Waxing poetic

I am in love with my new waxer. Her name is Anna Paula and she is Brazilian. Not only is she a true Brazilian giving me my Brazilian, but she is also deaf!!! Isn't that SCH-weet?! She cannot hear my screams AND I don't have to make idle chit chat while my coochie is being savaged. She is my perfect ten of hoo-ha strippers.

Actually, I didn't scream at all because she was so good. I did whimper once or twice but she couldn't hear those either! She gave me exactly what I wanted and didn't annoy me by asking if I wanted a lightning bolt or a heart waxed on the front. Honestly, who does that? At the end she gave me a thumbs up which I took to mean that my special area was one of the best she had ever seen.

I wrote a Haiku about her and here it is:

This crotch is happy
You are gentle and silent
My Anna Paula

Preemptive strike

A while back I made a stupid promise that if I didn't lose 20 pounds by the end of June then I would post a bathing suit picture on my blog. Well, I already know I will not make my goal of 20 pounds. However, I am very proud of what I have done. I have lost 10 pounds, many inches and one chin. I look better in pictures which was my main goal. So I am happy with my progress and my body. I am going to continue my weight loss efforts and maybe someday I will reach my 20 pound goal. However, I am prepared to face the music and do what I promised. So here it is.... Huh?!

Well, since I am in handcuffs and spreading them, I won't be able to post that picture. Oh well, sucks to be you. Got to go, I think I am about to be tazed. Be gentle, officer!

Me so hungry

I have been married to Alan for almost 14 years and I have noticed that he still gets hungry pretty often. Not that he shouldn't because I can serve up some pretty good food. But you would think that after such a long time that he wouldn't be as hungry as he used to be. Not so. In fact, sometimes he gets so hungry that he cannot think straight and he gets a dazed look in his eyes like he is under some kind of hungry spell. There is nothing I can do to snap him out of it but give him a good meal.

I think it is true that women just don't get hungry as often as men. Or maybe it's just because we cannot compartmentalize our life like men do. We get so caught up in the tasks at hand or what's coming up that we often don't think about food. I admit that at times I feel like eating is just a burden, just another thing I have to do. Sometimes I don't feel like I have the time to build up a good appetite because Alan always gets hungry first. When Alan gets hungry I usually feel one of two ways. Either "I am NOT hungry at all so stop waving your food in my face and leave me alone so I can watch 'Top Chef' in peace" or I agree to eat even though I don't feel that hungry. The funny part is that once I start nibbling, I realize "Wow, I really was hungry" and I enjoy the meal.

Some women are all about the appetizers, but not me. When I start eating I just want to go right to the main course because that's my favorite part. Alan seems to enjoy the appetizers because he likes a long, relaxed meal. I tend to favor the quick and dirty meals.

Now don't think I never get hungry, because I do. Every so often when the planets are aligned I get completely ravenous, I'm talking a fierce hunger. These are the times that I can empathize with Alan. But that's the great thing about men--they can eat most anytime and most anywhere. So Alan is always willing to serve up a great meal for me and he is an amazing chef.

Writing this post has made me hungry. I called Alan at work and asked "What time are you coming home?" He said, "I'll leave in an hour or an hour and a half. Why?" I said, "Because I am hungry." Alan, "I'm leaving right now."

Mmmmmmm.....good eats!

An itchy chigger finger

This past weekend was an adventure. To celebrate the end of school for the summer, we whisked the boys away for a few days in the mountains. We stayed at a little cabin secluded in the woods complete with a babbling creek running right next to us. I am serious it actually babbled. The cabin was quite rustic and, when I say rustic, I mean without an Internet connection. I spent all weekend without the Internet, without a cell phone signal, AND without a dishwasher! No, I am not relating a nightmare I had--it actually happened.

I have never felt the need to be one with nature. Growing up I was not really exposed to to the outdoors. I've never been camping in my life. My parents were beach people, not campers. I was a Girl Scout but all I remember from that time is learning how to make a Betty Crocker box cake or fashioning lovely Christmas ornaments out of Popsicle sticks and glitter. I am not opposed to the outdoors. I love looking out of the window at it. And I love sitting on my deck sipping a frosty beverage, smelling the flowers, and watching the fireflies light up the night. But experiencing it up close and personal just doesn't come natural for me.

However, I have two boys. And because I have boys I feel a responsibility to give them an appreciation of the outdoors. I would love for them to hike and fish and explore like boys should do. So I am trying my best for them but, like I said, it doesn't come naturally. I am working my way up to full blown camping so I thought a weekend in a cabin would be a good start, to ease me into it.

It's true we did not have Internet, cell phone service or a dishwasher, but our cabin wasn't totally barbaric. We had beds, a kitchen, and a small TV with a DVD player. We cooked most of our food on the grill outside and had S'mores over the campfire. It's still not my favortie thing but it was quite peaceful and wonderful at times. And I will share what I observed...

--Maybe it's just me, or because I am an 80's child, but when I am in a secluded spot in the woods, I always look around to plot my escape route in case an insane killer wearing a freakish mask comes to kill me.

--Marshmallows are disgusting in any form.

--As a girl, if I were to explore a creek, I would hop from rock to rock, being ever so careful not to get my shoes wet or fall in. Boys are not like that. Note to self, bring more clothes next time.

--I hate bugs and they know it. I am outside trying to enjoy myself and they keeping touching me and forcing me to run screaming while flapping my arms "Leave me alone! Stop touching me! I'll kill you, you fuckers!! I will. Where's the Raid?! Some Bugger Fuckers are going to die tonight!"

--I don't know what the hell a chigger is or what it looks like, but I am absolutely sure one has taken over the 3rd toe on my left foot. It freaking itches a lot! And I think my toe is even moving by itself. There, it just twitched. I am so screwed.

--If you allow your boys to run around naked in a rainstorm, that will be the first thing they tell their grandparents about the trip. And, if they were running naked in a rainstorm because they were copying one of their parents (who was not me,) that will be the second thing they tell their grandparents.

**Interesting side note about the rainstorm...After the running naked episode, we all decided to watch the movie "Sky High." This lead to an interesting discussion about what our preferred super power would be if we could choose. Shepard chose super speed and throwing fire bombs, Sage picked shape shifting, I picked flying and getting people to do what I ask them the first time I ask them, and Alan picked X-ray vision (probably because of the boobies) and super strength. Though Sage decided that Alan's power should be super fart. HA!!


I think the most important thing I learned is when you are roughing it make sure you bring alcohol, and plenty of it!

Here I am enjoying nature and a beer. As you can see, I am not straying far from the citronella candle.

F-ing bugs!

Riddle me this

Why is it that my husband can play X Box 360 until 2 in morning but falls asleep at 9:30 while watching TV with me? I guess it's the interactive component. So does that mean I should try and kill him intermittently while we are watching our favorite show--to keep him on his toes? And how is it that the X Box 360 was Sage's birthday present but Alan got 4 games while Sage only got one?

Why is it that they made the kids go to school half way into June yet this whole week all they have done is watch movies? Why do the teachers think "Oh, standardized tests are done, I'm just a baby sitter now!" Isn't there something they could teach them this week? How about some important life skills like safety while cutting your parents lawn? or folding clothes and putting them in drawers? or killing, gutting, cleaning, and cooking a deer? or giving your mom a facial? or sewing your own damn button on your own damn pants?

And when was it that I became such a fuddy-duddy adult who thinks life should be about learning lessons and not playing games or watching Bill Nye the science guy for a week?

Who the hell says fuddy-duddy anymore?

Why is it that I think Sage being tardy yesterday is funny? I guess it's Van Halen's fault. It's just fun to dance around, point at him and sing, "Sage is tardy! Sage is tardy!" "Do you feel tardy? Because you are TA-A-A-Ardy!!" Sage did try and defend himself, "I was tardy because of you, mommy." Oh just because I made him carry a six pound bag of pretzels into class with him for the end of year party! What a whiner!

Why is it that bulk foods excite me so? I go to Costco and I just can't control myself. I want to buy like 3 months worth of food and then hole up in the house for the summer clinging to my guns and my religion. And a six pound bag of pretzels for five bucks seems like a great idea at the time until they make my 8 year old tardy.

Why is it that my cat takes about 5 minutes to heave up that hairball? I mean it's like huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack...and it disgusts me but I can't look away until he's done. And why is it that even though we have hardwood everywhere downstairs he always has to go to the rug to throw up?

And finally, why is it that I can't get that Soulja Boy song out of my head. I don't even know the words but I keep singing it anyway. Aaaaaaaaaah, Soulja boy da da da oh, wha wa ba ba wha wa rooooooolllll, wha wa crank that Soulja boy, Superman, la la la Ooooooohhhhhhhhh. And how many times will I have to watch it on You Tube to purge it from my brain forever...or to memorize it and learn the dance--whichever. Crank that thang.

Sage through the ages

How did we get from here.......................................to here?

June 9th, 2000--Sage was born. He was breech so they slit me open like a fish and pulled him into this world. Knowing Sage, I am pretty sure this was his plan all along--to make a dramatic entrance, butt first.


He was such an adorable and easy going baby, he lulled me into thinking it was going to be a piece of cake.

I should have known he was different when at 3 years old he told his preschool class that for Halloween he was going to be a Minotaur. The teacher said, "Well, Sage, can you tell us what a Minotaur is?" "Half man, half bull, " he explained. I am more of a 'buy the costume' type than 'make the costume' type, however Minotaur costumes are nonexistent so I had to figure it out. I was starting to wonder if I could keep up with this boy.




When he was 3 years and 11 months Shepard was born. I will never forget the smile on his face when he met and held him for the first time. Now Sage acts the part of the typical older brother--telling him the thunder is going to get him, telling him the dentist is going to hurt him, standing behind him and whispering "The darkness" over and over again until Shepard runs away crying. But there are times when I see him look at Shepard with that same glowing smile and I can feel the love.



Age 5 and off to school he went without a look back at Mom and Dad. That's when most of our troubles began. I have had to share him with the world and I am not happy about it. In three years we have already had to deal with bullying, unacceptable friends, forgery and his aversion to education. I tried to tell him "Education is the best gift you can ever receive." To which he replied, "NO, a motor bike is the best gift you can ever receive!" He is stubborn, moody, and likes to get a rise out of me. In a moment of unexpected honesty, he once admitted that he will say things just to see me yell. Sometimes I feel like I am always two steps behind him. The day he was born my heart became an open wound that will never heal. He'll never know how much I think about him and struggle with every decision I make. I hope I am doing right by him.

Though he is challenging at times I still love his wide open spirit. He is not afraid to show his enthusiasm, to shake what his mama gave him, to laugh and be laughed at, and to show who he is without apology. Never dull, he can always surprise me and most of the time make me smile.




Raising Sage is like reading a great novel--I cannot put it down and look forward to turning each page because I can't wait to see what happens next.
Happy 8th Birthday, Sage!!

Be careful what you wish for--It might just spray you in the face

My son Shepard, being the 2nd child, is far more independent than his brother. One thing that he doesn't do, and seemingly has no desire to do, is wipe his own butt. About 6 months ago Alan came to me and said, "Shepard needs to learn how to wipe his own butt." To which I said, "Look, Shepard is the 2nd and last child we will ever have. He is my baby and if wants us to wipe his butt, then we should do it. If he wants us to wipe his butt until he is 21, then so be it!! He is our baby, Alan, our last sweet boy!!!" Alan said, "Um, ok" and left not intending to listen to me. I could tell by the way he walked away shaking his head and muttering "Crazy woman hormones."

The weatherman predicted hot as your brain on drugs yesterday so Shepard and I went to Chick-Fil-A for lunch and fun on the indoor play set. In the middle of his glee he abruptly stops and in a pained voice declares he has to go to the bathroom. Then he runs. By the time I caught up with him he was already in the stall with the door locked. I can see him through the crack in the stall and he is sitting--uh oh. And then, "Mommy, I'm pooping!" That is usually my cue to come and do the wiping. But this time I say, "Sorry, Bud, you locked the door and I can't get in. Can you unlock the door?" He yells, "I can't! There's poop in my butt!!" Snickers from the other bathroom occupants. I tell him, "Well, you will just have to wipe yourself this time." Shepard says, "No, I can't! You need to crawl under." "No, Shepard, I am not crawling under." He tries again and through the crack I see him pointing to show me the way, "Just crawl under there." "No Shepard, I cannot crawl under."

I see him hop off of the toilet, do the 'pants around your ankles and poop in your butt' shuffle up to the door. He unlocks and I enter the stall and lean over to see the damage. I silently apologize to Sheryl Crow 'cause I am going to need a lot more than one square for this job. So while I'm bent over wiping my son's ass the tsunami-loud automatic flushing toilet keeps going off and spraying me in the face with toilet water. Aw hell, was my mouth open?! Shepard says, "Are you done?" Toilet flushes again. Alan might be right about this one. This baby is going to Daddy's butt wiping boot camp ASAP.

I'm melting, what a world!

For the past two weeks we had family visiting from London. (Holla M&M and The British!) We had a great time but the drinking, oooohhh, all the drinking and eating. Too much eating. It had to end! I never thought I would be looking forward to going back on my diet, but I am.

So here's a diet update--It's slow but there has been progress. I have lost a good solid 8 pounds. I was hoping for more by this point but I have to face the fact that I am older and have no air brushing at my disposal. On the bright side, I am down to one chin and inches have been lost. I have not been able to drop to the lower size in pants yet; however, the size I wear is very loose on me. Let's just say that my butt crack will definitely be needing some SPF 30 soon.

I have also been exercising, Ack! I am allergic to exercise but the drinking helps me through it. I go to a ladies' gym with my mom. The weight machines are set up in a circle and we cycle through them twice and then we're done. I hate to brag but I am probably the strongest and most energetic of anyone at the gym. Of course most of the women at the gym are about 20 to 30 years older than me. But hey, I'm kicking their ass!!

So here I was feeling good about myself until yesterday.

Sage "Can we go to the pool today?"

Me "No, I'm not ready to get into a bathing suit just yet."

Sage "Because you're fat?"

Actually, I was thinking more of the body hair situation than the fat situation.

Shepard chimed in, "Why are you fat, Mommy?"

Sage "Shepard, Mommy's not fat. She's not!"

Yeah, whatever, he just wanted to go to the pool, the little liar.

Countdown...25 days until my 20th high school reunion. Will I drop a size? Will my butt crack peel? Will the ladies at my gym make it to the end of the month? Will my boys ever develop any tact? Will I throw my scale from a tall building, beat it with a bat, scream at it, spit on it and then try to weigh again? Is the suspense killing you? Stay tuned.