I Got Nothing

I've had lots to say recently.

Today I have nothing.

I met with the trainer again yesterday. My whole person hurts.

Maybe that's why I have nothing to say.

Books, Books, and More Books!

I would say that the biggest thing my Mother did RIGHT was that she read to my brothers and me constantly. She even recorded herself reading books to us and included a cue for us to turn the page so that when she wasn't available she could still read to us.

That's one of the reasons I'm so crazy about reading. I've always loved it. She instilled that in me. She got me my very first library card when I was tiny. I don't know how old I was but I'm guessing I was the age of my youngest. She would take me to the library at least once a week. I would check out as many as I could carry. Those were the days. As I got older I developed a system. I'm pretty sure I read almost the entire young readers section of the South Hills Library in Jackson, Mississippi. There were even several characters that I read over and over.

This summer I read tons of books. I'm kinda all read out at the moment. But... lately I've been revisiting my childhood. I've begun to check out books that I loved as a child like Pipi Longstocking so I can read them to my girls. They are loving it. I'm also getting ones that have come out since I was a kid that I find humorous. We love Junie B. Jones. She's sassy but hysterical. The other night I was reading some Junie B. to the girls and what she said was so funny I couldn't even finish reading the sentence. I had to laugh it out and then dry my eyes before I could continue. Now when I tell the children to brush their teeth I quote Junie B.'s definition of "Mr. Tooth Decay - If I don't brush my teeth in the morning my breath smells like stink." I've been told they're over that already. I have a feeling I'll be saying that to them for the rest of their lives. :)

A Good Day

Note: This blog is actually not being posted right after I wrote it (my usual MO). I had too much to say the day I wrote it so I decided to write it anyway and post later.

I'm sitting here in my rocking chair (my secondary assigned blog seat). The house is quiet. The girls are asleep. The windows are open and I'm listening to the rain falling outside. It's glorious.

Today was a good day. It was an odd day too.

This morning Hubby Guy took the Little One to gymnastics. (A welcomed change) I decided to take the Big One to the library. Her soccer game was canceled because of the rain. Anyway... we had a nice time hunting down good stuff to read. I'll write yet another post after this one about reading and books. It will also be posted not-right-away like this one. ( I told you I have a lot to say today)

When we got home from the library we ate some lunch. Hubby Guy and the Little One were home too. We had a couple of hours to chill and relax. No one was grouchy, winy, or needy. Everyone was happy and got along (truly unusual).

Hubby Guy left early afternoon to go to his second job. He has this job for a little extra cash. It also gives him a reason to be out of the house. He works at the Best Western in town. He's the only person I've ever known with a PhD to be willing to work menial jobs. He even delivered pizzas before he married me. I think one reason he does it is just to humor himself.

After Hubby Guy left the girls and I went to Walmart (my favorite place) to pick up a few items.
We ran home very shortly and then ran back out to the home of their bio Aunt on their Mom's side. We had never actually been to her house before. We've seen her plenty though. Anyway... she was babysitting the girls' new half sister. She's 5 weeks old. So the girls finally got to meet her.

I have written before about how weird it feels to hang out with their bio family. I'll put in a link again to my favorite post on this topic. Here If you've read it already, skip it. It's just the clearest place I've written about how we feel about it. The circumstances always make it feel like we're starring in a really weird movie about rednecks. Never in my wildest dreams could I make up plot lines that read like our story has been in dealing with the girls' bio family. Eg. Today we went to Bio Aunt's house so the girls could meet their 5 week old half sister for the first time. Bio Aunt was babysitting. It was a safe time for the girls to see the baby and not have to see Bio Mom. We had to be gone before their Bio Mom and Shack-Up-Hunny/Baby Daddy came to pick up the baby after work because we didn't want Bio Mom to know we were even there. I'm not ready to deal with Bio Mom without official backup. That's as much for her safety as it is mine. I still desire to "tear her a new one". Anyway... We (me and Bio Aunt) chatted about whether or not I thought it was OK to show Bio Mom pictures that she had taken of my Big One/ Bio Mom's oldest and the new baby/Bio Mom's youngest. I had to tell her no because I was unsure of what that would do to Bio Mom's mental state. I mean, after all, she does still have a couple of weeks to reopen her appeal. That's just a small sampling of what it's like. It's all just crazy. It's not something you think of having to go through when you adopt a child.

So... after we escaped Bio Aunt's house without detection we ran home to get swim suits and took off for the hotel. One of the perks of Hubby Guy working there is that we can swim whenever we want. So the girls swam for the first time in a while.

We came straight home after that and the children passed out. Even the Big One went to bed because she wanted to. She read for a little bit and turned her own light out. (Amazing!) Usually even if she is hang dog tired she'll still sit in front of the TV until her appointed "bedtime" just on principle.

It was a crazy long and at times strange day but it was a good one.

Owie!

I'm sore.

I volunteered myself to be a client/guinea pig for a Principles of Exercise Testing & Prescription class at the university.

I had my testing done yesterday. They started with height, weight, measurements (scary), and body fat percentage (really, really scary). Then they did a test to determine how fit my heart is. I had to pedal a stationary bike to a metronome while they continued to up the resistance on the bike. That was insane. After that they tested how strong and flexible I am.

I was excited because I appear fat and slovenly but in actuality I'm very strong and fit. I surprised everyone (even myself) with how much weight I can lift.

I am competitive and rise to the occasion when put on the spot so I did really good.

But.... I am very sore and getting worse by the minute it seems. Tomorrow I might not be able to move.

I'm looking forward to the program. I have a student personal trainer assigned to me. Her job for the rest of the semester is to whip me into shape. At the end of the semester we'll redo all the tests and see how good a job she did. If she could get me svelt for the cruise I'm going on in December that would totally rock! She's really sweet. I could tell she was super nervous. She confessed before I left yesterday that she was so excited that her client is in good shape. She says that some of her friends in the program were assigned clients that are big and fat and have never exercised before. She and I hit it off right away. She's on the track team at the university. We are able to relate to one another as athlete and former athlete. That will be cool. Let me be a warning to her little stick figure self that when the training ends the pounds have a way of seeking you out.

So... I get to meet once a week with Skinny Mini and her mission is to train me. I'm really excited about the program. Every time I see that all call I decide I can't do it because it runs during gymnastic season. I decided this year that I would do it anyway. I don't think my workout time is going to conflict with practice times. If it does, oh well.

Organized

Organized - Pronounced (Organ- iz - id)

This is something I aspire to. It's something I pride myself in.

I'm not sure what it is about fall, but it makes me desire a higher level of organization.

My boss and I keep having the same conversation about her office over and over and over again. She's forever troubled by what a pig sty it is. She really likes organization but doesn't have time to keep it that way. I want to help, but so much of what she does is lost on me. Since I only work part-time I don't want to hide all her stuff. And... she's a little OCD about all her tiny pieces of paper with notes on them. She's sweet and OCD but the shoe still fits.

So yesterday at work.... I decided to go for it. I managed to find homes for 2 giant piles of stuff. I found homes for stuff she hasn't touched in forever. And of course.... she texted me looking for her stuff. I picked THE DAY in months that she needed something from a pile.

I just LOVE to organize stuff. I could totally be one of those crazies with their own show on HGTV about cleaning up houses and ridding the clutter. My friend loves me to come over when she's organizing. Purge is my favorite word. I like helping people part with their stuff. I'm fixing to get rid of lots of my stuff too. I'm kinda excited! Weird, I know :)

Rubber Chicken, Stuffed Pig, Calenduuuhhhhh!

This post comes from a completely random place. I wanted to post SOMETHING and currently am lacking inspiration.

I was sitting here in my assigned seat for blogging. It's assigned by myself, but assigned none-the-less. Sometimes I post from somewhere else and it feels all different.

Anyway.... I was looking around at the items that surround this spot. There's a plastic chicken with cymbals. He reminds me of the rubber chicken that I have somewhere that I keep meaning to find.

There's a cute little pink stuffed pig. A friend gave him to me. I have no idea why she gave me a stuffed pig. That makes him funny to me. Random stuffed pigs are laughable, right?

In front of me is one of those bird pens. His body is the pen body, the top has a beak and crazy pink and yellow feathers. He's also wearing big blue sunglasses. His cap is a big yellow bird foot and it has a sucker attached so he can stand upright. His name is Mr. Personality. If I ever took to seriously writing with a pen and paper I would most certainly use him.

I also have a giant calenduuuhhhhh! I call it that because I hate it. I don't like having to keep a schedule. I think I would really deep down like to live a gypsy kind of life. I'd like to wander. The whole stealing to live part is uncool but the wandering part sounds fantastic. My stupid calendar is my accountability. If I get so many things on it that I can't store them comfortably in my brain then life is just too busy. I know people that live and die by their planners. I tried it and hated it. It made me feel too scheduled. I like the notion that I have open options. When I scheduled every minute I felt imprisoned by it. And... I don't want my children to grow up pigeon holed by a schedule. We had the best weekend because our options were open. Friday early evening I changed into my "uniform" (sweatpants & gigantic T-shirt). The girls and I were fixin' to go take our crayons and coloring books and camp out on the trampoline and color. I decided I'd give my BFF a call. After that call we all loaded up and had a great time hanging out at her house. I didn't even have to change out of my uniform. On saturday the oldest out of the blue said "Hey I know, let's go see a movie." It was a spectacular idea and we saw a great movie.

Now don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with having a planner to keep yourself organized. Not everyone wants to mess up available brain space with schedules. I get that. That's why I keep a calendar at all. I want to make sure I don't forget stuff. I just don't want to be a slave to it. I try very hard NOT to fill it up.

Ok... the calenduuuhhhhh part ended up being a bit of a rant. Sorry. It's a risk I took for being random.

But... naming some of the odd items around me got me thinking about that movie Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. It was a good movie but a sad one. Anyway... I love that kind of imagination. I miss those years of life. Ya know.. those years when I was free to imagine and dream without having to be particularly responsible or adult at all. The times in my life when I get the most restless are when my creativity/imagination is squelched for some reason. I like to think about stuff. I don't want to take myself too seriously.

Update on My Last Post

Ok.... I wimped out... I didn't work out. I was still feeling shaky and chose common sense over the need to feel skinny all day.