This afternoon we took the kids to see High School Musical 3. Yes, I know it has been out for a couple of months, but between the busy-ness of the holidays and the cost of movies these days, we waited until it was at the dollar movie before we went. It’s just too expensive for a family of five to go to the movies anymore. I’m sure there’s some sort of mathematical formula…factor in the popcorn and sodas, and multiply that times the number of trips to the bathroom, and it works out to about a dollar a minute for each minute that I actually get to watch! So, we’ll just wait until it’s at the discount cinema. ;)
High School Musical 3… can’t say I loved it with a capital ‘L’… it was certainly no High School Musical 2! The series is pure cheese, as you know if you’ve seen any of them, but there’s just something that is so addictive about those darn songs. Even Libby stomps around the house, belting out about how she wants all things… “Fab-a-lous”.
HSM 3 was okay (the kids really liked it), but I felt like the previous ones were more fun…more ‘Disney’… a little lighter and fluffier. The third one was kind of heavy-handed, and at one point, I leaned over to Phil, and told him, “Gee, I just don’t remember high school being this fraught with inner turmoil.” Maybe it was for others, but I’m a simple girl, I guess.
I also don’t remember being so regretful about my high school career ending. I guess if my senior year was on the tail end of an amazing cocktail of Disney, singing, & dancing on cafeteria tables (the table dancing didn’t come around until college for me ;), I might have been a little more like Troy and Gabriella, gazing around at all my friends, with tears in my eyes, as we held hands in our red graduation gowns, humming, ‘We’re All in this Together’.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t get the heck out of dodge fast enough. Don’t get me wrong. I had fun in high school. I had some good friends. I had some good times and made some fun memories. But, for the life of me, I can’t really remember feeling wistful that it was finished when it was. I was pretty darn stoked, if I recall, (and if I recall the language of the decade, ‘stoked’ was in usage then).
College awaited… a whole new world of dorm life, new friends, challenging classes, and other people who, like me, were venturing out of the various tiny towns where they’d grown up, in search of independence, and possibly, their own identity.
Who knows? Maybe we’ll see all the HSM characters reprising their roles for college life… but I doubt it. HSM, like the musical, Grease, isn’t supposed to be reality. It’s supposed to be an idealized version of the high school experience. That whole, ‘these are the best days of your life’ theory... the ‘glory days’ philosophy.
Hopefully, for most of us, that’s not the case. ;)
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Things I learned or was reminded of this week...
Things I learned or was reminded of this week:
1. Even though a four year old doesn’t usually nap, she probably still needs to.
2. A dislocated toe hurts for a long time. Especially when you whack it on a shoe left in the middle of the floor. Especially when it’s your own shoe. Damn.
3. Guinea pigs poop. A lot.
4. If you put said guinea pigs on the floor in an effort to get a cute picture, the flash will probably startle the little darling, and it will likely try to make a break for it under the sofa.
5. An hour can easily slip away while sitting in Barnes & Noble, reading the first few chapters of Twilight to see if you really want to purchase it.
6. ‘We are often our own worst enemies’ and ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. And a couple of other platitudes.
7. Any rags that have ‘Goof-Off’ on them should go DIRECTLY to the garage. NOT the laundry room… ahem.
8. I take mine and my family’s good health for granted. I need to work on that.
9. Taking at least one picture a day is harder than it sounds. Especially when it's pictures of guinea pigs.
10. That I should keep it in perspective. What? Well, just about everything. ;)
Oops... forgot one: No matter how thorough you are with the Christmas 'undecorating', you will STILL find something that didn't get put away, once the boxes are already sealed and back in storage. Dangit.
1. Even though a four year old doesn’t usually nap, she probably still needs to.
2. A dislocated toe hurts for a long time. Especially when you whack it on a shoe left in the middle of the floor. Especially when it’s your own shoe. Damn.
3. Guinea pigs poop. A lot.
4. If you put said guinea pigs on the floor in an effort to get a cute picture, the flash will probably startle the little darling, and it will likely try to make a break for it under the sofa.
5. An hour can easily slip away while sitting in Barnes & Noble, reading the first few chapters of Twilight to see if you really want to purchase it.
6. ‘We are often our own worst enemies’ and ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’. And a couple of other platitudes.
7. Any rags that have ‘Goof-Off’ on them should go DIRECTLY to the garage. NOT the laundry room… ahem.
8. I take mine and my family’s good health for granted. I need to work on that.
9. Taking at least one picture a day is harder than it sounds. Especially when it's pictures of guinea pigs.
10. That I should keep it in perspective. What? Well, just about everything. ;)
Oops... forgot one: No matter how thorough you are with the Christmas 'undecorating', you will STILL find something that didn't get put away, once the boxes are already sealed and back in storage. Dangit.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
It's in the genes...
Biology and genetics are funny things. Sometimes you just can’t escape them.
For example, I have a family history of high cholesterol. There is nothing I can do in the realm of diet and exercise that will lower my cholesterol from the upper reaches of the 200’s to get it to below 200. For this reason, I have to take a low dose statin drug every day (yes, yes...along with diet and exercise. *sigh). That’s biology, my friends. There’s just no getting around it.
So I think it must be in my husband’s biology that he is almost completely incapable of making a bed. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Girls, you’ve GOT to know what I’m talking about here. Last one outta bed should make it, right?! Unfortunately once we are out of bed, there seems to be some sort of invisible (at least to me) force field that prevents anyone with a Y chromosome from approaching it.
And on the few occasions he has fought through his natural inclinations, and has actually pulled the comforter up, the assorted decorative throw pillows still remain neatly stacked on the treadmill. (Isn’t that what you use YOUR treadmill for?!) And the sheets? Usually still in a twisted bundle at the foot of the bed… a lump beneath the comforter that is big enough to make me wonder if he unwittingly made it up with one of the children inside.
His reasoning is this: “We’re just going to get back in bed tonight, so what’s the point of making it up?”
I am tempted to counter with: “There will be another ridiculous movie on the Sci-Fi channel with a one word title (Tarantulas!) later this week, so what’s the point of watching this one?” (Anaconda!)
My girls do a pretty serviceable job of making their beds. Even my four year old can pull her comforter up, and fluff the pillows. My boy? Well, there goes that biology rearing its ugly head. His quilt is just as likely to be shoved into his closet as to be on his bed. Don’t want to mess with it? Stick it in the closet. Phil would probably do the same thing with ours, given half a chance.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are plenty of things that Philip would tell you that I am genetically incapable of doing… such as mowing the lawn, putting Christmas lights on the outside of the house, and cleaning the lint trap from the dryer (I always forget!) I’m not perfect. I just like the bed made.
It’s in my genetic code.
For example, I have a family history of high cholesterol. There is nothing I can do in the realm of diet and exercise that will lower my cholesterol from the upper reaches of the 200’s to get it to below 200. For this reason, I have to take a low dose statin drug every day (yes, yes...along with diet and exercise. *sigh). That’s biology, my friends. There’s just no getting around it.
So I think it must be in my husband’s biology that he is almost completely incapable of making a bed. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. Girls, you’ve GOT to know what I’m talking about here. Last one outta bed should make it, right?! Unfortunately once we are out of bed, there seems to be some sort of invisible (at least to me) force field that prevents anyone with a Y chromosome from approaching it.
And on the few occasions he has fought through his natural inclinations, and has actually pulled the comforter up, the assorted decorative throw pillows still remain neatly stacked on the treadmill. (Isn’t that what you use YOUR treadmill for?!) And the sheets? Usually still in a twisted bundle at the foot of the bed… a lump beneath the comforter that is big enough to make me wonder if he unwittingly made it up with one of the children inside.
His reasoning is this: “We’re just going to get back in bed tonight, so what’s the point of making it up?”
I am tempted to counter with: “There will be another ridiculous movie on the Sci-Fi channel with a one word title (Tarantulas!) later this week, so what’s the point of watching this one?” (Anaconda!)
My girls do a pretty serviceable job of making their beds. Even my four year old can pull her comforter up, and fluff the pillows. My boy? Well, there goes that biology rearing its ugly head. His quilt is just as likely to be shoved into his closet as to be on his bed. Don’t want to mess with it? Stick it in the closet. Phil would probably do the same thing with ours, given half a chance.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are plenty of things that Philip would tell you that I am genetically incapable of doing… such as mowing the lawn, putting Christmas lights on the outside of the house, and cleaning the lint trap from the dryer (I always forget!) I’m not perfect. I just like the bed made.
It’s in my genetic code.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Getting Unstuck
I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck.
I ventured into Barnes and Noble today for a little motivation. I wandered around the store, my iPod buds tucked into my ears, and finally found myself in the ‘Writing’ section.
If you haven’t been a part of my little world for the last couple of months, I started a novel in the month of November. I wrote over 50,000 words over the course of that month. I was in the groove… I was cruising… I was loving my story… I was on track to finish in record time. I even have a cool, ‘double meaning' title for my novel: Leaving Messages.
And then enter December. The month of presents, parties, Santa Claus, over-eating, & Christmas movies on ABC’s Family channel. I’m sorry, but who can resist ‘Home Alone’ and ‘Elf’ and ‘A Christmas Story’ and ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’? Hello?! I’m just one woman… and I’m not made of stronger stuff, I guess. December… the month of just about 2000 words. I have lost my momentum. I am so close to the end… but right now I am stuck. Stuck. Stuck.
In the writing section, I perused volumes of writing books, (which for a store as large as this, I was surprised at how tiny the writing section was.) But within those two shelves, I saw quite a few different tomes on how to be a better writer of short stories, novels, poems & screenplays, and guides on how to get published. (Soooo not there, yet.).
There was even an Idiot’s Guide to Writing. Not quite feeling like an idiot yet, I put that one back. There was The Tao of Writing… a little too deep. Writing Boot Camp… been there, done that. It was called NaNoWriMo, remember?! Writing to Change the World… waaaay too much pressure, there. I’m not writing to change the world. Usually I’m just writing for me, and occasionally YOU (but mostly just me ;) And there was more than one book that was a different play on the word, “WRITE”… you know, The Write Stuff… Write On… Publishing a Novel the Write Way. I could never take a book like that seriously.
So, I left without anything, except the hint of a headache. And here I am, back at square #52,530. I just need to take that next leap. I’ve lost momentum, but I haven’t quite lost faith in myself. I will finish it. It may not be a spectacular work of fiction, but it will be a pretty spectacular accomplishment. Now, if I can just get unstuck.
p.s. My middle name is Michelle. ;)
I ventured into Barnes and Noble today for a little motivation. I wandered around the store, my iPod buds tucked into my ears, and finally found myself in the ‘Writing’ section.
If you haven’t been a part of my little world for the last couple of months, I started a novel in the month of November. I wrote over 50,000 words over the course of that month. I was in the groove… I was cruising… I was loving my story… I was on track to finish in record time. I even have a cool, ‘double meaning' title for my novel: Leaving Messages.
And then enter December. The month of presents, parties, Santa Claus, over-eating, & Christmas movies on ABC’s Family channel. I’m sorry, but who can resist ‘Home Alone’ and ‘Elf’ and ‘A Christmas Story’ and ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’? Hello?! I’m just one woman… and I’m not made of stronger stuff, I guess. December… the month of just about 2000 words. I have lost my momentum. I am so close to the end… but right now I am stuck. Stuck. Stuck.
In the writing section, I perused volumes of writing books, (which for a store as large as this, I was surprised at how tiny the writing section was.) But within those two shelves, I saw quite a few different tomes on how to be a better writer of short stories, novels, poems & screenplays, and guides on how to get published. (Soooo not there, yet.).
There was even an Idiot’s Guide to Writing. Not quite feeling like an idiot yet, I put that one back. There was The Tao of Writing… a little too deep. Writing Boot Camp… been there, done that. It was called NaNoWriMo, remember?! Writing to Change the World… waaaay too much pressure, there. I’m not writing to change the world. Usually I’m just writing for me, and occasionally YOU (but mostly just me ;) And there was more than one book that was a different play on the word, “WRITE”… you know, The Write Stuff… Write On… Publishing a Novel the Write Way. I could never take a book like that seriously.
So, I left without anything, except the hint of a headache. And here I am, back at square #52,530. I just need to take that next leap. I’ve lost momentum, but I haven’t quite lost faith in myself. I will finish it. It may not be a spectacular work of fiction, but it will be a pretty spectacular accomplishment. Now, if I can just get unstuck.
p.s. My middle name is Michelle. ;)
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Things you may or may not know about me.
Things you may or may not know about me.
1. I have a twin.
2. I don’t really have a twin. I’m a pathological liar.
3. I’m not REALLY a pathological liar. I am just an embellisher of the truth.
4. Now you’re going to wonder if everything I say is complete and utter crap.
5. Good. That’s what I was shooting for. ;)
6. Here’s one: When I was fourteen, my best friend tried to teach me to drive and I drove her dad’s car right into a deep ditch. It had to be towed out.
7. The song, ‘Release Me’ by Wilson Phillips changed my life for the better.
8. When I was a middle school teacher, I led my Texas Future Problem Solving team to a State Championship two years in a row.
9. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me nauseous.
10. I broke my left arm when I was in junior high, horsing around in the girls’ bathroom.
11. I once saw Emilio Estevez waiting in line at a movie theater in Austin, Texas.
12. I used to have very long hair that hung almost to my waist.
13. I have never been to Canada. But I would like to go.
14. I have been drunk in a border town in Mexico. I would not like to do that again.
15. My middle name is Anne.
16. One of the statements from #6-#15 is not true. Any idea which one it is? ;)
1. I have a twin.
2. I don’t really have a twin. I’m a pathological liar.
3. I’m not REALLY a pathological liar. I am just an embellisher of the truth.
4. Now you’re going to wonder if everything I say is complete and utter crap.
5. Good. That’s what I was shooting for. ;)
6. Here’s one: When I was fourteen, my best friend tried to teach me to drive and I drove her dad’s car right into a deep ditch. It had to be towed out.
7. The song, ‘Release Me’ by Wilson Phillips changed my life for the better.
8. When I was a middle school teacher, I led my Texas Future Problem Solving team to a State Championship two years in a row.
9. The smell of cigarette smoke makes me nauseous.
10. I broke my left arm when I was in junior high, horsing around in the girls’ bathroom.
11. I once saw Emilio Estevez waiting in line at a movie theater in Austin, Texas.
12. I used to have very long hair that hung almost to my waist.
13. I have never been to Canada. But I would like to go.
14. I have been drunk in a border town in Mexico. I would not like to do that again.
15. My middle name is Anne.
16. One of the statements from #6-#15 is not true. Any idea which one it is? ;)
Monday, January 5, 2009
Project 365
So, I’m taking on a new challenge this year… it’s not quite as rigorous a task as NaNoWriMo was, and I promise I won’t bore you with lengthy daily updates. (Um…okay, now is when you’re supposed to say, ‘We loved all that droning on about your novel! Noooo, really we did!’) Anyway, I thought I’d tell you a little about it because I think it will be a cool ‘slice of life’ project.
It’s called Project 365, and it involves taking one picture a day for a year to document your life. No, it’s not a picture of ME everyday (God forbid!)… I have seen some of those on YouTube, and to be perfectly honest, the very thought of that horrifies me. I would know, unequivocally, exactly how many days I spend with a baseball cap stuck down over my messy bedhead. Not sure I want to document that.
No, this involves taking a picture of anything in your life on that given day… the idea being that it is a better ‘snapshot’ of your daily world than a more traditional scrapbook gives. Yes, I know, I’m already a goddess in your mind when it comes to scrapbooking (among other things, right?!), but I thought this sounded like a cool challenge.
I started on January 1st, and the plan is to do a weekly layout which consists of the 7 pictures from the week, and one or two sentences of journaling for each picture. I’m working from Monday through Sunday (so yes, my first week will be a little short…) and so far, I’ve taken pictures of the guinea pigs, Davis reading a chapter book (he’s getting so big!), the kids with all their light sabers playing ‘General Grievous’, and the book we’re reading: The Tale of Despereaux.
The picture of the book is a perfect example… I would not ordinarily make a scrapbook page about reading this book to them, but it is an important little snippet from our family life these days. Now it’s documented. I think that’s pretty awesome.
When I finish my first full week’s layout, I’ll post a picture. I’m looking forward to seeing how it will all come together. A day at a time, I guess… just like real life.
It’s called Project 365, and it involves taking one picture a day for a year to document your life. No, it’s not a picture of ME everyday (God forbid!)… I have seen some of those on YouTube, and to be perfectly honest, the very thought of that horrifies me. I would know, unequivocally, exactly how many days I spend with a baseball cap stuck down over my messy bedhead. Not sure I want to document that.
No, this involves taking a picture of anything in your life on that given day… the idea being that it is a better ‘snapshot’ of your daily world than a more traditional scrapbook gives. Yes, I know, I’m already a goddess in your mind when it comes to scrapbooking (among other things, right?!), but I thought this sounded like a cool challenge.
I started on January 1st, and the plan is to do a weekly layout which consists of the 7 pictures from the week, and one or two sentences of journaling for each picture. I’m working from Monday through Sunday (so yes, my first week will be a little short…) and so far, I’ve taken pictures of the guinea pigs, Davis reading a chapter book (he’s getting so big!), the kids with all their light sabers playing ‘General Grievous’, and the book we’re reading: The Tale of Despereaux.
The picture of the book is a perfect example… I would not ordinarily make a scrapbook page about reading this book to them, but it is an important little snippet from our family life these days. Now it’s documented. I think that’s pretty awesome.
When I finish my first full week’s layout, I’ll post a picture. I’m looking forward to seeing how it will all come together. A day at a time, I guess… just like real life.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Tub time...
I love to take hot baths. It’s one of my favorite things to do. And I can seriously multi-task in a hot tub. Read a magazine, drink a glass of wine, relax, and ignore any chaos that is going on outside my bedroom door. Oh yes, I’ve become quite good at that. I love to lie in the tub, with water hot enough to scald, soak in the scented water, and scrub with a myriad of fancy body washes.
Last night, for instance, I was trying out a new wash I’d gotten for my face that guaranteed that with one use I’d look a decade younger. Just a couple of uses, and I’ll be ready for elementary school again (well, okay, maybe more than ‘a couple’). ;)
It was full of all sorts of yummy smelling botanicals… and evidently it was laced with a little bit of hydrocloric acid, too, because when I accidentally got it in my eye, I just about went blind. I was flailing around in the tub, trying to rinse out my eye, and I managed to pop my contact out and into the palm of my hand. My eye was still on fire, so I wasn’t going to attempt to put it back in.
I thought that the best course of action would be to get out of the tub and put my contacts into their case. I stood up in the tub, ready to step out onto the bathroom mat. Of course, I am still favoring my right foot, since my dislocated toe incident, and I had a brief moment when I was worried that I’d fall ‘ass over teakettle’, climbing out of the slippery tub. I’d have to make a split second decision as to whether I’d catch myself, and possibly sacrifice the contact cupped in my hand or just fall on my already injured foot. I figured that going to Urgent Care to have my toe popped back into place would be cheaper than replacing a contact lens.
Having managed to get out of the tub without incident, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even gotten a towel before I’d gotten into the tub. Why not? Oh, I don’t know. Why do I do half the things I do? I guess I always think that Jerome, the towel gnome, will deliver the towel to me whilst I’m soaking.
So, sans towel (well, sans ANYTHING!), dripping wet, bleary eyed, standing at the bathroom sink, I managed to get my contacts safely stored away. Before I got back into the tub, I figured I should get a towel this time around. Especially since my own towel gnome happened to be downstairs watching college football, and I knew it would be awhile before he made his way upstairs. Besides, it bugs the heck out of him that I’m always forgetting my towel before hopping into the tub or shower, so thought I’d just circumvent that little argument. ;)
Of course, all the clean towels had not yet made it to the linen closet in the bathroom, but were fortunately just a few steps away, folded in a laundry basket in my bedroom. So I run into my room (still dripping wet and um…well, you know…) to grab a towel, and realize that EVERY damn window blind in my bedroom is completely open. Well, that’s just special. Now I’m sure that none of my neighbors saw me… I don’t even know if anyone was outside because I immediately dropped down, and crawled on all fours over to the laundry basket to get a towel to wrap around myself.
Doesn’t that sound like a relaxing way to spend an evening? No wonder I needed a hot bath after that.
Last night, for instance, I was trying out a new wash I’d gotten for my face that guaranteed that with one use I’d look a decade younger. Just a couple of uses, and I’ll be ready for elementary school again (well, okay, maybe more than ‘a couple’). ;)
It was full of all sorts of yummy smelling botanicals… and evidently it was laced with a little bit of hydrocloric acid, too, because when I accidentally got it in my eye, I just about went blind. I was flailing around in the tub, trying to rinse out my eye, and I managed to pop my contact out and into the palm of my hand. My eye was still on fire, so I wasn’t going to attempt to put it back in.
I thought that the best course of action would be to get out of the tub and put my contacts into their case. I stood up in the tub, ready to step out onto the bathroom mat. Of course, I am still favoring my right foot, since my dislocated toe incident, and I had a brief moment when I was worried that I’d fall ‘ass over teakettle’, climbing out of the slippery tub. I’d have to make a split second decision as to whether I’d catch myself, and possibly sacrifice the contact cupped in my hand or just fall on my already injured foot. I figured that going to Urgent Care to have my toe popped back into place would be cheaper than replacing a contact lens.
Having managed to get out of the tub without incident, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even gotten a towel before I’d gotten into the tub. Why not? Oh, I don’t know. Why do I do half the things I do? I guess I always think that Jerome, the towel gnome, will deliver the towel to me whilst I’m soaking.
So, sans towel (well, sans ANYTHING!), dripping wet, bleary eyed, standing at the bathroom sink, I managed to get my contacts safely stored away. Before I got back into the tub, I figured I should get a towel this time around. Especially since my own towel gnome happened to be downstairs watching college football, and I knew it would be awhile before he made his way upstairs. Besides, it bugs the heck out of him that I’m always forgetting my towel before hopping into the tub or shower, so thought I’d just circumvent that little argument. ;)
Of course, all the clean towels had not yet made it to the linen closet in the bathroom, but were fortunately just a few steps away, folded in a laundry basket in my bedroom. So I run into my room (still dripping wet and um…well, you know…) to grab a towel, and realize that EVERY damn window blind in my bedroom is completely open. Well, that’s just special. Now I’m sure that none of my neighbors saw me… I don’t even know if anyone was outside because I immediately dropped down, and crawled on all fours over to the laundry basket to get a towel to wrap around myself.
Doesn’t that sound like a relaxing way to spend an evening? No wonder I needed a hot bath after that.
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