Tag You Are It

Thanks Kristen.

The rules:

1) Link to the person that tagged you.

2) Post the rules on your blog.

3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.

4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.

5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

6) Let the fun begin!

Okay, so I have evaded this game of blog tag for quite some time. It takes me back to grade school...getting clothes-lined in red rover, getting whacked in the head by a dodgeball (red hair = bullseye), and never being fast enough at freezetag in my jelly shoes. Believe me, you did not aspire to be the "IT" girl. So these are all of my issues with the game, which I will one day work through with a great therapist. But I shouldn't let them get in the way of a little blogging fun.

So here we are, tag 'I'm it'. Only now you want me to spill all my secrets. Reveal all that makes me mysterious. Invite you to look through my living room blinds. Fortunately, you are not asking for anything that indepth. So, I will acquiesce and share six tantalizing tid bits & querks about yours truly.

1. I prefer to eat yogurt with a plastic spoon. While we are on the subject of food, chocolate is my kryptonite.

2. I have self diagnosed seismic sensitivity. I wake up every night convinced we are having an earthquake and curse myself for not being better prepared for a natural disaster.

3. As a result of viewing one too many Lifetime movies (all in the past I assure you), I have security issues. I check under my car and in the backseat. I practice my judo chops and roundhouses religiously. I often wonder "What would Chuck Norris do?" And I lock the door when I go out to get the mail.

4. I am convinced the writer's strike was conspired by some political mastermind. Thus, forcing me to pay more attention the Presidential race and devote less time to my trashy tv shows.

5. I love to people watch. I always wonder where are they from? Where are they going? Was their closet light on when they got dressed? Do they really put on their pants on one leg at a time? I tend to cook up rather extravagent and far fetched bio's for my subjects. For example, crazy cat ladies, karaoke loving accountants, grandma's that love to gamble online. You get the idea. Airports are a perfect setting for this pastime.

6. I like to watch my family sleep, but not in a creepy way. My children look so angelic that I can almost forget the day's events. I give them a million kisses in their sleep. Also, my husband is such a handsome devil, drool and all. I love the sound of his breathing next to me. I sleep horribly when he is out of town.

Now that we've introduced you to some of the skeletons in our closet, I guess we don't need to invite you over for Sunday dinner.

Should they choose to indulge in our voyeurism, I will tag these fabulous fellow bloggers. Drum roll please... Brooke, Allie, Azla and Amy.

The Month of Love

Do you ever find yourself looking at your spouse across the great abyss of children, responsibilities and commitments thinking, I MISS YOU. I miss us! Do you remember when we were two crazy kids in love ready to take on the world? Now we are two tired grown-ups lucky to make it to the evening news. Don't get me wrong, I love this life we have created. We make a great Batman & Robin, Good cop/ Bad cop, Ron & Veronica (Anchorman reference), but when do we make time to just be R & A?

This is the month of love by-golly. We need to act like it. I am not asking for flower petals sprinkled to the bedroom or candlelight dinners in the buff. All I want is a date. Treat me like a LADY (and not your cleaning lady). I'm not looking for a longterm committment, been there done that. Let's just make a little time so that we stop missing each other... and continue falling in love.

My proposal is this... let's date like those two crazy kids, fog up some windows, and be home by 10pm to relieve the babysitter (and watch the news).

Fashion Sense

The Secret Life of Me

It all starts with a casual "How was your day dear?". How does one answer that especially if you are a mom. The real question my dear husband is "How much do you really want to know?"

Do you want to know that I finally got a shower before noon, which is the true sign of a productive day. That ambitious shower I mentioned, it came at a price. E decided to throw anything she could find into the shower with me, while G-bean tried on every item of clothing in her closet. Do I mention E's sneezing incident and the oatmeal & bananas that I am now wearing? Should I share the archeological dig I conducted behind the dryer where I was delighted to find loose change, a favorite lipgloss, rogue sock, missing button & your car keys. Or how I have honed my skills and can make the perfect snowman shaped peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Which must then be presented on the exact same plate & cup, so that we can have equality for midgets that love pink. Do you want to know that I am qualified to wrestle greased pigs after changing our wiggly 1 year old while making phone calls. Would you be interested in the fact that our house is transformed into dress up central with G-bean & friend playing princesses? Nothing like the pitter patter of royal heels. And that sometimes their magical kingdom needs a referee.

Are you curious about E's love of dumping out dog food, fishing in the toilet and placing random phone calls? Do you wonder where I learned to remove ball point pen from a leather couch? I'll give you a clue, it wasn't the Army. Should I tell you the real reason my back hurts is because I want to give piggy back rides & snuggle with our girls until they are too big or too cool. And would you like to hear about the entertaining fieldtrip to the fire station where G-bean decided to share her personal tragedy of being burned by a cookie sheet. (Let that be a lesson to you children- Don't bake.) How about the orchestrating of nap times so that everyone sleeps...without being woken up by the phone, door, dog or sibling. Would you like to know my strategies for making chores sound sooooo exciting that G-bean is inspired to take action? The cleanup song just isn't enough these days (for either of us). Would you be interested in the growing mountain of laundry I have been ignoring... and debating whether a controlled fire would be my best course of action. Should I keep going?

"My day was great dear." Some things are just better left unsaid.

Inner voice: Oh and that sound of the dryer, it's the 4th time that I have fluffed the same load. That hum just makes me feel productive. And no I am not ready for bed early, sweats just looked more appealing.

Happy 1st Birthday To Our Little E-Claire

One of these things is not like the Other

Do you ever find yourself repeating the same mistake, but hoping for a different result? Have you ever thought, this time it will be different? Well people I am still learning my lesson.

Let me take you back to where it all began. 29 years ago, I was born an albino. I know, I don't look like your average albino. The blue eyes and violent shock of red hair that I sported as a child excluded me from the typical albino profile. But take me out into the sun and there was no denying it... I glow and not in an ethereal way. Through the years, I held onto the hope that my dormant skin pigment would one day manifest itself into beautiful olive skin. I sound delusional don't I? Most of my friends were praying they wouldn't lock braces with a boy and here I was praying for a solid tan. Eventually the heavens threw me a bone and gave me some freckles, so I was tan 'in spots'. But a girl can only endure being accused of having the chicken pox so many times... Yep, my vanity got me modern day leprosy.

Anyhoo, 29 years later I have come to the realization that I will not tan. I will burn, freckle or glow. Those are my options. I have traded the oil and foil for SPF 50 and a broad rimmed hat. I am bringing sexy back. The point of this whole diatribe is...To spray tan or not to spray tan? Is a tan in a can better than letting go & embracing my glow? You see years ago, they came up with the concept of painting pigment-challenged people such as myself. They needed a guinea pig and I was more than happy to oblige. I have been helping them perfect their products ever since. I have had the colored palms and experienced the many unnatural shades of orange to prove my dedication.

So my question is this, at what point do I embrace my inner Nicole Kidman and let that unattainable Baywatch Beauty run in slow motion off into the sunset?

P.S. I am writing this in anticipation of and preparation for a trip requiring a swimsuit. Yikes!

I have been accused of many things in life... being a gypsy is one of them. I love to travel! As a result, I never collect too much dust. Whether it's mentally or physically, I love to escape to faraway destinations. R often refers to me as a flight risk. My nomadic nature has the need to move, breathe, and explore with reckless abandon. So on this oppressive grey snow day, I am dreaming of warmer places!

Enjoy one of my favorite postscripts:

"Travel pushes my boundaries. When you travel, you become invisible, if you want. I do want. I like to be the observer. What makes people who they are? Could I feel at home here? No one expects you to have the stack of papers back by Tuesday, or to check messages, or to fertilize the geraniums. When traveling, you have the delectable possibility of not understanding a word of what is said to you. Language becomes simply musical background for watching bicycles zoom alongside a canal, calling for nothing from you. Travel releases spontaneity. You become a godlike creature full of choice, free to visit the stately pleasure domes, make love in the morning, sketch a bell tower. You open, as in childhood, and- for a time- receive this world. There's the visceral aspect, too- the huntress who is free. Free to go, free to return home bringing memories to lay on the hearth."

~Frances Mayes