Mistakes are Fun

You also learn from those bastards. Spontaneity also lends a hand to today's lesson. Screw what you knew before because those things change on you in a heartbeat. Or the further edge of a decade. Take your pick. 

I decided, because 'on a whim' is a perfectly acceptable reason, to take Ivy to the top of Reunion Tower in Dallas. So off we went with nary a worry. You see, I've been there before. In 2006 to be exact. 

We got to the hotel and I had to access the nether regions of my memory mush and get us to the elevator. But shit was different. Them there people decided to finally make a buck off of this here tourist attraction. 

There is now a FRONT DESK of all things where you have to buy TICKETS to ride an ELEVATOR to look out of a big-assed WINDOW. Yup. 

My comment to the lady was that it used to be free. Her response was that "... There have been renovations."

Damn straight. Everything was lit up like a hot-damned glow-in-the-dark 1990s discotheque. Not that I've ever been to one, mind you. 

I was unwilling to disappoint my girl, plus we were there. So I purchased our tickets and went about 6 feet to the next checkpoint. Security. Hm. Then the next checkpoint - a free digital photo. And then to another, you guessed it, checkpoint to wait on the elevator. 

We got on the elevator that apparently needed two people to press one button, but I'm known for over exaggerating so I could be wrong here. Maybe there were two buttons. Once we arrived at the "GeoDeck" we were greeted by another attendant. 

The main deck is obviously enclosed and there were, again, new features to the room: touch screen education panels, digital photo kiosk, a penny press machine, and a light wall feature (which reflected the lobby's neon discotheque theme). The outer deck was also still accessible. 

Instead of being forced to buy merchandise with your face on it, the kiosk offered a free digital download sent to your email. You could pick from one of about 6 backgrounds. 

I'm glad she was able to see over the railing. 

Technology is fun. This added a few more jobs to the lineup. 

My favorite part!

If you can't tell from this photo, the lights go full ROY G. BIV spectrum. 

And no trip would be complete without one. She learned a little American history (JFK anyone?) and some geography. Because, you know, there's always learning to be done. 

We had fun!

I feel it needs to be said here: We really did have fun that day. I'm only being sarcastic because of my lack of researching our outing and noticing all of the changes. It looks so much better now and is a much more interactive experience. I'm glad they updated everything and it's obvious that they created new jobs, which is always a plus!

Get Off Your Fat Ass

We got home Sunday, I started working out on Monday. 

I was inspired by ShayCarl. Oh god, enough with the youtubers already! But really, the guy is pretty... well... inspiring. He said he was going to make 2015 his year. So I'm stealing and running.

And I think I saw the following quote on Instagram. 

So... Taking into consideration that I'm knocking out things on my 40/40 list, I combined all this into one.

And I'm following Tone It Up, but I haven't done any of the workouts yet. However, I am getting walking and jogging in!

I called out to some local ladies for running buddies and had a positive response! Monday morning, one of the ladies showed up and we walked two laps around the neighborhood park. It was dark. It was cold. It was fun. 

Yesterday, we took the dog for a walk. 

This morning... It was still amazingly easy to get out of bed at 5:45. I woke myself up one minute before my alarm. I was dreaming about The Color Run. I dominated that bitch so hard that the after party hadn't even started yet. And we got rewarded with a huge assed box of chocolates.  

I grabbed a banana and ate it on the walk to the park. At 6am on the dot, I was still alone so I started. The thoughts that flew through my head were as follows: Go home. Fuck you, brain. I'm not doing this for other people. I'm doing this for ME. Get on it. Then I happened to look up and saw my running buddy pulling up so I met her and we did the first official couch to 5k workout. During each jogging session, I kept cheering myself on - sometimes audibly. You can do it! You got this! You can make it! And I did! But I accidentally deleted the workout! Way to go icy cold numb fingers!

I'm not going to lie. This is some difficult shit to do! My body is sore from walking... from WALKING. On top of it all, I'm still hungry. 

Shit. 

Fat Ass Update

I I weighed myself. 136 lbs. I weighed this just before Ivy's birth.
My 40 b4 40 goal is to get back to what I weighed before I got pregnant. 105 lbs.

Tone It Up calendar said to share the exercise experience. "Tell someone" or "invite someone". So I reached out on a local Facebook group. I was surprised to find that several ladies took me up on my offer!

This endeavor starts out tomorrow morning.
Can't let those ladies down!

It's important to add that it's a good idea to reward myself with something once I reach my goal. 

I want at least one dress from ModCloth. 

My back hurts, my knees hurt, I don't sleep comfortably, I snore (guh), and am not really happy. Exercise and eating better will help. So a lot of benefits to be had!

Reduce My Fat Ass

Alternate Title: Working on that Non-Resolution

No, it still isn't a resolution. It's an effing item goal on my effing 40 Before 40 list.

And now that I look at it again, I'm going to hope like hell I can knock off another item on that list by the end of March.

So let's put this all in a linear line for my thought processes to work.

I made the decision to work on the goal of getting down to my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm not very certain how realistic this is because 1. I feel like I'm already setting myself up for failure (at least I'm honest with myself?), and 2. I don't really believe it's about the numbers.

I am subscribed to a certain YouTuber and she mentioned she does Tone It Up - but for free. So I decided to look it up and I'm going to kill myself over all of this and follow their plans and routines and workouts and whatnot. I'm not purchasing their nutrition plan. This was a decision that was made back in November and I came to the conclusion that I would enjoy the rest of the holidays before I started this.

However... we aren't back at home and a "challenge" has started since yesterday and I'm only half participating. Their D-Day is V-Day and it's a six week challenge. I wasn't planning on getting really into it until we got home. I didn't want to buy food, and tennis shoes, and a sports bra, and haul it all home. So I'm still on vacation. I know I could start with SOMETHING but I just don't feel equipped or comfortable about it unless I'm at home to give it the official start I deserve.

I'm cleaning out the fridge and pantry.

I'm going to purchase "clean" foods.

I'm going to get my ass out of bed early and work out somehow.

I don't know how I'm going to do this.

I need to get my body running so I'm going to train myself for Couch to 5K while also following Tone It Up.

Because at the end of March, I want to scratch out "RUN a 5K."

DEADLINES!!!

I guess I should give myself a reward for completing some of my goals... So far, all I can think about is getting a cute dress or two from ModCloth. 

Somehow Still Alive

Holy shit, what was I thinking!?

My overweight, underheight, arthritic body that voluntarily clutches itself into random muscular spasms went ice skating recently at the request of my darling, beloved child. I obliged because I am The Most Awesome Mother of the Universe - a title I humbly hold close to my cold and withering heart. 

I was going to take her to The Mall for this but I found a rink that was much closer and not quite as overpriced as all get-out. 

I've only been ice skating two times in my life prior to this - the most recent of which was just a smidge over twenty years ago. Again, I ask the universe, what in the exact hell was I thinking!?

Oh. Right. Let's talk about something. I'm tired of sitting around doing about as much as a ninety-something year-old lil-ol-lady. I want to liiiiiive!! So I'm carrying that over to my miniature human. If there's an experience that she wants, we are going to create some awesome fucking memories.
Memories > things. 

And I present to you, her experience. 

We drove ("werrrrrrrr this is taking foreverrrrrrrr"). 

We stood in line ("Stop touching it. Stay over here. That's going to fall. On you."). 

We put on our skates ("I can't stand uuuuup!!! I can't waaaaallllk!"). 

We got on the ice ("wooAaoooh! I can't ev-he-he-en!!!!").

*Trumpets blairing as Our Savior swoops in*

"Does she need this {PVC "walker" thing}?"

"OHMYLORDTHANKYOUYES!!!"

Fun was had by all. Until....

Ehhhhhh shitballs. My ice skates were about forty-thousand times too damn small myfeetaresostupid. And I was feeling it. I changed my skates and went back on the ice. But my feet were still feeling those other skates. Memory of an elephant, those two. 

All-in-all, our trip included only one slip (hers, not mine), a lot of out-of-shape sweating and heavy breathing, and happiness and excitement.

We just got settled in the car and were leaving the parking garage when up from the back seat arose such a question...

"Can we go ice skating again?"

What have I done?!

Do you see this shit right here? Skating against the flow of traffic. Girl dances to the beat of her own drum. Rules? What rules? Bwahahaha!

I'm Pinterest's Bitch

I thought I would brag for a minute about a few things. I have good taste. Every once in a while, we have an appetizer night where we make finger foods. Usually it's pigs in a blanket. Seafood salad in a blanket. Something else in a blanket. Because food makes you sleepy.

We decided (mostly it was my husband's idea) to have a buffet for Christmas Eve. And instead of the usual "football party food" (his term, not mine, because food=food) that we normally do, he wanted to class it up a bit. Shit. I'm going to have to take a bath. Since Pinterest is my companion, I know it wouldn't let me down.

I present to you, our Christmas Eve Buffet! (Of course, these are the owner's photos because I haven't actually cooked or taken photos of this stuff.) Links are provided so maybe you'll go and get the recipes yourself.


Garlic Herb Roasted Shrimp


Crostini with Prosciutto, Goat Cheese and Fig Jam


Fried Mozzarella


Crash Hot Potatoes

And last, but not least, a vegetable tray or a salad with ranch dip/dressing.

Breakfast for Christmas Morning will be...


Mimosas


And Breakfast Hash

I'm still not working on Resolutions

They can go fuck themselves.

I've decided that I want to be a successful blogger. My hands automatically started typing "suggestive." I wish I could be my smart-assed, sassy self right now and roll with the whole suggestive thing but my brain is just clunking around in my head right now bumping into all kinds of paraphernalia and being all rude about it.

I just noticed an enormous spike in my visitors. Today. Whaaaat? Why are you here? Where are you coming from? What do you want with me?! ... How can I make you stay? You can cross showing my boobs off your list. I'm not doing that. Leave me comments, people!

So the news is that I am committing myself. Sadly, not into a hospital. Not yet anyway. I know, your dreams are crushed, aren't they? I am going to post at least once a week. A good, quality post. Every week. This doesn't include the Menu Plan Mondays that I do sporadically (thank you Clueless word-of-the-day) or the photo dumps I take do. But I know you will be curious as fuck about the whole weight-loss thing. I know I would be.

So leave me some comments. Let's shoot the shit.

This is NOT a fucking resolution

Get your act together. I've been thinking lately, and boy is that a horrible thing to do. Every year, every month, hell, even every week I think to myself, "It is time." And every time, I look at myself in the mirror and think that I should just live with it. But now, I have a sense of foreboding. A sense of impending doom. That I just have to bite the bullet. Take the bull by the horns. Stir the pot. Shit or get off the toilet. Do you understand what I'm getting at? Do you??

Because I do. Because I'm the effing genius who decided to write a 40 Before 40. With goals. And a due date. And the days keep on going by. That date gets closer and closer. Even though it's 5.5 years away. I'm figuring this will take that long to complete.

Today I am making a concrete plan for one of my, ahem, items. It is such a large undertaking. I have to break it down into miniature goals. I just cannot NOT do it this way. It isn't going to be easy. It isn't going to be fun. At all. And I know the benefits will be worth it all. But can we just go ahead and shoot me now?

Oooh, alright. Fine.

Human beings are animals. Filthy, dirty, ritualized, animals. Our bodies are hard wired to store fat so that during times of less abundance, we can stay alive. Mother nature needs to hire an electrician because this shit is just too old now. Guffaw! Yeah. Right. Your fat, lazy ass got you here in the first place. Unlazy yourself.

So. Here's the problem. I'm 40 pounds overweight. My goal is to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I have 5 years to do so. But, the sooner the better, right? January is when this starts. I know that shitty song is ringing in your head like an earworm and you don't even know the words. But everybody is doing it.

The plan is breaking it all down into bite sized goals that are easier to swallow. January? 5 pounds.

Action: Get off my lazy ass. Tone It Up. Yoga. Bicycling. Jogging.

Jogging.

Jogging.

Heeeeey while I'm at it I may as well start training for a full 5K run.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Or not.

And no. I'm not taking pictures and posting them here. Not yet anyway. Shut up. I know you just want me for my body.

Better at this than you

Another December has arrived and since I really enjoyed doing this last year, I'm doing it again. Suck on those taters. 

Shitballs. I'm going to start throwing up red and green peppermint flavored tinsel. I was already behind with day one. I had to retch myself over to the computer to find something - anything - that will somewhat entertain the child. 

Nope. She isn't enthused at all. Not one bit. 

And then we had to go and pull out that damnable elf. The elf that is never on the shelf. WTF is up with that? The little shit should be called Elf Anywhere But on the Shelf. 

By the way, we were wrong for two years. "Cal" as Ivy named her in 2012, is actually named "Cow." Which is completely appropriate. And because Cow is such a bitch, she brought chocolate, soap, and a stupid ball that lights up. Thank you Hallmark for making and marketing this unnecessary shit. I fell perfectly into your trap. Fuck you. 

Mental note for next year, ditch the damned book because, even though it was demanded of me to read the book, the rules set forth in said book will not be followed. 

And because I am The Mother of All Mothers and better at it than you, Ivy entertained herself on the iPad with The Cow. 

And because that stupid elf isn't enough, I planned a little craft session because I really need a hole in my head. 

Read: I did everything in my power to have an ABSOLUTE ZERO type of mess. And.  It. Worked. Because, again, I'm a better mom than you are. 

It is also preferable for your ass to not be prepared at all and to do things on a whim. That kind of spontaneous shit is on the very top of a perfectionist's list. Yep. 

The beginning of the season wouldn't be complete without holiday cards. I decided this would be the year (after never doing this) that I would send out holiday cards. And hell to the no, I couldn't just write the addresses on them. I had to go and draw on them. 

Consider yourself trumped.

Sassily yours,

My ass

Good Samaritan

I just started to pull ahead from a stoplight when I saw a car cross traffic to turn left and get hit. It was my immediate reaction to stop and try to help. It happened right in front of me and couldn't go anywhere (if I had wanted to) so I parked my car and ran to assess the situation.

I asked about the driver (in the white car) that hit the green truck who was crossing traffic. Apparently she was fine and walking around and already making calls so I was checking the driver in the green truck. My first instinct was to check for injuries (none) and try to calm the driver down. A gentleman stopped so I asked him to call 911 and then help me get the green truck off the main road. I still did what I could to keep the girl calm and still just in case she was injured.

Once the officers and paramedics arrived I checked with the other driver and made my statement. I could have left but I asked the girl in the green truck if she wanted me to stay while waiting for her mom. She appreciated it and so I stayed. She was scared and very upset and for someone so young, it's terrifying. I've never been in an accident but I know I would want someone there that wasn't big and scary in uniform.

All of this happened so fast and I am still amazed how calm I was in the situation and kept my wits about me. And I'm not putting this out there for any kind of "atta girl". It was just the right thing to do.

So what I really want to tell you is this:
If you see an accident, do whatever you can to help. If it's to just stop and check, or give a statement, fine. If it's to administer CPR (please have a certificate) or pull someone out of a burning car, do it. It doesn't matter who is at fault, just help.

40 Before 40 Update: Big Cats

When I made my For Before 40 List (still in process by the way), my bud gave me the suggestion to go pet some baby tigers. Whammo! It's on my list. Now, I'm taking artistic license to what she said and changing "tigers" to big cats. I gathered more information from her. It just so happened that Groupon offered a discount. Back that up a bit. The zoo (Garold Wayne Zoo), in conjunction with Groupon, offered a discount. One failed attempt and one successful attempt to purchase the necessary tickets later, we were ready to make plans for our visit.

We drove all the way to Oklahoma on a cold fall morning. We walked around the compound on our own for a while and fed the animals in the front that we had access to. Then we all gathered together for a group tour. We got to go to the back of the complex and interacted very closely with some of the animals. At the end of the tour, we got to snuggle and pet a couple of 5-week-old liligers. Yes, you Napoleon Dynamite fanatics, ligers are real. Liligers are products of male lions and female tigers.

The rest is photographic evidence.

The Lost Art

Way before social media, way before the internet, people used to write letters. Actual pen to paper folded in an envelope and sent to people.

I was in middle school when I had my first official pen pal. Across the world. His name was Enrique and he lived in Spain. Then I had an Italian boy named Luca surprise me. After that I had my friend hook me up with a girl in Sweden. Oh, aren't you cute with your head in the gutter. Shut up, it was sweet. We lost touch after a while but I was hooked on letters from that point on. This may be where my mail obsession comes from. And by obsession, I mean it was my self-assigned duty to check the mail every day. When I started dating, I checked his family's mail. I was set on having my own PO box.

Once I started dating Ryan (hellooooooo internet!) I got in contact with a girl in Japan, Megumi. We wrote for quite some time! This was during my Asian interest era. And thus began my "dark years" as a letter-writing fiend. I built a pen pal database on (gasp!) Angelfire. I had upwards of 50 pen pals and more people with whom I was exchanging postcards. Oh and of course I have lost touch with these folks too. Except one. And somehow, along the way, I stumbled across friendship books.

Education!
A friendship book (FB to those of us in the biz) is a little handmade booklet of about 5 pages. Some of those little fuckers got artsy-fartsy with those things. Anyway, you put your address on it. It's yours. You also put your info in it like a tiny-assed bio and the type of friend you're looking for and weren't looking for *ahem*prisoners*ahem*. Excuse me there. Then you'd mail it off to one of your awesome pen pals, they'd add their info and pass  it along. Wash-rinse-repeat. If there wasn't any space left, it made it's way back home if you were lucky. I have a few that have come back! And to make things more ridiculous, there were mutations of these things too. This shit was a hobby.

Welcome back to present day!
I'm not quite sure how Ivy picked up on it but she is about as obsessed as I am about the mail. It's almost a beat-down, drag-out, contest to see who gets to the mailbox first. Ha-HA! I have the upper hand. I'm still taller than her and can get the mail easier than she can. And she has started asking if she has any mail. So I threw out a plea on Facebook for my friends and family to send the kid some mail and it has been steadily trickling in. And look who is happy.

And see who is not... Because of Pinterest and Instagram, I am seeing all this cute mail that people are sending and getting and I'm pouting over here. I want that correspondence. I want to connect with people around the world the old fashioned way. Send me mail, damnit!

And I remember I did this at one point.

I Like to Make Shit, okay?

So I have this 'thing' for sugar skulls. It's recent for me to actively pursue and purchase things. I have a few decorations hanging around. 

I thought about and decided I wanted to be la muerte somehow. I don't really like having makeup (especially grease makeup) on my face and one day I walked past the plain mask at {Big Box Craft Store}.  

With only one image hanging around, I started penciling on my designs. 

I added the paint and sequins. 

Flower and ribbons. 

And I couldn't really wear it because of my glasses and the stupid-assed Texas heat. I may add some more designs to it, but I'm so stoked over my mask.