let the horse whipping commence...

...'cause i've got nothing...

beggar's night tonight here, so my devilish spawn will be joined by the older, wiser ninja boy on the quest to ensure their dad has as much candy as possible for the winter. poor children. they are, in essence, the squirrels foraging for nuts so my husband can be sustained on sugar for the rough winter ahead.

and ok, yeah, should they come home with a 100 grand bar, i'm likely to steal that. chocolate and caramel, my friends. whisper that in my ear and i'm yours forever. do with me what you will.

we're practicing jokes for tonight. mini-satan wishes to us the following laugh riot:

q: why did frankenstein cross the road slowly?
a: to beat the pumpkin with a hammer.

perhaps i should spend a bit more time with him from day to day, extend more of my loving self. of course, why stifle creativity like that? the kid could be blog gold down the road.

do kids even tell jokes anymore while trick-or-treating? it was protocol when i was a kid. no tired joke, no stale hershey bar, little hobo girl (yeah, my mom wasn't that creative in the costume department). these days, when i answer the door and ask if these wizards, bloody serial killers and 'dressed like they're just going to their physics class' teenagers have some witty bon mot to regale me with, they look at me like i'm a sad, sad old woman (obviously the only ones on the planet who seem to think i'm as old as i am). naturally, they don't even respond (which is like living in my house anyway, so it's not like i'm confused by their blank stares) and just thrust their open bags in front of my face like the greedy little animals they are.

here's your damn butterfinger! now eat it before your dad steals it from you, too!

warned you...i've really got nothing.

i could mention my breasts. that's always good for something. currently, i'm in my pajamas. decorating the top, spread across my rack, is a cute little redheaded smirking girl and the words "i'm good looking. just ask me."

however, you wouldn't need to ask to realize i look stunningly like the only hard thing i got last night was the sleep. i'd give you proof, but sometimes isn't it more fun just to use your imagination...

good.

besides, for those of you in the know, the camera is still a disaster. today came the words "really scary problem" across the screen when i tried to turn it on.

or something like that.

now, since i've charmed you with my family life, my snarky observations of the people around me and the mental image of my boobs, imagine me ending this entry for i wasn't kidding when i said i had nothing. someone really should help me out, toss me a bone. something. give me something to consider.

like a 100 grand bar, even. 'cause you know, i'll do just about anything for chocolate and caramel. the crunchy crispies are just a really pleasant bonus.

and as for that whipping deal...just give me a warning so i'm in a good position for it...

every single one of us the devil inside

in the spirit of halloween (wait! can we say that here? i've yet to hear of a single event held this time of year that involves costumes, candy and sad, tired jokes referred to as 'halloween'), my youngest son will be attending junior worship at church tomorrow dressed as an adorable little devil.

yes, because i would bathe in irony if possible, the beauty of this is not lost on me. if you knew me (or know me as you've perhaps come to in our lovely dealings here), you know i don't exactly walk very evenly down the path of righteousness. i find it fun to stumble a little here and there.

however, my husband is filled with the kind of christian goodness (guilt?) i didn't think was possible to acquire when i picked up this smashingly cute costume on clearance (natch!) at target two seasons ago. it suits the boy's nature.

that's right. when my preschooler isn't acting all devilish the rest of the year (the kid can rock some 'devil horns' with his hands when he becomes all possessed, and yes, i'll proudly admit to teaching him how to do it. sticking out his tongue as far as he can is an ongoing lesson we work on each afternoon), he gets to put on the official 'satan uniform' a few times each october. dapper red suit. adorably pointy tail, shiny black horns. the child rocks that look.

"yeah, um, can't he be the gorilla again?" my husband asks, assuming the hot, heavy, furry gorilla suit i had for him since he was a baby will once again illicit 'ooos and ahs' from our church family. "seriously. must he be the devil? it's church, for heaven's sake!"

to see this child and to ponder that question is to think, 'well....duh!' this charming little boy is sneaky, snarky and straight up evil at times.

in a cute way, mind you. he is a product of my creation.

and so, in reply, i offer a "hell no he can't be an ape! we're totally kicking ass in that devil costume." (yeah, i tossed in my own version of the 'devil horns' and tongue when i said it, too).

my youngest will not be a hobo, clown, super hero or pirate. we're doing this devil thing with gusto. if i'm to burn in hell, as my husband seems to think i'm going to anyway, it's so going to be for things other than my child's halloween costume.

but i bet the polyester goodness of the costume will get those flames burning pretty quick.

'took her bowlin' in the arcade. we went strollin', drank lemonade'

i don't often hear my married friends 'fess up to what i'm about to, so i've got to wonder if i'm alone in this thinking.

i miss dating.

this confession comes to you from a person whose dating experience includes a guy who told me, and i quote (because you don't forget poetry like this), "i just want grab onto them hooters you got!" before he climbed atop a light post at the amusement park we were visiting and pretended to shoot people.

it was our first date. tempted as i was, trust there was no second.

when my married friends and i discuss with our single friends what they perceive to be the hassles of the dating world, i have to say it makes me a bit jealous. sure, dating is nerve wracking. full of pressure. loaded with uncertainties. the opportunity for failure can sometimes far outweigh success.

but i crave a little uncertainty. hell, who am i kidding. i'd like to tear the wrapper off uncertainty and inhale it, roll around a bit in the muck of it.

i rather think marriage is the 'sure thing' in life you're led to believe you want. is it all bad? of course not. but sometimes, maybe, do you wonder if you're so sure about this 'sure thing' after you get it?

or is that just me?

marriage is fine. i'm not knocking it considering i subscribe to the principles of it. there's the security of knowing someone's got your back, who will hopefully stand up for and encourage you no matter what your whims, and will hopefully not bitch too much when you offer up cereal again for supper and "accidentally" delete their recording of 'supernatural' because you need to catch this week's 'grey's anatomy" airing at the same time.

(btw...you've just entered my house after reading the above...wipe your feet, help yourselves to seconds of the froot loops, and please wait for patrick dempsey to finish talking before speaking to me. unless you got something i crave, then prepare to get mucked).

as secure as an enriching marriage can be, it can also make you complacent. i realize that's a broad statement. not everyone feels that way, or if they do, they don't say it to their closest friends and least of all to their spouse. in my bouts of complacency, i miss the wonderment of not knowing what's going to happen next that i felt when i was single and dating. the planning that goes into the creation of what you hope will be a really great date. wondering if what you feel for the other person is potential chemistry or just the aftermath of the burger you shared before going out.

i miss being nervous, and how it feels when you meet someone for the first time. of being so taken by another person that you know without a doubt you're going to be calling them from the car as you drive home from that date, hoping for another opportunity.

the first kiss from a new person is such a barometer of things. i miss that. i miss the need to just touch the other person. push a strand of hair away, brush something off their shoulder. accidently and on purpose ensure that at some point before the night is out, bodies are entwined and you could care less two days have passed.

in a way, i also miss the breakups. the carthartic crying (should it be merited, of course), the playing of mix tapes filled with songs that most certainly had to have been written about your perfect love (i'm still trying to figure out what queensryche's 'silent lucidity' had to do with a past relationship). dissecting it with your friends who will side with you, and then getting up and trying all over again.

we talk about dating, my husband and I. dating each other, that is. all the parenting magazines encourage it. women's publications advocate for it. "keep connected!" "fall in love all over again!" not impossible, probably, but not always easy. we try, of course, but the things i miss about dating aren't ever really there. you don't get the 'first time' feeling ever again, and the anticipation i think i feel when we have some 'grand plan' could really just be chalked up to the giddiness that washes over me when i realize i get a night away from the kids.

we aren't exploring each other any more because we know what causes the other to tick, be elated or push them over the brink. and it's nearly a guarantee i'm going to put out when we do date because, you know, no kids and all. so the mystery there is not that high!

i know it's hard, this dating game. all of my married friends nearly cheer 'thank god i don't have to do that again!' but i ponder it (obviously), even if faced with the idea of a guy so rightly enamored with my hooters and a strange way of showing off his fondness for high powered weaponry.

maybe it is a silly thing to miss, but whatever. i do.

and by the way...i'm free friday night.

...what have i done for you lately?

i'm coming clean right now with all of you and admitting something about myself that causes me a great deal of frustration and kills my time.

deep breath. ok.

i'm just a girl who can't say no.

i have a feeling all my girls out there are nodding, cheering 'yes!' to the 'no' problem because they know of what i speak. and part of me hopes the boys who so loyally stop by or hide out in the bushes and peek in through my windows are sitting back in their chairs, clasping their hands behind their head, smirking and saying 'alright!'

sorry, boys. hard to believe, but sometimes i do have the ability to say no.

well, only to the jehoviah's witnesses and magazine pimps who come to my door on a regular basis, but that usually just involves me holing up like a hostage in my house until they leave, so i'm not so much exerting my freewill as i am just being a coward.

in my unintentional quest to be the nicest damn girl you've ever encountered, i've been consumed lately with appointments, tasks and time killers that ensures me a gold medal win in people pleasing (again, this is where i picture the boys now rubbing their hands together...). i feel that i alone have the ability to make you happy, ensure your comfort, bestow you with fine gifts and perhaps meet your sales quota for the quarter. just this week, i've:

• attended a super fun mary kay facial party! why can't i go to one of these every week!? i adore getting pressured into spending insane amounts of cash on potions and creams i can get at target at a price (clearance, baby!) that won't make me feel guilty. no offense to anyone in the mary kay mob, but seriously, these are the women i've come to respect for they do know the power of 'no' and how to plow right through it until you're crying 'yes' in such an ecstatic state you need to change your panties. you will not escape attending a party. if you're like me, you also won't escape buying something, and the cheapest thing is pretty much the cost of groceries at my house for two weeks.
• gotten myself sucked into creating a yearly child care schedule for church. this will also inevitably involve me having to do some of said care even though i kept saying no, no, really no, i don't want to do this (obviously that worked out well for me...). my anxiety at getting roped into this has caused me to not call people and therefore suffer the wrath of those demanding it. ah, a church of love...
• been guilted into going to work on days i wasn't scheduled, only to stand around being bored, which i can do at home pretty well. the only upside, well, is money.
• attended the second of three baby showers for a relative, and bought a damn gift each time.

perhaps these seem pretty tame, but as women, we're made to feel inferior or rude if we don't say yes to everything asked of us. you can only fake a busy schedule, blame your spouse or kids for eating your time or simply hide out and not answer the telephone for so long, my friends. women are bitches if we don't say yes to things, but we respect and are in awe of those among us who can say 'no.' it makes my stomach knot and i bitch to everyone (like all of you, suckers!) about how i don't want to do what i've put myself out there for except the person to whom i really want to say no to. this would explain the countless times i've agreed to dog sit, attend yet another pampered chef, candle or jewelry party and agreed to make dinner for someone 'just because.'

come to think of it, it may also explain how i ended up married.

hmmm...there's something to ponder for another post.

at any rate, it's obvious i'm a sucker (again, you boys are so hot for me now, aren't you? good, good boys). you can ask me anything because really...no, really...i just want you to be happy.

but god, please, no more mary kay parties for awhile, ok? i'm weak.

there is, however, a homophone for 'pound'

my son - a stunning and sweetly innocent nine-year-old - has been studying homophones this week in fourth grade. we all know what homophones are, right? words that sound alike and may be spelled alike but have different meanings (sorry for the lesson, but i had to educate my husband, so please play along for the sake of the following).

on monday, he brought home his spelling words. a delightful list of words like 'steel' and 'steal' and the confusing for my son series of 'vain,' ''vein' (ah...'vein'...sigh...), and 'vane'.

in order to help him discern the difference in these 25 words on his list, i've been giving him sentences using the words in their proper context. every afternoon around 4 p.m. central time, you can imagine me in my kitchen (no...not gyrating. that comes after, when the kids leave me alone and worship at the alter of 'drake and josh' on nickelodeon) doing the following:

"they built the skyscraper out of steel."
"the robbers plotted to steal millions of dollars."
"sharpen the lead of your pencil."
"he led me out the door by the hand."

before i continue, let me just say that i spent a bit of time having to explain the difference between 'lead' and 'led' to my husband. then there was the perplexing 'ring' and 'wring'. it's been a taxing week for me.

so yesterday, this boy so innocent that i swear little bluebirds circle his head and string gossamer ribbons of gold through his hair and tiny fairies of goodness float around him, humming songs only other fairies can hear over the boyish laughter illicited by belches and passed gas, is taking his practice test with me when i offer up this sentence:

"we plan to catch frogs in the creek this weekend."

before you beg me to educate the masses, i must say that this is about as good as i get in terms of my teaching skills.

next word? 'creak'.

"the bed creaks when I get in it."

my angel writes the word (correctly! such a good boy! he gets that from me.) and then sets his pencil down.

"what are you doing?" i ask. "we have 15 more words."

"you know, you're right, your bed does creak," this precious gift from the angels says to me. "sometimes it creaks so much at night it wakes me up."

by this point i know i'm wearing the blank, 'good god, no!' expression of stunned denial on my face that i no doubt inherited from my mother. my mind is reeling at what he's truly saying to me, and i'm trying to conjure up spirits that will perhaps open up the universe and send me flailing backwards out of the kitchen.

i hear him making talking noices while in my mind, i'm running down a list of just what he may have heard during this alleged symphony of creaking springs. it went a little something like this:

• well, there was that one time last month...but no, you were at your grandma's.
• no, couldn't have been that time. there was a 'suite life of zach and cody' marathon on disney and we assumed you and your brother were entertained.
• you actually seem to become obi won when we let you play lego star wars on the PS2, so no...
• ok, maybe...no...no wait, i was alone that night...

ok, so maybe i'm not as silent as my little blog profile alludes, but trust me, i'm the only one who isn't and you can't help but be creeped out a bit when your nine-year-old son is potentially calling you out on it.

i came out of my checklist to ask, 'so, sweets....um...is there anything else you hear that keeps you awake at night?"

"yeah, sometimes, with the creaking, i hear banging noises. like 'bang' 'bang.' what's that all about?" he says.

"heh..." again, blank denial face, now scanning list of homophones to ensure there's not one for 'bang'.

relief.

"you know, mommy's a pretty hard sleeper, so i'll just have to keep my ear open for that," i say. 'how about we finish these spelling words and take a crack at that social studies homework."

"ok, but sometimes you can be kinda bossy, too," my cherub replies.

and all i can think is, "i so hope you're talking about the homework now..."

stripping in the suburbs

as i've mentioned before, i'm not a huge fan of working out. i dread it. i'll never be 'ms. perfect ass' in the front row doing the perfect squat (why? you ask. well, for starters, there's no rows when you workout at home. second, i prefer referring to myself as 'the chick with the kickass ass' - that's a step above perfect and meets my need to say 'kickass' at least once in my posts).

however, despite my disdain, i work out most days. so that explains why i was mutated on my couch saturday afternoon, flipping television channels and folding socks and underwear (admit it. you so freakin' wish you were me right now. if you folded my underwear, i'd let you be me. and if you then put them away in the right place, there's no telling what i'd allow). as i'm browsing all the quality programming saturday afternoon has to offer, i stumbled upon cnn (which, i have to admit, doesn't happen much). i perked up at the site of women sashaying around poles in stacked heels and tiny t-shirts, and realized the reporter was doing a package how stripper workouts are growing in popularity.

here's where i tell you that i regularly do kickboxing workouts, but when i've had it up to my chin with uppercuts, i pull out the cache of stipper workouts i have. sometimes you have to learn how to do the perfect squat while slinking around a chair, people. i love them!

according to the report, i'm not alone in my fondness for striptease. women across america are learning the fine art of pelvic thrusts and the sensual kneel. some are even taking their new found power and using it to open up work out arenas for others to pull out the feather boas and bump and grind with the empowerment that can only be found, it would seem, by learning how to doff your clothes (you rethinking that whole 'come to my house and do my laundry' thing now?).

pole dancing is great exercise, the reporter says, and is gaining in popularity among women in their late 30s to early 40s, especially moms seeking a way to regain their sexual self and enhance their confidence. i'm hearing this and am all 'amen!' as i sprawl out more on my couch.

that's when they decide to toss in the requisite sociological study to put a damper on things. a university of florida professor who has studied stripper culture for more than a decade fears, in essense, that the growing acceptance of stripping and exotic dancing in mainstream media(pussycat dolls, anyone?) that has led to gyms offering burlesque workouts and a growing dvd market makes stripping seem perfectly normal and not 'seedy.'

through her studies, this female (as if that matters) professor has found that strippers lose their sense of self and sexuality, and fears that those of us in our late 30s and early 40s who are pulling our kids off of us in order to yank our tshirts off every once in awhile could suffer the same fate.

wtf?

last time i checked, i wasn't slithering over to the sniffer section in my living room to retrieve a damp dollar bill from the meaty paws of some guy. hell, more often then not (not) there's no guy in my living room while i'm doing these workouts (yeah, I may be compelled to stop shimmying for a second when you pass through the room en route to putting my folded underwear away, but only because the sight of that would take my breath away). i have no compulsion to change my name to Dominique Double Ds and go put my resume in at the 'lumber yard' (marketing tagline? "where real men go to get wood!").

there's a fine line between cat crawling across my living room floor and doing it in some dark club. yeah, i want a pole in my house. i totally support the whole 'boosts your confidence' arguement that can be made. it's sexy.

so as much as we need to pay the bills around here (hope you don't expect to be paid when you come to personally care for my laundry) and of course, i so have the boobs for it (sigh...), i'll be strip teasing in the suburbs for free, a firm grasp on my sense of self.

and my ankles as i bend down toward them and give that cute little look back.

...and for your listening pleasure

Rolling Stones - Gimme Shelter


umm...picture me dancing all you want, but please don't picture it with these moves...

proceed...

'deeper than deep...'

sure, there's greater things in life to ponder. however, this is what fills my little brain tonight...

• how insanely sexy sounding are those first few bars of the stone's 'gimme shelter'? damn sexy, that's what i think. damn.
• why is it i think that and can honestly say i'm not a stone's fan? easy. no sexy music man. give me grief all you want, but that ain't sexy.
• thank god the 70s also meant the demise of lyrics to porn movie soundtracks. watch 'deep throat' and tell me you don't agree. what? you think i've never seen porn? posh...
• why the hell do sex shops (or, as we call them in the suburbs, "lingerie stores" so the neighbors don't get any more upset then they already are) jack up the price of stuff you can get online at deep discounts? and can't you just round up the price? does it really have to cost $86.57?
• was what i bought really worth $60 and some change? jury's still out on that one.
• and why doesn't the help at said shops leave you the hell alone when you're browsing for your own birthday gift? sigh.
• those commercials for secret deodorant where the women share their most intimate secrets with their friends? god. I hate those. just pimp me your damn deodorant, don't let me see the disappointment on your mother's face when you tell her you've been living with your boyfriend behind her back. apparently mom gets sweaty in her puritanical haze.
• what line do i have to stand in to get me one of those long-lasting, perhaps high-paying gigs as a syndicated cartoonist churning out work in the vein of the remarkably boring, never humorous 'family circus,' 'marmaduke' and 'blondie'?
• i've really had about all i can stand of animated movies filled with talking animals, animals that can play sports and animals that can solve perplexing crimes. sigh.
• why can't i sleep? oh, yeah, that's probably why.
• do my neighbors really think i don't realize their dog is actually using my yard as it's personal dumping ground? we've been through this before, lovely neighbors, and now i dislike you more.
• people seem to think i have such a bad attitude. i can't imagine why. obviously these random thoughts are so pleasant and charming.
• you're all probably gonna like me so much more after all this, right?
• wow. the lyrics to 'gimme shelter'? not so sexy.

weekend posts, my beauties. can you believe it?

not only that, but they're short ones. that's gotta be harder to fathom!

one of the reasons i'll eventually go deaf...

INXS - Not Enough Time


...or maybe blind, cause you know what they say...

and yeah, the lyrics kinda speak to me in that stupid way.

but seriously...blind...

damn you, sexy music man. damn you and all of them like you...

oh. and the way the girl dances in the video? that's like me in my kitchen.

yep.

but watch out, cause i may bump into you.

the one where i'm not all snarky and cute...

on my refrigerator, tucked under a photo of my sons and an irrelavant chinese fortune cookie prediction, is a post-it note with the scribbled writing from my husband's hand across it.

"share thoughts and feeling about things. be open and intimate with her."

he got out of bed late one night, right in the middle of my attempts to actually get him to be open and intimate with me - to actually share his thoughts and feelings - to write it. i didn't see it until the next morning. breaking the pact he was apparently making with himself by writing this note, he wouldn't tell me what he'd done by leaving the room and our attempted conversation to pad down to the kitchen, dig around in a drawer for pen and paper.

when i did see this post-it the next morning, amidst the chaos of getting kids ready for school, after he'd already left for the day, i broke down in tears. pouring cereal, double-checking backpacks, silently distracting myself as the boys gave me the quiet look of wonder that to me says 'what's that crazy lady crying about now?'

i asked him about it later. why write it? i wondered. why not just do it?

it's something i need to do, he answered.

end of coversation.

my heart broke a little bit. as humans, as spouses or people who love one another, don't we just simply have this in our nature? we want to feel, to connect to emotionally join with another person, right? don't tell me it's an instinctual man/woman difference. i tire of - and frankly, hate - that arguement. in my relationships, be it with a friend or someone i've bared my life to emotionally or physically, past and present, i've never required a 'to do' reminder.

this note is dated april 2, 2006.

today is october 12.

plenty of time to put into practice, eh?

you'd think.

it hasn't been the reminder he intended it to be.

it remains on the refrigerator. i hate it there, to be honest. i have cried about it. laughed about it. been snarky about it. demanded it's removal. attached it front and center for all who enter our home to see.

i refuse to be the one who removes it permanently. petty, perhaps.

whatever.

i see it every day. hell...i do it every day! i'm waiting. it waits with me.

is he awful to be around? no.
is my life a living hell? absolutely not.
am i satisified with the place i've made for myself? i suppose so.
could i have had it a lot worse? damn sure of it.

and does he try? i suppose, to be honest and to give him the chance to defend himself without knowing he needs it, yes. he tries as well as i assume he can. but really, things are the same as they were the night he got up and wrote this note.

so really, i guess, what i'm saying is don't taunt me with something like that and then forget it.

it's our 12th anniversary sunday. by most standards, we're old pros at this marriage dance. i've been known to shake my head sadly when learning of marriages that decompose in little more than a year - or less. by all accounts, things have happened in our marriage that should have made us one of the statistics used to mark failure. the last two years have not been the model i'd want to market. i've not been the best wife i probably could have been.

could be.

i don't write this to simply lay blame at his feet for whatever nasty notion i get it my head or heart. hopefully you won't read it as such; however, i can't control if that's how you read it. we're all different people. putting two different people together in a marriage, who probably don't know what the hell they're doing in the first place (raising my hand here in acknowledgement), is not a game you play expecting one or the other to win. you're both supposed to.

sometimes, though, i think you have to review the rules.

maybe that's all i'm doing.

i'll tell you what you want to know...

have you missed me? i figure i left you all with such a detailed list you no doubt had to be imagining me grinding around in my kitchen to lame teen group songs (confession? so just did so to nkotb. prizes to the first person who can tell me what group that is!). alas, i'm back to satisfy you, my beautiful minions.

so you might have heard this rumor that i'm a bit of a wanton woman. i thought i'd take this opportunity to address that.

of course i am.

cripes...what a relief to get that off my sexy back.

i know, you're all wondering how some girl from the nation's puritanical heartland could possibly be so decadent. we're not all corn and cows, my friends. i have my little bouts of unrestrained, delicious madness. moments where i do things people don't talk about over coffee, even with their best friends (ha...especially my best friend! however, if there is such a group, i so gotta find them and do the 'mommy dating dance').

in spite of these bouts of wantonness, trust i'm not calling domino's after dropping the youngest at preschool each afternoon and filming cliched porn in my living room when the delivery guy rings my bell.

now that i've confirmed the rumors of my behavior, it's time to give credit to a contributing factor to it. the one who pushed for what turned out to be '...for a different kind of girl' (though i so wish i'd thought of 'orally fixated, minivan driving woman with big boobs').

see, i make these every day (yeah...'every day' being code for 'more than three but hopefully less than 10') sidetrips to www.nakedfella.blogspot.com. started simply enough, like these things do. i'd be quite appreciative in my own way of the art and words he created there (and in a manner which i'm veiling quite a bit here), but i stayed silent when visiting.

until he called me out. being wanton, of course, i immediately responded. if you've not noticed already, i have a love affair of words, and emails and conversations often included a sampling of the following from him:

"you should really start writing."
"have you joined the blogging world yet?"
"you really need to be writing."
"you better have a blog started by this afternoon."

yeah, i noticed the theme, but i put it off, because, really, what was i going to write about? (couldn't even use that as a good arguement with him because i'd get 'whatever you want to. it's about you. it's your blog.' to quell my case). so i took his request and started. and i have to say, i like writing again, even if it amounts to just a list of my quirky habits and oddball nature (totally forgot to add on that list below that i wear sexy little glasses when i read and write and i use endearments when talking to people. not because i can't recall their name, but because it's a habit, dear). hopefully he thinks i've given him a break from my rambling nature.

if you're inclined to such a thing, (the title of his blog is truth in advertising in the purest sense, so you know what you're getting before making that decision) i highly recommend a visit to his site. if you're not, that's perfectly acceptable to me, and i'd imagine him, too.

still trying to figure out what writing will involve again, but it's been fun. getting your responses has been nice, also, and i enjoy reading all of you. maybe, in a sense, you're all responsible for my self-indulgence. glorious!

and as for what i really do in my free afternoons? well, i'm much too busy with the ups driver for such nonsense with the domino's delivery guy.

kidding...that's how rumors get started, afterall.

that is just so typically me...

i never thought when i started doing this - at the urging of someone who will get his credit - that anyone would read me, so to know there are those of you who check in on me is nice. that you've had such nice things to say back is a bonus.

i realized, however, as i browsed through my own efforts, i've mostly given you insight into people around me and my reactions to them, and not much about myself. below, what i've been working on in bits and pieces, is my attempt to rectify that.

1. in nearly a month, i'll celebrate a birthday
2. i was born in hawaii
3. people seem to think i'm a bit younger than i'll actually be
4. my favorite color is purple
5. i've only been in a handful of states - the one i reside in, missouri, nebraska, kansas, illinois, wisconsin, florida, nevada and california (based on the circumference of my travels, can you guess where i live? no giving it up from those in the know)
6. i live two minutes from where i grew up
7. that thought doesn't necessarily make me happy
8. opportunities to put distance between my house and my childhood home haven't really been explored
9. i'm a kickass cook
10. still trying to figure out what my passion in life is, but i have this silly idea i'd like to be a personal chef
11. i've got a serious case of baby envy coursing through me lately
12. i'm the only one in my house who has this affliction
13. if you kiss me along the curve of my neck, i'll get goosebumps and grab onto you
14. if you follow that kiss with a trailing tongue up to my ear, be prepared to have me follow you around like a little dog, nipping at your feet until you did it again
15. i'd leave my husband in a second if bono would step out of all his work for humanity and declare his unwaivering, all-consuming need for me
16. i sing loudly and badly while driving to the song alluded to in the title of this post
17. i dance erotically in my kitchen when i'm home alone and the ipod is blasting
18. when i dance in the kitchen over pb & j's with the youngest son, he doesn't seem too impressed, and has gone so far as to say 'no, mama, please...make dancing stop...'
19. so i just dance more...
20. i have more than five day's worth of music on my ipod, yet i keep getting the same four damn songs over and over again. enough with your private dancer, tattered mad max clothes, pat benatar. i don't need to hear 'love is a battlefield' again today
21. the most embarrassing selection on the ipod? probably "i'm too sexy"
22. of course, it's true...i am
23. i think 'the wiggles' were created as a curse to parents
24. but i'd probably totally do anthony. fruit salad, baby...yummy, yummy...
25. i would've done steve from 'blue's clues,' too. in a heartbeat, baby. over the back of the thinking chair
26. based on those two admissions, i've obviously got a soft spot (or something like that) for quirky guys
27. when i was a kid, i wanted to be a psychologist. or a waitress. ah, dreams...
28. obviously, i've never been either. i've got enough issues of my own
29. i was so going to marry one of the members of Duran Duran as a teen
30. alas, my last name is neither Le Bon nor Taylor
31. ok, that most embarrassing ipod song should probably be "mmm bop"
32. i'm a smidge concerned you'll think me sad and pathetic after reading #31
33. but more so if you read all these and think that
34. i did not lose my virginity. i totally went to his dorm that night intent on discarding it
35. though afterwards, when he dropped the condom out his dorm window and turned up the volume on 'friday night videos,' i probably should've went looking to reclaim it
36. shockingly, we later fell in love, reunited after two years apart, and planned to marry
37. i'm still in contact today with this man
38. but he's not my husband
39. i considered leaving last year to be with him again, more than 10 years after we left each other
40. even though i didn't, it doesn't mean i still don't ponder leaving from time to time
41. when i was a teenager, i was a master shoplifter
42. i fear my sons coming home in a handful of years and telling me their 13-year-old girlfriends are pregnant
43. unlike my parents, who never gave me 'the talk,' i sneak it into conversation with my boys from time to time in hopes of quashing the above fear
44. i love bellydancing because of what it's done for my walk - i love my hips
45. i've got striptease dvds i do, also, and so want to install a pole in my house
46. in fifth grade, i performed an interpretive dance duet with a friend to abba's 'fernando'. shockingly, we didn't win. hell...we didn't even advance.
47. yeah, who doesn't love 'grease'? but can you say the same for 'grease 2'? i'll watch it when i find it's on television, and i feel a little dirty because of it ("i wanna c-o-o-l...r-i-d-e-r..."). thank you, VH1 classic, for giving me something to do last saturday
48. it took four attempts to secure my driver's license, and to this day, i've never reversed into a parking spot - the downfall of each of my driver's tests
49. i subscribe to the 'fake it 'til they figure you out' school of life
50. i don't fake everything, though
51. i'm so infatuated with the idea of getting a nose piercing that i ask everyone i see with a little gem chip in their nostral what it's like to have it
52. i've got no tattoos, no desire for any, nor any creativity to come up with an original piece of art to put on my body
53. i've never had stitches or broken bones, though i should've probably gotten stitches last month when i nearly cut the tip of my thumb off while slicing a loaf of bread
54. i hate getting dressed because it means wearing a bra and i hate bras
55. yeah, i know, if i were you, i'd so want to see my boobs right now, too
56. i leave the bookstore some nights, and as soon as i get in the mini (cause I'm a cliched suburban mom, natch) off comes the bra, on goes a little prince (after searching thru 1,700+ songs) on the ipod and 10 minutes later, i'm home. breathless from seat dancing and top of the lung singing and boob bouncing
57. seriously...i get it...you want to see them
58. apparently so do the people who come to this site and then leave immediately when my boobs don't pop up. but wait...that's not about me...
59. don't you wish you were among the lucky few who has? someone out there has, but that's another post.
60. they're DDs - though, no, they aren't 60 DDs...and i love them
61. i had a lover who relished calling me thru the night just for phone sex. when we were together, he'd tie me up, blindfold me and have his way. i last spoke to him the week i married
62. my parents separated for the kazillionth time when i was in college and literally didn't tell me for months. 'yeah, mom...um...so why hasn't dad been around this weekend?' 'oh, dear, we didn't want to stress you out with finals approaching...'
63. they finally divorced when i was nearly 30
64. as happy as i was it finally happened, i cried like everyone around me had just died
65. i find it hard to subscribe to the 'let's stay together for the kids' theory of marriage
66. my husband, whose parents live out what i suspect a 50s sitcom family to be like (peck on the cheek, seperate twin beds, mindnumbingly boring conversation) buys into it like you wouldn't believe
67. because i had a great family model, i agreed to marry my husband 12 weeks (i just say it that way because i think it sounds more dramatic than 'three months') after we first met
68. when the sanctuary doors opened on our wedding day, i started crying for reasons other than the fact that i was about to marry into a dream
69. when i told him last year in counseling that i would leave him, leave everyone, he didn't say a thing for two weeks. it wasn't until i asked him why it didn't seem to bother him that he said, 'everybody thinks of running away. it's no big deal.'
70. it was a big deal to me. it still is. i've tried, but haven't been able yet to get him to understand
71. i suppose we're ok, though, in the broad sense of the word 'ok'
72. it's nearly our 12th anniversary
73. my life doesn't suck all that bad
74. and speaking of sucking, i learned the fine art of going down on a man while huddled down in the cab of an old ford truck parked in a cornfield. to say i was hooked would be an understatement
75. to say i was good at it would be completely true
76. to answer the question you're dying to ask, i swallowed the first time. and 10 minutes later when i did it again
77. at that point, i'd never seen porn, so i'm a bit amazed i knew what i was doing. to my male readers, please don't blow it for me by telling me it wouldn't take much knowledge, 'k?
78. almost daily i question my ability to be a good mother
79. i jump to such interesting transitions
80. when i was a teenager, we rated the cute boys we crushed on and tallied their vital stats on 3x5 cards i kept tucked inside my diary. i still have them. tommy, the first boy to see my boobs, so got 5 out of 5 stars from me
81. i'm not particulary a fan of the word 'boobs'
82. when i have sex, i don't require a play-by-play, but give me a little verbal incentive, please? girls like the auditory pleasures. ok, and a bit of credit, the visual doesn't suck, either
83. my husband so doesn't get that
84. but he's gotten something from me that he's wanted for a very long time
85. i've twisted my hair since the very first tuft of it sprouted on my head
86. i sometimes live for saturdays, when my husband takes our sons and is gone for an entire day
87. i've been in treatment for an eating disorder and still struggle with issues related to it
88. i'm concerned about the idea of finding a job i like again, working fulltime, but mostly over what i want to do
89. i fear, sometimes, i'm a bit boring
90. i work out daily, and have for some time, but i still hate it with a red hot burning passion
91. a friend says i use sarcasm to mask real emotion and wanting to share. she's probably right
92. i grew up enveloped in smoke, but have never smoked anything.
93. now drinking? yeah, the first rum rollover to pass my lips pretty much did me in for awhile. this was a hobby i mastered
94. cripes...i just realized i no longer have any hobbies
95. the last book i read was 'nasty bits' by anthony bourdain. i would totally do anthony bourdain. sexy, sarcastic and a foodie...totally all my issues...
96. i sometimes think my sons dig their dad more and would totally not even know if i was gone
97. we've got money issues, but i keep buying stuff i don't necessarily need. last purchase? 'U2 by U2' at the bookstore. yeah, i get a discount, baby
98. i'm a bit pent up at the moment. take that however you want
99. my pet name for it? i call it "cap'n happy"...as in "what can i do for you today, cap'n happy"
100. that's so not true, but what i call it does start with the letter 'c'

then I urged her to take good notes in gross anatomy...

as we ascertained in my last post, i'm fortunate to have an assortment of friends, all of whom bring wonderfully different things to my life. it's their quirkiness i admire almost as much as i love the fact that when i need to laugh, one of them is good for a go.

one of my best friends recently had me in giggles (and in the spirit of confession, i'm not a big giggler) as, in an instant, she transported me back to the girl i must have been in fifth grade.

see, this friend of mine (and again, because i have an apparent love affair for parentheses, let me add that when i say "friend" it's not really code for "me." prefacing that will become obvious in a moment) is embarking on the admirable path of becoming a nurse. married. camped out at the tender age of 30. mother of three all under the age of five. lots on her plate now, but she wants to do more. "do it!" i cheered, living vicariously through her as she pursues a passion and i'm still trying to figure mine out.

unfortunately, she's in a bit of a quandry now as she begins a three-month rotation working in a nursing home. we were on the phone during some afternoon power hour call when she confessed her apparent shame - in all seriousness - and provoked my giggles.

"um...so...well...," she stumbled along. "i'm not really so sure what i'm going to do when i have to do a work-up on a male patient."

"what do you mean? don't you just take their vitals, ask how they are, present some type of an assessment?" i asked, sounding as medically astute as a person who watches 'grey's anatomy' can.

"yeah. ok. but what if i have to see his wiener?" she blurted.

seriously? seriously. (props to the 'grey's anatomy' thing again....oh, and i suppose to parentheses, too).

giggling like i no doubt did in fifth grade the first (and I'm guessing, the last) time i heard a penis referred to as such, i asked, "is that what all the hot doctors are calling it now? when you review a chart, will you note 'patient's wiener exhibits lifelike tendencies?"

"maybe!" she nearly squealed at me. "my lab partner tells me that it can...you know...if you have to put a catheter in."

desperate for her - this girl who is going into a medical field and can't even say the word 'penis' - to tell me exactly what she meant by 'you know,' i naturally encouraged her embarrassment. we're friends, afterall.

would now be the best time to toss in the fact that my friend is also married to a pastor? personally, i think it adds to her charm in this case.

she went on in her angst to tell me that she's never seen any other than her husband's.

"seriously?" i asked. "seriously." she said.

"well, except for when i went online to consider the pros and cons of circumcision when the baby (her only son...proud owner of only the second penis my friend has seen) was born."

"when you logged onto google, did you actually type 'wiener' in as the search topic?" i wondered.

"well, of course not, but do you know what all comes up when you type in a word like 'penis'?" she replied.

oh, if she only knew what i know.

"i quite imagine you got a good eyeful," i consoled, the giggly schoolgirl side of me exposing herself once more.

pages and pages of interesting things, she told me as i nodded my head in a knowing way from my end of the telephone line. technically, she doesn't count these among the penises she's seen because of their two dimensional qualities. in retrospect, that makes me giggle a bit, too.

and interestingly enough, despite my giggles, she never did ask what i refer to the appendage as. lucky for me, i suppose, since my passion certainly doesn't lie in nursing, i'll not have to share that with her.

she is the wife of a pastor, afterall.