Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Send In The Clowns

My daughter asked me just the other day if I was still blogging about her. I truthfully (using that word signifies a lie is about to come after it) told her not much and not recently because she was boring.

BUG: Mom, I really hate it when you tell people I'm bad.

ME: Well, don't be bad. I figure public shaming is within the code of the law these days, although pretty much any else has been removed from acceptable standards of parenting. Soon, they will take away public shaming because it will be regulated by cyber bullying laws. Then I will go to jail. You will starve and have rags for clothes. No makeup. You will eat processed food. 


She was none too pleased about this.



This morning, aliens came at about 0530 EST and took Bug away and replaced her with something else. It was like having a clown in your closet or being chased by Chuckie. It started with her yelling every word at me and I telling her to stop being disrespectful and no back talking.

The pout.

The stomp around the house.

It continued to be a miserable morning. Sometime around 0548 EST, eye liner flew into my face and hit me in the eye. It was attached to a teenager. I lost my shit. Mad could not describe it. I even brought up how the juvenile center was real close by and would be on my way to work.

My lecture of knowledge and respect did nothing but bounce off the alien force field but at least I got glares and pursed lips while spewing my rocking parenthood words. I was even impressed with the lack of curse words I used.

As soon as I got to work, I googled how to parent a mouthy teen.  I know. I'm such a loser.

I figured my learned behavior from childhood of wooden spoons, brooms, fly swatters, spatulas, and sheet rock walls was probably outdated, although effective.

Empowering Parents said, "If you don't respond to a behavior and give it power, the more likely that it will become extinct; it's going to die out like dinosaurs."

Bull. Pucky. Shit.


What the fuck? This is what is not right in the world. Pussy parenting. I couldn't read much more of that nonsense, but did scroll down where the writer said she was not going to talk about abusive and derogatory remarks from children. Wow. Thank you for the dinosaur statements. 

There was a link which took me to this: 

"Verbal abuse and intimidation by children and teens isn't just a phase that goes away; it doesn't "just happen." It often has deep roots that begin very early in a child's development. In this article, I'm going to show you how your child's abusive behavior may have evolved. It should be noted that there are times when kids can get very mouthy as a reaction to stress, chaos, or even as part of the developmental stage they're going through. Then next week, I'll show you what you can do to stop it."

So, apparently, next week I will know how to stop Bug's bad behavior. In the meantime, I will just have to suck it up or drink. And I love how they like to foster ideas in your head by "deep roots" in a child's early development. Fuck me in the ass.

I was a detective until she was 7 and so I either have to blame myself for not being there enough or her dad for being there. She was a great kid until 13. This is shit. So I aimed to investigate further. Someone on the interwebs has to have the magic potion. 

Lucky for me that article was old, so I found next week's solutions revealed. First, they gave a scenario...

"You are such a bITCh. I hate you! I don't care if you say I can't go over to Jake's house, I'm going anyway-and you'd better not try to stop me."-Ben, Age 14, to his mother

I filled in the "ITC" because obviously it was a censored article which was really not going my way because it was redacted like Hillary Clinton's emails. Well, it was ridiculous. The solution was to have problem solving conversations with your child. 

Yeah. That's been working. 

Let's start with child refuses to look at her mother who is talking to her. Enter turn face toward the mother. This is countered by frowny face and slapping mom's hands. 

Really? Fuckers. YOU.ARE.STUPID. The rest of the article dealt with parents who were scared or intimidated of their child.

OMG.

I am scared of jail because the instant thoughts going through my head are back hands and ninja moves. Stupid psychologists. What good are they anyway?

The end of the article gave parents no hope or the wrong hope because it said "take some risks". What the fuck? Parents are afraid to deal with their children? What risks? I decided this site was dumb.

I surfed some more to find you should send your mouthy teen aged daughter off to summer camp. Does sending her to her dad's for summer visitation count?

I like all the articles I read started with "stay calm." Too late, muddafuckars. I already think my head has spun around backwards a bazillion times. Consequences? She doesn't care. I had her set up for counseling and they tell me she is fine. Oh yeah. She is that good. She is me. 

Plus, she is good for everyone except me. She even admits it. She gets A's in school, is in the Honor Society, plays volleyball, reads, is an exceptional artist, kind to animals. That last one is important because I didn't want to raise a serial killer. 

Oh, Fargo, battle her tantrums like your own. I did. I tried chocolate. It's temporary. I can't give her beer. It gets me in jail. 

This article by Every Day Life cracked me the hell up, "Mouthing off is your teen girl's dysfunctional way of trying to be heard. You can teach her that she'll actually be heard much more effectively when she communicates in a healthier way. Show her that you're genuinely interested in learning her perspective, feelings, and opinions. You might say, "I'm interested in hearing why you need to stay out past your curfew on Saturday night." This way, she'll learn to put her feelings into words more skillfully. Show that you respect her working with you and being open to compromise. By remaining flexible, you demonstrate that you're willing to honor her needs while setting limits. You might say, "OK, you can stay out an hour past your curfew, but that's it."

Who the fuck are you? Do you have kids? Hell to the no.

She will learn that she can articulate and manipulate anything the way she wants. I'm not GUMBY. 

My favorite thing to say when Bug goes off with all her drama is, "BUT DID YOU DIE?"

She gets real mad when I say that.

I know. I'm learning her how to be a sarcastic bitch like her mother. 

I like it when she throws the Bible at me or Christian values. I'm like, "Yeah? You know they caned people back then. Exiled them. Banished. Boom. Gone. Didn't even send them off with a goat. Sometimes they sold the girls off. And, I mean look at Jesus, he got crucified."

She did not like my responses. None. What.So. Evah.

Jesus probably didn't like me using those things in that context either. 

I like my replies, but I am surely going to read somewhere you should not talk with sarcasm back to a mouthy teenager because you are only teaching her it's OK to be a smart ass. 

I have asked my mother how she did it on occasion and she just giggles. I'm like! WTF, Mom? Not really. She doesn't like the 'f" word. But she tells me nothing. I was a perfect child. I think she is punishing me by remaining silent. 

USA Today had this to say, ":The best way for parents to react to sassy statements is not to get angry but to remind their teens who they are, Kendrick says. Parents might say something like, " You are really trying to hurt my feelings here. I don't understand it. You are a better person than that."

I'm not making this shit up.

It's really out there for anyone to read on the Internet.

I'm banging my head here. Are all the parents and parent advicers left in the world a bunch of nincompoops? Wait. I don't want to know the answer to that.

Later in the article by USA Today, this appeared, "Adolescents often communicate in action rather than words. If a child comes in and throws down his backpack, it might be a way of saying, "I have such a heavy load to carry." Their backpack is a metaphor for their lives, Lamia says."

(Yeah...that's it. Fuck me. Seriously? Where do they find they wonderbrains? Crackerjack?)

Oh, it continues...

"If the backpack lands on the ground, parents shouldn't scream: "Don't leave your backpack in the hallway." Instead the parent might say in a matter-of-fact voice, "Looks like you have a heavy load. Let's put it in your room."

Let me translate: The mother picks up the backpack and puts it in the kid's room. Trained mother. The kid thinks, "Yep. I know how to work it."

Oy. My head hurts from all this bullshit. I'm like..."Oh hell to the no. No, get the hell out. Don't be throwing down your stuff in anger. Take your backpack and go. Try it again the right way. Enter the house, say, "Hi, mom!" and then put it away."

Yeah. I wouldn't do that shit either.

I'd be like all ghetoo and throw that backpack in the front yard and tell her to get walking until she finds an attitude adjustment.

Not really.

See.

These are the thoughts in my head that I don't act out. It's a good thing they never come to fruition.

I have an all different perspective on those actions described in the USA Today piece:

When she throws her backpack down, she is discarding it in anger because she is lazy and a slob. This part is true. I try. But I can't convince her to be clean. I even told her bugs would be crawling up her nose in that room at night. It did nothing. Showing her the mold in her dishes she left up there, nothing. If I give any direction which I should not have to because she knows her responsibilities and chores ( oh good grief-she does occasional dishes, laundry, and takes out the garbage-I don't have a Cinderella-she was nicer anyway). If I do talk to her about doing chores before play, she puts her hands on her hips, rolls her eyes, and says, "I will get to it when I get to it."

Yep. Fuming mad I get. I have to walk away and redirect myself.

I think she would really like to kill me with Jujitsu but she knows I have ninja moves.

And martial arts training is done with a smile. She acts out her frustration with me physically at times and I am tired of countering it with armbars. She has some issues going on about the divorce and feeling like 2nd rate with her dad who she starves for attention but feels she doesn't get enough from him, but I can't make her talk to a counselor to benefit her. I can't even convince her to talk to her dad about it. If she plays the games, her problems will fester. And I continue to be the punching bag. She has told me it is because I will love her no matter what. It is true. I can't deny that. And again, it is all my fault. Because she says so. I wasn't good enough.

I want to make her watch Chuckie. That little shit (Chuckie) scares me to death. Or clowns. I might put clowns in her room.

Again...these are just ideas.


If I go to Amazon.com, I can buy a book that is titled: Have a New Teenager By Friday.

This might be promising. Or-this might be too late. 

I wonder if there is an exchange program.

-The Momster




Tuesday, May 26, 2015

The Song of My People

I always have loved zoos...of all kinds and all sizes. However, sometimes I get sad because they don't have much space and they don't get to roam free. Antagonist viewers also get me all riled up because I really want to take those naughty taunters and feed them to the lions. But alas, that would result in jail and so I must only sin in thought.

I grew up extremely emotionally attached to animals. I really don't know where it came from other than it was a gift from God.

My dad loved animals but didn't have that tug and pull like I did for them. He got emotional when we lost a dog, but I got emotional over a poor bunny in the road whom I never knew. It is true I would wreck a Cadillac before I would hit a bunny in the middle of the road. I say whom, in reference to the bunnies...because by golly, they are my people. All y'all as in all the furry friends of the forest and plains and sky and dirt. Everywhere. All them. Those ones.

My mom never had great attachment to any animals over the years that I saw but she always treated them well and I think she enjoyed them, but she wasn't like fiery emotional. I was the one hanging on them with loves and probably irritating the shit out of the horses by constantly being in their face, delivering kisses.  Mom never had pets after she left the ranch nor does she have any now that she is retired. So, where did I get such impassioned feelings toward any non-human thing?

It must be the fact they are my people and I was probably adopted by humans.
Photo credit: Pinterest with embellishment by Fargo


This last visit to the Indy Zoo was full of new experiences. I have been there many times because I am blessed with friends who have gotten the family passes so I get in for free. It would be the pits to have to pay admission to visit your family. We wandered around to the various areas to visit our friends and family. It was interesting to see what was crackalackin' at the zoo. It is landscaped so perfectly well you feel like you are in the jungle, forest, plains, or desert-depending on the sections of the zoo. I didn't much feel like I was in the ocean in the water area because, well, they were all in tanks with fake rocks. It was like a walrus diorama or Toby's fish tank project. This part made me somewhat sad and I felt the water life's pain and agony of swimming in circles. I do it all the time.

First new thing- I had never seen a dolphin pee in the water, although it is plausible to believe they do. Do they poop? I don't know. I never saw it happen. But the pee thing was traumatic. They were all swimming like divine Olympic athletes so graceful and beautiful. I could almost hear the ocean noises and instrumental music play to their moves. Ok. So that's a little corny, but it is sorta true. One dove down near the viewing tunnel. He or she (I can't tell nor did I cop a feel-what does a Dolphin penis even look like?) swam near us and did a little poot poot of yellow cloudy stuff. It was nasty. And to think those dolphin trainers get in there with them and swallow that stuff. Yeck. I know you are thinking salt water might sanitize that, but does it really? It's not Clorox. Think of that next time you go to the lake. It's green for Pete's sake anyway and imagine all the poot poot you are not seeing.

Next, it was the baboons. I have always known they are naughty. Every time I visit them, they have two second sex, which I think is a record, and do naughty things. I have to capture these things on film, because surely no one would believe such things:

"The Wet Dream Slide"-Photo by Fargo
After this fella had two second sex with a female, she sad down to avoid any further short penetrations. He realized she was not going to give it up and eventually walked with full on hard on to the other side of their "sanctuary" and did this. Yep. All over the girls below him. It was really naughty. His friend was sunning his manhood in full sun (yes-both meanings). I tastefully took a photo to demonstrate while not showing his full on erection. It was my own version of Italian Renaissance art.

Papio anubis Lucias of African Splendor-Photo by Fargo
We stared at them for a while longer than was probably improper and Bug did not like the fact I was laughing and chanting, "work it" , while taking photos of the naughtiness. Well, I started a fad because soon everyone was taking pics of baboon penis. I shit you not. You have to admire them for only desiring sex, food, and water. It's pretty basic.

Once I was snapped out of my trance, we moved on to other things. The giraffes were quite interesting because despite hay feeders within reach, they opted for trees. It was similar to someone getting government handouts, but then stealing stereos and freezer meat out of a rich man's garage. That happened once. Shut it. It's real. 

"The Lengths Some Go"-photo by Fargo
We mosied on through the safari land and got stuck at bird watching for some time. It was not "stuck" as in a negative moment, because they are cool and therapeutic to view, but it was stuck as in transfixed. Birds are old people's crack therapy and peaceful reflection times, but I am a fan of bird watching as well. So there are those flamingos...

Vrksasana Truth Baby-Photo by Fargo
In yoga, there is a principle called satya (the practice of truthfulness) that teaches yogis (not Yogi the bear) to think, speak, and act in alignment with what is true. I have not idea how alignment equals truth, but the Yogis say it is so, so it must be. How is that for profound philosophical nonsense? Because it’s a challenging balancing pose, Tree Pose offers an opportunity to practice this principle by aligning yourself with the truth in your own body. Now what the fuck does that mean? That means Fargo is not aligned with any balance and the truth of the matter is the closest I can get to Yoga expert is having a mat. I saw a few flamingos in Warrior Pose but I was not able to snap a shot of them due to my squirrel train of thought onto the rhinos whom (because they are people) I just stared at for long periods of time. The rhinos are cousins to my people, the hippos. At least that is my theory. 

What does the Indy Zoo have that is spectacular and crazy industrial good? Answer: Orangutans, computer tests, and industrial park for them to do their ariel tricks. I find it scary. What if those adorable orangutans fell to their doom? There are no nets to catch them. What if they felt depressed one day and did a walk about? What if they are really King Kong and we have been fooled all these years to think he was a big gorilla? Notice the bird is really a bird and the gorilla is really the orangutan. It could happen. Actually, right before I snapped this shot, a Southwest plane was in the pic and I was too slow, but it was a REAL King Kong moment then. 

King Kong of Indyland-photo by Fargo
The koalas were in town for a traveling exhibit. It was depressing. I couldn't take a picture. There were two, in two separate glassed off areas about 12 x 12 with metal pipe trees and plastic leaves and branches. OMG. I was mortified. The poor things. They were asleep. I didn't want to be there when they woke up and realized it was a pipe dream. Sad. And they were adorable. We wanted to break glass (not wind like usual) and rescue them, hold them, and set them free in some REAL Eucalyptus trees.


We spent all day at the zoo. Duh. That's what you do. I got a little heat exhaustion, but I that happens since I got heat stroke many years ago. It doesn't take much and then BLAMMO, I have a migraine and get sick. Blah. At least it happened later when I got home and not at the zoo while I was enjoying the reunion with my peeps. At the end of the safari trail, we found ourselves in a trance while viewing the Lemurs. 

They are a busy little creature unless they are sleeping which is most of the day. My kind of happy. They have this unyielding stare, however, which is kind of serial killer creepy. But instead of giving you the creeps about them, they make you feel like the creep. I guess we are because they are living there and we are the voyeurs. That's what I call..."they are good". Making me the creep. I don't think I would want them in my closet. It's like the clown thingy. I'm deathly afraid of clowns anyway, but a lemur? Might be right up there with the clowns.






The next day, we had to get all jungle at home. Murphy needed a summer cut because he was gettting too heated.  I loved my bear and his fur was like therapy crack, but even with AC, he was hot.
Before Pic: Murphy posing with bone-photo by Fargo
So...of course, the latest and greatest thing with labradoodles and the like is...
Murphy After Pic-Hairdo by Pampered Pooch: Photo by Aleea Woodbury
Ee-e-e-oh-mum-oh-weh
Ee-e-e-oh-mum-oh-weh

Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh

In the jungle, the mighty jungle
The lion sleeps tonight
In the jungle, the quiet jungle
The lion sleeps tonight...

Yes, my lovely, dear friends at Pampered Pooch are brilliant! I love that they are my wonderful friends and very wonderful and caring dog groomers. After all, my dogs only go to trusted vets and groomers. I am very picky. And their prices are unbelievably inexpensive. I keep telling them to raise them, except for me. LOL. I only have to pay for it once a year, so I am a bad customer. 

Murphy loved it! He pranced, danced, played and thinks his shit doesn't stink. I won't tell him otherwise...because he is adorable, but his poo does smell bad. It's poo. 













Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Supporting The Runs On A Gnat's Budget

I have as much extra money at the end of a month which will fit on a gnat's ass.

However, I can squeeze blood out of a turnip.

Before you read on, there isn't much humor in here unless I happened to pull it out of my ass. Why? I don't know, but it sucks.

It's stripped down me right now.

Run for your life. Me-naked-it's not pretty.

This is about living well and my triumphs and defeats. Medical issues made me a fat ass. I have always struggled with being fit but most of the time when I sported a muffin top it was because I ate junk. It was easier to shave off weight when I was younger.

Then food changed in it's chemistry and makeup.

Rut roh.

Watch Fed Up's documentaries on food if you don't believe me. I also found Super Size Me to be interesting.

Upfront and in your face tips: Cut out sweets. Right now. Don't drink pop-of any kind. Don't eat or drink anything with sugar substitutes. Period. Suffer without the sweets or find it through fruit and chocolate-dark. By chocolate, I don't mean every day or even once a week. OCCASIONALLY.

During my rock bottom body status, I was eating under 1400 calories a day and getting weaker, immobile from a broken neck issue, and going into a terrible metabolic syndrome. I was bloated, fatigued, and downright miserable. At the same time I was exercising at least an hour a day 5 times a week. My vision was declining (still unresolved) and gums were going to pot. Some days it hurt to sleep.

So what happened? I went to a few great doctors who figured it out and two months later, I am feeling like I'm 29 again. As those close to me say, "Kathryn-you've got your sexy back". It's OK to be sexy. It's not dirty. The best result-I'm ready to fight. For reals. I like to fight. I was a cop. Duh.

Am I done? No.

It's no surprise to most readers who have tagged along on one venue of mine or another that I went from middle class to upper poor in a few short months. My life is an open book and I'm not afraid to talk about it. I've made some serious mistakes, but at the same time I've made some major strides. I'm learning to adjust and work my way out. I have also learned how to stretch the dollar.

The most difficult thing to muster is budgeting for my health. This includes the doctor bills which have accumulated. My goal is to avoid future major medical problems which break the bank and my back. Whether you are made of riches or rags, there are many ways to be healthy on a gnat's budget. I'll share some of my experiences.

Sunday I forgot my music. I ran anyway.

Monday I remembered my music but I forgot my exercise bra. I ran anyway.

Tuesday I remembered my music and exercise bra but I forgot my socks. I ran anyway.

Wednesday I will have my poop in a group.

First of all, if you run or walk, you must take care of your feet. It's primary. They hold the rest of you up and if they hurt, your entire body is miserable. Since I have been so lucky to get medical assistance with my less than Barbie body, I will pass it on to you-FOR FREE. You're welcome.

1) If you can afford pedicures...get them every two weeks including the salt scrub, paraffin wax, and calf massage. They are $20-35 in most places unless you live in Manhattan. This is where you might get fucked so drive out of the city for a better rate. If you can't afford them, get the stuff and do it yourself.
       a) Important tips: Balls of feet and calluses. These can get in the way of healthy feet and affect your stride. Yeck. And they are ugly. Don't wear flip flops if you have callused feet. Go to the beach and run along it barefoot until you discard those nasty things. The beach makes your feet amazing.  Duh. Look at the Californians. They have beautiful feet.
       b)Shave your feet. Get a grater and go to town. Feet gross you out? Go to the nail salon. I like it better when it is done by the Vietnamese salon professionals. They know how to take care of you properly and tell you your fortune. You also get big bang for your buck.  If is the year of the whore (horse), you get good sex advice for no additional charge. I loved my Chinese Nancy who blessed me while I was on patrol and now I have Shirley. She is from Vietnam. I only get to see her about 4 times a year, but she remembers me and so does Hong, the owner. He is fierce.
       c) Make sure you go to a credible salon with sanitary practices.

2) Keep your feet in good shoes. This pertains to any time and especially if you exercise. In 1999, my family doctor who was an ultrarunner told me to get new shoes every 500 miles. In 2015, my sports medicine doctor told me the same thing. I believe it to be true. Now, this can get expensive if you require high maintenance and want the latest and greatest. Let me sway you another direction. There is nothing wrong with last month's model or last year's. I shop Dick's Sporting Goods, MC Sports, Foot Locker, lady Footlocker, Active.com, Cabela's, Under Armour Outlet, Gander Mountain, etc. and online for closeouts and clearance sales.
        a) Buy name brand proven athletic shoes. Get a brand or style which fits your feet. They are all different, even within the brand name.
       b) Closeouts and clearance sales can be 50-80% off. Check for additional coupons.
       c) Walk around in them. Make sure the arch support is right for you and if you like minimal soles or air soles. Studies now are showing minimal soles are hard on your long term foot health. Be wary of that.
       d) If they don't work later, make sure you can return them. If not, make them your garden shoes or sell them on eBay.
       e) Keep in mind the heel fit and support to the balls of your feet. Heel to balls. And toes. Don't forget the piggies.

3) Keep the girls together. Think of them in a love nest snuggled together in a nice elastic hammock. Invest in a good exercise bra or two or three. Again, check closeouts and clearance sales. Unless you run around in your undies, no one is going to see it, so if it isn't your favorite color...no worries. It holds the girls up and in place to prevent you from having black eyes or stepping on them. Believe me, if you get them all tangled up in your stride and trip all over them, it's a disaster.

4) Workout clothes. Let's face it. We don't have to have the latest release from Nike to fit in or be capable of completing a great workout. T-shirts, shorts, spandex, or sweats. Pick your poison. Really, no one notices if you don't have "PINK" ass or "Just Do It" on your chest. If you have to have brand name clothes, then check out the clearance sales. Unless you have plenty of Ben Franks...then dole out those presidents. And match? Have you been to the gym? Great athletes don't care. If you have extra bucks and you want to matchy matchy...go for it. I will remain a fashion misstatement.

5)Cotton workout underwear. Vent that oven. You gotta let that furnace breathe. Good night. Humidity will equal infection, smell, and oozy whiz jizz. No one wants any of that, especially your partner. Then you have to get up all in there with a hairbrush when the itching starts, add some crème, and antibiotics. Yeck. Take care of the vagina.

The rest is all optional. Music, headbands, etc.

Now for all those in fear of a gym. Don't go! Go outside. Workout at home.

For those who are fearful of a gym but just have never set foot in one. Try it. You can always leave. Most places will let you have a free day or week. I am lucky to be able to earn a free yearly pass to a 40 million dollar facility. I could not afford a gym pass. If I am at home, I work out in my living room, garage, and run outside.

Fabulous Body Tips: for health and self-esteem=Squats, military or modified pushups and Crossfit sit ups in Tabatas.

A Tabata is a type of high intensity interval training which follows a specific format:
  • 10 sit ups, pushups, or squats, or a 20 second sprint for instance (20 seconds of an exercise) 
  • 10 seconds of rest
  • Repeat 8 times for a total of 4 minutes
The idea for Tabata training originated from the world of athletes.





CrossFit is designed to mold someone to their ultimate genetic potential. I was well on my way in 2011 and transformed myself in just three months. You don't have to be at the top to do it and you can modify the exercises to your fitness level. What else? It's free. Another thing? It's hard and a challenge. I felt like I was in the Olympics, but I felt so strong.

Go on the website if you do nothing else. Watch the games and see the strongest men and women in the world. Watch the videos on proper exercises.

Several exercises you can do without equipment. ..or you can substitute heavy objects like rocks, tires, or items you have with some weight to them. If you want some weights, I would suggest kettle bells. They are inexpensive and you only need one to start. You can do amazing shaping and strength training with them. There are multiple variations for several muscle groups. It's true everyone can have a six pack or ripped arms without looking like a beast or attain that JLO butt you desire.

Running has been a type of therapy for me which allows me to think, mentally relax while I am panting to death, and regain my strength. There are days where I have to crawl to the end, but no one ever complained they went to the gym after it was all said and done. I feel rejuvenated after a workout of any kind. It's not for everyone. Each individual has to find what makes them tick. It could be walking, horse back riding, skydiving, basketball, etc. Hobby your way to health if you prefer.

It's all wonderful and good.

Sweat makes muscles. Muscles keep your metabolism in check. They also hold up your bones.

I don't want to be crippled or unhealthy when I get older and I certainly have suffered in the last three years with medical problems which left me to the breaking point where I experienced pain every day. Did it cause me to eat buckets of ice cream? No. Have I eaten a bucket of ice cream before? You betcha and it was damn good. But it isn't good for me nor good to me.


Maybe you have heard things before...like..."well, if you just keep your head out of the fridge"...or "you just need to eat less and move more." Those are ugly words and really are meaningless, plus don't define most people. All that went through my head when I heard those things throughout my fat times was an instant defense mechanism and "shet yer mouth" or "you don't know me". Ugh. Never will any of that go through my head. There are some serious health problems in the US and just because someone is overweight doesn't mean they are eating buckets of ice cream. It could be many things, including buckets of ice cream. Judge not. Walk a mile in those stilettos, baby.

We are all judgy. It's just the way we are. I have been and probably will be a time or two.

But...look and think deeper. If the person is still an apparent nincompoop, then judge away.

If all else fails, you can buy boobs.



During the last three years, I did eat the wrong kind of foods and became unable to exercise. Some of this was processed food or foods made with refined sugar as part of an ingredient and items with preservatives and additives. Sugar is in almost everything. Check your labels. Bread, soups, salad dressings, pastas, peanut butters, etc. I am going out on a limb to say the food industry probably puts sugar in everything so you get addicted to crack and keep buying more and more. It's my story.

Prolonging medical attention was not smart on my behalf; hindsight is 20/20. With them addressed, I am on the mend. I feel great and forward thinking to the point I have gotten into races. Now, these are expensive. On a gnat's budget, I have been able to select some which are within reach. Our university hosts free ones or reduced prices. Races in your area are less expensive than traveling, although isn't that nice to have a mini vacation? 5Ks are less than marathons, but your skill level might not be challenged if you constantly clean house at 5Ks but are more suited to marathon level. Again, you have to evaluate what is important to you and your budget. Maybe you only enter that one race.

My final advise-challenge yourself!

I have poo pooed much of what many of you might be thinking or saying to yourself or even grumbling out loud. Just be happy in your own skin. That is what is important most of all for your mental health. Fuel your body as if it is a machine and think of food as energy not a crutch or a medication for stress or depression. This thought alone changed my ways. If you can...eat fresh.

You are the only one who can decide what is best for you and what makes you happy. If you do follow some of my experiences, be consistent. You can't quit after two weeks. You can't stop making fresh food after a month. It's a lifestyle. I'm still learning myself.

You're going to poop green.

You're going to have the runs.

You are going to feel defeated.

You will rise up past this point and have that "aha moment."

Then you will still poop green followed by some butt explosions.

Your butt will even out.

You will have mental clarity.

Your body will become a machine....well, minus any cool flying bullets and fire.



Live well!



Sunday, May 17, 2015

House Sweat

Today was the first day I have really felt the humidity in the Midwest...er...Near South. Schweaty balls season has kicked in and with the moisture we are getting, it is only going to get worse. This increases the air density by 5,000 magnitrillion which makes it thick and you need ninja skills to even pass through it. it's like MAGMA.

Plus, everything wilts...my hair matches the old lady boobs which I don't recognize as mine...except I can't tuck my hair in my pants because it isn't long enough. So my hair really doesn't match my boobs at all.


Of course, there is no breeze to give you relief from the blast of thickness.

All was quiet because we were all hot and lethargic in the Harry Potter House until...

The Bug shrieked and told me to come upstairs immediately, saying we had a water leak. It was one of those days. We just survived death by near tornado and now the house was leaking.

She was yelling the whole time and if not yelling it was banshee screeching, or she was calling me on her phone from upstairs. I really hate the teenager stage because they get captured by aliens at 13.  I haven't seen her since. The substitute is going to be the death of me. Really. I really miss her. It's like a death only not like the death of me but others. You know what I mean. I mourn for my baby. Who was nice and sweet and never had a hormone.

"What do you want? What is going on with your yelling?'

"Mom, get up here quickly! The house is leaking!"

Grumble, grumble. Up the stairs I went. She met me halfway.

"Look up. The water is running down the wall."

Well, I knew exactly what I was seeing. It was condensation caused by the humidity and it was running down the walls. My realtor had told me about the Indiana humidity when I viewed the house before purchase and I had commented there was a water problems somewhere. I lived in Wyoming. There is zero humidity. How was I supposed to know? Yeah. I felt dumb.

I smiled.

 Bug had fallen for the same trick. It really hadn't shown up in the last couple years. This was the first she had witnessed so naturally, it looked like water running down the wall.

"Yep. That's not a leak. But you might want to stop screaming and yelling."

"It is a leak! Look at it!"

"It's house sweat. The realtor told me houses sweat out toxic emotions when they are this old. It is triggered by whatever goes on inside the home. Haven't you seen enough scary movies to know when things leak out of the walls that the house is trying to tell you something?"

"What? No. Mom, that is not funny. What?"

"Yeah. I suggest you stop screaming in this house and it will stop sweating once things are at an even keel again."

"Mom, I am so creeped out! I can't stay here! This is scary!" Fake crying and stomping. Well, the stomping was real.

"Well, I suggest you stop your emotional nonsense, yelling, and stomping. You must keep the house happy."

"What do I do? What do I do? OH. Why do I have all the bad things happen?"

Yes, that was a Momster thing to do. It was horrible. Unspeakable.

Maybe I went a little too far.

Nah. I was going to see if she changed her ways.

Ok. Not really.

I had to tell her the truth about 30 minutes later.

I realized then I had made a mistake as she screamed at me for being so mean. I shouldn't have told her the truth. Sometimes parents should lie. I'm going to be like Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol. You can have so much fun with wine!

I liked it better quiet. I'm going to have to come up with something new.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

PoopNCancer

I get two steps forward and three back. It's how I roll. I need to come with a warning label.

Some students gave as a gift some coffee from Saudi Arabia. I am pretty much all into the cultural sharing unless it is diseases because different and diversity fascinates me. It's a learning thing. I am a sponge. So...my take on this coffee..

"Tastes like dirt with undertones of sands from Arabia with a hint of raw earth."

Yep. It is a very light roasted bean and when ground up it looks kind of like a dark mustard color. It actually tastes more like a tea than a traditional coffee. It's different and I don't mind it but it is not what I am going to grab when I want my java fix for the day. Perhaps an afternoon fake tea drink of sorts. Let me tell you what else. I had to run to the bathroom and pronto. Yep. It's a great colon cleanse as well. I highly recommend it.

One thing I can't quite figure out is if or when your colon is clean. I mean we all have to go, but after that do we feel empty, cleaned out, or do we need a hose up in there to finish it kind of like when you wash your truck after mud bogging.

Not sure if that's the same.

But as I sit here, I don't feel clean. I feel the same. The only time that is different is the rush to the restroom and the cleansing part. Then...BAM...it is all gone. And no warming sensation or feel good cleanse emotion comes over me.

Relief?

Yes, that I did not poop my pants.

It was a topic of discussion between ladies at work with me included. I know, right?

What's even weirder is now that I am on this Eat Lean Poop Green lifestyle, I can't eat anything but chicken and salads without having major butt explosions. I don't like that. I also like steak and other things. This is becoming a problem. The ladies suggested I eat cookies once in a while to keep the sludge in there so I could eat other things without all the hassle. It might be a good idea. I can't tell you the last time I had a good cookie.

And after that, we discussed weird skin issues at our age. I have rose bush scratches with bruises forming. I have lumps on my arms which have now started to show bruising. On my left forearm is a poke I got while moving wood and it hurts in a large 50 cent area. I have had a skin cancer removed recently that grew back and now we are all paranoid it has spread. They diagnosed me with skin cancer. They didn't even need all that silly schooling and fancy degrees. I didn't have to wait 45 minutes in the waiting area either. All in all I think that is a pretty good deal.

Yep.

That's what women do when they get together and drink dirt coffee.

Poop and cancer.

That's what my life has whittled down to.

Depressing.

But here is a cute puppy to make you smile!

Murphy exhausted after the bad storm that almost killed us dead. Not really. But the electricity had to be shut off as our wires and meter was ripped off the house by a falling flying tree. 

I must say I am looking forward to running tonight after work. It's cooler and sunny, a most perfect fall day at the end of spring. It's nice to be back.

Do I have to wear pink because I have cancer now?

Monday, May 11, 2015

Kiss Those Butt Smelling Faces

I know non-animal or non-pet people will find me weird. That's OK. I'M WEIRD. I like myself that way. With or without pets. I think it's weird you have a NON in front of what describes you. Like you are NON-interesting. Wait. That might be UN. You could be UNNONymous people.

Anynonya, I am in lurve with my puppies. I think they are cute. I kiss their butt smelling faces. And often.

Moose
Like this nose. It belongs to Moose. He is my ADD, ADHD, ODD, OCD German Shorthair Pointer. He is dog on crack. He makes me smile. He chases the neighbors cat with murder death kill in his eyes and on his breath. The cat does not care until he is right up her ass. He eats like a Hoover vacuum and is getting so fat so I have to monitor his food. The others are piddle diddlers.

Olliver
This is Olliver. He is our runt addition mini-Labra-double-doodle. Say that three times fast. His hair is soft and fluffy and it's therapy to pet him in a creepy serial killer way. He is sweet until you piss him off then he goes from 0 to bitch in 2.5 seconds. He likes to be pretty. He also thinks he is a cat. He doesn't eat much. I refer to him as Sasha Fierce.

Murphy
Of course there is Murphy my protege. We refer to him as The Murphis, Murphman, Snuffy, and Chewie. He and I are exactly alike minus the hairy butt. I shave mine. Don't mess with my bone. I'm pretty laid back, but don't touch my bone. Not really. He lets the others steal it all the time. I am pretty sure after they run with it, he groans and says, "Ah. Well. What do you do?" Then he rolls over and finds something else to play with.

He is getting a haircut for summer. I might cry. It's his first cut. Maybe I should keep those first curls like mothers do when their babies get a haircut for the first time. That's kind of weird. I like him hairy but he's hot. Summer heat. I think he's the only man I like with back hair and butt crack hair. Not that I look at his butt crack because I don't.

I did notice his balls dropped, though, and now he is going to have to get those cut off. Not that I touched them. However, Bug did. She said they landed on her face and bounced on her cheek when they were wrestling. I turned up my nose on that one. What do you say when that happens? It's gross. And nasty. She screamed and ran to the bathroom.

He also chews up her panties.She asked why and I said it was because her vagina stinks. She did not like that answer. It was not long after that she took a shower. I didn't ask.

One of his tricks is not appealing and definitely embarrasses me if we have company. He pokes us in the butt in a herding action. It usually is to point us outside, to get his food, or upstairs at bedtime. I don't know. Perhaps it is a confused state between the labrador and the poodle nature in him. Not sure. He doesn't have any sheepdog, border collie, or Australian Shepherd in him. Weird.

He might be suited for a fraternity of some sort when he goes to college. Boys who steal panties become sex offenders. Well, not if they do it as a joke. If they do it to sniff the panties, then they are sickos. I have never seen a human boy chew panties. That would freak me out.

Not that frats are full of sex offenders, but they used to do pantie raids. At least I heard about it in college. Once. It was weird. Some of my friends who are boys might have been involved in that to embarrass the sorority girls. I was not a sorority girl. Back in the day, we called them sor-whore-ity girls. No offense to those who might be one. The ones at my college were kind of slutty. And snobby.

Although Murphy is a lot like me, I do not chew on panties, nor do I bounce my balls on people. I said he is "exactly" like me, but what I meant was the good things, like his docile nature.

I don't have any balls, actually, even though some think I might. I mean, I am a girl and I have girl parts and I look like a girl and I like to be a girl and I feel like a girl inside and outside... never mind. I also don't sniff crotches.

Besides all the crazy nonsense, pantie raiding, cat chasing, and house destruction...these guys are pure entertainment and love...



Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Kale! Kale! The Gang's All Here!

I have opted for spinach. Why?

Because putting chard and kale in my salad sounds so uptown and I'm a downtown kind of girl.

Besides, the names sound like toxic waste. At least everyone can associate spinach with Popeye and strong arms which overshadow the rest of your body.


Here's my arm:


Yep. That's me with a little help from some anonymous bicep model on Pinterest.

Additionally, chard and kale are more expensive. It's because they are "in". When they go out, they will be worthless. I used to be more expensive on K Street when I was "in" than I am now on Main Street. Most people think I am a mother looking for their lost daughter who became a prostitute. They're like: "she ain't here, woman. Go somewhere else. You mucking up our business. " I tell them, "I'm working here, you slouch."

Not really.

I think chard and kale are just a fad anyway.

Most people who eat are snobs and put it on their Facebook page like every day.

I asked my doctor about the "magic" of kale. You know what she said? They're just another leafy green vegetable. We didn't tell the kale followers because the kale farmers would suffer and all those who thought miracles struck their bodies from choking down kale smoothies would surely die right there in the street. I didn't want to be responsible.

And kale chips. Really? Give me a break. Throw me that sack of potatoes.

Yeah. I use kale as an garnish for my big fat juicy steak.

Yep. Super appetizing. Check this out. It looks like Popeye threw up on my greens:



You can't tell me to dry up those shrivelled little leaves and add salt, maybe some olive oil and you have the magic snack? Bullshit. You got crunchy seaweed. And you need a pitchfork to get that out of your teeth. It's really a bother.

I'm pretty sure I read it will make your butt plump and firm like JLo's, your hair silky, your mouth froth,  and your skin glow like moonlit sand on a sweet summer night on the beach on Bite My Ass Island. I also want to tell you that you will be surrounded by Shemar Moore, Ryan Gosling, Dwayne Johnson, Channing Tatum, Michael Ealy, and Sean Connery. All naked. Except Sean. He will be wearing a kilt.

Yeah.

So eat kale.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

The Purge

As the world turns at the Harry Potter House, I have noticed spring must have sprung. The dogs are all on crack and it's all fun and games with them being full of spunk until they run and chase each other and land on your junk. They are heavy little meatballs. And cute.

I was a poet in another life. And a philosopher. If I say and write it enough times, it becomes so.

Yesterday was an experiment of sorts. I have regrets.

At 0924 EST, I am still sporting a migraine headache of epic magnitudes with pressure on my left eye. I contribute it to "A Day With Friends" and a scary food plan.

Breakfast: Yogurt, red delicious apple, 2 cups black coffee
Lunch: DQ Double Cheeseburger, Orange Julius-small, ice water
Snack: Yogurt, glass red wine
Dinner (or in the Midwest-SUPPER): Awesome Ohio Bacon Salsa Extra Hot with Tostitos corn chips=NONE of which were fresh or organic, One Leinenkugal's Summer Shandy.

*shudder*

Yeah. Egads.

My friends scoff at my lifestyle change and food plan. It's OK. I have gotten used to it. Most do not like my version of what I think the truth of matters is and I share it during some great conversations.

Like when I am scarfing down a DQ cheeseburger, discussing the benefits of coconut oil in small quantities. I did not bring it up. My friends talk about how wonderful it is. I think it is good and I like for meat and stir fries (but only a T-that's tablespoon as in ONE).

Most people think you need to eat it off the spoon. Or ingest it through the nose or use as lip balm. No. It's just an oil. Just like olive oil. I think all this wonder shit is bunk and soon some quack will be broadcasting coconut oil as a cure for cancer. Well, IV it away then. I myself will listen to my instincts that all in moderation and it might be great to put in soap and smear all over your ass as a lotion, but not clog up your arteries with too much in the diet.

We eat the cheeseburgers. Nom nom nom. Funny we were discussing coconut oil and herbs all while eating burger crack.

Why is fast food so great? Oh, the sugar! Crack in there.

Well, I learned another valuable lesson.

It took until 1057 EST to feel me again (without hands) and I missed church. I just finished a fresh stir fry for the next week's lunch and decided to throw in some spinach for a Popeye effect. However, I used fresh because canned is just gross.

Whew. That was a close one. I also felt last night I might have some butt explosions and long hours on the porcelain throne, but I was constipated. Until now.

How many pounds can be all stuck up in there? I don't even want to know and probably shouldn't even talk about it.

Not fun. And gross.

At least last night, I used my fire pit for the first time this year and needed it. The temp went from 80 to 40 in about an hour. Of course, I made the fire Wyoming style with a good accelerant called GASOLINE and put lots of twigs and logs and cardboard garbage to get it going. And one big stir stick. Why? Because FAHR is fascinating and fun!

Do you know how great it is to stare at fire for hours and drink a beer?

Yep.

Therapy 101. That's all it takes. And cheap.

I told my neighbor to cut his crabapple tree so I could have firewood for next year. And he did. Wallah! Of course, I told him he should have had me help him before he got chain saw crazy because his cut job is quite scary. I apologized to the tree, hugged it, and asked forgiveness because that part of the trunk is going to look silly. However, it was a much needed shave. The branch was unhealthy and going to split the tree. Under much protest, Sheriff Mike cut it off and said..."well, that actually looks pretty good and will be easier to mow." Well, duh. I used to that stuff for a living. Hello.

Today, I am reevaluating my list of food items and gardening. I am excited to add some goodness to my already garden. Many may not know, I do not plow up a plot of land, but have gardened among my flowers, trees, and plants for years. It's green-and easy, and a good use of space. Plus, I like pretty all year round. So my gardens are not square and they don't look like the dessert in fall and winter.



I have had onions next to the grasses (cuz they look similar), potatoes with the yard ornaments on a hill, pumpkins, squash, and gourds in the compost pile ( all together-you never know what you might get), strawberries in the succulents, herbs by the lilies and bridle wreath spirea, peppers with the poppies (they both start with p) and tomatoes amongst the potted flowers in pots as well. Now to add more squash, carrots ( love them with dirt), radishes, and lettuce.


(trying to breathe after that sentence)


I would do beans, but my friend does a whole section of them and has overload, so I will get some from her. And I go to the farmer's markets and work the orchard for free fruit. Plus Sheriff Mike has apples also unless the neighbor kids steal them first. Those little bastards. And then there is the Amish market-much goodness abundances.

This month has been a lesson in groceries. Some things which will not be on my list: ORGANIC butter-$6.69 a pound. FMITA. I had to stare at that price tag for long moments to make sure it was correct. Shoot me now. I walked two steps to the right.

I opted for the bad processed butter (for Bug-yes, I poison my child) and decided to get the organic from the Amish at half the price. I also will be skipping some of the organic beef unless I want to donate a kidney. I did find bison at a cheaper price-$10.99 a pound. Bwahahaha! Yeah. Can you say ORGANIC chicken? That will all be well and good until McDonald's new buying procedures hit the market and chicken will be a food of kings and only a delicacy. I might become Vegan. Wait. No. That was a funny joke.

I gave Murphy a bath. Petting the poochies is therapy. I love Poodle hair when it is not shaved. It's so soft. I know. I sound like a creepy serial killer. He gets a shave next weekend. The lion cut.


Famous dog.


 
Anyway, I'm off to garden. I'm making Bug join me because she needs to get outside. And work. I hope it is a blister day. Those are often a sign of good work.


*cheesy smile*

Actually, I wear gloves because I am a princess. And smart. Smart gardening. 


Friday, May 1, 2015

Trim Your Bush and Other Randomness

Flowers, I have neglected you! It's temporary true, don't be blue. Trees, you look so fine! You must be mine!

I was a poet in a former life.

I like to prune trees. I don't like to prune bushes. Trees are immediate gratification and little work goes a long way. Bushes...well, there is too much in there to deal with and it is like a mangled mess. Then you have to pick out the debris and winter stuff blew in there and got stuck.

Plus you can burn trees; have a cool bonfire and drink beer, preferably a divine micro brew, and stare at fire. It's pretty neat.

I was a hippy in a former life.

I am so excited for a nice weekend to get my hands dirty. Bug and I raked the yard last weekend only to be interrupted by my new carny neighbor who told me he has COPD. That sucks. Literally.

People just see a need to talk to me and I have no idea why. Like on Twitter. Who are these people? I also find my Twitter fan base is random and sometimes I get notifications of those following me and I wonder...why? Why did they find me interesting? Not sure. I also laugh at those who drop you when you don't follow back. So sorry. I'm not one of those.

Back to my flowers. My bosses gave me roses to plant for jock support day. So excited. Wee! I lost my bush last season to winter kill. Yeah. The roses. Pervert. What were you thinking?

Speaking of pricks, roses and me don't always see eye to eye. The little buggers have a tendency to lash out at me when I am pruning them. Bug likes to stick the broken dead ones in the leaf pile so when I pick up the discards, zowie! Yeah. Gotcha!

She thinks she is so funny. Until.It.Happens.To.Her. Then I laugh. We bond. Over pricks. I have a lot of pricks in my life.

Mole over...here I come!

Moles are kind of cute, right? Egads, Merna, have you lost your mind? The word moles does not describe anything pretty...moles on your face...moles in the ground. Nasty. Like that teacher in Uncle Buck. Flip 'em a quarter.



Did you hear on the news they now have injections you can get in your neck to eat all your neck fat? Boy. Let me jump right on that. Me and my chins will be right over. Right? Ew. Sounds sinister. I'm sure people are lining up for that.

I'll wait. When they all come out looking like Mickey Rourke, then you will know. Bad idea.

I hate garden gnomes. They scare me. They are creepy. Gnomes were created way long time ago by a creepy, creepy man who thought males with beards and red hats would bring joy to the children. Not sure about that, but no girl would have created those. They would have made goddesses and fairies and such. No such frolicy (that is a word) nonsense never occurs in my garden. Besides, they just would not fit in with my colonial, old world style of mystery and ancient pieces with shades or gray and green. There is no red hatting and mischief at the Harry Potter House even though one or two of their characters look gnomish.

I might like me a Hagrid... though.





Yeah. Maybe not. The dog looks terrified.