting and enjoying a beer. I could, however get used to the endless woo-hooing and hi-paddles after completing an obstacle…I happen to be a Grade-A excellent woo-hooer!  

We took Independence Pass into Aspen one day – there is still SO much snow! Quite amazing actually and would be absolutely breathtaking to see how it looked with full accumulation this winter! There are fresh tracks from skiers and boarders. Again, WAY too much work for this girl. Hiking in ski boots is out of the question. And anything called “skins” for my skis can stay at the store. Hiking those ridges in snowshoes would still be out of the question.  Hauling skis, gear, avalanche beacons, shovels and whatever other necessities, um, not going to happen! And how do you get the cooler up there? I suppose the beer keeps itself plenty cold in the backpack next to the shovel.

Aspen = not impressed. Everything there is market price and there are not many address markers. Ok, fine. My reasoning was if you are in Aspen, you can afford Aspen and don’t need to know (nor do you probably care) what things cost.  $4.57/gallon gas is interesting. I’ll leave it at that (we work for oil and gas companies, I’m very well aware of the fact that there’s only so much mentioning, complaining, noticing or bitching we’re allowed to do publicly at the cost of all things oil and gas related before the hypocrisy is highlighted).  

There’s 1 Starbucks in Aspen. Yes – 1. I have the Starbucks locater and it located 1. O-N-E!! Not only is it hidden and Google Maps couldn’t even find it, but they are open from 7-12. Seriously, 5 whole hours. Why bother? By the way – INK! Coffee is a poor substitute for Starbucks, and they’re open all damn day, of course. Patrick, at first, thought perhaps this was because Ink! is local to Colorado.  He threw this idea out the window immediately while we walked past Prada, Ralph Lauren, Burberry (LOVE them!), Ermenegildo Zegna and Louis Vuitton to name a few. Basically, everything I can also find in Cherry Creek or a much desired trip to LA.

In Buena there is an Alco. This is hands down the best garage sale/$4 store EVER! Everything you've never needed and instantly want is contained in this place! Next to the beauty products are the outdoor supplies. Yes, I need saline solution, sunblock annnnnd....oh wait, what's this!?!? A trampoline, pellet guns AND neon tikki torches! SOLD! You get to the checkout line to find an assortment of gummy candy and gaudy watches...YAY! Sadly, the Alco employees take things too seriously do not participate in the "look what I found" game, nor do they help you beat your opponent in the "who can find the most ridiculous crap" game. Fine. I'll do it myself!

By the time we got back to Buena from Aspen, I was happy to be in down to earth company.  We picked up a few property fliers and went to dinner. I had the fliers on the table, the restaurant manager/owner seemed more than excited at the prospect of new people in town – very cool! Buena people are very outgoing, friendly and absolutely welcoming to visitors…..

Patrick and I are talking about leaving the city behind for a much different lifestyle in the mountains, and we have found a place to begin our search. Amazing what can change in just 1 week - happy house hunting!

 

All Downhill From Here.....

I turned 30. 3 days ago.  Already, I’m falling apart. 

Took myself for a walk Sunday, on my Birthday (technically two walks), a total of 12 miles. The second 6 miles I did with MacKenzie, the Westie, who is by far the smallest animal in the house – and I had her run parts of it with me.  She had been outside all day and was probably tired before the walk even got started, but she has huge heart and went the whole way by my side! I giggled when I got home and she was asleep almost immediately. I shouldn’t have done that.  By the end of the day, my ankles were swollen and bruised, my knees hurt and my calves and shins were totally achy and like Jell-O.  I have been walking miles each day for the past several weeks – what gives!?!?

I’ll tell you what gives: I am officially old and my body is revolting against me.  29: 12 miles = no problem. Overnight, I turned 30: 12 miles = what feels like a broken ankle, sore feet and knees that don’t want to bend or help hold me upright. Stairs are out of the question at this point because they take me F-O-R-E-V-E-R!

Due to my “physical ailments”, I bought new tennis shoes. My body, from the knees down, laughs at them. I tell the shoes not to worry, as the rest of me, from the knees up, is being laughed at too.

Compounding the issue: I currently weigh more than I ever have. By 4 lbs. I don’t think this is causing the ankle troubles, I’m not that nuts. My mother, unlike my body, is kind to me and insists it is muscle weight.  I love my mother – have I mentioned this previously!?! I hate the scale.  And my pants. My pants and the scale are in cahoots with my ankles. They’re all out to get me. I eat vegetables and fruit and drink milk – it’s supposed to do a body good.  Whose body? I need an example because it certainly isn’t mine.  

Maybe I could be couch-bound.  Daytime TV is awful, but I have NetFlix and Facebook and could really afford to spend a little more time writing for the Blog. Porter could learn to open the fridge door and bring me things and Sophie seems most likely to learn how to make microwave popcorn.  MacKenzie…well, she’s a great snuggler, so she’ll be on the sofa with me. Brilliant!

Wait – who will help me get to the bathroom? And why doesn’t Starbucks deliver!? And who would answer the door if they did?  After careful consideration and review, I have decided the couch will just have to be reserved for evenings and weekends. 

Bribery. If I offer my ankles a post-walk Bloody Mary, perhaps they would be more cooperative?  Well, if nothing else, that will make me care less if they’re swollen and bruised.

Cheers!

The BIG 3-0

As my dreaded 30^th Birthday arrives, I can’t help but notice that others are keeping track of events, like a top 30, of things they have done leading up to the “big day”.  I’m just not that interesting. 

I live in a corner house with 3 dogs and am 1 rocking chair short of being the crazy lady on the front porch that yells at cars to slow down. This is not top-30-worthy. It also isn’t my fault: Patrick won’t buy me the chair.

I tried to start a top 30 and it didn’t turn out so great. No sky diving, crab fishing, climbing Everest, bungee jumping or snake wrangling in Cambodia. I gave up on the list because after number 7 or 8, I ran out of things. Yes, ran out. Even after expanding the parameter from 30 days to 1 whole year, I was stuck. Then I began adding absolutely ridiculous things that were a stretch to say the very least, just to see if I could even make it to 30 things. Some of it may have been fabricated – don’t judge!

My 30^th Birthday has been something I’ve focused on since I was, well, probably 19. What if I don’t accomplish much/anything before then? What exactly am I supposed to accomplish? Who makes the list of things to do? Do I make the list? Skip ahead to uh-oh, I’m 25 and there is no list! Cut to now, 5 days before my 30^th, and there is still no list to be had for what I was supposed to accomplish by now. 

There’s that show on the Travel Channel called Burt the Conqueror.  From the commercials, I don’t see many conquests, just a guy doing kid stuff and appearing to have a great time doing it! He may be on to something – but really, being a kid wasn’t my gig even when I was one, so the likelihood of me being a BIG kid now is totally out of the question. Honestly, I’ve never thought I missed out on all that much and adding kid-like things to the list just isn’t me.

Pretty sure whatever I was “supposed” to do, I’ve probably done, and anything I’ve missed can be taken care of later. Later than now…but before 40…better get started! And where is Patrick with that chair!?!?

My Mother....

My mother is my favorite person on this planet.  She has to be.  She has the infinite wisdom to say things like, “I’m lost because I don’t know where I am…...” and ultimate denial that she’s anything like my Grandmother.  I get that from her and deny, deny, deny to Patrick that I am my mother. When I’m mad I have her voice and from the bridge of the nose up, I look like her – all great stuff that I’m learning to embrace! My mother passes no judgment and encourages me to do whatever I want; I get that from her too.

When I was probably 7 or 8 and wanted a new Easter dress, she figured out how to buy one at Wal-Mart even though we didn’t have the money - a memory that brings tears to my eyes 20+ years later. We used to play "restaurant" and I remember making a gingerbread house while watching Jaws (don't judge!). At the end of my 5^th grade year, she let me leave school a couple of weeks early to go to New York to visit family with my Grandparents for a whole month!

She tells stories of my upbringing that show instances of boredom (she calls it "creativity") on her behalf.  Like telling me to "sit like a lady" which apparently had me stop what I was doing and sit down, then cross my legs (may explain my prudish behavior as an adult!). Helping me learn how to walk - she put the stiffest soled shoes on me that she could find thinking that would be helpful with balance. She strung pipe cleaners through the holes on my pacifier and looped them around my ears so I wouldn't be so inclined (read: able) to spit it out. 

She insists on referring to herself as “Bella” when talking to the dogs because she thinks if she plants the seed now, my children will call her that too.  I’m going to get them to call her “Old Lady” instead. Her favorite answer is, “HEY! I made that”.  “Yah, I know Mom, in 1988. Time to let it go….Joe’s going to be 23…you made it before he was born.”

My mother just wants everyone to be happy, comfortable and have a place to stay…..and this is how our conversations go when I’m visiting her:

M: “Are you going out with friends while you’re here?”

A: “I don’t know. Maybe.”

M: “Why don’t you just have them come here?”

A: (‘To do what!?!?!’) Blank stare.

M: “Are you going to dinner first?”

A: “I don’t know, maybe. But you always make plenty of food, so even if I stay here, I won’t starve.”

M: “You should have everyone meet here before you go out.”

A: (‘Who is everyone and how many people does she think I know?’) Blank stare.

M: “Why don’t you have your friends over – I’ll make dinner for everyone!?”

A: (‘Uhhh – is this Junior Prom?’) blank stare

M: “Just invite everyone over; you can have the basement.”

A: (‘Who are all of these people she keeps referring to?)
M: “Better yet, have them over tomorrow and you can all lounge by the pool; wouldn’t that be FUN!!!!?”
A: Blank stare.

That is literally how fast the conversation moves…..and typically without me. 

Mom and I ask questions in 3’s and make statements even faster; drives the rest of the world nuts, but that’s how we communicate.  And lots of hand gestures – we could have a whole conversation with arms flailing and no actual words. Put it this way: I’ve noticed people pay more attention to my arms flying around than to the words coming out of my mouth – yes, it’s THAT bad!

My mother is one of the most hilarious, genuine, giving people I’ve ever met and I’m so fortunate that we are close and have a fantastic relationship! Every year, she lets me know the day I was due and what she was doing.  Then most days after that, and for almost a month until my Birthday, she remembers what she was doing before I arrived. On my Birthday, she recalls the events of her day which apparently include vacuuming and sending my Uncle off to school before going to the hospital.  Pretty cool!  Everyone should be so lucky……

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY MAMA!!

Bring on the Chainsaw

I’ve always been a fan of the Discovery Channel, animals, nature….etc. It was even a part of my application letter to CSU. Critters are cute, raccoons have those little hands, squirrels can hang upside down (from my bird feeders while the dogs bark at them) and large game are magnificent. Bears are scary as hell but the cubs are hysterical with absolutely zero control over their bodies. Birds – okay, they need some freaking manners!

Every morning before 5AM they start singing. For what? Then, miraculously, when the sun comes up they stop. REALLY!?!? Now, on top of the regular birds, my trees have become the nesting grounds for hawks. Don’t ask what kind, I know nothing other than they must be the kind that live somewhere and bug the hell out of a homeowner for LIFE and never leave. A few summers ago they arrived. I thought this was pretty cool because I am an idiot and had no idea what we were getting into. Sophie points at them mercilessly, Porter is annoyed by their never ending squealing and squawking and MacKenzie isn’t allowed outside unsupervised.

Cut to now: they have made their residence outside my bedroom window. Great. They have many nests built and have officially taken over – doesn’t this make them squatters?  The neighbor and his son have decided to start videotaping them.  You ever have a video camera pointed directly at your house? It’s a little disconcerting to say the least.

All day and most of the night the hawks screech and scream and last week I caught them doing some very inappropriate things in my front yard! If I don’t have sex in my front yard, they should have the common courtesy not to either. I cannot wait for the babies to arrive (eye roll). Something tells me that will all be caught on camera too….reminder: that camera is pointed at my house and the birds live outside my bedroom window!

Today I found the truck plastered in bird poop and they left part of something they had been eating stuck to it….uh, thanks.  I had to run errands like that!  Very classy driving to the grocery store with splotches of poop everywhere and something fleshy and furry baked on and blowing in the wind! Went to the car wash and I’m too short to wash the roof with much leverage, but I did notice that the fur was gone so tomorrow I can go to work with a little dignity….

I guess I’ll sit back, keep the cars out from under the trees, try not to get caught on camera being naked or doing something stupid, and wait for the babies to hatch and flight school to begin…..hoping the whole time that the babies move away and this doesn’t become an even larger hawk habitat!

Where's the Beef?

Good news: I’m still not smoking (though I threatened to start yesterday) and I’m not alone…others are suffering too! (Hands clapping) YAY!! Normally that isn’t good news, and traditionally it isn’t nice to be happy that someone else is suffering.  However, in this case I’m SO happy to not be flying solo! Misery genuinely loves company….and I’ve got plenty of it!

There’s a blog for the cleansers to use but, instead, we’ve started e-mailing one another our random complaints roughly every 10 minutes. You can’t imagine the sheer volume of these electronic cries for help. Personally, I feel I have no choice and have taken on sponsors and appointed someone else for the buddy-system. The buddy says helpful things like, “If you’re not eating cheese, I won’t eat cheese either….give up sour cream? No problem! And don’t mind me while I sit over here with this brownie that I took a bite out of and said ‘it’s not mine’”. Contacting one of the sponsors goes something like, “Hi, it’s Allison…yah, the craving is real bad this time…I don’t know if I can do this….” “Allison, just breathe, and take it one hour at a time. And think about all the things you can have when the cleanse is over”. What can I say – they’re volunteers and a whole lot nicer than the likes of Jillian Michaels.  

We feel like we’re starving to death even though the list of foods to eat is HUGE and the possibilities are limitless. Still, somehow foregoing the apple fritter and non-fat lattes have me feeling deprived. The cravings at this point are irritating for the simple fact that the idea of eating most of them leaves me totally nauseous. (The apple fritter and lattes are exempt from this feeling so far (hands clapping) YAY!). A burger sounded good for about 5 seconds and then my stomach put a total halt to that thought coming back…

I feel like I’m being programmed and today I was put to the test – lunch was catered in and I didn’t eat it….well, I tried to eat a cookie (don’t judge!) but just the smell of it was terrible…so I threw it away.  What is going on here?  I’m seriously starting to worry I’ll live out the rest of my days on beets! I’m only going to be 30 – that’s a lot of days of beets, also known as the ultimate do-good-for-your-body food that will keep me alive until I’m 150! That’s 43,800 days for those that like math.

The cleansers have voted and we’re exhausted, what with all the shopping, rinsing, cutting, chopping, scooping, cooking, steaming and baking – I’m going to be an Iron Chef by the time this is over….and the dishes! There are a ton of dishes for each meal.  The liquid consumption is demanding in its own right…followed of course by the many, many, MANY trips to the bathroom! I’m concerned office management is going to make me start bringing my own toilet paper….

Ah, yes, liquid consumption, I knew I had a point to make: the Hyenas believe the only cleanse is the Master Cleanse where you have nothing but lemon juice, honey and cayenne pepper 3-4 times a day for a week or something ridiculous. Oh, yeah, that sounds healthy and rational!  I’d chew my own arm off before I got through one or maybe two days of that! Besides, about the time I got my pants back from the tailor making them smaller from a week of no food, the weight would be back and I’d need new pants…. Seems counterproductive if you ask me.

Karen said everything I'm going through is normal....  Normal and expected I can handle - as long as I don't fail the cleanse...if I fail the cleanse, you know what's going to happen?  I'll be tapping people on their shoulders during Yoga asking if they have a light...well, we’re supposed to be quiet during class, so I’ll have to make the universal thumb motion for a lighter.

Off to....well, you know where...

F!@#$*^ Cleanse.....

Started Thursday and Friday and had fun with it. Probably because I allowed myself Starbucks and dinner at Bisetti's in Fort Collins Friday - don't judge!

Yesterday I froze to death all day and didn’t feel well over all – especially tired. Have to keep up the water intake, so I lugged around a thermos full of hot water on errands. I wanted to cry at REI when there were no fitting rooms open and a woman was mean to me. Then a woman was nice to me and let me use her fitting room while she went to find other sizes, and I wanted to cry again.

I about went ballistic on Tom at the watch/sunglass counter for not acknowledging us.  After a while Patrick was also angry (I know, right, he's Mr. Patient, so you know it was bad!) and drug me away before Tom could be the first diagnosed with Shaken Adult Syndrome and I was banned from REI permanently. So far these are about the only mood swings I've experienced, which is good. Tom had it coming, and it would have been a normal reaction for me to give him a 2nd asshole. Wanting to cry over the availibility of a fitting room, however, is not normal!  Apparently others participating in the cleanse are having 'outbursts'. I do NOT want to see what happens when a Yogi has an outburst!!

Today I feel waterlogged and a little underwhelmed. I’m still freezing and not having any fun. I spent 2 hours preping for and making cauliflower soup and a green smoothie….and as it turns out, I don’t care for either one. In a moment of not being mindful, I lopped off part of my thumb with an apple corer and then followed that up by blowing the lid off of the blender which sent the the 2 cups of cauliflower soup that was in it sailing all over me and the rest of the kitchen. Burned like hell when it hit my eyes and now everything in the kitchen has an orange hue to it from the Turmeric.  I already know the Painter (that would be Patrick) will not be amused.  This is now 2 rooms the Turmeric has taken over. I see being grounded in my near future! Note: if you have a food processor, use it instead of the blender…works better and there’s no pressure build-up from any remaining heat coming off of the food. Just an observation from my kitchen to yours.

No food cravings, although at this point the thought has crossed my mind to live out the rest of the week on hot water with lemon, flaxseed tea, rice, room-temperature vegetables and apples.

Hoping tomorrow is better........

You Are What You Digest

I am happy to report: no new addiction to cigarettes. I am sad to report yesterday’s final non-fat latte.  Couldn’t there be a swap?  I never smoked so the lattes are in – no? Ok.  Surprisingly enough, I’m actually okay with it and I’ve come to terms with the food swap in anticipation of feeling a whole lot different when I have completed this.

Yesterday after work I went to the grocery store to pick up “staples”. With my list in tow, I spent most of my time in the produce section learning to how buy things I’ve never purchased before….like beets.  They sort of taste like dirt, but I like them anyway. (Note to self: call Mom and ask her how much time I spent eating dirt as a child.) I left the store with 2 bags of produce and a gallon of apple juice…all organic…less than $50. I wondered what I was supposed to do with these random items. Like the zucchini, parsley and the load of avocados, apples and lemons.

When we met in the evening, we were given the list of foods to eat and it totally dominates the list of foods not to eat! I was not expecting this; even though I’ve known this isn’t a fast, I didn’t expect that we’d be allowed to eat as much as we want at our meals and that the list of what we could eat would be so enormous! The only stipulation is no snacking. We’ve been provided with recipes as well, which should be fun to try.

Rice cakes – I thought I liked rice cakes.  Turns out I like the ones slathered in stuff like sugar.  By the time I got to the second one (yes, I ate two of them – don’t judge!), I started to really like the new brand. Had oatmeal for breakfast today and strayed from my normal process…I’m not going to lie: it was questionable.  Any dried fruits need to be soaked in hot water before eating…do you know what raisins look like soaking in hot water?  It’s not pretty…and the water turns brown (just thought I would share). Without milk, I was worried the oatmeal would be bland, so I added strawberries, and it was a good thing too – there’s no way I would have eaten the oatmeal and those waterlogged things that used to be raisins alone!  Made beet salad for lunch today…the term ‘salad’ is used loosely as it consists of beets…lemon juice….and a special oil. It tastes pretty great actually but definitely not a salad. Just wiped my mouth and it looks like I blotted off lipstick…good.  This is a good look for me – with bright pink lips. Fabulous.

Been drinking water like there’s an upcoming ration. I’ve had to pee all morning – like every 20 – 30 minutes. Then I got the hiccups.  You ever have to pee AND get the hiccups? Look, I kept it under control, but there were a few minutes when I really worried Patrick would have to bring me new underwear and pants.  Probably socks and shoes too.

We’ll see what the coming days and meals bring, but so far I’ve decided maybe switching from Clif Bars to rice cakes isn’t so bad after all.

The Quintessential Question

There’s nothing better than really, truly, great food….whatever that may be to each of us.  Truly great food is always enjoyed and savored, but most importantly – it is remembered.  We all know when we’ve had an amazing breakfast or Panini, a steak that melts in your mouth or banana cream pie that beats all other pies. Grilled vegetables, fresh strawberries, a funnel cake, banana lattes or phenomenal dark chocolate. My life revolves around food: what time it is served, creating menus, cooking and of course eating! I do not eat to live, I live to eat.

Each day, I go completely insane listening to women whine about being overweight and what they eat, and then, consequently, what they don’t eat.  This is all done as I watch them move from the freezer to the microwave with a box, the contents of which are some concoction containing little to zero actual food, ready in 5 minutes or less. The women look at my lunches like Hyenas stalking prey. When it comes to speaking up about things I do for myself, they are very funny acting about it. Some show interest, some grasp their frozen boxes even more firmly.  I say to them, “that’s not nearly enough food, you’re going to starve!” of course, this translates into, “you idiot, just EAT!”

No wonder men get tired of women bitching and moaning and whining and complaining and say we don’t make sense. Prime example: this is the same group that refuses to exercise, but instead, hang their hopes on the contents of this ‘magic’ box. Interesting choice. Ever paid attention to what’s in those boxes?  Nothing.  There’s nothing in them – perhaps a few forkfuls of food, smothered in a creation masquerading as sauce. The contents in the box are never enough, so they are quickly followed by a bag of Doritos which, sadly, are more filling than the frozen mess itself.

I don’t believe in diets – of any type. Extremes to me are pointless and silly. Absolutes such as “I never” and “I always” aren’t things I live by…especially as they apply to food, and this works for me.  The women will say “you can eat whatever you want, you’re thin”. Not true. I make wise choices. I make poor choices. I’m conscious of them all and there are consequences of too many poor choices. Wise choice: whole wheat pasta with tomatoes and green beans. Unwise choice: apple fritter from Starbucks, which I'm eating as I type this. Just eat and enjoy it. 

One of the things I’ve learned from my Uncle Michael is that he, too, loves really great food.  This means I end up with a wide variety to try when I visit him, and when I’m full, I’m full.  He’ll say to me “you don’t have to finish, did you enjoy what you ate?” 

That to me is the quintessential question….did you enjoy what you ate?

THE Cleanse

So I haven't been feeling so great lately and I don't really like to just take something that appears to deal with symptoms - I want to solve the problem.  My Yoga instructor, Karen, is also an Aurvedic Practitioner and we've been straightening out a few of my issues at a time with Ayurvedic remedies...

Some of the remedies, you ask? Well, Cumin, Corriander and Fennel tea...which Patrick about spit back into the mug and my Mother says is missing steak, salt and pepper, but is otherwise a nice broth.... Then there's the oil and Turmeric on my skin...makes me look like I have Jaundice and prompts Patrick to sigh "there's Turmeric everywhere" because it winds up on the floor, the bathroom mirrors and everywhere else. The Aloe Vera Juice...which Karen told me tastes like lime juice (in case you're wondering, it does NOT...at least not at first). Ah, yes, and Ghee on the feet, which makes Patrick laugh thinking of the episode of Frasier.

Back to not feeling well - so Karen is doing an Ayurvedic Cleanse which will affect the liver and other organs.  GREAT!  I'm in!  (Remember the part about Yoga where I didn't ask many questions before the first session began?!?!) I received an e-mail last week: no caffeine, alcohol, white sugar or cigarettes.  Ok, the only one on there that doesn't pertain to me are the cigarettes.  I uttered an inaudible "shit" and closed the e-mail.  Reassured myself that, "I can do this", and moved on to something else.

Today I received a follow-up e-mail so that we can start to really prepare for the cleanse starting on Thursday....wonder if she knew I hadn't been cutting out anything...except for the cigarettes...I've managed to not get hooked on those since the last e-mail!  The e-mail today suggested some herbs to try - herbs, GREAT!  I do well with herbs - please refer to what my Mother called "broth" above. It also suggested having some specific vegetables, fruit and rice cakes "on hand".....okay, I'm going to starve. 

Then it happened. Another e-mail.  This time detailing do's and don'ts. I'm totally screwed!  The wine and martinis were bad enough to give up - apparently even if there's lemon or a cherry in my martinis...which qualifies as fruit...it's still not allowed.  This e-mail claimed there was "more to come" when we meet on Thursday. Oh, good.

I sent the lists I've received so far to Patrick as he has (forcibly) agreed to do this with me.  What that means is that during the week when he's in Gillette, he can do whatever he wants. When he's here, he has to follow the same dietary rules as me.  That will be no dairy, meat, fish, eggs....oh, and the part about alcohol? Yup, none of that either.  He's allowed to keep his plain-made-at-home drip coffee, but no Starbucks.  Remembering the vows, I'm pretty sure there was something about 'in sickness and in health'...doesn't this fall into that category?

T-2 days until this all begins!

Yoga Certification

I had taken 1...yes 1...Yoga class at the Rec Center in Steamboat and a few at home sessions with my friend Wendy and decided I should be a Yoga Instructor.  Ok, not much thought had gone into it, but as it turned out, it was the best decision of my life....sorry, Honey.

When you get married, typically, you have known the person for a while and feel confident with your decision - at that moment. When I decided to be a Yoga instructor...well, the decision making process was less planned out.

I spent 9 months waiting between the call to the instructor of instructors and the first class of the first session...pretty much not thinking about the commitment being made but, instead, how cool it sounded to say I was going to be a Yoga Instructor....if I only knew what I had gotten myself into!

So on the first night, in October, I learned this was going to be an emotional roller coaster of roller coasters.  We went around the room and stated why we were in training...and then the tears came as I told a room full of strangers that I didn't know what I was doing with myself and felt lost and needed to be more balanced.  These people are now some of the biggest gifts I've ever received! 

I was the youngest in our class and also the least experienced at all of this. We first started talking about the Philosophy, which of course I argued with and fought against. During the first session we talked a lot; about who we were, who we are and who we want to become.  We talked about what we believed and what we did not believe.  In hindsight it sunk in more than I thought at the time.......6 short months ago.

The second session was more about movement, and I thought, "alright, NOW we're talkin'"! We moved to Anatomy...I cheated my way through Anatomy my Senior year of High School....you know the whole slip of paper with all the answers up your sleeve trick?  Yup. That was me.  11 years later: no change! I had a hell of a time remembering what was attached to what and the "leg bone is attached to the...." song did me no good! We learned about muscles and then did poses to prove they existed - a few consecutive months of soreness I've ever experienced! In the meantime, we talked more, and more. We got to know one another.  I continued to cry, as did others.  Transformation and letting go is an odd thing.

The third session had to do with teaching prep. And I panicked. We started by teaching one another and I froze...and cried. What was with all the crying!?!?  I was uncomfortable and that was the end of the fun for me, right in that instant. Vulnerability in front of others is a powerful thing....

By now it was March, and as we got closer and closer to the end of Teacher Training I wasn't really any more comfortable standing before a class of strangers and teaching them ANYTHING! They were beginners and I never had beginners mind, I just did what Wendy told me!! Where was Wendy!?!?

In my "you need to face your fears" logic, I signed up to be the first teacher of the first group of students....somehow, that really was exactly how I wanted it to go. 

It was fantastic!  I was able to teach twice the first day and it was such a relief to have it over with that by the end of the second class, I really wanted to teach a third!

We had our graduation shortly afterward and it was genuinely one of the singlemost humbling experiences I've ever had...followed by being placed in the center of the circle made by other students who said what they thought about me and hoped for my future.

I am signed up to sub for classes at the studio and really hope to be able to do this more frequently - even if I never have my own class. I've learned so much about myself and my abilities though this experience; I wouldn't trade it for anything!

The First of Many....2008

I typed this up and sent it to my Mother-in-Law...and then decided to send it to the rest of my family...oh, and co-workers! Yes, it's from 2008 - but I thought it would be appropriate that this would be the first, of many, stories:

Last Saturday was entertaining, and I’ll try my best to express the hilarious events that unfolded: we bought a new king size mattress – let me back up: you know how the stairway from the main level to upstairs in our house is steep and closely followed by a low ceiling making it especially difficult to bring items up from down and taken down from up. That being said, we bought a king mattress knowing it would have to be taken from the back yard, up over the deck and railing and into our bedroom. We got home from Gillette – our neighbors probably already think we’re crazy – and dropped the dogs off in the back yard, pulled around and got the trailer and left again. Got the mattress and came back – neighbors still outside looking at their watches and probably thinking "this is going to be good". So the box springs are easy of course and can actually be taken up the stairs…get those in the house…done.

Now, Patrick has done this miraculous transformation into the Incredible Hulk and believes that we (apparently when he’s The Hulk, I’m Mrs. The Hulk), yes WE, can maneuver this mattress across the yard and simply pull it up the deck with a rope…using sheer muscular force…I said no, and he simply said "grab the other end". Ok, fine…so when I couldn’t get it off of the trailer, I just started laughing, this of course just didn’t help the situation. I suggested that since I couldn’t carry the mattress we go get a tarp to pull the mattress across the yard on…so this is how it goes, and it works out really great. We get the mattress over to where it should be and look up….at this point I’m hopeful that Patrick has caught on to the notion that since we couldn’t carry it across they yard together we wouldn’t be able to simply tie a rope onto this behemoth and hoist ‘er up onto the deck. He hadn’t caught on….so he gets the rope tied, and now we're hanging over the railing on the 2nd story, trying to pull up the mattress…it didn’t budge. So I suggest getting the ATV, hooking the rope onto that and pulling the mattress up that way – yes, we are officially rednecks and I’m sure the banjo music was blaring.

Ok, so in order to do this we have to unload the garage, get the ATV out and drive it around the house to the gate…by now we have the neighbor’s FULL attention – we’re a spectator sport you see…. We get the rope hooked onto the ATV, and it pulls the mattress up just fine because we are still using the deck railing and a tree branch for leverage….what a good deck we had (yes, had…this comes into play later in the story). Now, the mattress is dangling perilously from the railing and once again we are hanging over the edge trying to pull it up and over – once again it doesn’t budge. I decide we need to get the dead weight off of the rope and mattress, and should support it somehow….I ask about the new jack in the garage….Patrick dryly (at this point I’ve been laughing about 2 hours and he’s still surprisingly un-amused) states that the jack only goes to 22"….well obviously that isn’t enough, so in my excitement I shout "SCAFFOLDING, WE NEED TO SET UP THE SCAFFOLDING"….you know, as if that was the answer to the $1MM question. Yes, we still have Carl's scaffolding…how handy this has just become… So now we’re running around like on one of those personal challenge survivor-type shows as if we’re in a race against time….as if there is a financial payoff at the end of the scaffolding assembly. Ok, scaffolding is up, and the mattress weight is now on one of the planks….Patrick, the dear, still thinks with pure brut he can push this mattress 5’ over his head from where he’s standing on a plank up over the top of the deck railing and ta-da! Yeah, I didn’t think so either, but you’ve got to love his determination. Once again, up on the deck leaning over to PULL the mattress…and of course, once again it doesn’t work… I begin quizzing him on the saw selection in the garage…so the deck railing is now cut off, the mattress is shoved onto the flat surface since it no longer has to go up and over anything…and it is in our room…

No, he has yet to ask me why we needed a king size mattress
No, he has yet to remind me that I have created more work since we now need a new deck railing
No, he has yet to actually sleep in the new bed
Yes, I still think this is ridiculously funny!
3 years later the bed story is still the source of many laughs in the Hahn house...at least for the one with the pictures!.

About Me....

True stuff really is the funniest stuff....

For those of you that know him, my Husband, Patrick, is quiet (compared to me) and keeps to himself (also...compared to me). He's loving, kind, conservative and absolutely hilarious; this blog is being started mostly because he said to me a few weeks ago "you should write a book - because of my ability to do stupid shit and your ability to write it down and send it out to everyone". I thought that was hilarious! Let it be known: the first time he did something stupid and I wrote it down and sent it out....well, he was less than enthused! He's coming around...

We have 3 dogs, who deserve their own Blog...but they have no thumbs...so I'll do the typing.  We also have a house under constant construction/repair/change...once again, deserving of it's own Blog.

Thank you for visiting my Blog and laughing along with me at true stuff!
-Allison.