No end in sight...

Each day, I try to come up with something interesting to write about. After all, if it isn't interesting, nobody will read it, right? And it definitely won't be fun for me to write about. My silence over the past few days isn't because I'm out having fun. Yes, I was busy - but not the kind of busy I want to be. And sometimes I don't write because I'm suffering from lack of ideas (or inspiration, or lack of fun things to write about). I figured that instead of staying silent (and have my readers ask me what's up), I will just write anyway - even if it's not exciting. I feel like I should put a disclaimer before these type of posts... "Beware! Will bore you to death. Read at your own risk." At the risk of boring us all, I will write about why I've been busy. Our lives can't always be so intriguing. It's gotta be dull and boring at least some of the times to help us appreciate the more exciting moments. Right? Right! SO glad you agree!

I figured that for now, I'll tell you what I've been up to. Following my fun fun fun weekend (yes, it was fun), I've settled back into my mommy routine. Which is... cleaning, cooking, cleaning, wiping poop, wiping snot, cleaning and.. you guessed it, cleaning! I suppose I'm a neat freak. Or I can take the low road and blame my kids - I've got two messy kids. On Monday, I worked and cleaned and took care of my son (as usual). My daughter stayed with a friend over the weekend and what do you know, she forgot her class mascot. It was her weekend to bring the class mascot home. Thankfully, it isn't some live animal - it was a cute stuffed Clifford (yes, the big red dog). She left Clifford at her friend's house so monday night, after watching my TV shows, I had to drive 30 minutes out to pick it up, make polite chit-chat for 45 minutes then drive 30 minutes back home. Then I watched a movie.

Tuesday, I was pretty busy. Yes, I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. But this time I can't blame my kids. My son caught whatever my daughter had over the weekend. So whenever he took a teeny tiny sip of clear liquid, he'd manage to throw up 10x as much within the next few minutes. Thankfully, I've mastered the art of recognizing when a kid is about to barf on you. My son was sitting on my lap facing me (that would have been messy) when I noticed the on-set of barf time. I jumped up as quickly as I could and RAN to the kitchen hauling my son with me. As soon as I plopped him down in the kitchen, he went retching all over the place. It looked like something out of an alien movie where the alien just doesn't stop throwing up green goo. That's it, no food or drink for him for the rest of the day. Poor baby. And poor me! I had to deal with a crying, whining sick 2 year old all day long. I gave in twice more and let him have small sips of clear liquid. And each time, he barfed. In the kitchen, thankfully. While dealing with my son, I cooked dinner for my daughter, worked 6 hours (my boss is nice enuff to let me work from home whenever I can - but it's not enuff to live on), and still managed to watch some TV shows. Finally, 8pm came. I was never as happy to see 8pm as I was that day. 8pm meant bedtime! I put both kids into bed and sat down to watch TV.

Stupid me - I decided that I had to stay busy. I guess from all the adrenaline from taking care of my son. So, I set off to wash the clothes, clean the laundry room, clean the carpet, mop the kitchen floor (duh, who wouldn't clean the kitchen floor after a kid threw up on it 3x?), wipe down the cabinets and counter, paint some walls, clean both toilets, and pull out grout around my bathtub. Why? Because the people who lived here before me didn't clean their tub (obviously) so it got all grimey and moldy. Before I moved in, maintenance simply put new grout over the old one to make it white. Eventually, it seeped through and no matter what I did, I could not get it off. It annoyed me to no end! I got fed up with looking at the black grout while taking baths so I decided to yank them all out and regrout it myself. I can be quite handy if I need to be. Unfortunately, my hands don't like me right now. If my hands and fingers were looking just a tenny tiny bit feminine, they don't anymore. I've got cuts on my fingers from the razor blade I was using. I guess they'll heal. But I got good news - I didn't break any nails. Like you care, right? After all that, I watched a movie.

Yes, two movies in two nights. I have Netflix - awsome, right!? I love movies, only I hate watching them alone. I need a movie buddy. But no worries. My movie buddy will be back in Houston soon, yipee!

Today, I took it easy. I kind of had to. My fingers are sore and my son's still sick. I went grocery shopping, went to the post office to mail something out to a friend, and went down to the apartment office to whine about the shape my apartment's in. I love my apartment - but there's some stuff that's messed up because of my pets or my kids. So, I'm having the screens replaced, a blind replaced, carpet repaired and a wood panel in the kitchen repaired. Yipee! I wanted to watch a movie but ran out of Netflix movies. So I took a bath. I won't have any new movies until Friday. :(

What's next on my agenda? I plan on cleaning out all the closets, my bedroom, kids' bedroom and both bathrooms. I'm gonna be tossing junk, donating stuff and fixing some stuff (a shelf in my kids' closet has been broken for 2 years now. It's actually being propped up on one end with a stack of books right now ... one way or another, I'm gonna fix it).

Tomorrow - I'm thinking I'll take my son to the doctor. Then I have to work. Maybe I'll clean some more. We'll see. But I definitely know what I'm doing tomorrow night at 9pm. I'm going to watch Lost. Blonde moment incoming: I, like, totally LOVE that show! *Giggle*

I did it, and I'll do it again!

I'm BACK!!!! I'm alive and well, obviously. This past weekend was one of the best weekends I've ever had! Wow. My mind is racing with a million things to say but somehow I can't just put them into words. I'm speechless. That's a first, huh? I wanted to say thanks to everyone who made this weekend very memorable. I had an excellent time. Everything was great! So, here's the play by play starting with Friday night...

I waited for a friend to come into town and grabbed my two kids and Jeff and met him at Cici's for dinner. Yummy! After that, we went back to my apartment and watched an interesting movie - Zodiac. A bit slow in some parts and it seemed like a LONG movie but it was interesting. It left us with a couple of questions though. Great conversation topic, I guess, if we run out of things to say. It was a short night but it was good nonetheless. I actually couldn't sleep until 4:30 or so so I bummed around on the internet and watched tv. Guess I was anxious about the next day.

Saturday morning, I went and dropped my kids off at a friend's. I made sure to give them extra hugs, kisses and "I love you's" before I took off. Everyone showed up at my apartment around 1:30ish and we made our way to the drop zone. When I got there, I was feeling a little nervous but not too much. I was mostly in awe of all the jumpers and their parachutes in the building. We checked in and got a bunch of papers to sign. They all said the same thing - they cannot be sued if I get seriously injured or killed. The very last page was very scary. In BIG letters, it gave a huge warning that I might be seriously injured or killed. That sobered me up, a little. I signed it anyway and hoped I wouldn't regret it.

We had to wait a little over two hours before we finally had our turn. All my friends and I sat outside in the shade under a big tree and just chatted. That was really nice. When it was time for our turn, I suited up then met with my tandem instructor. He explained the basics of jumping. What I should do, shouldn't do, blah blah blah. It was pretty quick. One of my friends that was tandem jumping with me decided to buy me a video for the occassion. So this dude shows up with a camera and starts talking to me. It took me a while to get used to the camera. I'm pretty camera shy. Before I knew it, we were making our way to the plane. We boarded the plane and wow, it was pretty hot in there. There was at least 15 people, maybe 20, all crammed in a small plane sitting right next to each other. It felt like a really slow climb to the top. When I first suited up, I felt hot. When I got into the plane, I felt hot. But once we started nearing the top, I was feeling cold. The air up there is different from the air down below. It's pretty cold up there. B, who was tandem jumping with me, seemed pretty nervous. That was funny. B and J expected me to be a little nervous but it was B that was freaking out a little. Just before it was time to jump, my instructor and I had to get ready. I had to sit on his lap. Yes, I sat on another man's lap. A stranger at that! I made a comment to J about it.. it just felt really peculiar to be sitting on a strange guy's lap! He strapped me to him ... very tightly. If there were any boundaries to privacy, there weren't any more. I was as close to a guy as I could get. That was... weird. I put on goggles and took deep breaths. Finally, it was time to jump. My instructor and I made the plunge. In all my photos and in the video, I have my head pressed up against my instructor looking up. Everyone keeps saying "Ha! You were too scared to look down!" Actually, that's wrong. I had to do that, unfortunately. I really wanted to look down, I did! It wouldn't have freaked me out either. Oh well.

WOW! It's a feeling like no other. I have never felt so free before in my life. I knew I was falling, and it felt like I was falling but at the same time, it felt like I had defied gravity. It was amazing. I found out from B that him and his instructor did a couple flips. I was jealous. I wanted to do that! I will be sure to ask my instructor to do that next time if I went back. I can sit here and try to think of creative and fancy words to describe the sensation but I just can't. You have to EXPERIENCE it. This isn't something that anyone can just explain. The freefall was short - about a minute - before we opened the chute. Right when we opened the chute, we flew up a litle (or that's what it felt like). When we slowed down, it felt like I was actually suspended in the air - not moving at all. It was a very surreal feeling. Then we played around and flew for a few minutes, spinning around and taking in the sights. Then we landed.

We had dinner at Carino's, my favorite italian place. I LOVE their cannoli. Afterwards, we all went to L and P's house and hung out. We ate my cookie cake (Thanks P!), played a card game and chatted. We were all pretty tuckered out from an exciting day so we all went home kind of early. It was at 2am but hey, that's early to me!

Today, I went to church, ate lunch with B and some other friends. Went home and hung out with B and J. We chatted, played Dr. Mario (one of my favorite video games) and played with my kids. After B left, J and I watched August Rush. A lot of music (not our type) but overall, I really enjoyed the movie. Awww!!! I really liked the ending!

Obviously, my weekend was great! Now - if only I can figure out how to top this birthday. Any ideas on what I can do next year?

Getting through the weekend

Well, this is it. Tomorrow I'm going to do something life-changing. I just hope it turns out good. In less than 12 hours from now, I will be jumping out of an airplane thousands of feet in the air with a stranger strapped to my back. And definitely with a parachute. Two of them. And I hope they both work. Why am I jumping? My birthday was a couple days ago and I turned 26. It wasn't as scary as turning 25. I remember turning 25 like it was yesterday. I dragged 5 of my friends over to San Antonio and spent the weekend there. That was a blast! For some unknown reason to this day, turning 25 was scary. I guess it was then that I realized that I'm not getting any younger.

This year, I decided to go with the trend and do something fun again. Unfortunately, my brain told me to choose "skydiving." Why!? I should have said something like "Let's go to the beach." I blame a friend. I told my friends about it, talked about it for about a month and then one of my friends decided to make it official and made plans. So, tomorrow...I am taking the plunge... literally. Out of everyone I know that is going so far, I'm the only one that's jumping. They're wusses. Or maybe I'm the stupid one.

All week long, I've had several people ask me if I was nervous yet. And all week long, my answer was "not yet." On the eve of my first jump, I am amazed to say that I'm not nervous yet. Well, maybe I am... but I think it's actually the coffee I just drank. I'm positive that once I'm on that plane thousands of feet in the air, I'll get nervous. You want to know a secret? My biggest fear is... wetting my pants. Note to self: pee before you get on the plane.

Hopefully, I'll be back on Monday - armed with details and with photos. See you then!

What to do with a so-called sick child

Not having to work and staying at home everyday sounds like a dream…. until you have a 6 year old and a 2 year old. Some days I’m thankful I get to stay home and be lazy (as much as my son permits). There are days where I’d rather have a job and today was one of these days. There are also days that I feel loved – by my kids and my dog. My dog follows me everywhere. He sits directly next to me or behind me when I’m at my computer. When I back my chair up to get up from the desk, I am often stuck because he’s always in my way. There are some days that it doesn’t bother me. There are some days that it annoys me and today, it annoyed me to no end.

Today, I discovered a new job requirement to being a mother. Outsmarting a 6 year old. I have the craftiest 6 year old on the planet. But I’m craftier. It all began this morning at 7am.

My husband got up to get my daughter off to school. He wakes me up and says “she’s sick.” I said, “ok.” Nothing fishy so far, right? I go back to sleep assuming that since my husband has 6 years of parenting under his belt, he’d know what to do. He comes to me 5 minutes later and says “She threw up.” I said “ok” and went back to sleep. Then, my husband wakes me up again (annoying, right?) and stated “she’s faking.” Again, the most creative comment I could come up with at 7am is “ok.” As I was about to go back to sleep, my husband asked me whether we should let her stay home or make her go to school. Just as I was about to tell him, "make her go to school," I had an idea. I told him to let her stay home. He looked at me like I was crazy. But I had a plan. If my daughter wanted to play, I’d play right along. A little side note: How in the world did a 6 year old make herself throw up?!

After I went back to sleep (early morning does not suit me), my husband decided to keep our daughter in her room. He wasn’t about to let her have fun on her day off, especially after trying to lie about being sick. When I woke up, my daughter became the sweetest little girl in the world. But I wasn’t falling for it. I had a little chat with her about lying and how it hurts people. The typical “yadda yadda” conversation every parent has with a child eventually. I proceeded to tell her to clean her room. If she thought she was going to enjoy being at home, she thought wrong. I was going to make her work – and work hard.

If you have a 6 year old or if you know one, I don’t have to tell you that my daughter’s room was a mess, a true mess. She shares her room with her 2 year old brother so that makes it a double mess. And I was making her clean it all up. When she was done, I made her fold her own laundry and hang her own clothes. Have you ever tried to get a 6 year old to clean that much? It takes them forever and they make excuses – lots of excuses. "Mommy, my tummy hurts." "Mommy, I'm tired." "Mommy, it's too much." My response to each and every one of these? "Ok, go to bed." My daughter does NOT like going to bed, so obviously it worked. When my daughter thought she was done, she would ask for an inspection of her room. It took 3 tries before I decided that her room was clean enough. I even had her vacuum her room.

During all this, I wouldn’t let her have a bite to eat. After all, if she was sick and throwing up, she shouldn’t be eating, right? I think I can say that after today, my daughter will not be faking an illness for a long time to come. I’m sure she’d much rather be at school playing with friends than becoming my personal slave for the day. I'm already coming up with a "To-Do" list the next time she fakes being sick.

During all this, my son would follow my daughter around and screw up whatever she was working on. He’d run through a pile of clothes that my daughter had just folded or he’d start playing with some toys that she had just put away. That was especially fun for me. After a while, I whisked him away and put on his favorite movies.

My son was particularly active today. While my daughter was busy tidying up her clothes, my son was busy messing up his own clothes. He went into his drawer and decided to dress himself. He pulled two shirts on. He put shoes on too– and they didn’t match. And at dinner time, when he was eating corn dogs, he slathered every inch of the corn dogs with ranch and decided to put some in his hair as well. Fun.

And that’s the reason why today, I wished I had a job.

Guilty Pleasures

One of my guilty pleasures is watching soap operas. Yes, typical of me. I’m a stay-at-home mom, whose days consist of picking up toys, wiping up poop, wiping runny noses, and picking out whatever thing my son stuck up into his nose or ear. In the middle of it all, I watch TV.

Today, while I was watching one of the shows, I realized something. Well, not really realized (I had known all along) but wondered how it came to be that we were all so accepting of relationships that go on in soap operas. Take “The Bold and the Beautiful.” Right now, there’s some weird storyline going on involving a baby. To make a long story short, there’s a guy who wants to marry a woman who’s the legal mother (not biological) of HIS biological baby brother. So he’d become a step-father to his own brother. Not to mention that before he fell in love with this woman, he was dating this woman’s daughter not too long ago. And this woman is at least 20 years older than him.

I don’t have to tell you about Days of Our Lives. Everyone knows that show. There’s a huge cast on this show and in one way or another, they’re ALL either a Brady or a Horton. Or like Hope, some of them are both. Who cares about the other people? Everything revolves around these two families, including relationships. They’re all one big happy family – literally! I see a girl dating her uncle. Sure, the uncle was adopted into the family but he’s still her uncle nonetheless (and they’re the same age, how convenient). I see females moving fluidly between fathers and sons, brothers, uncles and nephews, cousins, and even grandfathers (ew)! Nothing says it like a girl who has dated every male member of a certain family. You gotta love Brooke - she's dated (and married) every male in the Forrester family. The father, both sons (had an affair with them at separate times then later married them), had an affair with her daughter's two different husbands (not at the same time). And get this, one of her daughter's ex-husband is the half-brother of one of the Forrester sons, who Brooke got back together with for the millionth time. Oops, did I confuse you?

My favorite character in Days of Our Lives is Sami, no contest. You have to give it to the girl, she’s changed. AND she deserves brownie points. Why? Out of everyone who’s dated everyone else in the family, she only went after two brothers. Who wouldn’t? They’re hot!

To sum it all up, even though I have a habit of catching soap operas on TV daily, I’m still amazed at how accepting we are of what happens in the shows. Maybe it’s because we’re relieved it’s not our own lives. Maybe it’s because watching their messy lives helps us appreciate ours.

Here’s my reason for watching (and I told a friend so just last weekend): I watch the shows to learn from their mistakes so I don’t make the same mistakes! If anything, that’s a pretty darn good reason to keep watching! :)

What really happened to Princess Peach

It all started way back in 1981. It was a cold night... no, it was freezing. There was a snowstorm outside and the power was out. Mario was out cleaning someone's pipes (not that kind of pipe, you dork). Princess Peach was sitting at home all alone: shivering, lonely and restless. "Forget Mario, I'm going out to find me a real man!" Princess decided. She bundled up and set foot outside into the world.

All of a sudden, she found herself at the top of a big platform above a series of ladders and other platforms. *Gasp!* She was kidnapped! Why was she held hostage on a platform? Well, think about it. Mario's a short and stout little guy. Although Donkey Kong was supposed to be a stupid ape, he was crafty in putting Princess up high out of Mario's reach. Mario now has to use his climbing skills to rescue his damsel in distress. Uhm, what skills? All he does is slip and slide in and out of hollow pipes (NO! Not that kind of pipe!). Platform after platform, Mario finally rescues Princess and brings her home. Details of the kidnapping are unknown. Rumor has it that Donkey Kong had his way with her.

To avoid publicity, Princess vehemently denied it was her that was kidnapped. Maybe she was embarrassed. Yeah, embarrassed because she liked it. Contrary to popular belief, we know it was you, Princess Peach, who was kidnapped... not some other lady. Fess up!

After having gone through a dramatic series of events, Princess Peach was back at home... a home that was quiet and peaceful. Although, she would soon realize that it wasn't what she wanted. She slowly but surely realized that she actually missed Donkey Kong. She liked the big bad guys. Strong, bad and dumb. Mario was out working late nights again (doesn't that make you go "Hhmmm?" Plumbers don't work late) and Princess was feeling forsaken. It's been so long since she felt like a woman. So... she set out again to find herself a real man: Donkey Kong!

She started meeting with him privately to continue their relationship. Soon, Donkey Kong Jr. came into existence. Whether he belongs to Princess; we’ll never know. Donkey Kong took on a job as a janitor to support Princess, Junior and their expensive hobbies. With a husband working a blue collar job, Princess didn’t want another blue collar dude. She immediately lost interest in Donkey Kong. She’s superficial.

A few months later, Mario was out working again and had to unclog a massive sewer pipe in Bowser’s home. They became friends and Mario invited Bowser home for dinner. As Princess cooked them dinner, Bowser was attracted to her long, blonde hair. Princess was attracted to Bowser’s big and strong body. She started to flirt as she cooked, dropping a utensil here and there so Bowser could get a glimpse of her “good side.” The attraction was unmistakable!

Soon enough, they were arranging clandestine meetings while Mario was away for work. Their relationship developed into something much more intense. A few hours here and there weren’t enough anymore. They wanted a few uninterrupted days together. That’s when Princess came up with the idea of being kidnapped again. The idea of being kidnapped excited Princess. It put a new spin on her growing relationship with Bowser. While she was “kidnapped,” she would spend days at Bowser’s castle. While Mario was running around desperately trying to find his lady in pink, Princess relaxed by the fire pools.

Lucky for Princess and Bowser, Bowser owned 8 castles. They sent Mario on a wild goose chase so that Princess and Bowser could have more time together. Whenever Mario finally made it to a castle, Princess wasn’t ready to greet Mario for 2 reasons. 1 – She wanted more time with Bowser and 2 – She wasn’t dressed.

After a long and hard journey, Mario finally made it to Bowser’s last castle. Lo and behold, there was Princess ever so happy to see Mario (is she really?).

Now, a few more years later, Princess got kidnapped again but this time, by Bowser’s children. Whether they belong to Princess; we’ll never know. Poor Mario. He had to endure the tribulations of getting to 8 castles again. He couldn’t possibly understand just why Princess was being kidnapped again and again! But we all know why, don’t we?

The moral of the story: Mario – open your eyes! For the past 20-something years, Princess has been unfaithful to you. Next time Princess gets kidnapped, don’t go looking for her. I hear she’s got a cute cousin stashed somewhere.

Who Cares?!

Reality Shows. They're popular... they must be. They're everywhere. In these shows, people date, lose weight, travel all over the world, and eat/do scary things. They have one thing in common: they're all competing for something, most likely money.

Once upon a time, I loved watching these reality shows. I was a fan. I didn't watch all of them though, but I still watched a lot. I watched them more than I watched sitcoms. There's only one reality show that I watched to the end: Fear Factor. If they brought it back, I'd watch it again. Currently, I watch the Biggest Loser (when it's on) - but that's about it.

Back in the beginning, I shamefully loved "The Bachelor". I was a dedicated viewer. I watched the first and second seasons with a passion. I was furious when Alex didn't pick Trista and I jumped with glee when that blonde what's-his-name picked Helene. Over the seasons, I lost interest. Why? Because these relationships don't last and ultimately, these guys are losers. They got the body, the look and the charm but please, they got nothing else.

When Trista was picked to be the first Bachelorette, I was so happy. Mostly because I wanted her to stick it to Alex. She was a woman scorned and shoot, she deserved a happy ending. I became a dedicated viewer again. I watched Trista and Ryan's wedding too. Finally, a happy ending. I never watched a single episode again.. until a few weeks ago.

I was flipping the channels, bored, looking for some kind of entertainment. I happened to catch what it seemed to be the 2nd episode of the newest and current Bachelor season. This dude's from London. Apparently he's a dud over there since he had to come to America to find a wife. Don't they hate Americans? Maybe it's just the French people.

(Vent On)
Anyway, my point is... enough! This is the 12th (yes, count the losers, 12!) season. This doesn't include the two Bachelorettes. How many of these men stayed with the women they picked on the show? ZERO! 0 for 11 so far. Sad.

On this particular episode (remember, this is the 2nd episode or so), the women are already fawning over this guy. They just met him! Claws were out and the women hissed. They all believed that they were the perfect woman for him. Some of them professed that they'd move to London for him right there and then. And when they got kicked off, they cried like they lost a serious boyfriend (and don't forget money - most of the bachelors are loaded).

I could never go on that show. First, no way I'd want to share my man with other women. That's just unnatural. Second, they stick you in a huge fancy mansion and whisk you away on exotic trips while you get to know the guy. While that's nice, it isn't reality at all. And third, they give the guy a couple months to decide who he wants to propose to after being faced with 25 options.

There's only one thing that bothers me so much. The bachelor ALWAYS has a tough time deciding who to kick off the show. I mean - if he really loved a girl and all, he'd know. He'd be able to kick all them girls off in a heartbeat and be able to truthfully tell the girl "I knew it was you all along." It's SO lame when a guy proposes and says that he knows she's the girl. If he knew, why was he debating kicking her off some 5 weeks ago?
(Vent Off)

While I think it's funny to watch these girls tear each other's hair out, I'm getting sick of it. I truly hope that this is the last Bachelor. Enough is enough.

Friends vs. Acquaintances

I got another one of these fun chain emails where you have to answer a bunch of questions so your friends (who already know you) will learn things about you (that they already know). Sometimes I ignore these things because really, who cares? But sometimes if the questions are fun and I’m bored, I’ll fill them out and send them to friends. I even send them to friends who I KNOW don’t like chain emails – just to make them read about ME! Yeah, I’m conceited.

This particular survey just asked you to list two things about yourself in different topics… pets, favorite food, what you’re wearing at that moment (I’ll bet you that a guy came up with that question) and so forth. Nothing special. But it reminded me of another survey that I filled out a couple years ago. One of those “Vs.” emails. You know the type. Would you rather drink water or milk? Would you rather have loved and lost or have never loved before? You get the point. One of these questions were “Would you rather have a few friends or many acquaintances?”

I’ve always been shy, but I guess people probably wouldn’t know it. When I’m asked why I don’t have more friends or I don’t have an easier time getting to know people, I always reply with the same boring monotone expression “because I’m shy.” “What? YOU’RE shy?” Ha, as if you didn’t know it.

With people that I’ve known for a LONG time, I’m not really shy. And yeah, because of church, I’m always around people that I’ve known FOREVER, but do I really know them? Do they really know me? For people that I know casually and have seen in various places, I usually have a difficult time coming up with something to say other than “Hi, how are you?” So I tend to avoid them. Sad, huh?

For people that know me well, I feel bad for them. I can be a bit outgoing, I guess. Maybe even crazy. But hey, it’s all fun. Lately, I’ve started to spread my wings a little bit. I’ve started going out more often and going to places where I don’t know anybody (except the one or two friends that I went with). This weekend, I’m going to a wedding where I will only know three people really well. I’ve just started to get to know the bride and groom and I definitely won’t know most of the 250+ guests. But you know what? I’m looking forward to it.

And my birthday. I got a crazy friend who I probably shouldn’t have trusted to plan my surprise bash. Surprise? Yes, surprise. Even though I know something is going to happen, I don’t know what. He’ll probably invite a bunch of acquaintances that I have only seen maybe 2 or 3 times in the last year. But that’s ok with me. I’m looking forward to it, I think!

I am enjoying meeting new people so far. I think I feel happier. I’m getting the adult interaction that I need. Being a mom and a housewife, my only source of real interaction is pretty much my kids… 24/7. So it’s nice to get out on the weekends. Of course, it never hurts to have a guy buy me a drink :)

While it’s all fun, I guess it boils down to whether I’d rather have many people I don’t really know well or a few people that I know well and they know me well. Right now, I can only count on one hand and one finger the number of people that I consider real friends. Pretty much 6 people. You know who you are. Sure, if I add in a few more people that I consider friends but not CLOSE friends, I guess I can count on two hands. But I’m talking about the people who really know me and the people that I know well. Knowing many people can be fun, but it can also be lonely. When you need someone to talk to or someone to trust, you might not want to trust a casual acquiantance. I know I would feel weird talking about my problems or my feelings with someone I've seen twice a year, once a week for an hour, or once a month for a few hours.

It’s been great meeting new people and seeing acquaintances. I will probably keep going out with friends and hang with new people I’ve met. When I meet someone new, it takes me a long time to become good friends with them. I’m picky. But when it all comes down to it, I’m happy with the friends I got. I’m happy with the fact that when there’s something bothering me, I got someone to go to and REALLY talk. He’s probably sick of me by now but I’m grateful. I’m also happy with the three girlfriends I’ve got, as well as the other two guys. With these people that I can count on 6 fingers, I know I can make a fool out of myself (and boy, did I really!) and know that they’ll still love me.

And that’s all that matters.

Thanks for being my friend.

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself

Over the past couple of years, I developed a really big fear. Fear – that’s a strong word, I think. It’s not the same as just being scared of something. It’s a genuine, profound feeling about something that people don’t like and are afraid of. Usually, when I ask people what their biggest fear is, I get surface answers like heights, spiders and snakes. Sure, I believe that these fears can be warranted. Even though I’m not scared of these things (much), I’m not about to disregard other people’s fears, no matter how silly we may perceive them to be (like clowns and balloons). Usually when I ask someone what their biggest fear is, I want to know what they’re REALLY afraid of.

For the people that really know me, they would know that my biggest fear is death. Dying young, dying before I’m ready and dying a slow, horrible death scares the life out of me (ha-ha). Whenever I hear people talk about phobias and stuff, they usually say “confront your fear!” but the problem is: I can’t. Confronting my fear means dying, I guess. I guess I could come to terms with it, accept that I’ll die eventually – everyone does – but at such a young age, it’s hard to. I can only hope that I die old, really old.

I decided to write this after a late night conversation with a friend. A mutual friend of ours died suddenly. She was more of an acquaintance for me at the time. I met her when I was in high school and we were friends for a couple years. Eventually, we lost touch with each other. She was so young (mid-20’s) and just had a baby girl. She died in her sleep. Spooky.

It’s strange. During the day, it doesn’t cross my mind. I don’t have this huge fear of getting in my car and driving among the millions of crazy drivers in Houston, anticipating a terrible accident. I don’t freak out while swimming anticipating that I’ll drown. Usually, the only time my fear strikes me is late at night, when I’m in bed and can’t sleep.

The human mind can be a scary thing. At night, my mind wanders. I think about many, MANY different things. Most of the inspiration and ideas I get for writing is when I’m laying in bed late at night. Unfortunately, it’s also when I think about death. Do I want to be buried? Do I want to be cremated? What will it like to be in a satin-lined coffin? Will the bugs be able to get in and chew on me? Who will come to my funeral? Will I know that I’m dead?

Really, my biggest fear about dying is that I will cease to exist. I won’t be the first to admit it and I may stand alone on this right now, but I can hardly stand the thought of the world moving on without me. I’m not a huge history buff – I know bits and pieces about different times – some more than others. But what I’m REALLY interested in is what the world will be like in the future. I guess there’s something exciting about the unknown. It allows our minds to be imaginative. And sadly, most of us won’t be around after 50-60 years to see what people have come up with.

So…what’s YOUR biggest fear?

Being Adventerous

B... this is for you.

As a child, I was pretty adventerous as little girls (and boys) would go. I was never a girly girl - I always played with the boys. I climbed trees, I played baseball (ok, softball but you get the idea), and when our streets flooded, I waded in the ditches barefoot hunting for crawdads. Also, I. Loved. Video. Games! I played Nintendo for hours, mostly Super Mario Bros. 3, and was extremely competitive with the neighborhood boys when we played sports video games (I ROCKED at baseball). I loved playing Dr. Mario and I still do.

I never broke a bone (until last summer, and its still broken) but I sure have a couple of scars. I've cut myself open too many times to count and I have been shot in the forehead with a BB gun. My happiest times during my childhood had to be when I was getting myself into one mess or another.

Someone once told me that I lost my spark for life and for adventure. I'm not "spunky" anymore. That pretty much happened right around the time I became a mother for the first time. A young mother, at that. I was no longer responsible for my own life but for someone else's. That's a tough thing to deal with. And I guess I could say... I became safe and boring.

But not for much longer. Recently, I have started to feel excited about things again and started to have the desire to be adventerous. I have J to thank for that. I used to joke and say that he's going through a mid-life crisis because of the things he's interested in, but I'm thinking that maybe he has the right idea. I do have to say that if it wasn't for his incessant blabbing about motorcycles *rolling my eyes* or in the past, about skydiving, I probably never would have thought about being adventerous again.

So, I'm going to take it upon myself to be adventerous. Somehow, I don't think getting shot with a BB gun again would be fun, so I am going to move on to bigger and better things. And it's always much better when you got friends to do them with.

First stop: skydiving - and P, you're coming with me :)

Rules of Houston

Another one of my "Houston" favorites.

• You must learn to pronounce the city name. It is "Hue-stun," not "Ewe-stun", or "house-tun" Oh yea, the street is pronounced "San Phil-ee -pay, "not" San Phil-eep"(San Felipe). Enunciate, you idiots!
• Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. Houston has its own version of traffic rules...Hold on and pray. There is no such thing as a dangerous high-speed chase in Houston. We all drive like that.
• All directions start with, "Go down to Loop 610"... which has no beginning and no end.
• The Chamber of Commerce calls getting through traffic... a "Scenic Drive."
• The morning rush hour is from 6:00AM to 10:00AM. The evening rush hour is from 3:00PM to 7:00PM. Friday's rush hour starts Thursday morning.
• If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear-ended, cussed out and possibly shot.
• When you are the first one off the starting line, count to five when the light turns green before going, to avoid getting into any cross-traffic's way.
• Kuykendahl Road can ONLY be pronounced by a native Houstonian.
• Construction on I-10, I-45, US 59 and Loop 610 is a way of life and a permanent form of entertainment.
• All unexplained smells are explained by the phrases, "Oh, we must be in Pasadena!" or "Whew, I hate Baytown!" or "Mmm, smell that Texas City!"
• If someone actually has their turn signal on, it is probably a factory defect.
• All old ladies with blue hair in a pink Cadillac have total right-of-way.
• The minimum acceptable speed on Loop 610 is 85 mph. Anything less is considered downright sissy. In turn, the minimum speed on Westheimer is at least 45mph...
• The wrought iron on windows in east Houston is NOT ornamental.
• Never stare at the driver of the car with the bumper sticker that says, "Keep honking, I'm reloading." In fact, don't honk at anyone. IT'S LEGAL TO CARRY GUNS HERE!!!
• If you are in the left lane, and only going 70 mph in a 60 mph zone, people are not waving when they go by.
• The Sam Houston Toll road is our daily version of NASCAR.
• If it's 100 degrees, Thanksgiving must be next weekend.
• When in doubt, remember that all unmarked exits lead to Louisiana.
• If you live in Katy and I live on the south side of Houston we'll never hang out.
• You are always able to be pulled over by any police vehicle, even if you were just given a ticket.
• You don't have to wait for an exit to get off a freeway, just follow the ruts in the grass to the feeder like everyone else. This is how Houston residents notify Texas Department of Transportation where exits should have been built.
• Else-where, they are called frontage roads... Here in Houston, they are called FEEDER roads, so don't look stupid when we say "Exit the feeder road and use the loop-d-loop"

You know you're in Houston if...

You've seen the emails. You've also rolled your eyes at them. I've done the same. But I couldn't resist posting my favorites when it came to Houston...

• The "farm-to-market" roads have seven lanes.
• You have to turn on the air conditioning in January, two days after a low of 29 degrees.
• When you see your neighbor dancing around the front yard, you don't think he's won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes; you know that he just stepped in a fire ant bed.
• You know that the Astrodome will always be the Eighth Wonder of the World.
• You come to work in short sleeves and walk out at noon to find that a "blue norther" has blown through and the temperature has dropped 40 degrees.
• You hear everything but English spoken when you go to the Galleria to window shop (you can't afford to buy because the prices are jacked up for all the foreign tourists).
• Spring is not the season, Katy is not the lady, and 1960 is not the year.
• You can leave your house, head out of town, and an hour later you still haven't left the city limits. During rush-hour, you haven't left your NEIGHBORHOOD.
• You've never seen I-45 and I-10 in any condition other than under construction - and you've lived here for more than 30 years.
• You know that "Clutch City" has nothing to do with automobile transmissions.
• The only REAL Mexican food is Tex-Mex.
• A 747 with the Space Shuttle riding piggyback has actually flown low right overhead, and nobody paid any attention to it.
• You know that while saving you money, "Mattress Mac" has amassed more than the U.S. treasury.
• If the humidity is below 90 percent, it's a GOOD hair day.

And finally... my personal favorite...

• You see nothing unusual about an eighty-something former sheriff's deputy who wears a white pompadour toupee and blue sunglasses, mispronounces names, allows televising of his frequent plastic surgeries, seems unnaturally obsessed with slime in the ice machine, and screams "MAR-VIN ZIND-ler, iiiii-witness news" into a television camera every night. But some folks are still upset with him for shutting down the Chicken Ranch.

America's Sweetheart

We all love him. We have gone on many adventures right alongside Mario and his brother, Luigi, and helped them battle the meanies of Mushroom Kingdom. A few weeks ago, I went on yet another adventure with Mario and a couple of my friends. While on this escapade, my friend (let’s call him “J”) and I noticed that Mario’s not acting quite like himself. He was acting very peculiar. See, whenever he bumped into something, he hopped around like a pitiful, goofy…something. Yes, “something.” It was so disturbing that I can’t even put it into words..

To really experience Mario’s sad transformation, please check this video out. Although this video is about 3:42 minutes long, you only need to watch a few seconds of it. Scroll ahead to 3:20 and watch about 5 seconds. http://youtube.com/watch?v=eood0Yh1_ng

This image really stuck in J’s head. I guess J was starting to feel sorry for Mario, although it was kind of hard to tell. I took it upon myself to sit down with Mario and have a heart-to-heart with him to really get to know him. After all, there’s not much time to talk while we’re battling Boswer and his clan.

M: So Mario, here we are. After many years of fighting alongside each other (and others), we finally have a chance to sit down and talk. Tell us about yourself; let us know what makes you tick.
Mario: Um, sure.

M: What’s your favorite food?
Mario: Mushrooms. They make me big. Kind of like how spinach works for Popeye.

M: Interesting. Here’s something that everyone wants to know. What made you leave your plumbing occupation? We hardly ever see you at work.
Mario: Well, have you ever seen a plumbing tool belt on me? It’s very unflattering. Besides, Princess is taking up all my time. You know how it is.

M: Actually, I don’t. Tell us about your relationship with Princess.
Mario: Do I have to? It’s the same as everyone else’s, really. Damsel-in-distress equals knight-in-shining-armor. That’s me. Having to rescue a girl all the time is very time consuming, very exhausting and emotionally draining. Just ask Prince Charming or Shrek. *mutters* Maybe it’s time I traded Yoshi in for a white horse. I gather I’ll be able to travel more efficiently.

M: Tell us about your education.
Mario: Well, I have a BS in Plumbing, an MA in Damsel-Saving and a PhD in Pharmacy.

M: Wow, a pharmacist. What made you decide to go down that path?
Mario: I didn’t want to. Someone thought it would be funny to make me a Doctor and force me supervise millions of people who wanted to play with colored pills. *sigh* Idiots.

M: Tell us about your brother, Luigi. Out of the two of you, who’s older?
Mario: Bah, Luigi? Who cares? I’m the oldest.

M: Where do you two live?
Mario: Um, Brooklyn, New York.

M: One last question, what happened in Wrecking Crew ’98? You seemed like you were in a lot of pain.
Mario: Oh, that. I just stubbed my toe.

There you have it, folks. While Mario is shy and quiet, he can also be a very complex person. I actually think I caught him at a bad time. Word is that Princess just got kidnapped again. Although he claims that he stubbed his toe, J and I know better. See, everyone has to know that when your significant other is always being kidnapped, it’s going put some undue stress on you. It was just a matter of time before Mario snapped.

I offer my heartfelt, sincere apology to Mario and Princess for the undue stress we’ve put them through. I am begging on the behalf of Mario: PLEASE stop kidnapping Princess!

What's in a name?

Ok, listen up people. I'm going to write about something veeeerrry interesting. My name. Yeah, it's interesting, just keep reading....

First, I want you to imagine something. A tall, skinny woman with her hair in a bun and tiny round glasses on the tip of her nose. White button up blouse and a long, boring straight black skirt. Oh yeah, she's holding a ruler too. You know the type - stern, nagging and a prude. Got it? Ok..

Now, imagine her saying this... "Maryellen is ONE word - not two! It is NOT Mary Ellen and it is DEFINITELY NOT MaryEllen. They are together and the "E" is NOT capitalized. Got it, buddy!?"

Now that I've got this off my chest, I'll explain a little bit about my name. My mom decided to name me after the character, Mary Ellen from the Waltons. I like my name, I do, but I'm VERY picky about how it's spelled and what people call me.

My whole life, people called me "Mary" and for years, I've tried to get everybody to call me "Maryellen." It's much more sophisticated, right? Right! So... eventually, some people started calling me Maryellen and others just stuck with Mary. THEN - a creative ex-boyfriend came up with another name to call me... "ME."

One summer, I went to a youth camp (best summer of my life) and I had a boyfriend who will be called "E." We were all about the age of 15 - an age of immaturity and well, fun. One night, a bunch of boys were bored and decided to start shaving their heads. "E" decided he wanted to brand my name on his head, only "Maryellen" was way too long. So he decided to shave "ME" on the back of his head (yes, it really happened). As you can imagine, there were lots of buzz going on the next day regarding E's head. He received a lot of flak because everyone assumed he was talking about himself - as in... me. Poor E, he had to explain to EVERYONE who would listen (and poor me, I was utterly embarassed) that "ME" stood for MaryEllen.

Fast forward many years later. I have two close friends - let's call them P and C. We text each other lots and I guess "Maryellen" was just too long for them to type so they reduced to calling me "ME" when they text. Fun, huh? One day, they went to Wal-Mart or something (yes, without me!) and came across the DVD "I know Who Killed Me." Now, the title of the movie is in all caps so of course, me looked like "ME." So they started a running joke that the movie was about me. Ha-ha.

So there ya have it. The background, a funny story or two and how I want to be known as. I realize that I will probably spend the rest of my life correcting people but then again, maybe I should give up. I have determined that people are just... lazy.

Simplicity

Ah, to be young again. I constantly wish and dream that I could jump into a time machine and press rewind. Life was so simple back then. All we had to do as children was to have fun... our parents took care of everything..

This is what being young means to me: it means that you could play in the mud all day. You didn't have to work. The biggest responsibility we had was to clean our room. Our biggest worry was whether other kids liked us. We spent hours arguing over who was cooler: G.I. Joe or Barbie (I always hated Barbie). We played Cops and Robbers. We spent countless days in the summer playing in the pool. Our life was ruined when mom and dad wouldn't let us have ice cream, and finally, $1 was the greatest thing in the world.

Now that we're all adults, life isn't simple anymore. We have jobs, bills, responsibilities and reputations to uphold. And guess what? $100 isn't much to us. It's funny how one second, life could be great and the next, it would suck. As a child, life sucked because of one thing (not getting a toy you really really wanted) and as an adult, life sucks because of everything.

But...cheer up. Life's not over yet. I guess it's up to myself (and yourself) to make life better for ourselves. But then again, it isn't that simple, huh?

Trying new things

So...I decided to start a blog. For a long time, I've had a secret desire to start writing but neither had the time, the motivation or confidence to start. I always thought that my first writing assignment would be a short story or even a little book for kids - but then I realized I better start small. Not that a children's book isn't small - I figured I would start by expressing myself rather than coming up with fiction. It's easier that way..

The title for my blog page was inspired by... me, of course! I wish I could be noble and point out that the idea came from a close friend or someone important to me but my writings will be based on my own feelings and experiences in life. There have been many times where I would sit and think about my childhood and wish that life could always be that simple (more on that later). As I get older and take on responsibilities, I have seen and realized that life never has been and never will be simple. Kind of like abstract art. I've always been fascinated by abstract art and wonder what caused the artist to create that particular image. Just like it takes a jumble of "nothing" to create abstract art, it takes a jumble of little things to create who you are. There isn't one event or one person that can define your life; it takes a lot of different things put together to create what you have become or what you will be.

As much as I hope I will enjoy writing blogs, I hope you will enjoy reading them. Visit often and leave comments.