Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

I'm so excited right now, I don't even know what to say. Tim Burton is producing a movie version of Alice in Wonderland, and Johnny Depp is in it. Now, I'm not one of those "ohh he's so cute" kind of people. Nope, I just love his acting. I love his Gonzo roles, I love his Jung role. I love them all.

I've been saying for years that someone should do a screen version of the book. It's a classic, it's interesting, it's fun, why not? And to have someone like Burton doing it, I know it will be fantastic.

Of course I can't wait for the Caterpillar. I mean, really. The caterpillar truly is my favorite character. I can't wait for the music. You know it's going to be good.

2010 can't come fast enough.

http://www.dlisted.com/node/28969

Campos Tacos

I've found my new favorite place to eat.

I love the fact that I live in a small town that is starting grow; you get all kinds of neat new things and new places to eat. We recently had another restaurant join our community, Campos Tacos. It's in the little strip mall next to CVS and Chicago's Pizza, and it's a small place, but it has big taste.

Now, if you're thinking you're going to walk in and find Qdoba, Jr. or even something like Taco Bell, you're wrong. Totally different thing. This is what tacos are all about: flat corn tortillas (soft though, not crunchy) topped with your choice of chicken, steak, refried beans, and a few things that I'm not familiar with, and instead of lettuce, tomato, and cheese, you'll find chopped white onion and cilantro as your toppings. I'm not a fan of commercialized Mexican food, and in my opinion most Americans have pedestrian views on what good food is.

Anyway, like most other Mexican restaurants, you start of with a basket of chips and salsa. They bring two kinds to the table. One is more of a verde kind of sauce and the other, my favorite, is the chunky tomato, cilantro, onion salsa. For just over 2 bucks, you can get a big glob of the best guacamole within a 50 mile radius. It's not the bird-poop kind, either. It has chunks of tomatoes in it, too. Are you seeing a pattern? Love those 'maters. Okay, so get the guac. It's yummy. And it's made fresh; I know this because I've had it twice this week and it was slightly more lemony the second time. Yummmm.

The other thing I really, really like is the fact that you can buy bottled Coke. Mexican Coke, to be more exact, which is made with sugar, not that high fructose bullshit. Of course I just get water, but Aaron loves the fact that he can actually drink a Coke somewhere every now and then. They also have non-alcoholic bottled Sangria. Yum.

Okay so back to the menu...I haven't tried it all yet, but of the things I have had (a refried bean burrito, which was huge--too huge if I'm being completely honest; and the bean taco) the taco is my favorite so far. And they're priced reasonably, too. For around $10, Aaron and I can eat until we're stuffed. And that's not easy to do! Tacos are $1.75 each, and two of them are too much for me. One and a half would be perfect. I guess that's just another reason to get a take-home box or just order one and pig out on the guacamole. The chicken and the steak is amazing as well. I have been caught breaking my vegetarian lifestyle for a couple chicken tacos.

Campos Tacos...try it! Don't go in expecting your pedestrian taco joint. It's anything but that, at least as far as Central Indiana is concerned. Go hungry and come out happy!

A New Gem

Yesterday I spent the day with the fam. They can be pretty cool to hang out with. We started off by going out to breakfast at one of the little diners here in town. We usually go to The Wagon Wheel but they were packed with people waiting to be seated. Yikes. When I first found that diner a year ago it was pretty much a regular crowd of older folks who have lived in McCordsville since before this recent population boom. We didn't want to wait (or sit in the smoking section--this town is a little behind the times), so we made the journey up the road to another small town diner, called Robbie's. It's nice to sit down with my husband and our boys, slurp my coffee and eat my vegetarian egg-white omelet, and watch their faces covered in syrup and smiles as we talk about the things they find important in their broadening worlds. Breakfast was a hit, up until Willie overate and threw up in front of the cash register. It happens....always. My kids are vomiters. Unfortunately we haven't quite gotten the hang of making it to the restrooms first. So, I gleefully (ha!) cleaned up the mess while my older two ran back to the table, announcing to the entire restaurant not once, but twice, "Willie threw up!!" Forks fell. That's breakfast for the Ongs. Overall, though, breakfast was a hit and we'll go back.

After breakfast we headed to Fort Benjamin Harrison. There is a state park with walking trails in the woods, which is one of my most favorite things in the entire world. We started out on our 2 mile trek and to my absolute glee, I found hanging vines! It has been YEARS since I've gotten to swing on a vine and I couldn't wait to jump on. At first the boys were a little unsure about swinging off a vine, but once they saw me launch myself up, they couldn't wait to follow suit. Matt quickly got the hang of it and A.J. did after that. Willie never really quite got his feet off the ground, but he wasn't scared to try. Aaron even got a bit of a swing in. I quit after I nearly impaled myself with the vine around my Achilles tendon. It left a bruise but I show it proudly. It's my Tarzan injury! We spent a good ten minutes playing with the vines before we headed onward with our journey.

The trails were buzzing with people with dogs. The boys had to stop each person with a pup so they could give a quick pet on the head. Sometimes I think that was annoying to people who were trying to get on with their trip, but overall it was a good day to see lots of dogs. We even saw a couple deer run right in front of us and off into the trees. I wanted to kick myself time and again for not bringing a camera.

After the kids kept up for over 2.1 miles we threw them back in the car and drove around the park to see what else was there. I was surprised to find more trails, a sledding hill, a couple playgrounds, and my favorite part: the natural history museum and horse stables. Aaron and I are planning to go back this weekend and take a guided tour. For twenty dollars each, we get an hour long horse ride. Sounds fun to me! They also offer pony rides for children under 16, and it's cheap.

The natural history museum was really fun. It's small, probably around 2000 square feet or less, but it was filled with things like stuffed animals (taxidermist stuffed, not beanie baby stuffed!), war artifacts from both World Wars and Vietnam, POW artifacts from Nazi Germans (I saw a real swastika. I mean, I'm not pro-Nazi or anything, but do you realize how awesome that is to see it?). We measured our arms up against the wall and compared them with the painted wingspans of birds (my arms have the same span as a Turkey Vulture!) and then we compared our heights with that of Elk, black bears, moose, and a few other things.

Finally, before we went home we let the kids run off whatever leftover energy they had on the playground and then rolling down the sledding hill. They were exhausted when we came home. We spent the entire day there and still didn't get to do everything. We'll be going back, soon!!

This Sounds Yummy!

It's fall. I'm recipe hunting. Today I'm making white chicken chili (and a vegetarian version for me), and I'll let you know how that turns out, but here is one I found that I am going to try.

I'll share:

From http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/recipes/recipe.php?recipeId=1749

Grilled Vegetable Pizza

Serves 4 to 6

Grilled veggies topped with feta and herbs and baked on a cornmeal crust make for a quick, light meal. Feel free to use leftover grilled vegetables for this recipe. Rely on the season to guide you; choose what is at the peak of harvest to create your own custom pizza. Eggplant, bell peppers and fennel, for instance, could replace or add to the vegetables suggested here.
Ingredients

2 cups small broccoli florets
2 cups thinly sliced zucchini
8 thin slices red onion
1/4 cup vinaigrette dressing
2 medium heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced
2 (8- to 9-inch) frozen cornmeal or other pizza crusts, thawed
Pepper to taste
1/2 pound crumbled feta cheese
2 tablespoons mixed chopped herbs (such as basil, rosemary and oregano)
Method

Heat a grill. In a grilling basket, grill the broccoli, zucchini, and onions, brushing with vinaigrette dressing and turning often, until just tender.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 425°F. Arrange tomatoes on the pizza crusts, then arrange grilled veggies on top of the tomatoes. Season with pepper. Mix the feta cheese with the fresh herbs and sprinkle mixture over the vegetables. Bake until cheese is browned and vegetables are crisp, 15 to 20 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board, cut into slices and serve.

Now...here for the "fun" stuff...Nutritional Information

Per serving (About 8oz/232g-wt.): 250 calories (130 from fat), 14g total fat, 7g saturated fat, 11g protein, 23g total carbohydrate (3g dietary fiber, 7g sugar), 40mg cholesterol, 740mg sodium

Big Me to Talk About It

I was recently reunited with an image of myself from a mere 24 months ago, an image at the time that I had considered an improvement of the person I was just 12 months before that. I was stunned silent-rendered speechless-mouth gaping blown away. It takes nothing like a slap in the face with an eleven second video of your past to wake you up. Anyway, this video I'm about to show you was me in August of 2006. We were in New Philadelphia, Ohio when we took the kids to a community park (yes, it has rides) after spending the good bit of the weekend at Aaron's grandmother's hospital room. She died a few days later. Anyway, while we were there, Aaron captured this gem:




The first thing I notice is how self-conscious I am. My posture is atrocious and I cannot quit fidgeting with my clothing. I'm obviously uncomfortable.

And then I start to laugh. I don't care! It does not bother me, in fact, it is quite the opposite. I would not share if I felt humiliated or ashamed. That is not who I am, not inside, and not out. I just never took the time to see the contrast of the then versus the now.

And the contrast is amazing. I hadn't realized how my hard work for the last two years finally is starting to show. And now that I've started a sprint routine, I feel different, too. Seventy pounds is a lot, and I've taken it rather lightly.

I'm not seeking praise, confirmation or reinforcement, nothing of the such. Some of the friends I've made in recent months have never seen the person in the video. Here, though, is a time-line of me: December 2005, Summer 2006, and Fall 2008:



Yikes! Okay, don't laugh TOO hard :)

Saturday Morning Cup of Random

It seems cruel and unusual that, after going to bed at 4am, I am awake again, and have been since the wee hour of 6:30am. Since I'm running out of things to look at on the internet (and my MySpace page has completely been overhauled), I figured, hey...I'll just write some random stuff. Aaron and I are switching babysitting shifts at 10:30am. It's a married-thing. We stayed up way too late drinking wine and talking, so there you have it. He's got my back. He's a good man.

Somehow, I need to get a good run in today. The radar seems to be cooperating, though I have to admit that my run in the rain yesterday was really incredible. I've started doing sprints: power walking for ten seconds, sprinting for ten, then back to the walking. It's abrupt, and that's what I like about it. As long as I can run outside I'll be happy. A treadmill is on the list of things to buy before it gets too cold to run outside, but I really enjoy, and prefer, the trail running. I especially enjoy coming home and making a protein shake. The first few days of running gave me some incredible charlie horses. Aaron to the rescue with a two pound container of whey protein. We're talking stupid amounts of potassium and protein. Yes. I mean, it's not like I'm getting it from meat. Besides. I'm addicted to Pomegranate juice. 100%. It's an expensive fix, but if you go to the grocery in the poorer areas, you can typically find it marked half off. I mean, really, who in their right mind on an normal budget pays ten dollars for a 64 ounce bottle of juice? Or sixteen if you opt for the concentrated version (cherry, too). So, buy bunches of it when it's cheap. Stock up. I'm learning a lot.

My new neighbor across the street got pulled over in front of their house last night. Haha! That's worth mentioning only because we live in the very far back of our neighborhood. The police don't typically come back here, especially for traffic control, since they are mostly perched near the entrance of our 'hood to catch all the speeders on the main road. It's Fishers, Jr. here in McCordsville. We've gotta get revenue somehow to grow this little town up into a bonafide suburb! Anyway, it's also worth a mention because I think it's FUNNY!

Do you have any idea how much I love vinegar? I think Aaron is starting to get concerned. But really. It. Cleans. Everything. Spotless. Shiny. Pair it up with a microfiber towel on glass. Newspapers, schmoozepapers. Vinegar and microfiber is where it's at. And it's cheap. And safe. I can spray it all over my kitchen and who cares if it gets on my veggies. I'm probably going to clean my veggies with vinegar anyway (if they're store bought). It cleans toilets. It cleans floors. Windows. Dishes (so long Jet Dry). Gets the stinky out of little boy laundry. It rocks. Really.

I wish it would rain. The radar is showing it all to be much further north of us. I really was hoping for a gray, drizzly day. Does it mean that I'm weird if I say those are my favorite kinds of days.

Rumor of the day...I keep hearing that I should run out and buy gas RIGHT NOW because gas will be over $5 a gallon this weekend. I have no idea if there is any truth to it, I sure as hell hope not, but I keep reading and hearing it. I think I shall abruptly end my blogging and go check it out.

Enjoy your Saturday (or whatever day it is when you are reading!) ... Go Buckeyes, Go Colts!

School Pictures

I feel like a bad mom.

I'm not buying school pictures this year, and that seems so strange. I've been brainwashed to believe that school pictures, and their insanely inflated prices, are a must-do in the world of perfect parenting. My parents have school pictures of my brothers, sister, and me all the way from kindergarten to graduation. They even have our senior pictures still proudly displayed on a wall, even though the oldest photo is almost thirty years old, and the newest is fifteen years old. I have trading-sized photos of myself at age eight and nine, smirking at the cameraman and his hideous attempts to make me smile. Not that I can remember it specifically, but if you had school photos taken in the early 80s, you surely can understand.

This is the smirk...Kind of a smile, kind of sarcastic. And the dress, oh the dress. And it's fun having the ability to go back and have a great laugh at your 3rd grade photos. My mom was never the type to send pictures back, even my freshman year when I had a horrible earache, fever, and you could tell by my grimace. Immortalized in the yearbook that way, thanks Mom. But my point is, I've never not had school pictures, and to opt to not get them feels weird.

My friend Cara first regarded me with amazement when I mentioned picture day. Her emailed response was, "School pics??? I am not taking school pics today WAY TOO EXPENSIVE you can go to Walmart for pics for $6.00" Now, I won't be taking the boys to Wal-mart for pictures (don't even get me started on Wal-mart), I will take them somewhere. Yay. Anyway, I debated back about how I'd regret not spending the extra money, but when I typed the words "besides, it's only $20 for a 5x7 and a class group picture," that I realized that she was right. It is ridiculous. Then the other child I watch in the morning arrived and said his mom wasn't buying school pictures, either. I admit that surprised me for a moment, but then the numbers and the logic suddenly didn't add up. I decided to keep my money and take a deep breath. I'm pretty sure I'm in the majority on this one; the light came on.

It is a shame that picture day is becoming a thing of the past. In the age of digital photography it is outlandish to charge $37 for a 5X7 and a class photo. Even with the processing and paying employees I'm sure they're still making a killing. If Wal-mart *cringe* can do it for $6, why can't these companies?

Waiting for Scarecrow

I love fall. I love everything about it, the smells, the colors, the crisper air, the Indian summers, the foods, the holidays, the sports, the sounds, the newness of a school year...I could go on and on but the point is, down to the bare bones of it, I love fall.

Now that Labor Day has come and gone and the air has cooled, even temporarily, and I've spent a weekend with football in my realm of conscious, I'm finding myself really psyched. I can't wait to wrap on a scarf and go for a late-night walk with the man who I love to walk with the most. I can't wait to buy a new winter coat this year, because the ones I have are desperately needing replaced; they no longer fit and I've earned a new one. You know, I think I'm going to buy a red wool trench coat.

Reds and oranges and yellows excite me right now. Burnt variations of the hues draw me in, I can almost smell the scent of fall leaves and hear them crackling under my feet as I walk. This, too, is why I love fall. I have decided that adding cork bushes to my landscape is a must. I want to plant a few trees around the yard in the next couple of years and one of the important things in deciding what kind to plant is the fall foliage. I want reds and golds. I love reds and golds. (And if they can grow 20 feet in less than five years, well, I'm sold.)

I made apple butter. I've made a great friend who has helped me make the leap from "wanting to do" to "getting to do" when it comes to fruits and vegetables, and homegrown, homemade varieties. She has been wonderfully generous and brought over a box of apples that I was able to turn into a domestically-goddess ish jar of butter. Only one jar because many apples, and all of the peaches, were devoured by the boys and their friends. And I admit it, I've saved the peels and added it to my collection of compost, which will be dumped on the future site of the garden and covered for the winter with a tarp. But its the things like cooking apples and the smell of cinnamon that really bring home how intoxicating a season can be.

This year is the year for Ohio State/Michigan games for us. Due to a wonderful opportunity and a incredible turn of events, I believe I will have Aaron home with me for a long, long time, making the tailgating weekend a reality for us. I wish we could get into the game, but bar crawling starting at 4am sounds insanely fascinating, as well as a terrific opportunity for a great blog. (That's going to take some advance planning to pull off, since we really do start bar crawling at 4 am on the Saturday of the OSU/MI game.) Come hell or high water, this fall, we're there. And I couldn't be more excited.

I should also mention I'm starting the prowl for firewood. We opted for a wood-burning fireplace so we could use the thing as much as we want. A roaring fire, football with the sound up, jerseys, chili and chips...AAAARRRRHHHHH!!

So there it is. I love fall. It's the perfect season. I wish it would last forever. Everything is clean and fresh, but also warm and soothing.

Who's ready to hit the pumpkin patches?

Pierced!

I can still remember when I was probably sixteen years old saying, "I'm going to get my nose pierced." It was one of those things I said over and over as something I'd wanted to do, but knew deep in my heart that I probably never would, that I was too chicken, and especially too chicken for something that was so outwardly obvious. I pierced my ears many, many times; the lobe, the middle, the cartilage up top. I even got brave in my early twenties and pierced my belly button. That was before I had the boys, so obviously that went by the wayside and I'm left with a shrunken hole (I can't believe I just said "shrunken hole." he he) in my navel that I was excited to discover is not closed, but also not big enough to ram a bar back in it. All it takes is some special instrument and $10 and I'm back in the belly charm biz. But I just chalked up my nose-ring talk as just talk, and went on about my life.

Over the course of the last sixteen years, since I was sixteen, I've revisited the idea of a charm in my nose. Not anything too weird; I'm not the type of person who would look right (or be able to stand for the drama of that needle!) with one in the septum, or even anything too big and strange. Just a small little diamond (okay, cubic zirc) in the corner of my nose, started sounding appealing all over again.

I did what I did best, which is make up my mind and change it. Over and over. All talk, no show. Famous. For years, I wanted to do it, but frankly, was too scared. Obviously it had to hurt, right? And I remembered the burn of the belly button needle (and the look on my friend April's face when they went to stab me in the gut) and kept pushing the idea of a nose ring back, again.

Of course, too, I am brilliant when it comes to making up excuses. I'm the queen of them! It didn't matter that I was in sales (insurance sales) where I convinced myself that it would be "tacky" and "unprofessional." I grasped on the "unprofessional" label and ran with it, like a football tucked under my arm. So, fear, talking big, and rationalizing my fears with excuses...Sound familiar?

I'm 32 years old. I suddenly no longer care what people think. If someone likes it, I'm happy. If not, so what? What matters to me is that I like it, and that my husband does, too. And it was his reaction to my lofty talk about doing it that finally convinced me that it was okay. That if that's what I wanted, well, go for it. In a way, he was calling me on my talk.

So...I did it!

I spent quite a few hours first on the internet, researching how it was done, what the tools looked like (no more big surprises! I don't need a reason to change my mind again!), how long it would take, and of course I wanted to know how bad it hurt. I stayed far, far away from the YouTube videos that came up in some of my Scroogle searches. But finally, I decided I was ready.

Friday afternoon I dropped Willie off at school and I turned left out of the school parking lot instead of right and headed off towards Greenfield, the home of the place where I ultimately decided to get hole-punch done. I turned up the tunes and drove fast on the country roads, getting myself psyched. I was just as scared as I was excited, but dammit, the time had come and I was not turning back! I stopped by to see a friend (who recently had hers done at the same place) for support and then went off to have mine done, too.

I pulled up in front of the small blue building, okay maybe it wasn't that easy. So I had to drive around it a couple times to figure out where to park, since there was an insurance agency adjoined to their building, and that agency took up the parking lot. I finally found a sign for parking on the side, parked the car, and walked in. Marching up to the display case of body jewelry, I took a look around to make sure the place was clean and somewhere I would feel safe. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and coupled with people I trust having been customers, I was finally 100% totally ready. Onward ho!

I knew that I wanted a gemstone stud. I preferred the look of a diamond, but considered the other colors available. I was immediately drawn to red but I also liked the blue and the green. I didn't care much for the pinky-purple stone, because frankly I hate pink. And purple. I dismissed blue because my eyes are green and I don't want any other colors to take away from my eye color. I dismissed green when I thought to myself, "what if someone thinks its a green booger?" Yuck. Okay...green is out. Red? Love it...but what if it ends up looking like I always have a zit? Nahh...White, aka diamond, it is!

At this point, I was still feeling confident. Everything I read, teemed up with everything that I had been told by friends who had it done, said that the pain would last between five to ten seconds and then that was it. I hopped up on the cot and waited while the piercer (is that what he's called?) prepped the jewelry and his tools. We talked about how piercings have changed since we were younger and how more generally accepted they are, and how that was a big factor in why I waited until my thirties to have jewelry on my face. And finally it was time. He showed me first what he was going to do, which was exactly how I read it would be done. After prepping my nose, he inserted the metal tube inside my nostril that catches the needle and then it was time. I felt the heat from the needle prick pushing against my skin. I shut my eyes and waited for the tears to come, because they do. I don't care who you are, the tears will pour being in such close proximity to the tear duct. And they did. You would have thought it hurt a helluva lot worse if you were judging by the waterfall. And it did hurt, don't think for a second it didn't. But it was so quick. Ten seconds of a sharp, intensive pain and then it was almost over. Just putting in the jewelry itself was left, and that wasn't painful, just awkward because the stem of the ring is actually somewhat cork-screw shaped so that it doesn't just fall out and so that there is no earring back inside my nose. It was done! Time to clean up the blood (yes, blood. It's a hole being punched in my face, of course there's gonna be some blood!) and voila! I finally did it.

I looked in the mirror and instantly loved it. It is in the perfect place, it's not glaringly obvious, and it finally makes my nose look like something I like! And if you've known me for very long, you probably know that I have hated my nose since, oh, birth. I always thought it was big and awkward-looking, especially having been broken many years ago, but now I like it! I felt fine, despite looking a little pale, but I sat for a couple minutes so the piercer could be sure I was okay. I guess people pass out often from having piercings and tattoos, and I was looking like a candidate for hitting the floor. The only discomfort I felt was the puffiness of the swelling that came immediately after inserting the ring. Other than that, the pain was gone. I couldn't wait to stop and show my friend that I didn't chicken out! I hurried over the whole two blocks to her salon to show off my new pretty nose, and then hurried home to show Aaron.

It looks great, it doesn't hurt, and the swelling went down within two hours. I love, love, love it and I'm so proud of myself for finally doing it after all these years!! As for pictures, well I wanted to put one up but my camera batteries have to recharge. But I'll put it up. You'll see it. Promise!

How I Spent My Labor Day -- By Linda

For months and months and months and months I've been running my heiny off waiting tables, not taking any weekends off, except for maybe a total of three weekend days since December. Five and six day weeks: for a "part-time job," I sure have been spending more time there than at home with my family. Which sucks. If it weren't such an easy gig that pays very well, I'd probably have returned to an unemployed status a long time ago. Alas, I march on.

On top of my servitude I give to the fine folks of Fishers, Fortville, Geist, and McCordsville, I also am a part-time caregiver of three extra children for a brief couple of hours in the mornings until the wonderful yellow bus comes 'round the bend. Because of the long holiday weekend, I was going to be relieved of my indentured servant, er, babysitter duties for a few days. Why not take the entire weekend off, right? Genius!

I love it when a good plan catches on! Aaron is home, too! Okay, so maybe my exact order of events is a bit off, but just play along. The point ends the same. Anywhoo, here we are, home! Home, home, home. Home-ity home home. Never a better opportunity for becoming junior DIY-ers. First stop, master bathroom! Small enough to tackle on a tight budget with one semi-pro painter and one (me) who has never been afforded the opportunity to wield a roller. Can you imagine?! Anyway, especially with my newbiness, it was a good room to start. My bathroom is now Terra Cotta! Like? We trimmed out in high gloss colonial white, and will be using a slate green/blue as an accent color. We thought Necco wafer green at first, but it came out a little to minty and the bathroom suddenly took on the role of Thin Mint. Not for us. Though we did kind of enjoy the momentary craving for some mint chocolate chip ice cream that I blame entirely on the fact that the bathroom had absolutely zero ventilation for about an hour while we were forced to shut the door. Yikes. Okay, anyway. Here's what I want for the trim:

And that's not all!! Aaron spent most of Saturday (at least, I think it was Saturday) sealing the driveway. Now I have the prettiest driveway on the block! Okay, it is really cool, though, because it's shiny, and Linda loves shiny things!

Best of all, tis really nice to have him home. It's been a great weekend, just hanging out, going for walks/sprints, hotboxing paint fumes in an unventilated bathroom together. We've been so busy, though, we haven't had time to just "be."

Monday was the celebration of the end of the long weekend (can I get a few more "of the"s in there?) with swimming and cooking out. Aaron made a new friend and I good-naturedly took the bulk of their teasing when the vegetarian forgot to buy hamburger for the grill. I mean, really, aren't 3 cornish hens (complete with Guinness can sodomy show!), twelve brats, and 24 hotdogs enough for sixteen people? Let us not forget all the cold salads! Sheesh. So, yeah I did. I totally skipped out on buying burger for the grill. My bad. Save a cow. Eat a squash. Hehe.

So there you have it. My glorious weekend.

XOXO
Linda

I Want a Hobby! A Vacation! Goodwill and More!

Peace and quiet (noun): 1. The absence of yelling voices, running feet, hand-held game gadgets. 2. A rare occurence in a household of three boys, but generally occurs Mondays through Fridays between the hours of 8:30 am until 3:30 pm.

Sounds heavenly, and it is. I thouroughly enjoy the option of having my computer blasting mp3s at a deafening volume or having nothing but the sound of the sprinklers in the lawn when the music is off and the windows are open. I clean and I clean and I clean and I launder and launder and launder and yet I find myself unfulfilled. Yearning for more. Build up some drama with me, I want to say screw the laundry another day and find something fun to do!

Now, I must confess I do have one thing that I've recently discovered I absolutely enjoy is my Goodwill sprees. Day-long jaunts hitting all the "good" Goodwills: Carmel, Fishers, Noblesville, Brownsburg. Oh yeah. I do it. And I admit it, I still sneak in the doors, but lemme tell ya, when I'm in, it's exhilirating! Bargainers and treasure hunters unite. Seriously, though, I have found some great stuff. Aaron's caught the fever, too.

So, how can I make the leap from shopping at Goodwill to finding a new hobby? Well, I don't know. I'm sure I'll figure something out. I have a few ideas budding in my head, but that's where they're staying for now until I know for sure.

Now, here's the best part: Five glorious days off. Oh how I've missed that! I wish I'd embraced unemployment a little better. I actually kind of miss it! Five days for painting a bathroom, digging a planter, having a cookout, not having to deal with a bazillion kids early in the morning.

Well there you have it. A little bit of random from someone who's a shift away from calm!!

Whatchamacallit

I can't eat those. Whatchamacallits, that is. They are the one thing on earth that I've discovered for me is a migraine trigger. Oh yeah, I found that out the hard way.

But that's not what's going on in my mind. It's just, well, I never feel like I'm locked in when I'm locked in my house. I go measures when it comes to locking up at night. But it just feels so open. So obvious. So in-your-face.

Driving down the street that connects to mine, my home's backside is in the view to all who venture down that road. You can't help it; it just is. So here I am, front and center--well, back and center, I guess--viewable to all, a beacon in the night. We keep the lights low, but it's still illuminating! And the white Roman blinds, well, they just don't provide enough privacy and shelter from the outside world, but if I ask to replace them, am I really asking for a pretty white robe delivered by men in coats?

What is wrong with me? I'm convinced the world is watching me! I hear air traffic and cars and see reflections in the distance and my heart races. Not having houses around me puts my mind at a swift disadvantage; there's no one to absorb some of that center-spotlight phenomenon.

Another thing, I think, is that I no longer have my shelter that I held so dear in my trees. Leaving the old house found me leaving my shield of trees behind. The stark emptiness of my new yard compared with the dense woods of my entire former neighborhood--it's abrupt.

Can a person really suffer from the lack of greenery? And if so, to what extent?

I honestly think you can suffer. I know the sense of calm I feel when ever I enter the state parks I love so much. I know how much I can crave it. And since I've added plants to my indoor furnishings, I have found I'm much calmer at home. As long as I'm not reminded of the lack of trees on the other side of the blinds. Winter was hell. I can't remember a winter I disliked. Not having snowy trees as the backdrop of every early morning sunrise really hurt me.

I think that I feel exposed and vulnerable. I think that is the root cause of my recent paranoia. But knowing is half the battle. With a little diligence I will overcome my recent bout of OCD. I know it, I know it, I know it!

And yes, I am singing that song by Rockwell.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aD21JDMp86c

Riding the Beastie

If you're a guy, this may not be the read for you. You've been warned.

Remember the 1980s Kings Island ride that was so popular, The Beastie? And there was The Beast, the "scarier" version, as if Beastie was somehow attractive to small children. Anyway, maybe you don't. Maybe I'm just old and need new fodder for analogies. The point is, it's a roller coaster and baby, I'm riding it!

Let us jump straight into the nitty gritty. I have an IUD. I have had it for five years. And it is time for it to come out.

What's the big deal, right? I never thought twice about making my appointment, reluctantly returning to the Pill as a form of birth control, despite it's two, uh, gifts five and six years ago. Anywho, no big deal. And I'm still okay with that. What I am not okay with is how my body is reacting to the monstro-gigantic shift of hormones in my body. Woo hoo! It's a real rodeo inside my head!

And yes, I've done it all: I've road raged. I've made crass and shocking comments within hearing range of people who just *annoy* me (yes, I've said my piece on Jesus, or the lack thereof. But just loud enough...I'm not trying to get burritoed by white jackets!) , I've put my dear loving husband through absolute and utter hell, and even through that, he still loves me and accepts it when I am nearing pea-soup explosions and I burst into tears and admit that I am not ME, no matter what I try to do. By some miracle he understands and has known what was wrong the whole time. He just has had the grace to not mention it. I guess he's learned a thing or two in life.

Yeah, wow. It's been a real ride. And we still have a week left until I actually get a prescription for the Pill, so hang on tight! It's like jumping in The Racer and choosing the backwards-facing coaster.

Do they make Midol strong enough?

Marbles

Originally written September 7, 2007

Well, today something happened that I never dreamed in my entire life. AJ got in trouble for dumping marbles on the floor during kindergarten. And when I say dumping marbles, I don't mean ones he found in a tin in the classroom. Oh, no. I mean ones he that smuggled out the door in his socks. I swear. How I did not notice three small bulges next to his ankle?

...Anyway, I knew it was not good when his teacher accompanied him to the car in the carpool line. He looked cool as ever, but she had a strange look--not mad, more or less concealed amusement. I rolled the window down in my disasterously messy from the recent move vehicle and smiled. She held out her hand and showed me three marbles, two blue and one green. She said that there was only a small problem today with my son, when he spilled the marbles from his sock in class. Not once. Nope. Twice. Apparently she followed her protocol and gave him one warning before taking the small balls away. Of course A.J. does what he always does and waits a little while before repeating the offense. He likes to know if you're being consistent or not. She is. I got them back after school. He talked her into giving them to me, by telling her that they belonged to me. How very creative. I'm impressed. He's showing such affinity towards his papa. And what does Papa have to say? Aaron was snickering for the rest of the phone call. Probably still is. How do you get mad at that? It's too damn funny, and oh, so original. This doesn't happen everyday, but it does when you have the honor of being AJ's mom. He seemed minorly worried; he was more excited about showing me his artwork he'd made that day. I just told him no more marbles at school and left it at that. That's my kid.

Random Thoughts

written Thurs. May 29

Here it is again, summer time. Almost. Close enough. The pools are open and it's finally warming up. The smell of charcoal grills fill the weekend air, and the sound of kids running around and riding bikes fills my ears.

This past weekend we spent some time at our neighborhood pool. The water was still pretty cold, but the baby pool was a lot warmer. AND the baby pool hadn't yet been contaminated by incontinent little pee-ple. Haha, get it? Anyway, I tossed one of the mini pool chairs in the baby pool, sat back to relax, and proceeded to get fried. I guess if I'd looked at the bottle of lotion I was smearing all over my chest, arms, and legs first, I might have realized that it wasn't even suntan lotion, let alone containing any SPF. I managed to grab a bottle of age-old tanning bed tan accelerator to take with me to the pool. Yep, I spent about two hours baking in that stuff before I switched to the SPF 50 that Aaron and the kids were wearing. Needless to say, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent self-medicating with aloe, lots and lots of beer, and a couple of good books while soaking in my Calgon for the whirlpool tub. (The non-bubble formula.) Ouch.

The houses that are going up next door are going up quickly. I was in quite a funk last week when I realized my view of the farm across the field was now obstructed by a blue wall reading "CENTEX." Even though that is only temporary, I know I will never have the same view again. I have decided my only recourse is to plant a tree or flowering shrub in front of my office window, so that I can at least open my blinds again and have something decent to look at. I'm thinking either a dogwood or a dark purple lilac. Anything. I truly do despise living in a neighborhood with people so close, and I've been pretty lucky this far to not have anyone living too close. Those days are over, and it does make me sad and make me miss the spacious yard I once enjoyed back in Anderson. I wouldn't want to move back to Anderson and put my kids through their lackluster school system, but I wish I could pick up my old piece of paradise and move it down here. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't forever, and someday I can live in my own little world without neighbors or construction workers banging at 7:00 in the morning. I want my trees, I want solitude, and I want my gnomes.

I love gnomes. They are my new obsession. I love their funky hats, their cute faces, their frumpy clothes, their kooky little pipes or lanterns or whatever they're holding that day. I want to fill my porch and my garden (whenever it is done) with gnomes. I love my little magical world of make believe and want to wiggle my nose and move right on in.

Summer also means that the boys are here all day. That means more arguing, more yelling, more cries of "Mom! Can I ____?" Fill in the blank; that usually is filled with "have a banana?" "play my video game?" "ride my bike to so-and-so's house?" "have some money for the ice cream truck?" And have you ever noticed that those guys who drive the ice cream trucks kind of resemble what a pedophile looks like? Or is that just the one around here? I apologize if any one reading this is or knows an ice cream truck driver, but don't they have any kind of screening process for less-creepy looking men? It's almost like they're leering down from their music box on wheels with a "Come 'ere, little boy/girl" look on their faces. Yikes.

I've also given up on the flat iron for a while. My hair is a mad mess of tangled curls day in and day out, but the way I see it, I'm not messing with a 400 degree iron just to walk out in the humidity. I'm also not wanting to limit my urges to do a cannonball into the pool just because I've spent 45 minutes combatting the frizzies. Screw that. Bombs away, Linda's going swimming! (But this time, with SPF 50. What was I thinking? I'm soooo not a "tanner.")

So there it is. My rambling for May. End of May. Almost June. Yikes, I just realized that my birthday is two weeks away, as of today. I will be, uh, 28. Yeah! 28! That's what I told the boys at breakfast the other morning. They were busy calculating our ages every year, but I wouldn't let them make me advance past 28, so after a while it sounded a little ridiculous with Aaron up to 40 years of age and me still at 28. I finally admitted to them that I wasn't really 28, nor would I remain at that beautifully even number forever, but it is a nice thought.

Noon o'clock is on the horizon. The weather says it is warm enough to take a quick dive in the pool before work. That's what I love about summer.

My Knight in -Wheel Armor

written Tuesday, June 3rd


I still remember the words that changed my view of Aaron over seven years ago: "He's a big guy. He would protect you." I don't know why I felt I needed a protector, but back then, that what I was subconsciously looking for.

All these years later, he has continued to be my protector, my support system, my rescuer. On more than one occasion, he has stepped up to the plate to take the bat from me. And in true Aaron-style, there is always an 80s-sitcom style lesson at the end. It is very humorous to think about, but there is always an ending that is very Aesop.

Friday night there were some heavy storms in our area. I'd been at work all night, and was finishing up closing in the bar when the storm arrived home. At first, it looked like a fun storm, with a lot of lightning, but nothing threatening. I stepped out on the front porch with a co-worker to share a smoke and watch the storm roll in. Having not seen any kind of weather announcement, I had no clue the severity. It was when a wave of water rode over the parking lot and splashed the two of us, smashed up against the window we still were soaked down to our skin underneath our clothes. Sean's cigarette was extinguished and his nose was dripping with rain. We threw the smokes on the ground and made a dash for the door. That's when we were met with panicked voices, "There's a tornado in Indianapolis!" "There's a semi on its side on Mount Comfort at I-70!" I rushed to get my receipts done so I could leave. The power went out, and there went that idea. I did consider leaving then and reconciling my money and receipts later, but the rain and wind were threatening and driving wouldn't be the smartest thing to do right then. There would be a greater opportunity to wreck and be stuck than normal. I called the house over and over but the power was out there, too, because there was no way the boys could hear the phone. They were equipped with a battery operated light and instructions, so I was okay about waiting a few extra minutes.

I finally got home about twenty minutes later. The rain had let up, barely, so I took the knowledge that any cops would likely be busy elsewhere, I flew home. Our entire neighborhood was still black. I left the car in the driveway (damn electric garage door openers!) and ran in the house. The boys were snuggled up on the couch, drawing pictures on a Magna Doodle and giggling. I got them prepared to go in the closet, so I ran between the front and back doors, monitoring the rain, lightning, and wind. The wind was so strong that it had my wind chimes pressed and stuck against the screen; they were silent in all that wind. In the back, the wind was blowing northeast. In the front, the smear of mulch from my flower bed indicates the wind was blowing southwest.

Down the street that comes from the front of the neighborhood up to the back of our house, I saw a spotlight slowly moving down the street. Light and Power!, I though to myself. Then I realized that it was more likely a semi tractor, because of the lights above the windshield. But in a town as small as McCordsville, you never know what type of vehicle they'll find to use, so I considered it possible. As it seemed to lock its spotlight on my house, I finally figured out that it wasn't Light and Power. It was my husband. He'd come to check on us!

The storm had been bad. There was a lot of damage in the nearby areas. Trees down, semis tipped, windows blown out of restaurants and car lots, apartments demolished, house fires...we were unhurt, other than a case of frayed nerves. Aaron brought us the light from his spotlight, which was bright enough to light up the living room for a little while, until we gave up waiting for the power to come back, and go to sleep. Aaron was back on his way, having to be in the upper East Coast in less than 36 hours. But he'd found a way to come and make sure we were okay. My knight in 18-wheeling armor.

Of course, though, he gave me a Bill Cosby-esque lecture on why I should have watched the weather report and been ready to leave work before it even hit. But that's what he's here for: to get lackadaisical me back on target. He will protect me, support me, and rescue me.

Hello...

...and welcome to my blog.

My name is Linda and I'm a 32 year old mother of three. Yep, that's what I come up with any time I'm asked to describe myself. Not exactly what I had planned, but that's where it is. I love my boys, and for the most part, I'm a pretty happy-go-lucky person. I'm also a cynic in the humorous kind of way, a lover of Carlin-isms, and will bust into a Carlton-from-the-Fresh-Prince dance move in front of anyone if I feel so inclined.

Here is my blog. Read it, enjoy it, laugh at it, scoff at it, Let me know what you're thinking, and most of all, thanks for providing me the incentive to get some of my thoughts out of my head. These are some of ones that I posted on a different site. Enjoy!