A wild hair

Every year or two I get a wild hair up my you-know-what and decide to cut all my hair off, or change the color drastically. Apparently this past weekend was my wild hair weekend and I did both.

I go through times where I miss my really long hair and want to grow it out. Then I remember what a pain it is. I'd been growing it out for about 2 years from a super short cut and it was getting really old, really fast.

It's so much easier to manage. I can do all sorts of cute things with it. And I don't have to mess with straightening it nearly as much.

I try to live dangerously and take pictures of myself while driving. I swear I was careful and didn't endanger my fellow drivers. But it means that I got odd angels and blurry shots...

This last picture is a bonus picture of sorts. Sunday I took the boys for a picnic lunch with a group of vegans and before we met up with them we rode the train that's in the park. Don't the adults behind us look so thrilled to be alive?


I'm telling you what I really think.

I came home tonight with glee in my heart and a spring in my step. The television gods were finally smiling down on millions of people who have been subsisting on reruns and made for TV movies. Tonight was the season premier of The Office and Grey's Anatomy.

Happy happy joy joy! FINALLY! I've been waiting for months. The anticipation grew to such proportions that I was reduced to using multiple !!!!!!!! when talking about my shows coming back on.

I come home, get the kids to bed, settle down with a PB&J and a glass of water. I get the best seat in the house, prop a pillow under my resting arm and grab the television remote in sweet anticipation. This is the moment I've been waiting for.

I hit the list menu that displays all the shows that were supposed to have recorded tonight. I scan quickly for The Office. When I don't see it, I scan the list again, more slowly this time around. Not there. Well isn't that odd. Surely it's there, DirecTV wouldn't be that much of an asshole to not record the season premier when just last week it recorded reruns. Oh, but it did.

There's more.

After regaining my composure slightly, I scan the list menu for Grey's Anatomy. There it is! YES. I commence with the settling in, perturbed about my other show, but willing to suck it up and watch the second show.

I'm well into the thick of Meredith's internal struggle with herself and thinking that Rose is just a scorned woman and I feel for her when the show stops and DirecTV asks me if I want to delete this recording? Well, would I??

Seems that DirecTV was a bigger asshole and only recorded half of Grey's Anatomy.

My evening is shot and I'm so so irritated. DirectTV, I have one thing to "say" to you.

(Hi Grandma! Please ignore the posted picture. Love you!)


I guess I'm official now.

So you remember that I wrote a post about going Vegan? In case you were wondering, it's going smashingly! I've had a few slip ups on accident, but I've done really well.

Somethings are easier than others. I like pizza without cheese and loaded with veggies. I find that I don't really miss Parmesan cheese on my pasta. The thought of real meat kind of makes me queasy now after all the books I've read. I don't miss cream in my coffee because I just use a milk alternative. I read labels obsessively and am getting better and better at locating the hidden animal derivatives that lurk in foods that I never knew had animal products in them. (Those sneaky manufacturers!) I've enjoyed cooking more and more and discovering new foods.

Eating out is a bit tougher. I know certain places that have stuff that I will eat. Other places only have salad. I try to not be that girl who makes eating out a chore. I can manage anywhere I go to find something to satisfy me and my tummy. For the most part, that is.

One of the things I did when I decided to go all Vegan was to join a message board. It's been an invaluable tool. I get recipe ideas, junk food ideas (YIKES!) and support from people who know exactly what I'm going through. I am so grateful that I found such a wealth of information in one spot.

As a result of joining this message board I'm now participating in another blog. It's a Texas Vegan blog. All about Texas and Vegans! How exciting! It's called Lone Star Plate and I'm really excited to be part of this. I wrote my very first post today and am thinking of more things to write about.

Even if you aren't a Vegan, please check it out at some point. You might find a new recipe or information that could very well save your life. Or at least help you pass a few minutes of your day.


Why I blog

When I went to BlogHer a few months ago I knew I was out of my league with some of those people when I realized there were there to learn how to increase their traffic. Some talked about how many 'hits' they get a day or week or month. Advertising seemed to be of the utmost importance for some.

Me? Could care less. For the most part that is.

I admit, I do get all giddy when I have 12 comments on one post. Hell, I get giddy when I have 5 comments.

I blog not because I have to or because I intend on making money. I don't even have hopes that someone will see my writing and ask me to write somewhere else, although that would be a big confidence booster. I don't blog to change the world or the opinions of others.

I blog because I want to remember. I want to remember the little things that will inevitably slip my mind and fall to the wayside. I blog because someday I hope that my children, when they get older, will be able to read my words and learn a little something about their mother. (Hi kids! I love you!)

My children won't care about how many 'hits' I get. Or how many comments I got. They probably won't care what other people thought when they read what I wrote. Until they read this particular post they won't realize that my number of comments I get is almost proportionate to the number of comments I make on other people's blogs.

I'm no professional writer by any stretch of the imagination and I have no hopes of being one. Even a semi-professional writer status is nothing I aspire to be. What I do aspire to be is honest and thoughtful and entertaining.

I honestly am looking forward to reading these posts years from now. Chances are I'll roll my eyes at my own writing and probably be mortified that I wrote some things. But I'm really looking forward to remembering those moments that I talked about earlier. The ones that got away.

I look forward to capturing those forgotten moments. That's why I blog.


The day has come

The day has come. I am my mother. Crap.

When I was younger, and even now still sometimes, when my mother is frustrated with me or just simply wants to wring my neck she writes me a letter or an e-mail. Usually it starts out all irritated and I can tell my mommas pissed at me. When she uses ALL CAPS I know she's exceptionally pissed.

Her letters would go on and on and on and on and I often would fall asleep, drooling and had to rouse myself to finish the novel that was written for me. The caps were the killer. I knew my momma meant business when she made the extra effort to type in caps.

Nine times out of ten the letters would end with a positive spin. She would tell me how much she loved me and how proud she is of me. Almost every time the letter ended with an I Love You.

You see where this is going, right?

My oldest son, Derick, is 13 and in 8Th grade. He signed himself up for advanced English and science classes. He's capable of making good grades in both classes but he's gotten lazy and thinks it's 'too hard'. I got an e-mail from this English teacher the other day and I was furious with Derick.

I was so furious I wrote him a letter. WITH CAPS. And I went on and on and on and on. I found my letter, discarded, in the trash can in Derick's bathroom. I think I even detected some drool on the paper. And I'm positive he fell asleep while reading the novel I wrote.

And so it begins. I am my mother.


Come visit me!

Today I'm guest posting (my first time EVER!!!) over at Jennie's blog, She Likes Purple. You've read her before, right? If you haven't, please make your way over there and stay for a bit.


Also, can we talk about the weather? It's sad that a frigging hurricane had to occur to make it possible to walk outside without melting my face off. I kind of feel guilty that I'm happy about this. Not happy about the hurricane, of course, just happy that it finally cooled off.

I have fall jackets hanging in my closet practically begging me to wear them and I open the closet door everyday and console my articles of clothing that I haven't worn since July. Because if you remember, I went to San Francisco in July and it apparently thought it was November or something. So my fall jackets sit and wait for me and I keep thinking OK, it's one more day closer to cooler weather. And then I remember it's only September and we have a good solid 2 months of this hot-ass-melt-your-face-off weather still. And then I fall on the floor into fetal position and cry.

And how was your weekend?



The night of September 11, 2001 I sat outside on my back patio looking into the heavens.

I had, moments earlier, turned off the television. I had been glued to watching every single image that was flashed across the screen. I saw the towers fall over and over again. A hundred times over and the shock never lessened. I saw a woman jump to her impending death to escape the fire within the buildings, her skirt covering her face while she fell. I saw people running, screaming through the streets not really knowing what was happening or where to go.

That night I agonized about how to tell my six year old son what had just happened. How do you explain that some people have such hatred in their hearts that they cannot see past the red? I must have checked on him sleeping a hundred times, thanking the universe that I was spared for another day. My son would have a mother to hug him everyday while so many other children were without one of their parents forever.

I cried when I heard that my family, who lived not far from the towers, made it through the day, alive. I imagined my Uncle running block after block to rescue his children, my cousins, hoping that his home was more safe than a school. I heard days later that they were all doing OK, trying to manage without any resources like water or electricity. I said a small prayer when I realized that my Aunt didn't work in the towers anymore.

Picturing the altered history books shocked me. In 50 years I may not be around anymore, but the legacy of 9/11 will live on in the history books. One chapter I wish we could rewrite or even erase entirely. Not because I don't want people to know about what happened, but I wish it never happened. Of course I wish it never happened, don't we all?

I couldn't help but wonder if the people who were selling all the American flags that I saw popping up in front yards, business' and cars that passed me, were donating money to victim's families or some other cause. Did those people feel guilty that in a time of such disaster that they were profiting? Even when I bought a small montage of photos in New York, years later, I wondered if the street vendor was so detached from the event that he sold his pilfered wares to tourists like me without a thought. Was I just as guilty because I purchased what he was selling?

These days I am ashamed to admit that I don't think of 9/11 much. On occasion it will pop up in my head and I often make a concentrated effort to push it back out. It's hard to remember, though I will never forget. None of us will ever forget. How on earth could we.

Every time I think of 9/11 I remember two things the most clearly. That woman who jumped from the tower. I am almost thankful that her skirt obscured her face because I don't think I am strong enough to see total horror and such bravery in one person's face.

The other thing I remember the most is the silence. As I sat on my porch that evening in 2001 I watched the sky and the lack of planes flying overhead that I was so used to. I waited and waited for a plane to fly by. To hear the familiar sound of the engines cutting through the night sky. I never heard a plane that night, and I never turned the television back on that night, either.



Friendships are tricky things, aren't they? Or are they? I'm confused and I don't know.

I have friends in my life that have come and gone. We served our purposes to each other and called it a day. Other friends have been around for years. Still other friends are still in the making. And I'm sure there are people out there that I will be friends with later in life, I just don't know it yet.

I had a small dinner planned with friends for my birthday this past weekend and I had a moment where I realized that some of my friends? Well, they suck.

Some friends didn't show when they said they were going to. Some of them said they would try and then I never heard from them. Two other friends didn't come because they didn't have any money and still didn't come when I offered to pay for them because I wanted them there. Still others still haven't even acknowledged my birthday. No phone call, no e-mail, not even a text. The later really kills me because one friend is one of my best friends, or so I thought.

This all leads me to question my friends and myself.

Am I a bad friend? Do I not give enough of myself to the ones I care about and in turn they don't give me anything back? Do I just pick friends that plain 'ol suck? Do I let myself be taken advantage of and don't even see it? Am I that miserable that my friends can't stand to even call me for a few minutes? Does this somehow relate to my incapacity to keep a normal relationship?

I know that life gets in the way sometimes and even the most well intentioned person forgets things and puts friends on a shelf from time to time, but this seems to be a revolving theme that I'm noticing.

I don't profess to be perfect. I forget birthday's too and I get lazy with the phone calls sometimes. Sometimes I even put all my friends on a shelf while I tend to life. But I think that overall I'm a good friend. I try to be there for the important moments and celebrate with my friends. I just don't get it.

I have no idea if this friends that bailed on me and forgot about me read this blog and frankly I hope they do. This should be taken as a wake up call. For them and for me.

I'm 31, it's high time I started figuring out who my real friends are.


Maybe I can get more naps in now.

One of the gifts I requested for my birthday was to have someone come into my home and clean it. Top to bottom. Left to right. Spick 'n span. I honestly didn't expect to get it as a gift, but I did and I'm positively giddy at the prospect. (Thank you Mom and Dad!)

Fortunately I know someone who has a cleaning lady and I've seen her work and I feel comfortable having her come into my home and making it all pretty.

It's humbling to realize that you need help. I could keep my house clean for an extended amount of time and I have before, but man, it's hard work. I'd have to spend an hour a day, everyday, just to maintain all the duties that having an entire house requires. It's not like I have a huge house, but I do have 3 cats a dog and live in an area where dust is always flying due to the new home construction.

Sure, when people come over, my house is usually clean and tidy, but don't open that one drawer in the kitchen. And please don't bring any white gloves to test for dust. Also, it's not necessary for you to inspect the kitchen floor too closely.

I realized recently that I never invite people over because I stress that my house isn't clean enough, or doesn't smell good enough or isn't dust free enough. And I'm the first to admit that I can be the world's worst house keeper.

Plus, I'd rather worry about making dinner for my kids or reading one of my new books or playing Wii fit with Derick.

Some things are just more important than scrubbing the bathtub.

Napping being one of those important things.


A year in review.

Today I turned 31 years old.

I remember when I was a mere teenager, talking to girlfriend's in high school, and none of us could even fathom being in our late 20's. We never talked about being in our 30's. It was such a stretch of the imagination to think that high relating to age, our age.

But here I am. All 31 years of life behind me.

But so many more waiting to be experienced and lived.

This past year has been filled with a few downs, some really rough ones. But also some wonderful ups, some really great ups. Collectively, this past year of my life has been one of my best years. Even with the icky downs and set backs.

Without further delay, a bullet style list and mostly in date order...

  • I started my very own personal blog over on TypePad with the encouragement of Jennie.
  • I braved my second attempt ever at Black Friday shopping. And failed miserably.
  • October 29 I started Weight Watchers. To date I've lost around 40 lbs.
  • Derick broke his arm and it took me 2 days to believe him that it really was broken.
  • Jackson got his first haircut.
  • I've perfected my cooking and have learned to really enjoy making things for my family. I'm still nervous about cooking for everyone else, though.
  • Got a Chi flat iron and it changed my life. Ok, maybe not my life, but it sure changed my hair.
  • I attempted to bake a birthday cake, twice. It was not pretty.
  • I professed my love for spinach.
  • I registered for BlogHer and actually attended. And had a blast. I look forward to attending again.
  • We celebrated Jackson's first birthday. Kids. They grow so fast. Seriously, don't even blink, you might miss something.
  • Took Derick to the emergency room and reached out to the Internet.
  • I locked Jackson in the car for the first time. Hopefully the last.
  • I saw the rings of Saturn. One of the top 10 amazing moments of my life to date.
  • I became an Aunt for the first time to a sweet little man named Chase.
  • I had surgery to remove an ovarian cyst and a tumor. Jackson started walking. I became a single momma again and I got a new tattoo.
  • I joined a gym and have stuck with it on a fairly regular basis.
  • I took 2 cooking classes by myself, not knowing anyone.
  • My Grandpa Jack passed away.
  • I decided to do a 30 day vegetarian challenge.
  • I momentarily forgot how to drive. Then I made up for it.
  • I had some major family unit help revamping my house.
  • I embarked on a vegan diet.
  • Darling Sadie was born and I fell in love.
  • My tween became a teenager.
  • My youngest kid started preschool.
  • I saw my first meteor flying through the sky.
  • I started to be the real, authentic me for the first time in my life.

I know there have been more events that I know I'm forgetting. Probably really important things that don't come to mind right now. And if you know me at all, you'd know that my memory is awful. But I really think this past year was a great year. I learned about myself, the world and life in general.

I have a lot to learn, but don't we all? Life is all about learning and changing and growing and being a better person. I hope that in some small way I've made strides to be a better person for my children, my family, my friends and myself.

My 31st year is sure to top my 30th year, I can feel it. Hard work, determination, love and a little luck will help me achieve this goal.

I do want to say thank you to my Mom. I don't express myself often and I think it's one my downfalls, but I want to tell you, Mom, that I am so glad that you are my mom. I really lucked out when mommas were being assigned because I got a good one. You are the best support system I could ever wish for and I strive to be the same for my children. Thank you for putting up with me for all these years and never ever giving up on me. There are days when you are the reason I choose to do the right thing, because I want you to be proud of me. Thank you for trying for so many years to even have me. I am lucky that those 3 days gave you to me. I love you Mom.

And in the words of my Dad (who, consequently is an awesome Dad and I totally lucked out there too...)

Happy Birthday to me

Happy Birthday to me

I look like a monkey

And I act like one too!