Half full, half empty. It's really the same.

I bought new mascara today. I love buying new make-up. It makes me feel good. Today, I decided I would try something new. I like what I was using, but I really love Drew Barrymore and since her face was staring at me above the rows of yellow tubes, I thought, "If it's good enough for her, it must be great. I'll try it."
So I got home and opened up the mascara. I looked inside the tube, which is something I've never done before, and is actually not very easy, and guess what. It's only half full. It costs $8. It's like an ounce of mascara.

What is in mascara that makes it so expensive? Water and wax?

A Jennifer Leathers Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas. And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Who am I kidding, could be a mouse...or a cockroach...this is Alabama after all. Or a ghost, but because I don't believe in ghosts, it can't be a ghost. My blood sugar is just low, I try to convince myself. Maybe it was a shadow from the candle. Weird stuff happens though. I can't wrap my head around it.

Tonight I reflect on this Christmas season. Things I've learned, things I've experienced, and...other nonsense things. The flow isn't that great, but you'll get the idea.

Christmas songs make so much more sense when you're an adult. Today I was listening to Silent Night on the radio. As a child I thought infantso was actually a word. It never occurred to me that the infant is so tender and mild. And mommy kissing Santa Claus? That's not Santa she's kissing, silly. That's Daddy!  Now I'm not saying it took me this long to figure this stuff out. But I am usually not really paying attention to what the words are actually saying. It just happens that today I was thinking how I used to sing these songs and they didn't really make any sense. And now they do.

If it sounds like infantso, it must be infantso.

I put colored lights on the xmas tree this year. I have always put white lights up, but thought colored lights would be fun for the girls. I hate it and can't wait to take it down. What's that saying...if it's not broken, don't fix it.

Tis the season for lots and lots of shopping. I couldn't be happier. I thought I would share the fun with Scott and told him he could go Christmas shopping with me one day so he wasn't at an utter loss Christmas morning when the girls were opening their Christmas presents. He needs to do his part, too, right.

Well, that was a really dumb idea. It was the most unproductive day of the year.

Mainly, I feel rushed when I'm shopping with him. I prefer to be a lone shopper anyway, but with him, it was particularly dreadful. We went to the city next to us to shop. All of a sudden, we both realize it looks like we're going the wrong way. So Scott turns the car around, and after knowing we're going the right way, I decide to shut my eyes for a minute. Minute's up, I open my eyes and see that we're going off the road and almost into a street sign. "Scott!" He gets back on the road and all is okay. But my heart is racing and I'm pissed off that I can't shut my eyes for a millisecond. "WTF were you doing??? WTF were you looking at??  Seriously, Scott, WTF were you doing??? Jesus Christ!" (For some reason, the "F" word comes out a lot easier when I'm speaking it than it does for me to write it.) Scott explained that he just shut his eyes for a second. Well, it doesn't work that way. We can't BOTH close our eyes when YOU'RE driving. SOMEONE has to keep their eyes open. This shopping day sucks.

Which reminds me.  This year I'm a little jaded that there isn't really a Santa. Why can't there be a jolly old fellow in a red suit. He doesn't have to squeeze his ass down a chimney, but it would be much more fun if he delivered presents Christmas morning.

Today, Christmas arrived a little early for me, for I found a Christmas gift to me from Scott. Well, I saw it on our account online and called to ask if I can have my gift certificate now so I can go buy what I want. He wasn't happy, but obliged. I may even wrap it for myself so that I can open it tomorrow morning. Christmas is so much better when you get to pick out your own gifts!

Today the girls and I are hanging out cleaning and getting ready for Santa. Finally, I've had enough. Screw this, girls. Let's dance. So we turned up the xmas music and did just that.

Peace, Love, and Merry Christmas

Crouching Tiger, Hidden something something something

I really could care less about the Tiger Woods affairs. I feel really sorry for his wife, and for him, too. I just have one thing to say about this.

David Letterman owes him a big thank you.

I'm Dreaming Of A....Zhu Zhu Pets?!?!?!

So the hottest gift of the year this year is Zhu Zhu pets. They are little motorized hamsters that squeak and run around like the real thing. They have play yards, balls, and all those toys. They're impossible to find in the stores, and every kid wants one.  Well....  Guess who has one? Not only do I have the Zhu Zhu pet, I have the entire playset CITY. I wasn't even looking for it...I had never seen them before and didn't plan on getting them for Emma. But, I happened to be in the right place at the right time, which NEVER happens to me.

I was shopping at Toys R Us, and I heard two ladies talking about these Zhu Zhu creatures. So I asked, "Is THAT the Zhu Zhu pet?" She confirmed, and offered me one. "What? Why?" Why in the heck would she be so willing to give me the mack daddy of Zhu Zhu pets?! Well, it ends up that the store only allows you to purchase one at a time. So, sure, I said I would take one. As I walked away she said, "Be blessed."
"Yeah...right?!" was my response, then I realized I think she was serious. She probably regretted picking me, after all. Anyway...it was $130. I didn't want this!!! But I couldn't turn it down. It really is the holy grail, and my heart was a little fluttery as I walked around the store. I sent a picture of it to my sister in law, who immediately called me to question how this happened...and to offer the advice of "Watch your back in the parking lot."

Last night I woke up, shot out of bed in a panic as I dreamed that I was being showered with Zhu Zhu pet accessories...clothes, blankets, carrying cases, the list goes on and on. It wasn't a good dream. It was overwhelming and I couldn't get over it and get back to sleep.

I think the Zhu Zhu hysteria is giving me nightmares. I didn't even want them!!! I wasn't getting sucked in. But now....I'm sucked.

Of course, the next morning the news was reporting that the hamsters have a high level of antimony and could cause cancer and other health issues. They are not recalling them, but are letting parents make the decision of what to bring in their homes.

It's here and it's staying.

In Memoriam...

I'm in New Jersey for work. The days are long and sleep is very limited. I assumed I would have something to blog about while I was here, but never thought this is what I would be blogging about.

When I tell people what I do, their reactions are expected. Very exciting and everyone wants to do it. It sounds fabulous, but there isn't one thing glamorous about this job. I am thankful for the friends I have and get to see when I travel, I'm grateful to have traveled to as many places as I have, but I work my ass off while I'm on-site. Sometimes, if we're lucky, there's time to leave the hotel for a couple of hours, but usually there's hardly time to even talk to my family.  That's why today, I checked my phone and wasn't too surprised to see missed calls and text messages. I panicked to see urgent text messages from my good friend, Adri, and a voice mail. I didn't have time to think of all the possibilities as I immediately returned her call, but I wasn't prepared for the news she gave me.
"All of our family members are safe and okay, but one of our friends (on Facebook) died. Jason Cuttill was found dead in his car on his naval base."

I was, and still am, stunned, to say the least.

Jason is a friend from my childhood. I have such absolute fond memories of him. At one point in our friendship he was like an older brother to me and called me his lil sis. And he treated me just like it. It's these things that I hang on to now...trying to remember every memory of him. There are major ones and the smallest, but they all weigh heavy on my heart now.   

Jason was always a true man, even as a teenager. He looked out for his friends, genuinely cared about people, loved his family, and seemed to always be true to himself.  He was secure and confident. Good looking and had the best personality...and a pretty good mullet at one point, too. He had the biggest smile that won every girl's heart. He was one of those "what you see is what you get" guys, and everyone loved him for it. 

Thanks to Facebook, Jason and I reunited, as many people have. He was one person I was truly happy to reconnect with. As usual, we harassed and threatened each other just like we were 15 again. Our last communication was very recent. When I look back now at his FB page, which is flooded with sympathy and shock, I desperately looked for our last posts. Then, finally, I found it...it said "Jason commented on your status." It was one of his last posts....and on my own page. My heart is filled with sadness as I read through everyone's comments to him and his family, but I can't bring myself to comment on his page. I am overwhelmed with sadness, my heart hurts for MY OWN loss...I can't even begin to fathom how his family feels.  So, naturally, I turn to my blog to express my emotions.

It's like my public diary.

I learned something today though. I don't know how to put it into words...shocking, I'm sure. But I'm thankful that Jason and I reconnected. He touched my heart once again. I'm so thankful for our banter and our little heart to heart emails. The world really was a better place with him in it.

Peace, Jason. I love you and miss you already.

Peace, Love, and Grass

So I went to the health food store today for some inspiration for a healthy diet. I was talking to a guy who rambled about diet and starvation, to which I explained I have tried both. He rambled for so long, I started to realize I wasn't paying attention to anything he was saying.  All I could think about is if he was high. I really just wanted him to tell me what to buy.
Defeated, I came home and wondered if winter oreo's tasted the same as the regular ones, even though it says "same great taste" on the package.

In case you're wondering, they do taste the same.

Facebook Friends

I think it's time for a little Facebook etiquette check.  I'm noticing that more and more people have their parents, namely mothers, as "friends" on FB. That's cool, but for me, it makes me look bad. I don't think it's appropriate for my mother to "watch" everything that goes on between my friends and I.  I've also noticed people have their in-laws as friends. Brothers/sisters in laws are fine. But I think a line needs to be drawn when it comes to mother-in-laws. Do you really want your mother-in-law to read (or see pictures!) about the drunken weekend you had and thus, struggled to get up with her grandchildren in the morning? Do you want her to comment or "like" every single little thing you say about her son or grandkids?  I know it's awkward to "ignore" those people you don't want to be your FB friend, but let me tell you, once you start, it's not all that bad! It's a little liberating to check those people off your friend request list. Let them sit there for a few days if you need. One day you'll feel at ease and "ignore" them like they never even existed. And here's the best part. They don't know! They don't know that you've ignored them...and chances are, they'll forget they even requested you! When they ask you about it, just tell them you didn't see it....OR....you really rarely get on anymore. They will never know. 

I did it to my own mom. Twice. I didn't lie either, actually. I told my mom the truth. I talk to her 5 times a day and really, anything I put on FB, she will most likely already know about. So, see, there was no need to be FB friends. Done.

So, please, just say no. Just say no to those unwanted FB guests. I really hate having to censor myself when I think a mother or father could be "watching." 

~Facebook Big Brother...err...Sister

Ed Who???

This morning I was listening to the radio and the DJ's were discussing fashion. Now before I start to rant about her lack of knowledge, I should first say that most people here dress surprisingly well. I can't say enough how pleasantly surprised I was to see the labels worn by some of the women here. 

So this morning I was listening to these DJ's and the girl was talking about what's in for men's fashion right now. She said the military look is in and v-neck t-shirts (think Simon Cowell). She gave examples of Affliction and "Ed Harvey". The guys laughed and corrected her and she blamed it on her spelling and inability to pronounce anything. Okay, but we're not talking Christian Louboutin. Ed Hardy is clearly pronounceable.  There really is no excuse. There is also no excuse for recommending anyone wear these shirts anymore. They are not "in" anymore, okay people??  Especially not after Jon Gosselin has dedicated himself to being the unofficial Ed Hardy spokesman aaaand Christian Audigier has been seen yachting with this creep. Kind of throws credibility out the window.

I am disgusted. A radio personality who doesn't know how to pronounce Ed Hardy should not be giving fashion advice. Nor should a person who is suggesting it in the first place.

Skinny Bitch

Two years ago I read a book that changed my life. I quit eating meat immediately and was trudging toward no animal product whatsoever. I ate almost entirely organic and quit all soda and coffee. I drank water like...something that drinks a lot of water. And I felt awesome. I never felt sluggish and I had an incredible amount of energy.

Then I got pregnant with Olivia and decided it was probably not the right time to start omitting dairy from my diet, and what a great excuse to prolong veganism. So I did just that.

Well, Olivia is 9 months old and not only am I eating dairy still, but I am drinking soda, coffee and eating shit that makes me feel like just that. So as boring as this may be to you, the reader, I am vowing NOW to get my life with food back on track.

You are my accountability. Starting today, no more soda, less sugar...like way less, cookies are no longer lunch, and well, the dairy...that's just hard. I may just have to reduce instead of eliminate.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

Funny People in Alabama

I saw something today that reminded me of some funny things that I have witnessed since living down here. So I'm sharing them with you.

1.  I had just arrived at the gas station to get gas. I hate getting gas. It is the 21st century. You would think there would be a better way to fuel your car other than having to manually open your gas tank, push buttons on a machine and lift the gas gun and stick it in your car. Ugh. I hate it. Not this particular day though. I pulled up just in time for a guy to finish pumping gas, get in his car. and drive away with the gas gun STILL IN his car. The pump jerked out of his tank and onto the ground. He got out, looked at the pump, picked it up and stood and stared at the gas pump. He was obviously embarrassed and didn't know what else to do. I, on the other hand, was laughing so hard I had to lay flat in my car so he couldn't see me. That might have been the funniest thing I have ever seen.

2.  I was walking downtown, on my way to pick up Emma from school. I was walking by a bed and breakfast when I heard rustling in the bushes and then "Dagnammit!" I looked and a lady, about 60 years old, had fallen backwards into the bushes. She was laying with her feet in the air and her butt sunken down in the bushes. Again, I laughed and hurried off.

3. Today, I was driving downtown and saw a lady walking two petite, fragile dogs. Two men were walking by her, in the same direction, one said something to her (I'm assuming about the dogs), and while he was looking at her, talking, he tripped OVER one of the dogs! He is a big man! He could have killed that little dog!

You might be a redneck when....

So last night I sat down with Emma to work on her homework. In it, she had to illustrate something that rhymes with "sun", so she drew a picture of a bun. Then, she had to illustrate something that rhymes with "star". I was thinking "car" would be the accurate and appropriate word. Then the phone rang, and it's my brother who is only calling to harass me. I become super annoyed, and am also trying to look at what Emma is drawing so I ask, "What is that?"
"It's a bar."
"A bar?"
"Yeah."
"Oh okay."...thinking it's a bar like a straight line, which is what's on the paper.
Then there are little things on top of the bar.
"Todd, do you want something? I gotta go. Emma, what's on top of the bar?"
"Drinks and food."

Ohhhhhh. Darn it.

That's exactly what I was hoping not to happen.

I hope her teacher has a good sense of humor.

It's My Show And I'll Have Sex With Whoever I Want

Why are we still talking about David Letterman having sex with his staff? Who in the hell cares about this? And who HASN'T had sex with their employer???

Oh.

Still. Who cares.

One Two Three Four. Uno Dos Tres Quattro

It was only a matter of time. Zumba has changed my life. I am in love with it and want to marry it. I have done my share of aerobics/workouts/weight loss strategies. I've saran wrapped my waist. I've wrapped elastic things around my thighs. I've tried starvation. I've tried only walking on my tip toes. I've even done aerobics and lifted weights, but that's so old fashioned I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I was naive enough to think that would work or stick.

There is nothing I haven't and will not try. I'm above nothing.

Then came along Zumba. It is a dance fitness class that incorporates hip hop, belly and latin dancing for an intense energetic, awesome workout. The music and dancing is a BLAST! I literally feel like I'm on vacation every time I'm there. My class has about 200 people of all different ages...and sizes. Most of them are a bit lost (not me of course), but there are no mirrors and you're so fixated on trying to imitate the instructor, no one cares what they look like. The instructor has a rockin body and has the moves to back it up. I stare at her so hard to keep up with the moves, that I actually start to believe that I look like her. It's liberating, it's an ego boost, it's FUN. It's an ass shaker. And kicker. Last night I started to have flashbacks of my dance class days. The instructor was looking in my direction and I thought she was going to yell at me "5, 6, 7, 8! Come on!" But she didn't, and I was just a tad bit disappointed. I wanted to relive my teenage years for just a minute.

And then I came home and ate a quarter of a chocolate cake.

Damn it.

Free Range or Caged Kids

Yesterday I was at our local bookstore, which is just about the cutest thing you'll ever see, and started scanning the parenting books. Mostly I was looking at books about vaccines. It's become an obsession of mine, and in case you're wondering, no I am not vaccinating. I did it with Emma and doubted myself every time I took her in for a well baby check up. I took Olivia for her first well-baby check up, talked the dr out of as many vaccines as I could, and still felt horrible about injecting her with poison. And by poison, I mean formaldehyde, mercury, aluminum, aspartame, aborted fetal tissue, calf serum, monkey fetal lung cells and kidney tissue, and much, much more. I also don't understand how they can rationalize injecting the same vaccine into children of all different sizes and ages.

Moving on...

So I picked up a book named, "Free Range Kids". I'm all about anything free range so I read the introduction and wasn't as sold as I thought I would be. The author basically states that we are overprotective with our children and need to remove the bubble wrap and let them LIVE. She gained worldwide recognition for becoming the worst mom in the world because she let her 9 year old take the subway by himself in New York. She discusses our obsession with safety, the unrealistic worry of our children being abducted (the statistics are shockingly, but really not so shockingly low), fewer children walking to school, and our judgment of other parents who have a more laid back approach. This really resonates with me. I am of the laid back type, but when it comes to my children, their safety is unquestionable. I would have to kill someone if anything happened to either one of them. I've had to warn my mother so she doesn't get too relaxed while my girls are under her care. We've already had a couple of situations where I worried I would have to be involuntarily committed because of her lack of good judgment.

I agree with this author. I do. I totally understand where she's coming from. I appreciate what she's doing with her kids and WISH I could be like this. But I can't. So while I won't be allowing Emma to walk to school anytime soon or letting Olivia stick her fingers in any outlets, I see this woman's point and wish I could be more on board with her. I am interested in reading more about free range kids though and, from what I read, would suggest it to other parents. We are all a little too uptight and quick to judge other parents so I think there is something to be learned from this book.

Moonwalking

I bought Michael Jackson's "Number Ones" CD last night. I was pretty excited about it. I've been waiting for a CD like this to come out. Maybe it's been out all along and I never knew it, but this is the first I've seen of it. I snatched it up, quickly scanned the list of songs and threw it in my shopping basket. I started walking away and then BAM. Madonna has come out with a best hits CD too! Where have I been??? A time long ago I knew when new music was coming out. I guess I'm over that stage now, but two greats have greatest hits. I grabbed the CD, scanned the song list and contemplated, both, Madonna, or Michael. I put Madonna back and stuck with my first instinct. So today I was listening to my new CD. I can't even tell you the last time I bought a new CD. It was a little weird. And at first I was a little disappointed. I knew all of the songs, but it didn't give me the feelings I was hoping to have upon hearing his voice or the familiar groundbreaking songs of my youth. It's not a CD I want to listen to over and over again. Then again, I bore easily of most everything in my life....and I'm pretty sure I'm dead inside, so is this a huge surprise? Probably not.

Then, came on Smooth Criminal. It reminded me of a dance I did when I was 16 for either a recital or competition. Of course I can't remember, and even more disappointing I can't remember a single thing about the dance. The song made me want to grab a hat, straddle a chair and rock my head though. I'm sure this looks better in my imagination than it would in real life. I also wondered if I would hit my mouth on the back of the chair while really rocking my head back and forth. Kinda makes me cringe because I think it would really hurt, and it's entirely possible that could happen.
But finally, a song that made me want to move. That's what I loved about Michael Jackson.

Then, another song came on. "I just can't stop loving you." The rawness of his voice is nothing short of beautiful. It captured my heart, my emotion (what I have anyway), and I heard a tenderness about Michael that I think the world has missed way before he died. I love music with no stuff in the background. Miley Cyrus even sings a song that I actually kind of enjoy because she didn't have all that garbage going in the background. It sounds fresh, and at the risk of repeating myself, raw. I don't know how else to explain it.

Oh no she didnt!! Yep, she did.

Warning...I'm getting somewhat political here. So stop here if you're politically sensitive (and a republican). I don't want to lose any fans (I only have 5)...oops, those are followers, not fans...so I promise not to do this very much. However, I have to say how disgusted I am in the lack of respect shown for President Obama. Democrats are as guilty as Republicans (somewhat...maybe not AS much...whatever, it's my blog!). Those fair weather Demmies.
It starts with Joe Wilson shouting at Obama during his speech. Who heckles the President....AND gets away with it? A reporter chucked his shoes at Bush and the guy gets prison time for several months. But a Congressman disrespects the President in the middle of a televised speech and there's no consequence? I love how the republicans blast Obama of lying about his health care plan - did they already forget about the lies from the previous administration that got us into this war in the first place? - I'm censoring myself right here because I don't want to get this far into politics.-
Then Fox decides not to air his speech.
And then Obama addresses school age children about the importance of education or whatever and then schools across the nation decide not to show it. Really. Emma's school included - obviously, I'm in the South. What more can I expect, but it still really pisses me off.
Here is my conclusion. It is my opinion that Obama is the most disrespected President so early in his term. Yes, Bush was disrespected, but not this much in the beginning of his term. I even supported him...and almost voted for him (thank God I didn't). Later in his term...yes, but he also proved himself to be a total idiot. So he earned it.
This is absolutely a race thing. It's ugly and pathetic, but it's the truth. Now I want people to own up and fix it.

Okay, so it wasn't "somewhat" political.

The VMA's

Okay. Listen up. I've been without internet for awhile, and although I could have gotten online at the library, parents' house, etc, I haven't. I took a somewhat forced break. I've painted my ass off, cooked my ass back on, and gone to bed before 10pm. I've weathered some ups and downs, but I'm back and I have a lot to say. I just hope I can get it all out of my head...in order.
Rewind to two weeks ago. The VMA's. Pink and Shakira show up in the same dress. What designer puts two celebrities in the SAME dress on the SAME night for a HUGE event such as the VMA's? Secondly, what designer is stupid enough to risk pissing off Pink??  Big mistake putting 2 celebs in the same dress. I can't get over it. And it has been two weeks.
Speaking of fashion, what. the. hell was up with Lady Gaga? I can't begin to understand her message, her artistry, whatever...  She looked ridiculous. She acted like a freak. And it was super awkward watching her flirt with Kermit the Frog. And then she took the stage. Fake blood (I think), hanging herself (I wished), and shouting something about the paparazzi (I've never seen her in the tabloids once).  Her costumes were as disturbing and I would have been super pissed if I had to sit behind her. Then appears Perez Hilton behind her and I thought, "Perfect", as he stood there in his own clown suit.
Back to Pink. I love her. Love, love, love, love, love her. For a minute I thought maybe she was lip syncing, because who can sing upside down, doing a trapeze act? Pink can, that's who. Oh and I'm so glad she's back with Carey Hart.
Can those loser Jackson brothers, their scumbag father, and sister LaToya make anymore appearances? LaToya actually guest hosted on The View! How much more obvious can it be that they're monopolizing over Michael's death. Gross. I loved the tribute to him and understand their presence in that way, but they are looking more for an opportunity than a nod of sympathy. Jermaine was at Dancing with the Stars with Marie Osmond! Ew...those yucky people!  Poor Janet. She seems to be the only Jackson with a life. And a heart.
Obviously, Kanye West made an ass out of himself. Again. The media went crazy over it and while I absolutely think he was way out of line, he was not out of character. So was it really a shock? Not really. Poor Taylor Swift. That 6 ft, ostrich looking girl had her moment ripped from her hands. As if she's not awkward enough, she stood there trying to speak into the mic, but the sound was off by then (a little late), and then she didn't know what to do. What a stinking jerk, that Kanye West.
I will admit that I cried when Beyonce gave her her moment back, but I always cry at these awards shows.

I pick you, and you, and you....aaand.....you.

I don't know what has happened to me. When we were moving here I thought about all of the different ways I would meet people and the new friends to be made. Since we have been here, I have met several people, all very nice and normal - people I could probably befriend. Some have called or emailed me and I've conversed a little that way. But truly.....I'm not that interested.  Maybe it's laziness. Maybe I don't feel a real connection. I don't know what it is exactly, but if it doesn't feel natural to me, then I just don't want to put the effort forward. This is creating a very lonely life for me. I need friends...I need to be around people. But not just anyone. I crave meaningful relationships. I want to be around people who are relatable, funny, understand my humor....are essentially effortless. That's probably rare to find and may not be found in the beginning of a relationship, but then again why not.

Exhibit 1: Emma had a bday party to attend earlier this week. She wanted Scott to take her and that worked out great for me. I adore the mother of the boy who's bday it was. She is probably one person I can be around and feel myself and not have to be careful of what might come out of my mouth - mostly anyway. But a bday party meant other mothers and a lot of small talk, which I'm just not interested in and am not even that good at pretending. So Scott went and was the only dad. Hee hee...

I'm trying to find a place here, I guess. I've never fit in with one group of people though and I've never felt as ostracized as I do here. It's my own fault. I am a little jaded by the conservatism, the church at every corner, Emma's new kindergarten class, and the stupid school district deciding NOT to show Obama's speech and knowing that if he was a white republican, it would be mandated.  

I need to just get over it. I am going to do that today. Or maybe tomorrow. By Monday, at least.

Michael Jackson

I realize my response is a little delayed, but, at the time of his death, I was self consumed with my move and my feelings about his death were so mixed, I really couldn't blog properly. Now....my feelings are clear.

As clear as they'll ever be anyway.

I was packing my house away when I got a call from my aunt that Michael had died. I didn't believe her because I just always kind of assume she doesn't really know what's going on. So I turn on MSNBC and sure enough, she was wrong. He was in cardiac arrest. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but if he's in it, he's still alive. Then, a few minutes later they reported that he was dead. So she wasn't entirely wrong. I stood there watching the TV. Somewhat in disbelief, but mostly I didn't feel that much at all. I felt much sadder when Anna Nicole Smith died. Very odd, I know.

After much deliberation, I know why I didn't feel anything for Michael. To me, he had died long before his actual death. The studded glove wearing, moon walking, jheri curled guy I adored and whose posters I hung in my bedroom as a teenager was gone a long time ago.

I never paid much attention to the molestation charges. I don't really think he did it. I didn't even care too much when he dangled his baby over the balcony. Yeah, it was definitely strange, but I'm sure he wasn't trying to purposely endanger his child. I cared more about what he did to his face. To intentionally have plastic surgery after surgery and screw up his face so badly interprets into much deeper issues than those "mishaps". I might be minimizing a little with mishaps, but what I mean is those other things weren't intentional (or, in my opinion, true).

Maybe I'm more forgiving now that he's dead, but it puts things into perspective for me. The Pepsi fire started an addiction. His dad created a terribly insecure boy. His fame made him an extremely lonely person. So, you see, a lot of major things made Michael Jackson the freak he ended up being. And I say that with the utmost empathy. 

Anyway, there is so much that can be said about this, but the point is Michael Jackson died a long time ago in my eyes. That is much sadder to me than his actual death.

Ironically, my favorite MJ song is Man in the Mirror.

Triple Threat

I am not allowed to leave the house. I have a problem.

I know it's natural for girls to love to shop. However, my enjoyment for the sport is anything but natural. I love the grocery store. I can spend half of a day in the grocery store. There are so many new things you find if you really take the time to look at all of your options. When we lived in IL, I lived for Hilander. I was really worried I wouldn't find a grocer that would fulfill me the same way. The employees know my name. I had to distract Emma because she would point at them and say, "Mom, there's your best friend John." Emma, not everyone I talk to is my best friend, okay? Would you please STOP shouting that across the store? Well, I haven't found a replacement because that would be impossible, but I have a store that I love and makes me feel exuberant. They even separate all the organic foods in EACH aisle. They EVEN have a fountain pop dispenser so you can drink while you shop. I don't like pop though so that part is kind of useless to me, but I appreciate the effort. They want you to be comfortable while you shop. OH! Once, the bagger boy started carrying my bags outside. I was confused and asked what he was doing and he said he was taking my bags out to my car. I tried to take them from him, but he wouldn't let me take them.

Do you know how easy it is to spend hours in Home Depot? And the people are so nice and helpful. Which is sometimes annoying. Just because I'm walking around looking at everything doesn't mean I'm lost. Intentions are good though. I have painted nearly my whole house in Flat Enamel. I NEVER would have considered using flat paint, but due to the time I have spent at Home Depot, I have learned that Flat Enamel is not the same as Flat. It actually looks very nice and is washable and a lot cheaper than the other paints.

The trouble I got into yesterday was due to the fact that Home Depot, Pier 1, and Hobby Lobby were all super close to one another. Now I'm trying to figure out if Scott would be more upset if I just shopped at one store at a time and only came home with one big receipt or shopped at several different stores and spent a little at each store, but have a bunch of receipts. It seems the latter seems to get me into more trouble. Actually, both do. I need to figure this out.

It actually kind of adds to the fun of it all.

Are you there God? It's me, Emma...you know the one who doesn't like you.

I really am not ready to discuss the God thing with Emma. I don't know what to believe myself, let alone teach her. So we have avoided it altogether. That IS the parental thing to do. Today she decided to go to church with her aunt. She works in the daycare there so I figured no harm.

Wrong.

Reportedly, they gave a little handout with pictures to the kids and told a story about God. EMMA PUTS HER HANDS OVER HER EARS while the story is being told. Katie asked Emma why she is putting her hands on her ears and Emma responded that she doesn't like the story and doesn't like the people. So tonight I asked Emma why she didn't like the story. She had two answers. First, she doesn't like the clothes they were wearing. Secondly, she doesn't like God because she doesn't like how he looks.
Unconvincingly, I explained that that's all they had to wear back then and it's not nice to not like God because he gave her life (nevermind my 9 mos of hell) and gave us the trees and everything in the world. Now...I don't know that I believe this so I wasn't really sure why I was telling her this. I guess I feel like 5 yrs old might be a little young to become an atheist and anything else might be too confusing. 
The moral of my story ended up being that we don't not like people based on how they look because we're all the same on the inside. Which I absolutely do believe. Pretty much anyway. 
I must tell you what happened to me last week. I've had a metal cross/crucifix that has hung on my wall throughout my childhood. Well, I unpacked  it and it was broken which is weird since it's metal. So I left it somewhere...I can't remember. I found it last week and it was FIXED!!! It was so bizarre. I tried to take it apart...I pulled it, twisted it, swung it around, and it was definitely not coming apart. I fix everything in this house so I knew Scott wouldn't have touched it. Especially since it is a crucifix...he doesn't usually have much to do with stuff like that. So for a few days, I started thinking "There is a God!" and was completely freaked out. Finally, I asked Scott about it. He glued it. Unbelievable. He never does stuff like that. Freaking figures. He ruins everything.

Will work for....work.

Okay, I haven't been working for a month now. And before that, it was very sporadic. I don't like this. My goal was never to be a housewife or a stay at home mom or whatever you want to call it. I would hate to work in an office again though and LOVE my situation with working from home. But I'm not built for this housewife garbage. I don't do laundry. I don't like to clean. I try to organize, which I actually like to do, but organization usually leads to a bigger mess. For example, I cleaned the closet Friday. Maybe it was Thursday. Anyway, I took everything out and replaced things neatly back in the closet. Then, I had all this extra stuff I don't know what to do with. That's right. I said "don't", as in present tense. Because it's still sitting outside of the closet. I realize we've only lived in this house for about a month, but when we unpacked, I put all of the stuff I didn't have a place for in the closet. That's kinda a lot of stuff. Today, I painted the girls' bathroom. I really wanted to quit because it took way longer than I had planned and I get bored easily, but my brother was helping so I kept telling him I thought I was going to pass out and leaving the room for as long as I could without him becoming suspicious. A lot more got done that way. Typically, I like to paint and hang things up and move furniture around. I guess I was just extra tired today. Maybe from the closet cleaning. Or maybe from laying on the beach yesterday. Both are equally exhausting really. I do like to cook and I really appreciate the time I have now to put some thought into my dinner. Unfortunately, Scott isn't fond of the vegetarian meals so my dinners really don't benefit him...at all, I suppose. I would like to share a really good vegetarian idea with you now. This is what you do: Drizzle olive oil in a pan. Add chopped eggplant, mushrooms, roasted red peppers, sun-dried tomatoes and mushrooms. You can also add other veggies like zucchini, squash, onion, whatever. Saute that for a little while. Oh and garlic, too. Then put it on either a wrap or bread or you can put it on an english muffin for a little pizza. I put it on a multi-grain sandwich thin. Then, put mozzarella and bleu cheese on top and put it under the broiler until it's melted. Yum-O.
So, you see, I'm pretty sure I would get fired at this if it was possible. I really just want some meetings to plan. Please, recession, end. My motivation only lasts for so long when it comes to this housework stuff. Shopping has obviously been an outlet, but that can be a problem and is really a whole different blog.

Rain, rain, STAY

I love the rain. It rains everyday here and I absolutely love it. Almost nothing makes me happier than to look out the window and see the rain pouring down, gray sky, and thunder is a bonus. I don't use an umbrella - I like to feel the rain on me and I like the way everyone looks when they're in the rain. It's very....movie-like. What's not so hot is my hair after it dries. Like right now. It's flat and stuck to my head. Why can't the rain give my hair body and oomph...or at least not cling to my face. That would make for a happy ending.

Shockingly, rain puddles are a negative. I don't like my shoes getting wet.

Mini Me

I took Emma to school this morning and the neighbors were getting ready to leave at the same time so I asked if he wanted to just ride with us. He did. On the way to school, he and Emma were talking about school. I asked if he was liking school and he said yes. Emma said that she doesn't like gym. (already??) The boy asked how she can't like gym...all they do is exercise. Emma responded, "Yeah, and I do not like doing that." Oh, the pride of being a parent of a child who is EXACTLY like you.

No Smoking at the Dinner Table

The neighbor girl was over playing with Emma and we invited her to stay for dinner. I made organic macaroni and cheese for the girls and sat down to talk to them. The little girl is very sweet and has very good manners, "Yes, ma'am. No ma'am. Ma'am?" It's adorable and I feel like I'm in Steel Magnolias. Then Emma reminds I'm not. She says, "I think I'm gonna smoke when I get big." Err... Really? Really, Emma? You want to smoke? That's fine, I tell her. I'm sorry to tell you though that all your pretty pink insides are going to turn black and ashy. It's really gross. She giggles, grosses out, and changes her mind, but I'm worried now that the little girl is going to tell her mom about our dinner conversation. I've talked to her many times and she is very nice so I felt like I would tell her in case this comes up out of the blue and sounds that much worse coming from a kindergartener. She laughs in shock and then tells me that when Emma was over there for dinner, they hold hands and say the blessing. She didn't want to freak Emma out and told her she didn't have to do it. Emma agreed to opt out. Yes, I'm sure she did. Because she is the anti-christ.

Too hot for teacher

This week I met Emma's teachers. It's very sad to me that she is going to be in school everyday all day for the next 13 years. Our life as we have known it is changing. Sometimes (most of the time) I'm not that good with conforming so this is going to be a challenge, not only for her, but for me also. Emma is not very excited about this school thing. She said all she wants is to be a rockstar and to slide down from the top of the rainbow. So, see, she really doesn't need school. I hated school...so I feel her pain. She has to go though. It's either that or she lives with me forever, doesn't grow, and we end up on Dr Phil. And I really can't stand that guy. So anyway, I was getting ready to go to the parents only meeting and Emma is following me around the house and into the bathroom. "Mom, wait, stop! I want you to wear that dress! And put your hair down." What?! The 5 yr old is concerned about the way I'm going to look when I go to meet her teachers!!! I have done everything right with this girl. I tell her I AM wearing the dress and yes, I am planning on doing my hair - we had been swimming that day so I didn't think looking like a hot mess was the way I wanted to start off with her kindergarten teachers. So I fixed my hair, put some bracelets and earrings on and was ready...with her approval. Jesus. As I drove to the school by myself I started getting terrible anxiety about the way I looked! I started to fear that maybe it was too much...I don't want to look like a hussy! My dress was absolutely not too short though and was not revealing in any kind of way. Hair - tousled and although it took a lot of work, looked like it didn't - perfect. Jewelry - just enough, not too much. What if the other mothers don't like me? What if the teachers judge Emma based on me? Well, obviously they will anyway, but I want it to be a GOOD judgment. I was short of breathe and felt like it was my first day of college. Did Emma do this to me? Did her judgment on me make me feel more self conscious? Was it you, baby tiger? I don't know, but I haven't felt like that in a LONG time. Perhaps, it was the whole idea of her going to school, the new responsibilities, the new relationships, and of course, first impressions. Anyway, I walked into her classroom, met her teachers and then sat in the mini chair at the mini table for the parents meeting. My seat? In the front. Fortunately, I was over it all the minute I stepped in to the classroom. The anticipation is always the biggest part. Just like Christmas...the exciting part is the month leading up to it. The actual day is usually a bore. So I walked out of there feeling good about it and both excited and nervous for Emma. She has to wear uniforms to school - blue, beige, and white. Those colors are awful and if she was worried about my appearance, she is going to HATE what she has to wear. I also walked out of there something I never, ever dreamed I would be. Are you ready for this? I. Am the room mother. I have no idea what that means, but it was one of a few things to sign up for by the time the sign up sheet got to me. I think it's pretty important though. It was the first thing on the list and only space enough for one parent. Shit.

I took a shower with a cockroach today...

No, I don't mean Scott. Although I would like to squish him just the same.
I was taking a shower today, looked down to get shampoo and through my uncorrected vision spotted a huge black cockroach. Like the size of my thumb, from my bottom knuckle to the top of my thumb. Huge. I screamed like I was being attacked, which isn't far from reality, jumped out of the shower still screaming, woke up the baby, and Scott finally came into the bathroom as I stood there dripping wet still screaming that there is a humongo cockroacho in the shower. He grabbed a tissue and tried to catch it. What... a dumbass. You can't CATCH a cockroach. Grab a shoe and smash that sucker. I don't know how he killed it because I couldn't stay and watch, but I will never, ever be able to shower with peace of mind. In fact, I'm sure months have been taken off my life by the simple fear of another one attacking. I thought snakes, alligators and sharks were the biggest of my fears. Apparently not.
Other than those things, Alabama has been alright...I can't really complain. Okay, well, I'm sure I can, but I don't have to. I don't want to be a complainer. I read in my People mag that some hot celeb said he hates complainer girls, so I took a moment of self reflection to see if I'm one of those. I came to the conclusion that I'm not. I have a lot to say...and I say what I think, be it positive or negative. I don't think that makes me a complainer. It makes me observant and honest. But I'm a happy person and I would rather see the positive side of things so that makes me not a complainer. Anyway, I am enjoying this experience so far. There are a lot of fun things to do. We are so close to the beach and it's very pretty here. I like it. We finally found a house, moved in one week ago and I have been crazy busy unpacking, painting, decorating, and making it our home. I haven't been to zumba in 2 weeks tho and I miss pretending to be a latin dancer...which isn't hard to do since there are no mirrors. And when you fixate on the instructor for so long, you actually start to believe you look like she does. It's great for self image.
So I've met many people....all very pleasant. Every single one of them have one thing in common. They have ALL invited us to their churches. Why?? I don't WANT to go to church. I don't do it, don't believe in it, and think it is a bit of a convo killer. Can't we just do dinner or something? Why do I have to go to church in order to see you? I just want to hang out. Finally, one of my neighbors came over and she asked me if I met someone. I told her yes and that she invited me to her church. I then went on to tell her every person in Baldwin County has invited me to their church and I can't remember all of the people and their churches. All I want is to have friends to go to the beach with...have dinner with...drink with...whatever. So I spilled it and I picked the right person to spill to (never end a sentence with a preposition...it's my biggest pet peave, but I can't avoid it in this case. Oh wait...yes I can. Let me rephrase.) All I want is to have friends with whom to go to the beach....to dinner...to have a drink...whatever. So I spilled it and I picked the right person to whom to spill. THANKFULLY, she agreed. She said they are the heathens of the neighborhood and we could hang out on Sunday mornings. Whew. Close call.
That's the Alabaman update for now. I'm confident I'll have more very soon.

Let me check my schedule and get back to you...

I bought a planner today. I don't have anything to put in it since I don't have anything to do, don't have any friends, and am not working right now, but it's super cute. I think it makes a great accessory, but may look a little too unused, which could be misinterpreted as unnecessary. Preparation is key, however. Soon people will be begging me to hang out with them. I'm a bit of an outcast tho since I don't go to church...my beliefs will remain private with these people down here or I for sure will never keep friends. My friend Jen (for real, I'm not talking in third person here, nor will I ever) keeps a log of restaurants she wants to try. Maybe I'll do that. I tried oysters... Maybe I'll back up and add that to last week. Zumba! I'll add Zumba to every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday...even though I'll go half that much, but it will definitely be impressive, won't it.

Emmaism

Conversation between Emma and myself:

You can't get me chunk.

I believe you mean chump.

No, chunk.

Em, I think it's, "You can't get me chump."

You can't get me chunk.

Okay, it's chump, but neither of which I prefer to be called.

Jump chunk.

Yeah, I like garden salad.

Fellow bloggers,

I am sorry for letting you down and falling behind on my posts. I have been thinking about you though.

Last week we made the move to Southern Alabama. The drive down was quite atrocious. It was my mom, Emma, Olivia and myself in one vehicle and Scott and my dad driving the two moving trucks. After 7 hours of driving, they had some kind of issue with the tires or something so had to stop. My mother and I decided to carry on and leave them to wait in an unknown city for the mechanic people. Shortly after we drove off, Olivia had a crying fit, which later resulted in my own crying fit. I had to find a place to stop. Quickly. Really...it was the hardest Olivia has ever cried. We couldn't do anything to get her to stop. By the time I FINALLY found an exit, it was full blown hysteria. I got her out of the car and called Scott, crying myself at this point, and told him I wanted to go back. Unfortunately, the furthest I got was back to where we had left him and my dad. We ended up getting a hotel room...which Scott had already reserved by the time I got there. I get out of the car, get the girls and follow him to the hotel. When I look up, I see this shitty ass hotel in front of me and a, dare I say, nicer one next to it. I stop, turn around and tell him I am absolutely not staying there. I will, however, stay THERE, pointing to the "nicer" of the two. So we did. Let me just tell you this. The nicer hotel was twice as much as the scumbag one, but the cost was still under $100. Really, Scott. The next day was better. Not great, but better.

So it has been a week and I have been house hunting everyday. It's ruining my life and I'm pretty sure everyone knows it. So yesterday my brother's girlfriend asked me to go to zumba with her. I have never been, but knew of it. Latin dancing + hip hop + sweat + blurred vision = absolute fun. Who knew. It probably saved me from cutting my wrists last night.

On top of not finding a house, I can't understand these people. It feels like I'm visiting another country - and I stick out about the same. The language, the churchy stuff, "yard salin'"...which sounds A LOT like garden salad, which is what I THOUGHT I was being asked. "Yes, I like garden salad." And then I turn around to see Katie (brother's girlfriend), bowled over trying to keep herself from peeing her pants. Turns out the lady wasn't asking about garden salad at all. I thought garden salad sounded a little formal...why not just call it salad? Oh...because, you're asking about "yard salin'." Go ahead...say it...yard salin'/garden salad. Well, the lady ended up walking off and I think she might be mad at me now. I'm never going to make friends at this rate.

Wish me luck!

Go away. No, not you. Those Jon and Kate people.

I really just wish these people would go away. Not for my sake...because I really don't care and don't get their popularity, but for their own sanity. Poor Kate can't even beat her children without being blasted on tv for it. I'm sure the little girl deserved it. I have a 5 year old. I know. I really, really, sincerely feel sorry for them. I'm sure Kate got carried away with the fame, but who wouldn't. I would absolutely have a free tummy tuck if someone offered it to me. Really though...I would much rather have the paparazzi catch Angelina Jolie spanking Maddox. And the media catches the little girl's facial expression and says, "She's obviously in pain." Good God. Kate's hand was still in the air. It hadn't even landed. Let these people live their dysfunction privately...or on their hit reality show...
(And by "media" I am talking about my #1 news source, E! news.)

Happy Birthday to Me

I really don't mind my birthday. It usually feels a little better than the rest of the days in the year, but honestly, I'm not overly excited about it nor am I slitting my wrist over it. My husband is quite possibly the worst gift giver in the world though. Good guy, means well, but terrible gifter. Let me tell you how my morning went. I woke up this morning and shortly after, Emma came in my room. "Happy Mother's Day! I mean.....Happy Birthday, Mommy!" We hug, she is very sweet and really wants me to have a fun day. She makes me wait in my bedroom while she gets something ready in the kitchen. 30 mins. When I came out, she surprises me with all of her princesses lined up on the counter and all of her bday cards standing up open and leftover balloons from her birthday. It looks like a party. Then, it's time to open my present. She tells me daddy picked it out without her. It's obvious. It's a scale.

I have been trying to lose weight and have been saying I really want a scale. However, I wasn't so sure I wanted one for my birthday. In fact, I'm pretty sure I didn't. I text messaged Scott and said, "Thanks for the scale." He replied saying he'll give me the rest of my present later as Emma just wanted to give me something in the morning. Great. I'm expecting a Weight Watchers membership. Later...much later...he texts me again to see if I'm mad about the scale. No, not mad about the scale. Really, I wasn't. I did want one, I just thought it was kind of a weird birthday present. He agreed and tried to redeem himself by saying I really don't need it. Blah blah blah. I HAVE used it 4 times today and am amazed at how often my weight changes throughout the day. I've never had a scale before. Happy Birthday to me.

Holy Matrimony

As we prepare for yet another move, I am asking myself again why people get married. It really just doesn't make sense to me. Then, when I "politely discuss" my aggravations with friends, I find they are going through the exact same crap! Are we really supposed to be with one person for most of our life? I don't think people got this one right. It's a long life we live (hopefully) and getting married seems to be more like a life sentence than happily ever after. Let me be clear...I am not specifically talking about my marriage here, just marriage in general. I mean obviously I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't think marriage was hard, but this isn't a cry for help or anything like that; so please, no interventions.
Most people marry in their 20's...after college and after we get jobs, apartments, houses, whatever. Marriage seems to be the next thing to do. I see 20 something year olds now and I think how in the hell could someone at that age have good enough judgment to pick one person they want to be with forever. It's not logical. Nearly all of my friends have married good people, but almost all of them would rather take a bullet than spend alone time with their spouse. Again, these are good people - obviously everyone has faults though and those faults intensify day after day after day after day after day. And then the faults multiply. Eventually you have to hit a breaking point and say, "ENOUGH ALREADY." And then you're miserable and you make the other person unhappy and you don't even care. When I got engaged, everyone was congratulatory and happy for us. Today, when my friends (the single ones who are left) get engaged, I send them a warning. Most don't listen and then after the excitement is over and they see how irrational marriage really is, I am not above saying, "I told you so." From now on, when I know someone is getting married, I'll be sending a card of sentiment instead of congratulate.

Something has been on my mind for awhile so I thought why not blog about it? (For the record, I will not be blogging about everything on my mind - first of all, I would be in big trouble. Secondly, there is way too much on my mind, to even try to keep track of it all would be impossible.) So Emma, my darling first born, asked to have a picnic. I absolutely had no time for it as I had a million things to do that day. BUT after she said she would have the picnic by herself, there was no way I could allow that. So. I made lunch, she put the blanket in the yard and we sat and had a picnic. So you might wonder what we talked about. She wanted to talk about what a nice daddy she has. A little surprised she would want to talk about him when I am the one spending this good quality time with her. But fine. Sure, I agreed, he's a nice daddy. But Mommy's a nice Mommy, right? LONG pause. And then..."You're pretty..." And the way she said it was as if it was the consolation prize. WHAT?? I'm pretty?? I'm not NICE??
No, sometimes I get in trouble.
Yeah, that's because sometimes you're naughty.

So then I realized I'd much rather be pretty than be nice. I don't care if it's the consolation prize. I'm just fine with not being nice. And there won't be anymore picnics either.

My kid really IS a genius

Yesterday Emma and Scott were playing outside. And Emma has this little playhouse, which Scott put a lock on so the door wouldn't slam open and shut. Well, Scott's little idea backfired when my little mini-me had him playing house with her and had the bright idea to lock him in the house. I was inside with Olivia when Emma casually came inside with a grin telling me she locked daddy in the house. Hilarious. She really, really did come from me. Scott was sitting in the house yelling, unbeknownst to me, when finally he found something to slide through the crack and flip the latch up and escape. This little incident reminds me of the time I locked my babysitter in the bathroom. I got in big trouble when my older brother came home and she was MIA. Emma, on the other hand, was praised for her sheer brilliance.

Jon and Kate Minus Jon

Okay so after reading the article in People I realize I may have been a little harsh on my previous blog. A little. So Kate runs the house and the 8 kids and then her loser husband, who really actually kinda looks like a loser, has an affair for the whole world to witness. Nice job, Jon without an "h". The best part is her attitude about it. Of course the media has twisted this to make it look like she deserves it because she's a control freak and somewhat of a bitch, but it's great because she laughs in the face of all of them. Now THAT'S a true bitch. And I love her. Stupid Jon. The "mistress" isn't even cute! Could have at least made it worth it.

Small milestones

Two great things happened this week. One, I got two of my pants to button...well, one was velcro, but they closed. Two, if I stand up tall and raise my arms above my head and reach for the sky, I can see ribs. Welcome back. Nice to see you again.

Jon and Kate Plus 9?

I received my People magazine today and these people are on the cover of my beloved mag??? Really. A family has 8 kids, the guy has an affair, and they get the cover. This is hardly cover worthy. And now I'm so pissed, I'm starting to think they should each get a free pass once a year. Of course he had an affair. And she should, too.

Grass mowing = Therapy

I mowed the grass today for the first time since we have lived together. I knew I would be taking a chance with my life when Scott would come home and see the crooked lines and the bagger ripped off the lawn mower. I have to tell you, though, grass mowing is absolute therapy. My mind is clear and I feel relaxed and refreshed. The grass isn't finished, it looks like shit, Scott's eyes almost detached from his face, but I feel great about it. And now Emma is requesting broccoli and celery...could this day get any better. I think not.