Does believing a psychic make you change your destiny?

Yesterday’s post about seeing psychics and religion and people shoving it down your throat sparked some great comments. And it made me want to talk about this mystical world again today.

One of my commenters mentioned that she didn’t like psychics because people may make what the psychic said come true – to fullfil the word.

You can go back and read the comment but in summary – a woman was told by a psychic that she’d soon marry and have a kid. And so she did. She rushed into a marriage and had a baby and it was bad from the beginning…and they divorced later.

If she had never been told by a psychic that she’d marry soon and have a baby – would she have married “that guy”? Did the psychic put the “idea” in her head? Did the woman work to make it come true instead of letting life play out? Wouldn’t most humans do what she did?

I have my own real life psychic story too. Not for me – but a friend of mine. And it’s creepy and weird and sad and happy all at once.

Friends of ours were married for the second time to each other. They had no kids together and were hitting their 40s. The woman wanted kids BUT she didn’t know if she could get pregnant. Most doctors already told her that her chances were slim. She decided to go to a psychic she’d seen many times before and ask so she could be sure.The psychic told her that she would indeed have kids. In fact, she’d have two – twins. One would be a little girl with golden hair and blue eyes.

That very week her and her husband went forward with paying the $10,000 it cost to have his vasectomy reversed to begin trying to have kids. She believed the psychic with everything in her.

It didn’t work. His sperm count was too low from being snipped too long and his age was a factor. They would never be pregnant. They were devastated.

And I suppose right now is when you’d want to strangle the psychic for giving them false hope? Or like us – we wanted to strangle our friends for spending $10k for something that had a low probability of working – all based on a psychic’s words.

BUT – the story doesn’t end there. Today?

They have two kids. Twins in fact.

One is a girl with golden hair and blue eyes.

They adopted a few years later.

And so it seems the psychic was right. But like the story of my commenter…the fact is that they’d be $10,000 richer had they not tried to force what the psychic said into happening.

Kind of creepy isn’t it?

So – my questions are these. Do you think if a psychic you trusted told you that you’d be married soon – would you assume it’d be with the person you are already with and would you close your mind off to any other scenarios? Same with the kid thing? If a psychic told you that you’d have babies when medical professionals said you wouldn’t – would you assume it’d be from a pregnancy of your own? If a psychic told you that tragedy would strike someone you love – would you live in constant fear of that tragedy – and unknowingly create that tragedy?

Is it better to let life be unknown and let destiny play itself out? If you could have a free reading – what would you ask? I mean seriously. I thought about this yesterday and there are some things I don’t ever want to know.I don’t want to know how or when Rambo and I will leave this world, or my children or anyone I love. I don’t want to ask if I’ll remain “happy” – because I want to create my own happy every day. I don’t even want to know if I’ll change jobs or move or anything.

Those are life’s surprises that make us stronger once we’re through them I think. So what would I want to ask and know?

I’d want my Grandma who died of Alzheimer’s to come through so I could tell her I’m sorry for not loving the person she was behind the disease. I’d want my other Grandma to come through who died as I read a poem aloud to her and I’d want to know if that gave her comfort?

I’d mostly want to hear from my Uncle who took his own life at the age of 22. I’d like to tell him I forgive him – decades later…even though that’s not quite true.

And some silly things. Like will Rambo receive a promotion that he’s been reaching for? Will we travel? Will we have 15 grandchildren? Will I one day live in a log cabin inches from Jenny and will we spend most days in rocking chairs on the porch?

Fun stuff that I don’t think can hurt anyone. But then again, who knows?

What do you think? Is the course of your life altered unconsciously if you see a psychic and believe the words? Is that playing with fate and destiny? Is it a slap in the face to blind faith in a Supreme Being?

 Is it wrong or right?

Please discuss. I’m dying to hear your answers about what you’d want to know and how you feel about it. I thought I knew how I felt about it before yesterday’s post and your comments and now I’m not sure.

How about you?

A Facebook slap in the face or something like that.

I'm pretty sure I've never admitted it here but when I was in high school and searching for myself...I got involved with some girls that were VERY into religion.  And when I say "some girls" I mean - every girl in my class because in my small town that means about 10 of us.  We were all Catholic and to be confirmed you had to put in a certain amount of hours doing "faith work".  All 10 of us signed up for a youth conference that lasted an entire weekend to fulfill our faith work quota. 

We all went - and not very happily might I say.  I mean really?  Why would a bunch of teenagers want to spend an entire weekend for religion?

BUT for about 5 of us - it changed something in us and we connected with many people there. 

And we signed up for more.  And more.  And more.  We were well known in the circuit.  And for me, after a while - it seemed a bit cult-like and it lost its luster and I burned out and I stopped going.

One girl - the prom and homecoming queen, Miss Perfect - never grew out of it.  She preached religion every time she turned around.  You could have hated her for it if she wasn't so nice.

Today - I still keep in touch with her via Facebook.  She married a doctor.  Surprise, surprise.  She does speaking engagements on marriages and religion.  She's still perfect. 

Excuse me while I go throw up in my mouth. 

Just this weekend - I wrote this status on my Facebook wall.

Interesting...I was reading about a woman's reading with a psychic. Do we even have those around here? I've never heard anyone talk about them locally.


Yes, the woman I was reading about was a blogger.  It spiked my curiousity.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Pretty harmless.  Yes?

Well - not according to my old high school friend.  She sent me this private message:

I wanted to warn you of the dangers of dabbling in mysticism, psychics, palm readers, and divination. I have recently been reading in the old testament and all that stuff was around back then and it is vehemently warned against and admonished. I hope you know that I am warning u out of care and concern for u and your fam. I unfortunately had to watch a family member get deep into Wicca and witnessed her wedding performed by a witch and am thus pretty sensitive to this stuff and don't want anyone to dabble bc it's such a slippery slope. I of course have my own sins and temptations that I struggle with so please don't take my email as righteous but know it is outof love. Have a good weekend.


Oh my God.  It made me laugh.  I mean I didn't know whether to keep laughing or be angry and insulted.  Or maybe jealous that there's nothing in my life that I feel so passionately about that I would randomly email such a thing.

I replied to her:

Thanks! I wasn't going to see one - just thought it odd that no one around here even talks about it. Was just curious if it was only a big city thing.

I kept it short - afraid that if I didn't I might tell her to f*ck off or something and that would surely condemn me to hell faster than a psychic could predict it.  To which she replied:

There are psychics near u for sure. U can even find them in small towns. People think they are harmless fun and it makes me sad bc I did research and have a little experience and know how dangerous it is.....very very Contrary to our Christian beliefs. Thanks for listening.

The funny thing is - when she says "our" Christian beliefs....she makes the assumption I share HER beliefs.  Of which I no longer do.  Shoving shit down people's throats is a reason why sometimes ANY kind of religion turns me off. 

I have faith.  Stronger than many realize.  I just don't feel the need to tell everyone about them.  Or email anyone on Facebook privately about them.

Anyway - I still can't decide what I even feel about her message.  It wasn't meant in anger or to be mean and I know that.  I think I'm just surprised at some people's passion and balls.

What do you think?  Are you this passionate about your faith?  Would this message from a random high school friend have made you angry?  Or do you think it's just funny?

The only thing I do know is that she inadvertently gave me blog material.  That's always a good thing.

And yes - FYI - I'm not against psychics in any way.  I'd totally see one and I just might.  It's interesting to me.  I don't want to know when I'm going to die or anything cryptic like that but it could be fun to know if I'm going to win the lottery right?  Ha!

Have you guys ever seen a psychic?



..

Paying it forward!

You can read about what I decided to do for Lent here....but as part of it I have decided to pay it forward in blog land once a week.  I'm picking a relatively new blogger and giving a shout out! 

This week I'm picking LoriBang! 

Her blog is called, "I'm on the "band" wagon." 

Her profile says this:

I'm a 44 year old mother of 3 wonderful adopted children. I'm also FAT! I'm being banded on 12/5/11. I'm so excited for what life has in store for me and my family!

If you get a chance - stop in and see her blog and follow her!  We ALL love new followers!!!

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy! (massively crazier than usual!)

Okay - it's Friday - which means it's time for BYOC.  Bring Your Own Crazy! 

This week I dipped into the family reserves (2 daughters and Rambo) and asked them what they'd like to ask you guys.

#1 comes from Rambo....

1.  If you were going to scratch your ass in public, which cheek would you start with?

Yup, I asked for his help and this is what I get.  Seriously.  I have to live with this shiz.   I'd totally start with the right though.  Just like I hate odd numbers, I'm not a fan of anything left. 

I cannot believe I just answered that.

#2 comes from Watermelon (11 yr. old)

2.  If you were a fashion designer, what's the first item of clothing you'd design for yourself and why.

I think it'd be a swimsuit.  One that fits in EVERY way instead of just being "okay" or "just fine".  Or you know what?  I'd design a purse because NO purse on Earth has ever had exactly what I want it to have.

#3 is from me.

3.  Remember last week when I told you to describe yourself in 5 positive words?  This week - turn to your family or anyone next to you and ask them to describe you in 5 words and LISTEN to their answers.

Watermelon's words for me are:
pretty
loving
caring
thoughtful
truthful

(boy, do I have her fooled, huh?)

Banana's words for me are:
pink (oh HELL YAH)
dresses up
high heels
curtains
Harley Davidson

Okay - once again.  She is 6.  She does not know what an adjective is.  Nor does she know that she used way more than 5 words.

And she thinks I'm curtains. 

My kid is brilliant.

Rambo's words for me are:
beautiful
sexy
caring
smart
funny

(he's obviously trying to get laid or not get slapped)

#4 is a repeat question and I'm only doing 4 questions today since #3 is kinda long-ish.

4.  Summarize your week in blog land and in real life.

Real life has been good...nothing too exciting.  I'm sooo glad it's Friday.  I have a HUGE weekend planned...meaning I have a HUGE list of things to get done for the part time jobs.  Me and my rock star life.  I decided what to do for Lent finally...

Blog life is also good. I'm going to pick a blogger for my Lent work and post a link to that tomorrow.  I found a few new blogs to follow too and that's always fun.

Banana speak and a new OPI color.

Have you ever heard anyone speak Chinese or Spanish or Russian - and they say about 60 words so you think they just recounted an entire novel to you but when it's translated those 60 words that took 60 minutes to say actually mean something like "the cat is black"?

Yup - a bazillion words in Chinese translates into 4 English words.

Wellllll - my Banana has the opposite problem.  She is a child of few words - when she's writing English.

My proof?  Here you go.

Banana brought me this jar and told me she wanted to write her Daddy a note about it so he would know she needed more vitamins.

Here's her note I found stuck to the jar:

When I asked her to translate the note - she first looked at me like I was the dumbest person on Earth for not being able to know what it said.

And then she translated.  DAD GOR WOOD EMPTY - in Banana's world - means:

Daddy.  Here is our old jar of vitamins.  What would you want us to do with it?  It is empty now.

Yup - all of that.  Nearly 4 full sentences compacted to 4 words.

It was really hard not to laugh.  She was so proud of "sounding" out the words.

Hey.  I never said my kids were brilliant.

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

Oh and look at my new nail polish....it's a new OPI color.  I forget what it's called but it's sort of taupe-y.  And yes - I'm still obsessed with the whole "ring finger in a different color with glitter and sass" thing.

I think this color is either a love it or hate it kind of color....but I love it!

Whaddya think?  You like?

I’m Catholic. It’s Ash Wednesday. Lent begins today.

Ash Wednesday is “supposed” to mean a day of fasting and no meat.

Wanna know what I had for breakfast?

First of all – it’s not my fault. My work catered in breakfast today. It included eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, cheese, french toast, syrup, drinks, potatoes, mushrooms, muffins and the kitchen sink.

We were “encouraged” to go back for seconds and thirds.

Shizballs and grasshopper turds.

So much for fasting and no meat. It is quite apparent I have the will power of a tiny flea.

And besides - FASTING is a naughty word in Drazzie land.  It ranks right up there with any of the forbidden P words

Jesus balls I say. Jesus balls.

Soooo – Lent also means we’re supposed to give something or add something of value in. I thought of what I could do this year as I laid in bed for what seemed like hours. Leave it to me to procrastinate until the night before to figure this out.

I decided that:

I could give up imagining cutting off Explosive Man’s knees so he can’t go to the bathroom 20 times a day….but what fun would that be? And besides – he deserves it. Cuz he explodes. Duh.

I could give up swearing. I could stop saying “f*ck a duck and call it Larry” 24 times a day BUT “screw a duck and call it Larry” just doesn’t roll off the tongue like “f*ck a duck” does, you know?

I could give up pleading and begging the dust bunny Gods for a magical cleaning man who looks like Ryan Reynolds to appear on my lap and just do it myself. But come on. Imagine a man who looks like Ryan Reynolds AND cleans. Go ahead – take a minute – imagine.

I could give up wishing that I had been born to a pack of wolves so I wouldn’t have any emotional scars from childhood so I wouldn’t have to go to therapy and sit covered in hives trying to convince a stranger that I’m not crazy when I know I really – in fact – am.

I could give up bathing in Skittles, farting gumdrops, my Mt. Dew IV drip AND living in Care Bear Land but seriously – who the hell wants to live in the real world?

I could try to do something physical and give up laying on the couch not moving for hours watching juicy reality scar my brain shows. Or give up adding pounds of fat to Sheniqua by way of Milky Ways and Kit Kits. But honestly – what are the chances of that actually happening?

Le sigh.

I think I suck at giving up things (especially physical things) so I’ve decided to add something in (mainly mental) instead. In real life and in blog life I’m going to attempt to do a 40 day good deed endeavor. Every day I’m going to try to do one random good deed. Something truly nice with no expectations or assumptions behind it.

Just good old fashioned good will towards men (and women and children – and maybe even lizards).

For example…I can tell a co-worker I like their hair or outfit and actually mean it. I can hold a door open when I normally wouldn’t. I can send a nice email or snail mail card for no reason. I can write something nice on FB to someone I haven’t connected with for a while. I can offer my help to someone who needs it. Pay for someone’s coffee behind me in line.

Like today – my good deed is that I’m going to watch the neighbors 3 kids for an hour for her to help her out. Just because she needs it and I can and to make up for eating shitloads of bacon on Ash Wednesday.


In blog world – once a week I’m going to do “Pick a Booger”. Wait. That’s not right. I meant “Pick a Blogger”. I’m going to find a new blogger once a week that I love who is just starting to gather followers and do a “shout out” for them. I mean what’s more fun than someone helping people to find your blog and getting new followers? We ALL love that! And we were all newbies once.

Sooo – anyone wanna join me for 40 days? Catholic or not – I don’t care. It’ll be kind of fun. We can report our daily deeds quickly at the bottom of our other posts if we want and pass it on and pay it forward. In real life and in blog land.

I mean imagine if everyone you knew committed to doing one random act of kindness a day for 40 days? It’d be kind of a revolution…and you’d be a part of it.

And just once a week I’ll pick a booger…I mean blogger. And you can too!

Who’s with me?

Have you given up or added something in for Lent?  Please share.  I'd love to hear about it!

There is mutual healing in sharing pain with another.

A long time ago, I found myself laying on a bed. Staring at the ceiling. For days. Without eating or drinking or moving or sleeping or even talking. The only thought that went through my head on those days was – please, God, please hurry up and let me die.


If I lived another second – it was one second too long. Every breath brought more internal pain. And more anger that I wasn’t dead yet. My mind was betraying my body – willing it to leave this world…and I was powerless to stop it.

So was everyone else around me. I’ll never forget my own mother kneeling beside me, holding a small cup of juice – literally begging me to drink just one sip.

I shook my head no. How could I tell her that my mind knew that drinking and eating would prolong my existence?

I swear I nearly literally saw her heart break in her eyes in that moment – when even her begging couldn’t make me want to live.

I was hollow. Bone and flesh with my spirit seemingly gone. There was no color in my world anymore…everything had turned black. Even when the sun was out I lived in darkness. Living in my own skin brought nothing but desperation – to try to get out of it.

When the fog lifted due to meds…I was pissed beyond rage. My whole life I was a pillar of strength. I was the one who people came to when they were struggling. I held my mother up as my brothers nearly drove her insane with their antics. I was the only friend she had. Most days, I felt like I carried the world on my shoulders – and I liked it.

It gave me meaning. A purpose. Something to be proud of. A reason for some worth. I could be and do it all. Nothing could stop me. I had my perfect life all planned out. I told myself and everyone around me I was happy and okay – and again, perfect.

Yet I cried myself to sleep every night without anyone ever knowing it. I held in the depression, fears, insecurities, angers, and hurts – and faked it every single day so no one would know I was dying on the inside.

Mental pain wasn’t understood in my house. Nor was it wanted or welcomed or addressed. Denial was just easier.

It was exhausting. To lie. Smile and laugh. To pretend I was someone I wasn’t. To act like I was feeling joy when I never was.

And then Rambo came along when I was 15 and I knew then what true joy and happiness and love was. Little by little – only for him – the pain would come out. I’d scream to him, “Why do you love me? I am not good enough for you. I will only hurt you. Please let me take my own life to spare you future pain. I am not worth it.”

He’d take my face in his hands and tell me the opposite until I could believe even a tiny part of it and let go of some of the pain in his arms until I couldn’t weep anymore.

Then he’d do it all again the next day…because no matter how hard he tried my heart just could not understand or accept his love.

Eventually, in small pieces - I believed. Our love grew. I started to realize that fairy tales existed and we planned our wedding. I stopped crying myself to sleep at night. I was finally safe. No one could hurt me as long as Rambo was my shield.

We married. That was the day I moved out of my parent’s home and into my own with Rambo. I’d never done laundry or kept a house in my life. I bought a new car a week before this. I got a new job that same week. I graduated from college a few months prior. I had a best friend for my life partner.

And I ended up in a living coma. On that bed – unable to care about living or breathing.

I had to be literally carried out of my new job by nurses to my mom’s car. The depression had made me too weak to even walk on my own. Rambo was a million miles away – across the country in a semi.

Much of those days are gone from my memory…probably to protect myself. I do remember standing in front of a medical doctor screaming “WHY??? There is nothing wrong in my life. Everything is wonderful and on plan…why now? What the hell is going on?”

I remember him saying, “Your body can’t distinguish good stress from bad stress…and you just accomplished in 2 months what most people do in a 5 or 10 year plan. Your mind and your body cannot take it. They are shutting down – and you haven’t been listening.”

F*ck you. My mind nearly screamed F*CK YOU….at a man who I now see was right. Back then though - I thought he was crazier than even I was.

When the fog lifted and I was told that therapy would help me even further – I went. I was supposed to be telling her what was wrong and how I got to this place of hell and when she’d ask, “What is bothering you?” – I remember making shit up or scrambling to find something – because nothing was wrong.

I had everything a person on this Earth could need and want. My mind would scream to myself – how dare you fall into a depression when you lack for nothing and others out there are really suffering. You are ungrateful, selfish and weak.

I’d also beg my therapist to promise me that I’d never feel that way again. The way I felt in those weeks on that bed – unable to give a damn about anything except dying. She said she could never guarantee that and I hated her for that.

She had no reasons why this happened. No trauma. No disaster. No heartbreak.

Nothing.

So since that day – 16 years ago – I have hid my diagnosis and history from nearly everyone I know. No one in my professional life knows. Even my own brothers were told by my mother that I had a bad case of the flu. I was hidden….until I recovered enough to join the living.

I’ve always felt like if I could just find the reason it happened – I could maybe find closure. Maybe understand why I fell into that black hole and almost never made it back out. But no one – not even medical professionals could figure out why a seemingly perfect life was on the edge of death in an instant.

For 16 years, I have still continued to ask why. Why then – when things were picture perfect? Like if there’s a real “why” – then maybe there will be less shame and guilt.

Yesterday a dear friend gave me a reason that I have never been given before. And when I read it in her email – my heart nearly stopped. I am fairly certain I lost my breath for a moment.

I’m adding words to hers but this is what my heart heard. She basically said this, “It happened then because you were finally safe with Rambo. Your mind finally knew you were in a safe enough place to let it all out. Your heart finally knew you could let the walls down and stop holding it in like you had been for years. The depression/feelings were always there – but you suppressed them because you knew it wasn’t safe to actually feel them and go through them. Until you left what you knew and moved in with Rambo and you belonged to something safe. Your mind and body couldn’t hold them in any longer . Imagine the exhaustion of that. You saw your first chance to be the true you with true hurt and anger – and years of it came out – all at once. Your chemicals were screwed….and recovery wasn’t going to be easy. But continuing to live like you were would have killed you just the same.”

Oh.
My.
God.

Such a simple answer to why and the timing. I cannot believe that I didn’t figure this out before. It makes such perfect sense.

My depression has basically been in remission for a good 10 years or so. Completely controlled with just a few ups and downs due to specific triggers. I am truly happy 99% of the time and even feel peace.

But today – because of the words from a friend – I have a whole different kind of peace. It’s like the mystery is solved. I found the missing piece of the puzzle.

I can finally pinpoint the timing and reason for the pain. I can’t explain what that feels like after all this time.

The confusion seems gone. The unanswered question. The elephant in the room of my mind has left the building.

The moral of the story here? Fight your fears to reach out and do it anyway. Tell your story to someone you’ve never told it to before. And listen to their reaction and thoughts – because they may see something no one else ever could. Even decades later….you can still heal.

There is mutual healing in sharing pain with another.

Stop hiding. Stop laying blame at your own feet and move on…..through the words of another who loves you. Trust in that. It’s there – if you dare to look for it.

Take the risk and be vulnerable. It could change your life. Even 16 years later.

There's no way to title this.

First of all – I have to say this. I just opened a container of yogurt called Black Forest Cake. On the container is a picture of said BLACK forest cake. However, the yogurt is pink. What the what? Good ol’ processed food at its finest I guess.

By the way – this post is going to be all sorts of scatterbrained and non-flowy. Just go with it. It’s Monday. That’s my excuse.

Okay – moving on. I have officially scheduled THERAPY. Yah, like by a licensed psychologist. I told him I wanted to see him to learn biofeedback techniques for my migraines. I didn’t think he’d agree to see me if I told him I was batshit crazy and my head spins around in a full circle sometimes. I am skerred to death.

The only certain thing I know about my first appointment is that I will be covered in hives. And I am 99.9% positive that as I walk in I’ll see someone from town that I know and I’ll find it necessary to explain to them that I’m not here because I’m crazy. Ugh.

Oh and regarding migraines…..I only had ONE last week. One people. Did you hear me? ONE. I usually have 4 at least. I’m thinking my new preventive meds are working finally. And while that’s fantastic – of course I wonder how long it will last. I wonder if the oils I was using helped at all? I wonder if I just tried the natural supplement of feverfew if that would help as much as the script? It makes my little non-migraine-filled head spin.

I walked three miles with Rambo yesterday. I just thought you should know that in spite of Tabata – after three days of recovery – I could finally move my legs without screaming in pain.

Did you know that you can rub solid castor oil on your head to make your hair grow? It is not just for P word issues.  Just a little tidbit I learned watching youtube videos yesterday.

I also learned that I’m a sucker. A follower instead of a leader. Because I bought about 6 products just because people on youtube said I should. And OMG – I got my Brooks shoes. Just you wait until they come. I will do a foot fashion show.

I got my “Carrie” name necklace too…but in my name. It is so super cute. And Rambo bought me the cutest pink and blue Adidas shirt with thumbholes in it to match my new Brooks shoes. Maybe I’ll do a foot and shirt fashion show.

And lastly – because I’m sure your life will be less fun if you never know this - Rambo is taking an inmate to the hospital today so they can treat the inmate’s cyst that is 6 inches wide/long/deep. In his anal canal. Yup. You read that right. It has to be lanced and Rambo has to be in the room. I think I just threw up my lunch.

You just couldn’t pay me enough I tell you. You just couldn’t.

Do you guys remember Rose?

She was the little girl that Watermelon – my 11 year old – was being bullied by. That was last year. This year – just as we girls are known to do – Rose has changed her mind and she is friends with my daughter. They’ve both figured out that they are quite athletic and that has given them something to bond over.

However, my Watermelon is wary. She understands Rose on a level I’m not sure even Rose understands herself. Rose acts the way she does and says the things she says – because she’s protecting herself. Because she’s been hurt by her parents so much. Because she is deathly afraid of being alone and unloved (aren't we all?.

She still likes to dictate what the girls all wear and who they like and who they should play with. She needs to control “something” since her life is so out of control at home. She is the only one of the girls that has had multiple “boyfriends”. Even though she’s 11. Talk about reaching out and trying to find love huh?

And academically – things aren’t great. For example – each child has a reading level points goal. If you reach the goal – there is a reward you can attain each quarter. This quarter the kids got to go for ½ the day to meet a local pro hockey team and get autographs and hear them speak.

Every single kid in Watermelon’s class went.

Except for Rose.

She only had to read one small book – worth 5 pts (a very purposely low goal was set for her) – and yet she didn’t do it. Now yes – it’s partly her fault because she’s old enough to know what she had to do. But do her parents know she was the ONLY one who couldn’t go? Did they ask her how her reading goal was coming along? Can you imagine how that made her feel – being left behind? Her greatest fear?

My heart breaks for her.

She doesn’t do well in other classes either. It’s been said her older cousins do all her homework for her. Which – in essence – does her no good.

Anyway – I got home last night and Watermelon said she needed to talk to me. She was clearly scared to say whatever she had to say. She said:

You know how Rose calls me on my phone a lot.

Yes. (she does – and I put up with it because I know it’s most likely because Rose is alone and bored)

Well – she’s been calling me for a while because she wants answers to all our homework.

Oh crap.

But I don’t give her any. I make up a lie and tell her I’m not done with it or I didn’t bring it home. Or now I don’t answer the phone. And mom – I feel so bad and guilty that I’m lying to her. But I know it’s wrong to give her the answers. (thank you Rose for making my kid feel guilty for doing the right thing.)

Shit.

She’s also been calling Alex. Alex has been giving her the answers.

Do Alex’s parents know about this?

Yah – they said they didn’t care. (Nice. I could kick those parents.) But Alex told our teacher what Rose has been doing. She took us both in the hallway and asked us questions and told us that if Rose calls again – we can tell Rose that we can’t give her answers because the teacher told us not to.

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Again – JESUS. Why are people so stupid? Rose is now going to KNOW that Watermelon and Alex told on her and who do you think will pay the price for that? Why did the teacher take them out together in front of Rose?

So all day Rose questioned the two girls…asking what they talked to the teacher about. And heartbreakingly – her biggest question to Watermelon and Alex?

Will you still be my friend? Do you still like me?

That’s how easily this child sees friendship, love and loyalty fleeting from her. She doesn't even have any idea what the teacher was talking to them about yet...but she's already scared it's about her.  I don’t know whether to hug her or kick her. I’m angry her parents don’t sit down with her – even if they are tired – and help her with her homework like we do with Watermelon. I’m angry Watermelon is once again dragged into Rose drama.

I’m just angry. And sad and torn.

To top it off – Rose asked Watermelon to go swimming at a hotel with her this weekend. I said NO – without hesitation. I told Watermelon I was sorry but I cared too much about her to let her go anywhere with Rose because I can’t trust her parents to watch them. In water no less.

Watermelon wasn’t mad. I swear to you that I saw a flicker of relief in Watermelon’s eyes when I told her she couldn’t go. She said Rose asked her all day WHY she couldn’t come. She said I can’t tell her you don’t trust her parents or she’ll be mad Mom.

Yah. She would be. And she’d make Watermelon’s week hell in school for it.

So Watermelon is torn too. She knows Rose has it tough and she’s hurt. But she also knows right from wrong and knows the motives behind Rose’s words and actions.

It’s sad. The whole damn thing is sad.

And I’m smart enough to know that this kind of thing is going to keep on happening every year throughout school. It’s not going to get any easier.

Unless her parents start actually acting like adults suddenly.

PS - Just so you know - NO - I do NOT think I am a perfect parent.  I am absolutely not.  I sure as hell try to be though...and that's more than I can say for Rose's parents.

Me is dead...courtesy of Tabata.

This post is being written by Drazil…because Me is dead. She suffered a massive heart attack doing some stupid workout video called Tabata. I don’t know who the hell she thinks she is. Apparently someone quite younger, more flexible and athletic. Of which – in actuality – she is none.


You should have seen her in all her pretty, blinged out workout gear. We talked her out of wearing the leotards and 80s legwarmers and she only cried for a little while about that.

She was all, “I’m so going to do all EIGHT Tabata drills. I’m a warrior. This DVD has nothing on me. Hell – I might do it twice. I don’t even need water.”

Me and Sheniqua laughed our asses off. I made sure to put some negative thoughts in her head just to make her doubt herself. Sheniqua was a bit concerned because lately Me has been kicking ass in diet and exercise but we held our ground. Chicks in exercise DVDs with the stamina of stallions and beefy thighs do not scare us.

Me started off strong but it wasn’t long before she was winded and swearing under her breath so much that Satan would have been embarrassed. At one point the girl on the DVD said something like, “Come on girls, I know it’s hard but we only have 6 more sets to go!” and we heard Me yell, “Really asshole? Only 6?”

Sheniqua and I couldn’t help but point and giggle.

By the second set, Me yelled at her little girl to “go get her a water bottle before she feinted.” So much for being a big dog and not needing water. That Me is a damn idiot. This Tabata shit is hard core. No way in hell will you catch my little lizard legs ever attempting such insanity. Sheniqua was sweating buckets just “watching” the DVD.

Anyway – Me completed 6 Tabata drills and a warmup and cool down. And now she’s dead.


Well almost. She’s alive enough to bitch and whine constantly. She says her lips are the only thing on her body that she can move without screaming out in pain.

All day so far we’ve heard:

Holy f*ck a duck – even my boobs hurt!
OMG – I think I’m going to need IV fluids because I sweated out every drop of fluid I had in me last night.
My God in heaven – I think even my eyelashes are sore.
I should probably not go to work because none of my joints will bend without a major effort on my part.
It’s hard to breathe because my lungs are still recovering.
Ohhhhhhh – even my armpits hurt.

And lastly – heard from the bathroom this morning after she looked in the mirror – after a blood curdling scream: Jeeeeeeesssuuussss – I’m still CHUBBY!

I told you Me was an idiot. She thinks being this sore and working out like a maniac should produce instant thinness. Dream on babycakes!

So tonight Me says she’s going to do the treadmill so as not to break her amazing workout stream she’s got going this week. Sheniqua and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure she does nothing but watch Grey’s Anatomy with a bag of Skittles on her lap and a Mountain Dew IV in her arm.

We are a little skerred though. Me seems to be on a mission. I mean – don’t tell her I said this but – that Tabata shit is badass and I’m actually proud of her. I mean I want to put duct tape over her mouth so she quits whining about how she feels like she broke every bone in her body but still….she’s pretty amazing.

Tell her I said that and I’ll deny it until I turn purple.

Wandom Wednesday.

Let’s leave Elmer and his gun alone so he can hunt down Drazil like the snake that he is. We shall move on to “wandomness”….cuz it’s Wednesday…and because there’s no whyme or weason to what I’m going to say today.


• Did I tell you guys that I am officially a gang member? Oh wait – I might have used the wrong word there. It might be called a “club” member. But it produces a lot more shock-filled gasps when I tell people I’m in a gang. A biker gang no less.


Yup – I joined Rambo’s biker club. Translation: Rambo signed me up and paid my dues without my permission. Fine. Whatever.

If you know anything about biker gangs (why would you want to?) – they wear leather vests or coats that showcase their “colors”. The “colors” are their patches and insignias telling the world the name of their “gang”. And beyond the name patch – they cover the rest of their vest in other patches. Rambo has memorial patches on his vest of friends he lost and skull patches and his nickname as a patch and so on.


My point? Well – I have to find a vest to wear my “colors” on. Every woman in the club wears a black leather vest – covered in patches and their “colors”.


My problem? I refuse to wear a plain black vest like all the others. I just cannot do it. I have found pink and purple and red vests but I don’t want a solid color. I want a black vest with pink on the sides or pink embellishments and is adjustable.


I have searched the entire internet and so far – nothing. Anyone got any suggestions? If not – I may have to get out my bedazzler and go to town.


• Monday night Rambo and I worked out for ½ hour. I did the treadmill and he did the eliptical and lifted weights. Last night Rambo did the eliptical and I did the treadmill for 65 minutes. I ran the first half hour and in the second half I did 8 sets of Tabata with my fastest sprint being at 7.2mph. Now yes – I know that isn’t rock star fast but it’s my first treadmill Tabata so I’m okay with it.

• I want to be a life coach so that I can tell people they are stupid and that they are screwing up their lives and if they would do exactly as I say everything would be rainbows and lollipops. And the bonus would be that they’d pay me for such sage advice.

• I was invited to go to “midget wrestling” last weekend. I’m not kidding. I refused to go because I was afraid they’d think I was part of the show. I’m only 5ft 3in and Ima kinda chubby.


• Watermelon now gets an allowance. I’m trying to teach her about money because my parents never taught me. She has to take her allowance and split it up evenly in thirds. She can spend 1/3. She has to save 1/3. And she has to give 1/3 to a charity. She can pick any charity she wants. She will physically put her money in her savings account at the bank when I take her. She can spend the spendable 1/3 on anything she wants.


It’s going great. She’s learning the value of a dollar. She picked US Troops as her charity so she’s feeling good about that.


The part that makes me happiest though? She keeps a running tracking journal of each category. Down to the penny. OMG – is she my kid or what?


Maybe soon she’ll start a budget. For the next five years. And stare at it and tweak it for hours – like her mama does.

• Lastly – guess where I get to go in March? Don’t pee your pants or anything – it’s not good. It’s a turkey banquet. I can’t even make this crap up. People of all ages and sizes gather in on place – because of turkeys. It’s madness. And get this? People PAY to go.

I’m so screwed when it comes to Rambo and his hobbies that I must partake in. Biker gangs, semis, turkeys, guns, and hunting. I mean why didn’t I marry a person who loves pink ponies, crystals, diamonds, high heels and anything cheetah patterned?

I suppose it’s because I wanted to marry someone who was straight. Ha!

Some reviews as promised.

I promised you guys a couple of reviews and I am finally getting to those today.

First off...remember this?  My Himalayan light that is supposed to create world peace?  Well - fine - I might have exaggerated a bit there but it was supposed to promote calmness and peace and even help with asthma and such.  It looks like this.

Wellllll - the light doesn't seem to do anything for me medically BUT I will tell you the soft, amber glow is calming to me.  I can't even tell you why.  It doesn't get hot so I leave it on almost all the time - right on my computer desk.

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And remember this CD?  Guiding relaxation and breathing techniques?

Well this one is a winner winner chicken dinner.  Let me preface this by saying I have MANY relaxation CDs.  None of them really "tripped my trigger" BUT this one - I loooove.  For some reason the breathing techniques in this one seem amazing - for me.  I found myself doing the exercises and thinking, "My God - I can "feel" this working.  I'd love to tell you how the guided relaxation techniques work - but I can't.  I have heard the first two sentences and no more......because that's how fast I fall asleep.

How do like them apples?

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Here's a little something I just bought because I was born with black eyes.  Seriously - I can sleep for 24 hours straight and still wake up with the hugest, darkest bags under my eyes.  It's sick I tell you.

So I'm constantly searching for the newest miracle under eye concealer.  Which led me to buy this:

I have not used "that gal" yet.  The erase paste is what I've seen very good reviews on for under eye circles.  I like it - but - for me - I don't think it's any better than other concealers for WAY less money at Walmart.

The lemon aid - LOVE this.  I read that a lot of women wear this and NO eyeshadow and I'd say - that's totally do-able.  It's creamy and brightening and covers great and LOOKS like you have eyeshadow on.  I haven't used the pink eye bright yet.

The reviews on Boi-ing were pretty stellar too and I have to say I love this product for any red spot or zit coverage.  I like that there is a light and medium color and when I'm done - you can't see any spot or zit or anything.  Amazeballs.

Most of all I love that Sephora offers this little compact thingy full of trial sized items so in case I don't love any of them I haven't spent a fortune on them.

Have you guys tried any of these Sephora items?

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Oh and yes - there's this too:

  

Tabata.

Which could and should also be called - The Doorway to Hell - in 30 seconds or less.

Rambo and I did this once.  We did the warm up and cool down and a jumping jack tabata series in the middle.

I nearly died.  In fact, I think I might have for a moment.

 I plan to add one more series per week so as not to die more than once a week.

Oh my God people - tabata is for real.

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Lastly - because I can't stop my addiction to all things teal, turquoise or mint-colored - I bought these for my charm bracelet.  Cuz I can.

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Tootles Skittles!! 

The top 8 reasons I want to become a runner again.

My addiction to anything teal, turquoise or mint-colored continues.

Here are my 8 reasons I want to become a runner again:

There you go - that's it.

You didn't actually think these were going to be 8 "sensible" reasons, did you?

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy!

It’s Friday and that means it’s time for BYOC! Bring Your Own Crazy! We answer 5 questions in an effort to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break. Copy to your own blog if you wish and ENJOY!


1. Name a Valentine gift you would NOT want to receive.

Hmmm…I had to think about this one. Maybe lingerie. I mean – yes – it fits the holiday BUT men (Rambo anyway) cannot visually see that my body is not – nor ever has been – extra small….and that’s the only size he’d buy.

2. What’s your vacation personality? Do you act/eat/talk/do things differently or completely opposite from when you are not on vacation?

I rarely vacation. If I do it’s usually short. I’m a homebody. There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Traveling stresses and scares me. I hate the unknown and I’m not a fan of being social so my vacation personality is sometimes quiet and withdrawn and stressed. At home, I’m loud and goofy and crazy so yah, I’m definitely different on vacation. If I’m with people I’m comfortable with then I can relax (like at the BOOBs event)…but it’s hard.

3. Describe yourself in 5 POSITIVE words.

Crazy
Loyal
Creative
Caring
Organized

4. Do you have any phobias or irrational fears or dislikes?

I have a GREAT fear of snakes. I hate odd numbers. I picked my wedding date based on the fact that it was even numbers.

I fear flying – though have no reason to. I hate elevators – based on being pretty claustrophobic. I hate talking on the phone….just cuz I’m crazy like that.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in blog land and in real life.

Real life has been so-so. I’ve gotten back into working out (Tabata recap on Monday – I’m still alive!) and am still actively working on being less stressed but my extended family is making that slightly impossible. I’m pretty sure that without Jenny and Rambo – I’d be in a straight jacket by now.

I have a wonderful group of girlfriends that have been through hell and back and it’s been a week full of sharing, heartache and support and awe in hearing about the true women they really are. I am honored to be a part of that group.

Blog life has been good because I got to blog about my little girls and their letters and notes. I’ve found a few new blogs to read and it’s always fun to get to know people.

Tabata anyone?

You may say toe-may-toe.  You might even say toe-mah-toe.  But me?

I say TABATA. 

Yes, I'm crazy.  Just move on and keep reading.  I do have a point.

Have you guys ever heard of this?  Tabata?

Well, I'm going to try it.  I might die trying but I'm going to try anyway.  After hearing about the tabata style of working out, I tried to find it on DVD.  Let me tell you - it's either so new or so old - that there aren't any out there.  I found about two and the reviews on this one were amazing. 

So I got suckered again and I bought it.

This is the DVD.

Yes, the fact that this DVD is smothered in my favorite teal/mint green color may or may not have influenced my decision to purchase it.  I may or may not be that shallow and lame.

Here's one reviewers description of this DVD and this style of workout.

This is a high intensity interval training (HIIT) workout based on the tabata protocol, which means you go full intensity cardio for 20 seconds and then rest for 10 seconds. This is repeated 8 times per exercise interval. There are eight intervals in this workout. Between intervals, there is a short recovery period where you are performing a low intensity move while Amy runs through the next series of exercises. For each interval, there are three levels of intensity (beginner, intermediate, advanced). There are two other exercisers in addition to Amy who perform either the beginner of the advanced workout. This workout requires no additional equipment (you use your own body). Many of the exercises are high impact (with the exception of the beginner's level). Amy is very personable instructor with a great you-can-do it attitude.

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Here is a break down of the workout:

Approximately 5 minute warm up


Interval one, jumping jack series. Beginner is basic jumping jacks. Intermediate, squat jacks. Advanced, jumping air jacks.


Interval 2, Side skater series. Beginner is basic side skate. Intermediate adds a touching the ground on skate. Advanced, side skate landing on one leg and touch the ground.


Interval 3 is the volley ball jump series. Beginner is a basic squat and shoot. Intermediate, burpee stand up and shoot. Advanced, Burpee jump down to a hover in a plank jump up and shoot.


Interval 4 is fast feet. Beginner is fast feet. Intermediate run with high knees. Advanced open legs wide and do wide high knees.


Interval 5 is the core kick series. Beginner is mountain climber, intermediate is a butt kick (plank and jump and kick your self in the butt). Advanced is a donkey kick (from a plank, jump and kick your legs up and out.


Interval 6 is the power lunge series. Beginner is a reverse lunge. Intermediate two jump lunges and hold. Advanced is jumping reverse lunges (keep going without break).


Interval 7 is squat series. Beginner is squat with high punch low punch 2 times then change sides. Intermediate squat punch low come up punch high reverse side. Advanced is 180 degree squat jumps with a punch.


Interval 8 is pogo jumps. Beginner is leg back and forward. One side only. Change legs for next interval. Intermediate. Lunge back come up and bring knee to chest. Advanced. Lunge back jump up into the air bringing fist into the air.


Cool down.
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Now I'm going to refrain from mentioning that MANY reviewers said they are skilled and heavy worker-outers and they nearly died and were dripping sweat.  Oh shit - that wasn't refraining was it?

For those of you who are brave enough to try this - you don't need the DVD.  You can do this on a treadmill or elliptical too.  You just go all out (for example - sprinting if on a treadmill) - so fast you feel like dying for 20 seconds.  Then rest 10 seconds (do nothing but try to catch your breath).  And you do this 8 times for a total of 4 minutes.  And done!

That's beginner Tabata.  It is literally a 4 MINUTE WORKOUT.  They say you should start out by doing one 4 minute workout once a week in between your other normal workouts until you work up to more.  But who am I to ever do what experts "recommend"?  Ima gonna try 50 minutes - day 1.  Let's just be up front and admit I'll be doing the beginner mode of EVERY interval.  I'm no hero.  I'm just stupid.

Anywhoozle, get this!  Rambo has agreed to do this WITH me.  Pick your jaws up off the floor please.  I'm not kidding.  Tomorrow we're giving it a go.

Oh and I'm happy to report that Monday night I did an hour on the treadmill and tonight I did 75 minutes.  1/2 hour of running and the rest was incline work up to 12%. 

Sucked donkey balls but this fat has got to go!

I shall blog about how 'tabata' goes tomorrow if I'm still alive.  The point is that you are toning, gaining endurance, and losing weight/fat faster than going at a moderate pace for twice the time.  It's supposed to be exhilerating and is used in many Olympic training facilities to boost endurance.

So totally me.  Cuz I'm so an Olympian. 

Uh-huh.

Assignments and what ifs.

Our family was given an “assignment” of sorts by Banana’s kindergarten teacher. One we attacked with full on focus and heartfelt emotion. One that was bittersweet for me.


Banana is the “Star of the Week” this week. That means each day something special happens for her. For the entire week, a large poster about her is hung in her classroom. My girls and I painstakingly made her posterboard Sunday. It’s got loads of pictures, her favorite things, glitter and stickers and people? The posterboard is neon pink. To say Banana was excited is a huge understatement.

Wednesday the parents are asked to write a letter to their child and the teacher will read it aloud to them. I told Rambo on one of his slow days at the prison – that he needed to write her a letter. For me – it’d take 5 minutes because I’m used to writing. I knew for him it would be harder and evoke emotions he hasn’t put into words on paper before.

He sent me his letter when he was done with it. It mattered to him a lot more than I thought it would.  I know this because no less than 3 times did he ask me if it was alright last night.  He wondered if she'd like it.  Even today - before he went to work - he asked again if I was sure what he wrote was okay.

I should have told him that it’s probably one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read. The last sentence said, “You’re the Star of the Week every week to me. I love you my little bear cub, Daddy.”

She’ll keep that forever.

I wrote my letter and folded it up to put with Rambo’s. When Watermelon figured out what we had done, she wanted to write her own for Banana. Again – sweetest thing ever. I don’t know how that teacher is gonna read them out loud with crying. Or maybe she’s used to doing it.

And just so Watermelon wouldn’t feel left out since we were all writing letters for Banana, I decided to finally do something that has been on my “to do” list for months. I’d love to take credit for it but I saw the idea on Supernanny. I love that British woman.

I took about 10 bright sticky notes and wrote messages on them. Like:

You are talented. You are beautiful. You are smart.
You can be anything you want to be.
You have gorgeous hair. You have sparkling eyes. You have an amazing smile.
You are the best daughter we could ever ask for.
You are the best big sister that I have ever seen.
Daddy and I love you more every single day.

You get the picture. I got home and I stuck them everywhere. On her mirror. On her notebook. Her desk. Her window. Her dresser. Everywhere.

She went in to do her homework and found the one on her desk and came out and thanked me. It took a good 15 minutes before she realized I had left them all over her room. She was glowing.

I had left one for Banana on her own mirror that said, “We love you. Mom and Dad.”

She got home, saw it, grabbed it off her mirror and comes out in the kitchen and yells, “People – what the heck does this even say?”

Oops – she can’t read. Ha. Watermelon translated it for her.

When I was getting ready for bed, Banana says to me, “Mama – when you go to bed you might want to look for a note. Someone might have left you one.”

She’s so sneaky huh?

So I go to bed. I see no note. I yell for Banana and say, “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t see any note. Where did you put it?”

She points to the wall behind our bed. And there it is. A note – written by Watermelon as directed by Banana – stuck to our wall with a piece of tape. It says, “Dad and Mom – I will love you forever.”

Once she knew I saw it – she skipped out of the room. Too funny.

I left the note stuck there. I may leave it there forever.

As I turned off the lights and went to sleep I wondered again what I often wonder. Are Rambo and I doing at least something right? Will they be as messed up as I am when they get older and will they blame us? Do they know without a single doubt that we love them immensely?

And then I wonder what I would have been like had my parents been the kind of people who could have written me a note or letter. Just one note – just one indication that they loved me. Documented. Written down to save forever. Because they weren’t the kind of people that could say it out loud.

Instead I wondered every day.

I was a child who needed more. I needed posterboards and giggling and goodnight hugs and kisses. I needed notes. I needed to know they knew I existed as a person and not just a dependent.

I needed more. Who would I have been if I had gotten it?

I’ll never know. I’ll only be able to make sure my daughters never have to ask that question when they are older.

Mucho randomosity.

I’m feeling random-y and bullet-y.

So let’s do this.

• I am sporting a massive camel toe today. Like it’s not even 8am and my vagina feels bruised from the pressure of my pants trying to become a part of it. Which then also means I have camel toe in my ass too. Is that called something else? Llama toe? Horse toe? Or maybe it’s just called stupid.

• I’ve always wanted to learn to take more risks. So yesterday I went into the one room bathroom at work – shut the door – and did NOT lock it. You got it. I peed at work without locking the door. It was exhilerating and it felt naughty. Any moment someone could come in. (but why would they when they see the door shut?)

• Have any of you ever tried one of those CDs that “coaches” you through a treadmill workout? Like it’s a CD of someone saying, “Put your speed to 3.0 for one minute. You are not going to die. Get your hands off the sides. Suck it up.” Do they work? I kind of want one but am having trouble finding one.

• The new thing here at work is standing at your desk. I’ve seen it at my daughter’s school too. Have you guys encountered this? We put a person’s computer and monitor up at standing level and they work all day – standing. They prefer it. Same with desks at school. Instead of making a kid sit still all day – the kids are allowed to stand or swing their legs or whatever. They have the option of sitting of course. I guess there are studies that it’s better for your back and people are less tired and more productive.

• I have figured out why Explosive Man explodes 16 times a day. He comes to work with a bag full of McDonald’s breakfast items. He goes to lunch and comes back with a bag full of McDonald’s lunch items. Um – DUH – greasy much? No – he’s not overweight (um cuz he’s shitting out all the calories). And no – I’m not condemning you if you eat McD’s morning, noon and night – because you don’t explode next to my office. If you did – I’d want to punch you equally as much as I’d like to punch Explosive Man.

• I’m about 20 years behind the rest of humanity and have just figured out that if you freeze yogurt – it doesn’t have the consistency of snot and kinda tastes like ice cream. I now eat about 8 every day. Okay – fine – not that many but I’m sort of obsessed.

That's all I got.  Tootles Skittles.

Whose bed is the "sex bed"?

I had one of those "OMG - let me crawl into a hole and die right now" kind of moments this weekend - and it involved my mother-in-law.  And sex.

Well sort of.  In a roundabout way.

She was talking about a recent purchase they made.  One she was very excited about.  One she needed help with.  It was a mattress.

She kept saying, "I need help putting it in MY room."  Or "I can't wait to get it in MY room and sleep on it."

After she said that about 6 times, I said, "Isn't it his mattress too cuz you share the bedroom?" 

I said it jokingly to kind of call her out on her mistake.

Only I was the one who made the mistake.

Shit a brick and color it pink.  The minute it was out of my mouth and my mother-in-law looked at me I knew - they no longer sleep in the same bed.

F*ck a duck and call it Larry.  He can have the pink brick I shit earlier. 

Good God.  She started to talk about snoring and other things and reasons they didn't sleep together anymore and I just wanted the whole thing to end.

And then all the way home I wondered....will I ever not sleep in the same bed as Rambo much less the same room?  I wonder how many people do and the reasons.

I actually read this on the internet:

People are on different sleep schedules, so separate beds will accommodate this.

The separation will lead to more sex.

Getting a good night's rest can improve the quality of your relationship.

 

And I wondered is this true?  Who said a married couple should sleep together?  When did that become normal instead of separate beds?  Heck - sleeping in separate beds dates all the way back to Fred and Wilma Flintstone. 

 

I mean I get some of it because.... 

Which is why I own a pair of ear plugs.

Rambo and I were on different shifts for at least 10 years.  Before that he was gone for months on the road.  I remember the only thing I ever wanted each night - was him next to me.

It was like a dream we knew we'd reach some day. 

We always said to each other, "Some day baby - we'll sleep in bed together every night."

But would it matter if he was in his own bed - right next to me in the same room?

What's your opinion on the same bed, different bed dealio?  I wonder who approaches the subject first?  And how do you decide whose bed is the "sex bed"?  Or is there no sex if there are separate beds AND separate rooms?

Chime in.  I wanna know your thoughts.

BYOC - Bring Your Own Crazy!

It’s Friday and that means it’s time for BYOC. Bring Your Own Crazy. We answer five questions in an effort to get to know each other better and to give our blogging brains a break. Copy and paste if you so desire and ENJOY!


1. Have you ever bought undies/bra/lingerie for someone else? Or has anyone ever bought them for you? How was the “experience”?

Rambo bought me a bright purple bra and undies once. Key word there is ONCE. Um – cuz I told him he was never allowed to do it again. Wanna know what size they were? Extra small. The only time I ever wore extra small anything was when I was an infant. This was before my breast reduction and I had double E boobs people. There wasn’t enough material in the whole bra to cover even one boob.

Disaster. Freaking disaster.

And no – I’ve never bought for anyone else. Not even for a bachelorette or shower for a girlfriend. It just never occurred to me.

2. Do you have an internal song you replay in your head that is just yours?

I have no idea who sings this but I find myself replaying “I will survive” in my head in difficult moments.

3. I heard on the news the other day that something like 80% of people think a tan person is way sexier than “not tan”. How do you feel about that? Do you tan? Fake bake? Real sun? Or do you wear SPF 150?

I’m definitely partial to tan. I can’t help it. I swear to God tan makes me look skinnier. Or at least hides my stretch marks. I tan about 2 times a month. Probably because I have a tanning bed in my home. If I had to pay for it, it’d be less.

I do not wear sunscreen because I’m allergic to it.

So yah, apparently I’m a poster child for skin cancer. Add it to my list of flaws.

4. Do you vote in the presidential election? Do you vote based on news, family opinions or research or your gut?

I do vote. Because of my work within the community villages and Rambo being an elected official and because I know many government workers – I vote in even the smallest elections (school board, county officials, etc.). Every time. It’s an honor and a privilege. And I do it because I know people very close to me who cannot vote legally. So I do it for them too.

I vote based on all of the above – family opinions, news, research and gut. I have a very politically involved family that debates politics and follows it very closely so I like to think I have some pretty good facts to base my decision on.

That being said – I will admit that sometimes my vote is not for a certain person – but more accurately – a vote against the other guy.

5. Repeat question: Summarize your week in real life and in blog land.

Real life is moving along. I feel like I have a sense of control and power in my mental health by taking steps to remedy my stress. I’ve made purchases (salt lamp, oils & meditation CD) and even researched therapy this week and I feel good about it. Physically I’m cleaning our workout room this weekend and have a plan of attack for my physical health too.

Blog land was fun this week. I had a lot to report with my new purchases and loved doing the “If I were the President” post!

Have a great weekend Skittles!

Officially over the edge. Like for real.

Duudes, it's getting downright Buddha-istic up in heyah. 

Remember how I'm going rogue and flipping the finger at Western medicine because I'm so desperate to get rid of my migraines that I'll do anything? 

I told you I'm covering myself at all hours of the day in Progessence oil to prevent migraines. 

I also now have Mgrain oil to smear all over myself when I get a migraine.

AND since I have attained proof from my "oil guru" that my migraines are caused by emotional shit - I'm on a journey to remedy that emotional shit.

Enter the salt lamp from the Himalayas. 

No - I'm not so naive that I really believe it's from the Himalays but it sounds cool, doesn't it?

Have you ever heard of these things?  The reviews on them are pretty stellar so I figured it's worth a shot.  Here's what one looks like.

Here are a couple things said about this salt lamp:

Its therapeutic glow of orange hues infuses a natural calm bringing the mind and body to a gradual sense of tranquility and well-being. This lamp is scientifically proven to work like an air purifier and is often called-nature's air purifier. When the lamp is lit, it emits negative ions that fight against positively charged particles that cause us to feel stuffy and sluggish (allergens, smoke, dander, pollens, and other air pollutants). It clears the air and naturally dilutes odors, so that we can breathe easier.

People with asthma often find it helpful in reducing their symptoms and many medical practitioners recommend using these lamps to help relieve depression and fatigue. Made of salt crystals that come from deep within the Himalayan Mountains, home to the world's purest and most colorful salt, it is hand carved to preserve its natural beauty and attached to a neem base. You can keep the lamp lit for as long as you like and the longer you keep it on, the better the emission of negative ions.

Sounds almost like it can create world peace, right?  Like I said - worth a shot and if it doesn't work - it'll be a pretty lamp.  Or it will make a nice Cmas gift for someone like my mother-in-law.

Also in my "eliminate stress" bag of tricks is this little ditty.  A new meditation CD.  Notice the little corner wording = ADULT RELAXATION.  It almost feels a little dirty.  Like - this isn't for kids....or something. 

I have quite a few guided relaxation CDs already but none that I love. 

Once again - the reviews on this were GREAT.  So I believed them all - hook, line and sinker. 

Did I mention I'm too trusting sometimes?

Here's my new CD:

Totally made for me.  I am a REAL person feeling REAL stress. 

I shall keep you posted on how these little trinkets help me.

And lastly - and this is big folks.....so big that Draz and Sheniqua are having intimate conversations that go something like this:

Crotches.  Both of them.

Anywhoozle, they are right.  I am officially "over the edge". 

Meaning I am officially practicing what I preach and going to actively search for a therapist.  One that can maybe teach me biofeedback and obviously help me figure out ways to alleviate the stress and emotional triggers in me that manifest in me as migraines.

I had therapy once before - almost 15 years ago.  Which is exactly the reason why I haven't had any since then.  It was awkward and didn't help much and left a bad taste in my mouth.

But that was then and this is now.

So that's it - my new mental health plan.

Stay tuned.  I have a new physical health plan in the works too.

Have any of you ever tried a salt lamp?  Or meditation CD?  Biofeedback or therapy?