Olivia: Mom?
Mom: Yeah?
Olivia: Have you ever had toe food?
Mom: Toe Foodddddd?
Olivia: Yeah.
Joel: It’s not toe food, Livi, it’s tofu.
Olivia: Oh.
Monthly Archive for August, 2007
I wish everyone had friends like I do. If I were a good person, I’d share them, but their mine. Mine. All mine! Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha….
They bring me pies. They do lots of other wonderful things too (like watch my children, assure me that I’m normal, and make me laugh until my abs seize), but I am going to focus on the pie-ness.
My dear friend Cindy… dear, dear Cindy… She made me an apple pie - with little leaf crust cut-outs - cooked to golden perfection! Cindy got braces a couple of years ago, and she has been a great encourager and adviser leading up my new life in braces. It was she who moved me to nearly wipe out the wax reserves at the orthodontist. I have wax in my purse, in my bathroom, by my bed, in the junk drawer, and I think I have a box in a pocket somewhere….Hmmm, I need to put one in my glove compartment… Any who - It was also her great wisdom that opened my eyes to the comfort and loveliness of Ibuprofen. *Jenny nuzzles the 500 413 count bottle of coated tablets, coos, and pets it lovingly…*
And now… a pie! A home-made, fresh-baked, lovely to behold (and lovelier to consume) apple pie. The flaky crust melts as my tongue and roof of my mouth mushes it up. The apples are tender and sweet. I hum a happy food tune and shake my hips in celebration. Finally! Yummy food I can chew with my tongue and roof of my mouth! Thank you Cindy! This totally trumps cottage cheese and cream of wheat - totally.
We’ve all been there… you’re in a situation where you don’t know what to do with your arms. Folding them feels too guarded, letting them hang senselsly feels too vunerable… Fold, hang, fold, hang, pace, pace, fold, hang… If only I had worn pants that had pockets!
That’s how I feel about my lips now that barbed wire lines my pearly whites. I don’t know what to do with my lips! Up? Down? Around? Over? Where do I put my lips?
I am leaving in a few minutes to get my braces put on. Oh no. Somebody stop me….
I should wear dresses more often. My daughters don’t know what to do when I put on a dress. I’m not a tomboy by any stretch of the imagination, but I suppose I could show them their mama has a little more sugar and spice running through her veins.
Today I decided to ditch the shorts and threw on a summer dress. Lucy SQUEALED with great excitement, “OOOOOOOh Mama!!!” She ran to me and started lifting my skirt with such awe and delight. A blanket? Noooo… A scarf? Noooo…
As she danced about flipping and cooing with each wave of the dress, I flashed back to my former life as Maypole - adorned with “coloured ribbons… festooned with flowers, draped in greenery and strapped with large circular wreaths…”
It’s been a full, full week, but I am finally posting my stats for the Danskin Seattle triathlon from last Sunday. Of course, I have a long story to tell, but I’ll just state the numbers for now…
Overall Rank 248 of 3496; Class Rank 39 of 342 (30-34 age group); Swim 00:11:29; Swim Rank 100 of 3496; First Transition 00:05:12; Bike 00:41:56; Bike Rank 495 of 3496; MPH 17.7; Second Transition 00:01:57; Run 00:27:55; Run Rank 496 of 3496; Pace 00:09:00;Final 01:28:30
My partners in crime training (Katie & Ellie) also did very well. It looks like such a positive finish for each of us may be enough motivation for us to seriously consider taking on a half-iron - just for kicks - heehee… I like having friends in my life who are willing to dream crazy with me :)
Oh, and thanks to all your well-wishing, and checking in!
As my youngest was rolling about, snotting, snarling, slobbering and wailing upstairs - I looked down to my husband in disbelief. Exasperation and dismay swelled within and that twisty knife feeling crunched my chest muscles. Again. “Get me the yellow pages, honey. I need an exorcist.” Kidding.
Do I really have to deal with people who behave this way? Little people? Haven’t I done my time already? I am a grown woman! I am weary and a tad bit embarrassed at having to play emotional defense with my 2 year old. I know there are tons of books and ideas out there on how to deal with those moments. I give them a big “W” (What. Stinkin’. Ever.). The tantrums still come - it’s part of being 2. I know this. Some say spank, some say to put them in a safe place and let them cry it out, some say this, some say that… I just say, “Haven’t I evolved beyond this by now? Aren’t I too old for this?”
Oy Vey.
I queary: Must I tap into that sweet, soft voice to persuade her to see the bright side? It often doesn’t matter anyway. When she gets like That, there is no hearing… no reason… and most certainly - the world is not round! Not that a 2 year old has any idea that the world is round!
Digressing: or is the shape oblate? or ellipti-something? or obtuse? What’s the word for not EXACTLY round? It’s round, but pulled at the poles or something having to do with the earth’s rotation or something… I give.
For that matter, she has no idea the earth is a shape at all! All she knows is it revolves around HER. SHE is the sun, and we are the floating space matter that gets sucked into her orbit… Her heat is a force to be reckoned with… surely she will make toast of all who dare come near, if not melt us completely away.
I was talking with a friend, who may blog this herself, but if she doesn’t - I’ll keep it unlinked… She told me she had to pee in a cup while singing “Old MacDonald” the other day. This is what I’m talking about! We are too big for these shenanigans! We’re big girls! Where’s the dignity? How many Tony winners have had perform under such pressure? I think there is a whole other people group who should be awarded golden trophies.
Pink Martini summed up the quandary well in her post: One of Those Moments. Ya know… the frustration/work/toil VS. The Love and how it really does make it all worth it… when It’s sleeping :)
It’s almost here - this Sunday. I have my Tri Suit. It’s supposed to be 67 and rain. Not a problem. I’ve run a half-marathon… in the snow… my torso covered in a hefty bag to keep dry… all uphill… in snow shoes… and snow pants… heehee. The snow and trash bag part are true, but the snow wasn’t too bad - it was the freezing temperature that was not so fun. So 67 degrees is almost ideal - comparatively. Plus, cooler weather means I won’t be as likely to pass out and die when I hit the run. I’d like to not die on Sunday.
So, my precious friend Emily delivered a tasty delight yesterday afternoon - a strawberry rhubarb pie - STILL. WARM. Still! Warm! I saw it in her palms as my middle child opened the door, and immediatley my taste buds got their party on. ON! This pie is wicked good, and she brought it 3 days before the triathlon. My “glass-half-empty-self” curses her - because I want to eat the whole pie. What kind of athlete eats a whole pie 3 days beofre a race? Wait, I’m not an athlete… I just play one on T.V. No, that’s not right… I digress…
So my “glass-half-full-self” is dancing the “happy food dance” because - Yay! I’ll just burn it off on Sunday! I will be fueled by strawberries (healthy), rhubarb (healthy), flour (carbs), and sugar (more carbs) :) Perfect. Simply purrrrfect…
Wish me luck :)
Dinner. I gotta come up with an idea for dinner! First there was breakfast, then snack, then lunch then snack then snack… now dinner! For cryin’ out loud. Every day, it’s like this! Every! Day!
I have always been prone to bumping, dropping, skinning, tripping, falling, scraping, oopsing, and tumbling about. It’s just who I am. It is what I do… In an earlier post, I shared how I got the nickname, “Crash”. This uncomfortable alter-ego came for a visit this morning. It’s funny how she tends to visit while I am in public
It happened in the gym. Yeah, in the Room of Mirrors. Niiiice. I am fairly certain my clumsy incident went undetected by others - furthermore, there were only 2 others in the Room of Mirrors - and they were on the other side of the room. I can’t know for sure if anyone witnessed this - the ringing in my head was too loud the hear any possible guffahs.
I clobbered my head. I bent down to adjust the weight on some contraption, and I failed to give adequate room FOR MY HEAD. Real bright. Did you know those machines are made of metal? As hard-headed as some might believe I am, my head cannot match the strength of metal. That stuff has no give.
As for the burgeoning unicorn horn, no one can detect it but me. I’ve never been so thankful for a low hairline.
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