Rabbit! Rabbit!

Wish y'all a happy, healthy and prosperous 2011.

I am currently sitting here with The Trolls, watching cartoons, after we all chased each other through the house, which was after pig piling on The Boyfriend (who woke up just long enough to kiss me when the ball dropped).

It's quiet-ish. It's full of love and already a lot of laughter and this is the way a year should start.

New Year Resolution - to be more grateful - will be easy to keep when I'm feeling the kind of love I'm feeling right now. This is a very auspicious beginning to 2011.

Along with the happiness, health and prosperity, here's to your lives being filled with love, smuggles and maybe some wood gnomes, too.

12 Things - New Year Resolution Edition!

(please ignore the rampant typos in this post. I blame the iPad)

Every year I resolve to not make any new resolutions, mostly because I'm really bad about keeping my resolutions. Ironically, one year, I resolved to follow through on things...it lasted for a little while, 'til I got bored with following through.

But I'm all about turning over a new leaf and trying to improve (at least that's what I tell myself so I can sleep better at night), so this year I'm going to go ahead and make so more resolutions. 12 of them, to be exact.

1. Swear less. I have a mouth like a wounded pirate and have a really difficult time censoring myself. But it's gotten so bad that even The Nugget, whose second word was "shit", has asked me to curb the cursing. So, I am going to endeavor to get more creative with the english language, in an effort not to swear anymore. Or less. Definitely less.

2. Honor the physical restrictions in my body and eat as organically and healthily as possible. I am going to make The Trolls follow suit.

2a. Resolve to be okay with The Trolls hating me for this.

3. Consume less. This will go hand in hand with another resolution - to be more creative - but this resolution is about finding creative ways to get the things I need, like laundry detergent, by making them rather than buying them.

4. Get more active. I want to commit to an exercise routine, like a walk at night or yoga, so I get off my tush for a fewe minutes a day.

5. Commit only when I can, so that I can follow through on my commitments.

7. Constantly work on my life list and put sone happy little check marks up o there.

8. Live creatively and find excuses to create just about every day.

9. Fear less and don't let fear hold me back from seizing every opportunity that comes my way.

10. Be more whimsical. I want to dance with faeries and have tea with talking worms.

11. Have taken steps toward quitting smoking, so I can quit by the beginning of 2012.

12. Constantly be grateful and express that gratitude frequently.

I never claimed to be quick on the uptake...

So, you know how, last night, I went o this rant about not having time to blog and/or play with my iPad? Well, it turns out I can do BOTH! You know...blog from my iPad.

The word "duh" comes to mind at moments like these.

And in other news, I've decided that I really don't like my handwriting so much that I am going to change up some stylistic points. Gotta start 2011 off right.

The changing handwriting kind of goes along with what that hand writing analyst told me in March. She said that if I changed my signature, I'd feel more confident... Or like myself... Or something like that.

And since 2011 is all about moving forward, bringing goodness into my life (and into the world), I figure having a little more confidence wouldn't hurt matters.

Or something like that....

We'll return to your regularly scheduled program soon...

You hear that sound?

...That's the sound of no more Christmas music on the radio. Except when I went to AT&T to replace the SIM card in the iPad The Boyfriend™ got me for Christmas.

,...Oh. Wait! I can tell y'all now. The Boyfriend™ got me an iPad for Christmas!! He is incredibly indulgent, that one is. He can't pay his mortgage this month, but at least I'm happy. Materialism aside, how can I not love that man?

But I am sorely glad Christmas is over. I was not feeling it at all this year. Due in large part, I think, to my new found anti-materialistic mentality (iPad cravings notwithstanding). I just couldn't wrap my head around obligatory purchasing, because that's what Christmas has become. Next year, I hope that we can all just do something wonderful and nice for each other, rather than go broke trying to one-up each other on the gift giving scale.

But that's not what I hopped on here to tell you.

The next couple of weeks are going to be a maelstrom of packing, moving, unpacking, working, packing, moving, unpacking, cleaning, working, cleaning, packing, moving, and more unpacking. I have all of January until I have to be officially out of my humble abode, and safely ensconced in The Boyfriend™'s bachelor pad, but that's really only eight days, where I will be unencumbered by work. So I gotta get this shit done, y'all.

The Boyfriend™ keeps saying things like, "you still have a month. What's your hurry?" which infuriates me to NO end, because he's not the one trying to work, parent and pack. I really just want to hang back and play with my iPad until I get iPad pointer finger syndrome or something, but I don't have that luxury right now. I mean, I put a shit load of holes in my walls (from hanging pictures, people. My temper isn't that bad). I need to patch and paint and steam clean.

...I'm toying with the idea of blowing off my security deposit, just so I don't have to do all this work. But I don't want to end up owing anything when I leave here, either, so I'll do the work. I'm not about burning bridges.

In the midst of all this chaos, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel so clearly that I need to wear sunglasses, it's so bright. That light is what's keeping me from completely going out of my tree, so I'm grateful as all get out for that.

And as scary as this move is, I know that nothing but good is going to come from it. Ironically, I'm fairly scared of that good, too, but not in a bad way. In a "woo-doggy!" kind of way. Like wedding day jitters.

What that means to my blog, though, is that I'm not going to be a frequent poster for the next thirty or so days. I mean, hopefully, I'll be able to check in and blow off some steam here (and, hopefully, be ironic enough to invoke a chuckle from y'all), but I don't want any of you to bank on it. I just can't stand the thought of letting you down. Because I've got nothing but love for y'all.

And really, at the end of the day, I want to give you quality of content and not some blathering tripe tossed against the wall just because I want to feel like I'm keeping up. Frankly, I don't have the energy to keep up anyway. Moving SUCKS.

Next time I have a few spare minutes to catch my breath, I'll send some love by way of posting to y'all. In the mean time, keep the positive energy and love flowing this way. I promise I'll pay it back.

Peace!

The Boyfriend™ and The Bloggess

First, The Boyfriend™ is remarkable and beautiful beyond description. He expressly asked me not to say anything 'til later, so I am going to abide by his wishes... for now. But suffice it to say, he literally left me speechless.

Universe... in case I haven't said it enough, THANK YOU for that man!!

The Bloggess also makes the roll for remarkable and beautiful beyond description. She did this whole pay-it-forward Christmas thing on her blog that literally gave me goosebumps. But I'll tell you what, there is still time for all of you to get in on the action.

If you can contribute, even one little bit, go here and help out a family who may have to tell their kids that Santa doesn't exist. Not because it's time for them to know, but because the parents have to choose between keeping the lights on and buying their kids presents.

That's a shitty place to be, y'all. I know. I've been there. If it hadn't been for some really wonderful and miraculous people I worked with, my kids wouldn't have had a Christmas. Since then, I've been extraordinarily blessed to never have to be in that place again, but there are FAR too many families out there who aren't as blessed as I am.

Go, please. Do what you can do. If you can't give a cash donation, take a present that you've wrapped and see if you can send it to a family in need. Or go to your local Women's Shelter and help some kids out. Keep Santa alive for these kids... BE Santa for these kids. The world's a scary and dark enough place as it is without having to kill off that jolly bastard.

Small, eensy, weensy favor?

Dear Old People Drivers, Soccer Moms and People of Moderately Failing Eye Sight:

Please stop driving. Or, failing that, stay home between the hours of 7 am and 9 am, and any time after dusk.

Also, when you're out and about, motoring around like you're the only person whose travel agenda matters, could you at least travel at the speed limit? Is it too much to ask that I not be ten  minutes late to work because you find it imperative to drive fifteen miles an hour slower than the posted speed limit? 

Furthermore, you see that lever on the left-hand side of your stearing column? tit ain't there for decoration. You might even say it's there for a REASON...to, oh I don't know, let other drivers know when and in which direction you intend to turn. Go ahead! Give it a try...preferably several yards BEFORE your turn.

And on that subject, turning does not require that you come to a full stop. No, seriously. You can turn AND keep moving AT THE SAME TIME EVEN! 

In case you were wondering, the left hand lane is for passing. The right hand lane is for slower traffic. I know it's fun to pretend you're in Britain, but you can stop now. The rest of us are not amused.

I thank you in advance for your consideration of these matters, and look forward to your response.

Signed,
Barely Controlled Road Rager

-- Sent from my Palm Pixi

What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.

Yes, I have a painting of the word "if". I also have it tattooed on my shoulder. Don't judge.

 I stuck to the shed-yule and put up my Christmas tree. The Trolls helped and fun was had by all, until it was time to go to bed, because the Christmas music was making them sleepy.

As soon as the Christmas village was put up and all a-glow, I started feeling more in the spirit of the holiday. Sure, I still have to pack. Sure, I have so much going on that I have to schedule it. But... well... there's something to be said for feeling a hell of a lot less grinchy than I have been.

It turns out that my artistic self was simply shoved into a cage while I was letting my crafty-for-Christmas self play. It also turns out that my artistic self is a loud-ass and wouldn't leave me alone until I created some art stuff. I feel much better now that I'm all covered in ink.

And I feel almost hopeful that I'll pull everything off without collapsing into a crying, nervous-breakdown-having heap by December 23rd. I can feel some Christmas miracles eeking their way in and I may very well end up being all Tiny Tim-ish before all is said and done. Honestly, I really hope so.

Update on the Battle of Mrs. Bitch-face -- the war wages on. It seems that she's upped the ante by threatening to send The Nugget to the office if he doesn't stop fidgeting. I'm going to threaten to put Ex-Lax in her coffee if she doesn't get less bitch-tastic. I say to her: BRING IT! I will go down in your memory as the Parent You Hated to Deal With of All TIME! And I will wear that badge with pride!

So... yeah, Merry Christmas 'n' stuff.

OH! OH! I FOUND IT!!

Oh hey! The Boyfriend™. I know you wanted to be wonderful and indulgent and get me an iPad for Christmas (and I will love you forever and ever if you do), but I will love you even longer if you can find this book for me:

Gnomes: 30th Anniversary Edition

Well, I already found it, but if you wanna go ahead and get it for me, I won't stop you. Unless, of course, I get it for myself first.



Now I must figure out how to get The Boyfriend™ to read my blog without letting on why....

Oh, one more thing. Real quick. While I avoid cleaning s'more.

I TOTALLY forgot to tell you! I've had a niggling, back-of-the-head-ready-to-surface obsession with gnomes, pixies and fairies lately.

I have no idea where it came from, but I a find myself waxing whimsical in the direction of all manner of magical folk, but especially gnomes. I think it has something to do with my girlhood, where I was briefly, albeit passionately, obsessed with a book that my Gram gave me. It was all about gnomes. I need to find that book, if I can remember what it was called.

So here's some magic folk love, courtesy of a Google image search and the sites in the captions. I have no idea where those sites got the images from though.

Lifted from this site: http://www.fanpop.com/spots/magical-creatures/images/13952902/title/gnomes-photo

Lifted from this site: http://www.webring.org/t/Mystical-and-Magical

This post brought to you by the letters "Pro" and "Crastination"

OK. So I have a laundry list of things to do -- which actually includes doing literal laundry -- and I was all gung-ho to get it done and then, well, my nature kicked in and I decided that updating my blog was a better idea.

The Best Friend(R) also has a blog. Well, she has the bones of a blog. But she announced her blog on her Christmas cards and has dedicated herself to actually blogging (Oh, hey! G... time to start blogging!). And she even set up a schedule (pronounced shed-yule) to do it.

I'm inherently competitive and so took her idea and made it my own. I've decided that my shed-yule for blogging is any time I don't feel like doing what's on my laundry list of things to do.

Yes, I realize this is all very self-defeating. Did I mention that self-defeat is one of my hobbies? It's all part of my charm, really. Oh boy! Does The Boyfriend™ ever have a wake up call comin'!

Anyhoo... I digress (shocker there).

So here's what's new-ish in my world.

The Nugget has this daily agenda thing that his teacher fills out to let me know what kind of day he had at school (usually "not good"). The Nugget is also supposed to write down his homework assignments for the day in said agenda. I'm supposed to read and initial something that says I've read it. I'm not very good at initialing -- mostly because The Nugget tells me if he had a good or bad day, so I kinda feel like my his work  is done, and I don't need to do the whole initialing thing.

Well, now I have a handy-dandy excuse to initial. The Nugget's teacher, apparently, took her teaching methods straight out of George Orwell's 1984, and insists that all children tow the line. The Nugget is not one for towing any lines, much less one made by a teacher he doesn't like, so Mrs. Bitch-Face (that's my pet name for her) has taken to writing snarky comments in his agenda. I've taken it upon myself to snark back. It's fun!

Some excerpts:

Now that The Nugget has all his work turned in, he needs to work on his behavior. The Nugget is not paying attention, he does not focus on his assignments, he talks at the wrong times, and he twirls his hair. ~Mrs. Bitch-face.

It took every ounce of will power I had to not point out the her inability to write coherently. Mostly because I was distracted that TWIRLING HIS HAIR is a behavior issue. Really? Really?! So I responded with:

Thank you for the note. We will work on The Nugget's behavior at home. However, the hair twirling tic is genetic - I do it, too - and it helps him calm down. So, I won't disallow him that one concession. Thank you, ~"You're pissing me off, Lady!"

Apparently that pissed her off enough to start giving him a black dot (indication of a bad day) for every infraction from not turning his homework in, to being late, to, apparently, twirling his hair. Right after Thanksgiving, I get another note home:

Please be aware that school starts at 7:45 AM. The Nugget has been late the last 3 days. (Her underline, not mine).

That level of snark was crossing the line. So I called The Nancarita up to get some advice about writing a nice, but firm, note back to Mrs. Bitch-face. Here's what we came up with:

Dear Mrs. Bitch-face (notice that I actually addressed the note directly to her, rather than rudely getting right to the point?)

Your reminder was unnecessary. I am aware of what time school starts. I have been dropping The Nugget off with more than enough time to make it to class on time.

That being said, The Nugget is currently in the midst of a growth spurts and is constantly hungry (he's eating anything that's not nailed down). My guess is that he's going in search of a second breakfast.

Since I can't walk him directly to his classroom, I don't know how to rectify this problem. Any suggestion you have would be welcome. 

Thank you ~  "Seriously, you need to get the hell over yourself."

So today, because she couldn't leave well enough alone, and because she peppers The Nugget's agendas with black dots like it's her sole purpose on this earth, I had to address it. Also, I had to address the issue because I know The Nugget did the math assignment he supposedly didn't turn in. Why? Because he did the assignment twice -- once on the wrong day, and the other time on the correct day.

Her: Math homework page 84 has not been turned in.

My response:

Dear Mrs. Bitch-face,

What is the policy regarding giving black dots? By looking at his agenda, it seems that The Nugget is incapable of achieving a good day, but I have no knowledge of the why. For instance, last week, it appears that you penalized The Nugget for being late. The week before, it appears to have been a homework issue.

If you would, please provide detailed explanations for his black dots, each day, so that I am better able to address any specific issues that you may have. Otherwise, I would ask that you be less seemingly arbitrary in your daily assessments.

Thank you ~ "OK. Now I'm REALLY pissed."

That was this evening, so we'll see what she has to say. Needless to say, it may get interesting.

And in other news... moving during Christmas sucks. Between work, packing, cleaning and work, I don't have the energy or desire to really decorate. I'm forcing myself to put up my tree because it's what good moms do. Also, despite my desire to have a real, honest-to-God Christmas tree this year, I'm going with my fake one again. Mostly because I just learned that one acre of Christmas trees produce enough oxygen for 18 people. The environmentalist in me just can't ignore that statistic.

Cat Nap

My cats are not aware that they are actually cats. Meep is not aware that he is not Ursa's pillow. Ursa is not aware that it's rude to use your brother as a pillow.

But it seems to work. These cats are devoted to each other, and definitely serve as inspiration to us all.

-- Sent from my Palm Pixi

The sexiest women in the world? Really??

As I may have mentioned, I don't have cable. As such, I'm not subject to as much commercialization as the bulk of America. For this, I give thanks.

But I do have internet access, which means that I am kinda sorta aware of what's going on in the world around me. I guess, earlier this week, Victoria's Secret had some sort of runway spectacular, where a bunch of emaciated-looking, scantily-clad women trotted around making approximately 99.74565% of the women watching this thing feel like utter and complete shit about themselves.

It didn't help that the show advertised that the sexiest women in the world would be modeling.

Really? Really?! These are the sexiest women alive?

This is a rhetorical question, really, but when in the hell did Victoria's Secret become the standard to which all beauty must be held?!

When did this become beautiful?!

Image taken from http://ednosgirl.wordpress.com/thinspiration/

Seriously, I want to take this girl home and force feed her a sandwich.

But it's not her fault. Not really. She's just as much a victim of fashion's pervasive hold on our aesthetic psyche.

And when Victoria's Secret touts this as one of the sexist women in the world, the world is clearly sick. As far as I'm concerned, this is socially sanctioned abuse of women.

Worst of  all, we allow it to happen. We allow ourselves to be abused.

As a student of history, I know that women have almost always been expected to shape their bodies to someone's ideal of perfection. We pluck, we tuck, we paint, we dye. All in the vain attempt to look different from ourselves; to be desired not for our inner worth, but our outward appearance.

Even the Rubenesque ideal, as more honest a depiction of real women as it was, was still not attainable by the average woman of that time:

Paul Rubens - The Three Graces

Ironic, I know.

I spent the last 11 years of the 13 I spent with The Ex concerned about how I looked, lest I get too heavy for him to love. I knew -- intellectually -- that I was better than that, but still allowed myself to feel less than because I couldn't get rid of the baby weight. I knew that I was intelligent, beautiful, witty and charming. I knew, on some level, that I was, in fact, sexy. But because I was heavy; because I didn't still possess my swimmer's body, the value I gave myself was close to nothing. Any worth I had was closely tied to his opinion of me.

It's bullshit, really, but it's a mindset that isn't easily shaken. Even now, I have an adoring loving boyfriend, who finds me ridiculously sexy, and I still won't let him see me naked because I don't look like a Victoria's Secret model.

I even have a hard time finding this picture of me sexy, because I know that I deliberately positioned myself so my mom apron wouldn't be in the picture. I made Miguelito take the picture using the whole depth of field trick so my stretch marks wouldn't show. I wore the shirt so my droopy, saggy boobs wouldn't be too obvious:

Yup, this is me. Picture taken by Michael Barnard

I don't find this picture of me really sexy and yet, this is The Boyfriend™'s favorite picture of me.

What's worse, is that I still have a hard time finding myself intrinsically valuable despite all indications to the contrary.

There is something inherently wrong with that. Fo'reals... how am I not one of the sexiest women in the world? How is The Best Friend (R) not? How is The Nancarita not?

Fact is, we are some of the sexiest women in the world!

I can't change the world over night (until such time as I become the ruler of the world, which will happen. Mark my words), but I can change how I view the world -- and myself.

All of you fabulously un-airbrushed women out there! Those of you without personal trainers and personal chefs. Those of you that stay at home raising your children, or are out in the world working your heinies off to feed your children. Those of you without children, or with grown children, or with grandchildren. Those of you who can comfortably wear a size four and those of you who squeeze into a size fourteen. And everything in between -- all of you, join me in declaring yourselves THE SEXIEST WOMEN IN THE WORLD!

Because YOU ARE the sexiest women in the world! Let your light shine through and LOVE YOURSELVES. Turn off the TV and go stand in front of the full length mirror and love the hell out of those curves and stretch marks and saggy boobs. Worship yourselves for the goddesses you truly are!

Then, when you're done, remind yourself that it's what's INSIDE that makes you truly beautiful!