Jenny On the Spot: Caffeinated mom, lover of dancing, glitter and glitter.

Somebody stop me.

Somebody stop me.

Stop.

Me.

Somebody.

*crickets chriping*

Either nobody hears me (because nobody likes me everybody hates me I guess I’ll eat some worms), OR there is silence from the online masses because they are sitting on their hands… waiting to witness… and are afraid to peep and miss the profundity of  — the following self-portrait video *SMACK* I’munna put down right heeeya.

I choose the latter.

For obvious narcissistic reasons.
Continue reading ‘Narcissism On The Spot’

And it’s not just because I don’t like the wrinkles that come with aging, or the new aches, or the awareness that gravity… is not a friend.

I want to be four again because I long for the heart.

I want to wear crumbs on my face and not care.

Not because I am lazy. And not because I think a crumby face is a good look.

But because how silly is it to worry about whether one’s face is a little crumby?

When one is four… no one cares about crumbs.

Or bare feet.

Or lipstick that went a bit over the edge:

Ya know?

Last week, Lucy… my 4 year old whistled for the first time.

The first time. This little person got to experience a whistle coming from her wee little frame FORTHEFIRSTTIME.

She said, “Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! I whistled!!!”

I was all, “Yeah, yeah… whistle schmistle.”

I may have played up my excitement for her a little more than that, but my heart held just about that much excitement. She’s kid #3… we’ve had a couple other first whistles… plus I’m 37 people. Whistlin’ is no big, ya know? People. The great majority of us have arms, legs, belly buttons and can whistle. See? Big whoop.

*wet blanket*

A short time later I heard Lucy giggling so sweetly in her booster seat. It was a certain content little giggle. A giggle that perhaps could even turn Darth Vader away from the Dark Side. Oh, that little girl giggle…

I HAD to ask, “Lucy. Honey. What on earth are you gigglin’ about?”

With her mouth in as full a smile as it could stretch she squeaked out, “MAAAAAMAAAAAA! I whistled for the FIRST!!! TIME!!!”

And I cried. My girl. MY girl. My little girl…

*****

Do you ever wish you could feel the joy of whistling for the first time? Do you ever just think about how much it sucks that our first whistle has been spent?

I long for the innocence. I long for the untainted joy. A time when whistling was a big deal… I don’t want to suppress the innate urge to squeal with delight over a “boooifull” butterfly… I want *that* back.

Freedom?

But not to live how I want. Not to do what I got to do fah me. No. I’m talking about freedom in experiencing joy…

Expressing joy. Sharing joy. Joy.

I also want somebody to do my shopping, cooking and laundry. Maybe that’s what this is actually all about.

Maybe.

P.S. Today is your last day to enter for your chance to win a $100 Visa gift card and a year’s worth of Wonder Bread over at Jenny on the Spot Reviews!

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I am 20 years past 17. Officially. Today. Thanks for showing up, Birthday.

I loved 17. I am not 17 in this picture. I am 36. But whatever.

I never really thought about 20 years past 17 when I was 17. I just thought about boys. And college. Boys at college. I didn’t even appreciate glitter.

I guess to some extent, we do gett better with age?

Psht.

For the record, I married a boy from college… I wasn’t 17 then either. I was 22. *mathmathmath* That was almost 15 years ago.

How did I get closer to being 50 than 15? Not that anything is wrong with 50 – for other people. *eyes crossing*

Oh, Birthday… you deepen my “smile” lines. Oh Birthday, my aching joints! You laugh and point as more frequently I realize, “I can’t do THAT like THAT anymore…”

I mean I CAN. I am like The Little Engine That Could. Except I run on glitter, not coal. It all just looks a lot different and may take longer these days…

Stop being dirty. I’m talking about walking and getting out of chairs.
Continue reading ‘Dear Birthday,’

{This post is written as “bling” for my bid for a job I did not win… I know.. it makes no sense at all… pretty sure I intimidated them. They wanted to shine, and I’m fairly certain I would have out-shined them *ahem*.}

You do? Cool.

Well, it all started back in the early 80’s when the lady who owned the town’s haunted house asked me to watch her granddaughter for 45 minutes. I was 10. I made $2 and my parents thought Mrs. Ayers paid me too much. I felt it was a fair wage for not only watching a 2 year-old nap for 45 minutes, but also brave the Haunted House.

Even then I was a go-getter.
Continue reading ‘My work experience’

Post #1 of who knows how many.

I have put this off for a week. Not because I haven’t wanted to do my own recap, but simply because — where to begin?

Should I go chronological? Do I just post pics? Do I post just my own or stalk Flickr? Should I make a little iMovie of pics… other people’s pics I found on FLickr cuz allz I had werz my iPhone cuz I lost the battery charger for my good camera and the entire camera of my other camera. I also lost my cute white skirt. If my brain was not attached at the stem of my neck…

Back to my BlogHer09 Recap Post Dilemma…Should I post the video of me singing “Ice Ice Baby” at the BlogHer Cocktail party Friday night? Should I make it public? How about the video of  Brandy of askpatty.com and I being lead back-up dancers for SecondHandKarl. I was so brave. Then.

Also, why did I wear white pants?

*photo credit – jack’sdad – on Flickr*

OK, so that wasn’t so bad, butt…

Oh dear…
Continue reading ‘BlogHer Recap – The Thursday’

My feet are a WRECK. Over the past 3 years I have stacked running and triathlon events in such a way that my feet have not have the opportunity to return to the intended state they were given to me. You know, 10 intact, cute-ish toes… all with nails. Not model feet, but I considered the nail shape and thickness all to be in normal-to-acceptable range. And give those babies a pedi by a pro… only better.

But now it is all about smoke and mirrors my friends.

I now have 6 normal toe nails. 1 ultra thick one, if I am not careful, I am afraid it might get taller than me. I am not posting a picture. Even I have boundaries. The other thick nail… a professioanl was able to wrangle her to a place of submission. Poor guy. Yes, I had a pedi by a man. It was uncomfortable, but it had to be done. I had a public to protect. I swear, left unchecked… my toes could hurt an innocent by-stander, or at least make them vomit in their mouth a little. I want my public to be a happy public, so… I will endure a pedi by a man… if that is what it takes. *folds arms*

I also have 2 toes (the center ones) with NO NAIL. Did you know you can paint the spot where a nail should be? No one can tell. Smoke and mirrors my friends, smoke and mirrors…

The 2 nails that have complete gone AWOL are a direct result of my marathon in early May. They were fine the morning before, and made big, throbbing protests the days following. One fell off weeks ago. The other fell off yesterday.

Being the sub-standard mom that I am… Our Tooth Fairy (this will make sense, I promise) has a reputation for not showing up in a timely manner. This was a letter my daughter left for our TF one time:

Aaaanywho. So. I lost my toenail yesterday. My daughter Olivia (who had lost a tooth the day before… made a note for our fair Tooth Fairy AND left her tooth just outside her bedroom door instead of under her pillow… she is a go-getter, I tell ya. Thank heaven the TF woke up at 3:30 in the a.m. and remembered to scrounge the kids’ therapy fund and paid the kid for her tooth… which, by the way… she RIPPED out cuz that girl is made out of pure Awesome and Tough Schtuff!)

Where was I?

Oh. My toenail. My daughter was there when I finally showed Ms. Nail who was boss. Olivia said, “Oh! Mom!!! You should put that under your pillow!”

“But Olivia, do you think the Nail Fairy will come?”

Olivia was certain, “Oh yeah. You better not put it under your pillow… put it at your door.”

My poor girl. *plops 2 quarters back in the Therapy Fund*

It is what it is… *sigh* I’ll just keep the smile up on the outside, but ya’ll here know what’s happening on my inside. It’s nice to have a place to be real. ;)

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Have a happy and safe Fourth of July, friends!

*pink puffy hearts and swirly whirly goodness all over yo bad selves*

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Today was a banner day. After 21 months of braces… my teeth are free, Free, FREE!!! Back in August 2007, my teeth looked like this:

I know – it wasn’t too bad, but there were issues and rather than go through a series of temporary fixes, I chose to go with the big guns.

And while I was very excited to be rid of the metal forceps of my mouth, I was a bit nervous. Besides, I’m an emotional gal. I quickly become emotionally attached to not only people, but inanimate objects. I took a few pictures so I would never forget my ‘lil fren, Braces…

This was taken a couple of nights before saying goodbye. Braces and I were having a real time, just kickin’ it, yo…

Continue reading ‘In Which I Report the State of My Brace-less Teeth’

This post is for those of you who have been bearing with me as I go on and on about some “marathon” I have been training for… for the past 18 weeks. Only 18 weeks.

WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! 

Goshgollydoggoneitalltoheckalmightyofthewholeworld.

Did you see that? I totally just made spell check wig-out. Kinda like I made my Achilles tendon wig-out on my 20 mile run a few weeks ago. Yeah. Like that. Garrrr.

I went on a run today – my last before “the event”. It did not go very well, and for this I am highly discouraged and want to bake a cake so I can sit on mah butt whilst I ice mah lame leg and eat the entire cake while I pout and whine and feel all kinds of sorry for my mostly-trained-for-but-am-now-injured-but-not-gonna-give-up-on-that-marathon-dream-self. 

You see, I am broken and the best part of the training plan was the last 3 weeks. I survived the most hideous part to be rewarded with suckness. Yes, “suckness” is a word.

Because I said it’s a word.

There are other words too, but… *physically holding tongue*

I’m sorry. I know My Public depends on me for humor. OK. I hear you callin’ me out…*puts her big girl pants on*

Here is a short video my friend Jill posted on her Facebook. I “met” Jill via Lisa. BTW, Lisa, it’s time for a new post! I “met” Lisa some years ago via our blogness because we were both training for half-marathons and… Lisa and I then connected on Facebook, and then Jill and I caught one another’s “eye” as we loved all over Lisa over on her Wall… and… a friendship was born. You’re tearing up, aren’t you? OK, so I have “met” neither Lisa nor Jill in the technical sense of “meeting”…  but I adore both girls like I adore all shiny things. And when I say, “I have been chatting online with hot chicks…” I am probably talking about Jill and Lisa. 

Where was I? Ah yes… the video from Jill. Made me giggle. It’s really clean, really! And that’s why it’s so stinkin’ hilarious…

Now off with yo bad selves. Have a great day and don’t forget to feel sorry for me. Maybe even spritz some glitterspray on your wrists in an act of solidarity. Have I told you how much I love you lately..? *wipes tear*

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I did. I made one.

Many of you know my passion for dance. My minions Many A few have noodled me, by daring, “Proof! We need proof!”  You want proof? I give you proof. But it may not prove what you hope to have proven. Let’s see….. how can I say this best? Ahhh… I believe William Tell Hung sums it up best:

I have no professional training. I already gave it my best. I have no regrets at all.

The song I feature in my first ever, world-premiere dance/music video is… ***drum roll***… I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’ by the Scissor Sisters. Currently, this is my favorite song on all the earth – of the all the earth. If you see me driving by in my car… I am listening to this song. If you see me singing to myself… it is this song. As I type, I am fighting back the urge to type the lyrics…

In this video you will find glitter, bubbles, dancing, my lovely-sparkly-red-sequined Converse, and of course… Yours Truly.

P.S. If you can keep yourself from bee-boppin’ when ya hear this song… you are probably not human. Just sayin’.

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Keep up on the ridiculous, the insightful, the always digressive…

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