Sushi

My mother used to bring home copious amounts of Chinese food when we lived in L.A. (Lower Arkansas). Rare trips to Texarkana meant a visit to a very special chinese restaurant where we ordered double of everything and breathed in the amazing smell of their egg drop soup. The best shrimp fried rice, and sweet and sour broccoli, lovely peanut chicken. We crunched on icy Diet Cokes while we waited for our huge order. They gave us little plates of eggrolls and rangoon.

Now I am the one carting home a ton of foreign food. Enough so we have leftovers for days. But... I bring home sushi.

Sugarbaby & Charlie (Not Sheen...The Other Charlie)

Do you have a Ree obsession?

It's okay to admit it. Lots and lots and gosh damn I mean LOTS of us do. Thankfully, my Ree obsession has waned over the past year. Something to do with a book deal, movie rights, television show and yada yada yada kind of turned me off. Don't get me wrong....before you start hurling tomatoes at your screen please understand that I still love me some PW. I'm just not as deep into all the mania as I once was.

Example- when we stood in line for three hours and took pictures of Marlboro Man's booty. Sorry but the pics were on my phone and never made it too the blog.

Or how about entering every single one of her giveaways for years! Or the time she actually replied to one of my tweets. That totally made my day.

Anyways, the whole point of this post (which I swear I am getting too) is that Sugarbaby got Ree's children's book, Charlie The Ranch Dog for Christmas and she absofreakinlutely loves it. Over the moon this child is. Its the only book we are allowed to read at bedtime. And lucky you....Sugarbaby wants to tell you all about it.

P.S. If you happen to be The Pioneer Woman or close personal friends with her, Sugarbaby would love for you to tell her that she loves Charlie and wants him. I told her that wasn't happening as Charlie was a celebrity dog, and probably has his own bodyguard just because of little girls like her.

What To Do When Your 8 Year Old Receives A Lethal Weapon On His Birthday

1. You smack the gift giver (ahem Supergrandma)

2. You keep the dog and the baby out of the way during target practice.

3. You lecture on the safety and care of a compound bow.

4. You wish him a very very happy birthday because ZOMG how freakin big is he?!?!?!

They Inspire Me

(This is where I come from.)

I am often overwhelmed by SUMS large extended family. He has aunts and uncles and cousins and second-cousins and third-cousins twice removed coming out his ass. Crude expression, but true. We can't go anywhere in the county without bumping into a relative or meeting someone and then low and behold they turn out to be a relative. This is at times confusing but at the same time wonderful. To share a lineage and be so spread out. You know one thing for sure that if you're a part of his clan, you'll never have an empty table at Thanksgiving.

Then you have my family. These two women above. My mother and grandmother. All I have in the world, except for this husband and these children we created. I wrote a post last year on Mother's Day especially for these incredible mothers of mine. It's one of my favorites and worth a read in my humble opinion.

Lately I've been thinking about inspiration. What inspires me? What causes me to act like I do, think the way I think? What inspires my taste in clothing, house decor, wine, beer, & paint colors? And the more I think about it the more the answer is right in front of me, or more or less behind me. I'm just standing somewhat luckily in a line of great taste and colorful personalities. I act like my grandmother, sarcastically joking and doling out discipline to get through the day. I think like both of them. The seriousness of my mother and the acceptance of my grandmother. My taste is so ingrained and so similar to my mother that we picked the same paint color for the boys room at separate times, independent of each other. I find nothing wrong with any of this. I look at these two and feel like I hit the genetic jackpot. I'm proud of them, even if that sounds a little backwards.

The other evening I was sitting on the back porch with J, sharing a bottle of wine and catching up. I had been talking about my running and then moved into being somewhat of a recluse (because I kind of am). She remarked that I was just like my mother. I grinned. I couldn't help it. That, to me, is the best compliment of all.

Excuses Excuses

Okay folks. Let's be honest here. SugarBritches is just not rolling along so smoothly. Believe you me I've noticed the insane amount of fluff posted here. I promise I used to actually post substantial things. Stories and recipes and rants, er I mean opinions. Lately I've realized that all I give you lovely people is a random picture here and there, or a lame excuse as to why I'm not blogging. Or even a nicely bullet pointed update to my life. And while I realize you come here to read about my life (in a sense), you also don't give a flying rat's you know what about the mundane details from the past few weeks.

When I actually think about a blog post it almost always has something to do with running or eating. This is not a diet blog, a health blog, or a running blog. So maybe I should start one of those to get all this out of my brain and make room for things actually pertaining to SugarBritches. Would any of you read that? Probably not because if you're into running/health blogs you're probably off reading Tall Mom or Prior Fat Girl. I just love those two by the way.

Anyways, I do have a legitimate excuse for slacking on this blog and not starting another blog for my exercise brain dump. After the laptop breathed its last, the desktop caught a nasty bug. SUMS has installed some crazy non-Windows operating system and while I have access to all my old photos and can surf the Internetz to my hearts content, I can't get any new photos off my camera. I also don't have access to my Photoshop to manipulate said photos. That makes me sad. I think I might have even done the ugly cry a time or two. So all those lovely pics from my roadtrip with Supergrandma, well I can't make those into a even more lovely blog post. And it's a shame too because I captured a honest to gah genuine smile on the woman and that is damn near impossible. And those photos I took at the pottery gallery where we all procured $30 dollar (so you know they are bitchin) coffee mugs made by the sweetest Japanese artist? Can't get those either, although I do plan on linking to her shop because she is crazy talented. Oh and our new puppy? Won't be seeing her precious mug on here anytime soon.

I need a sugar daddy or a computer fairy or access to a small fortune. A reader and childhood friend in Florida recently emailed me that she was about to break down and send me a damn laptop just so I would blog again. "Love ya Sam!" I should just quit whining and make due.

In the meantime...I'll be running and savoring these last two weeks of school before summer unleashes the boys upon me 24/7. Pray for me.

Birthday Pictures

We always start the Birthday Child's day off with a traditional

pancake breakfast, complete with candles. For Sugarbaby, this was

her dress rehearsal for blowing out the candles on her real cake.

Monkeying around with balloons from her Supergrandma.

Every girl needs a classy pair of shades.

Cakepops.

How have two years gone by so fast?

Monday

Sugarbaby's birthday celebration was sweet, simple, and just perfect for her. I'll make sure and get a few pictures up tomorrow.

Posting will still be light this week. I'm headed out of town Thursday and hopefully my adventures will yield some blog material. It's inevitable when Sugarbaby and I go on a roadtrip with Supergrandma all the way to GG's, things are bound to happen. Murphy's Law and all that.

I know a while back I mentioned a vlog with the answers to reader questions. I promise promise promise that this is coming next week. In the mean time feel free to submit more questions so I can actually make the vlog worth your time.

Also, note the snazzy new blog header. Thanks to my dearest Bloggy BFF, Michelle. Her tag line idea was brilliant and was inspired by the fact that I am on a constant diet and in order to track how many ounces (and calories) of wine I consume, I tend to drink my vino out of mason jars. She thinks that's funny.

Welcome new readers and thanks to old readers for sticking around.

Catching Up

I keep finding it necessary to remind myself that I didn't get down to 140lbs by eating brats, ice cream, pizza, and drinking beer. I'm mostly good but when I cheat, I cheat all the way. But only for a day which I suppose is a blessing instead of turning a cheat day into a weekend or a week or a month. But...I must quit this because I have a few actual legitimate excuses to cheat in the next three weeks and I just have have have to behave myself before then.

One is of course Sugarbaby's second birthday. Yay for cake pops, pinwheels, cupcakes, and fruit dip!

The other is a long weekend to see GG with Supergrandma and Sugarbaby. And what do we do when we go see GG? We eat. A lot. And drink. A lot more.

Can I get some motivation for my lovely readers? Please tell me to behave myself and not

ruin all this hard work I have done.

******

Today Cashman took a tumble at school and had to make a trip to the ER. He's fine, but entirely convinced that the x-ray machine gave him a new bone. He's silly and super cuddly and I love him so. I hate when my kids give me scares like that. Sort of like when someone (although I won't name names but you can be damn sure it wasn't me) lost the baby outside last night. While I ran from the highway to the storage buildings around the house in circles screaming her name and alternating with very bad words and generally freaking the eff out, she popped out of the doghouse laughing. She was hiding and thought it was funny her Daddy and I were suffering separate heart attacks. Not funny at all. Still not funny today. Probably won't ever be funny.

******

I logged just under 14.5 miles jogging last week. SUMS is making me say jogging because when he reads my Garmin data it shows that I am in the fast jog range nearly the entire time. Since I only dip into the slow run range every now and then he now refers to my jaunts as jogs and not runs. Tomaytoes, tomahtoes. Whatever. I'm trying to build up my endurance for longer runs and I've stepped up to 4 days a week instead of 3. I'm also pushing Sugarbaby in the jog stroller two of those days and that is a sure fire way to clock in at a slower pace. But I manage and I'm convinced it helps me burn extra calories, ya know adding 30lbs of resistance.

******

In other news we are getting a new family member. We finally broke down and picked out an Australian Shepherd puppy. That's the breed we are most fond of and what we should have gotten originally after our last Aussie died. But instead we had a rollercoaster ride with a few dogs and ended up with none. Our new Aussie is 4 weeks old and we are naming her Allie. Allie the Aussie. She comes home the day after Mother's Day.

Oh and for anyone who is interested, we ended up feeding the cat that I wished would go away. She is very sweet, and not too terribly old. Probably just under a year. The kids named her Carly. Carly the Cat. Anyone seeing a pattern here?

******

Laptop still down so posting will still be light. I'm sorry. It's the best I can do.

Now With Extra Flash

Sugarbaby just wants you to know that her Mom got a new camera.

And it is cool.

In fact the only part of her Mom she is seeing is her body. It's like her

head has been replaced by a lens.

Also, she would like Supergrandma to know that yes,

her and her paci still have a

very close and loving relationship.

That is all.

Thank you.

Obligatory Pioneer Woman Post

Monday around noon, Supergrandma, Sugarbaby and I set off for Little Rock. We had well laid plans. Or so we thought.

PW's Arkansas book signing was in a Wal-Mart. Oh noooos! Why of all places a Wal-Mart? Only in Arkansas is she hitting up a Wal-Mart. We arrived in LR early in the afternoon, did some shopping (excuse me Supergrandma did some shopping because my debit card recoils in horror upon entering a Banana Republic), and checked into our motel which happened to be on an Air Force Base because now she has military wife status and all the perks that go with it. Lucky bitch.

Anyways....we wanted sushi. Where we live you can't get sushi. Period. So we decided to scope out the Wal-Mart and see how bad the line was before the sushi. This was at 5:45pm. The signing was supposed to start at 6pm. The line was long but not so long you couldn't find the end of it. I was thinking we might be there an hour and a half tops. Poor Supergrandma was starving so I prayed for it to be quick. Huh. Yeah. Well. We stood in line for 3 and a half hours. Taking turns pushing Sugarbaby around the store, chatting with the crazy old ladies behind us, and getting all hot and bothered every time Marlboro Man came into view (well maybe that was just me). He was standing at the corner of the line, right before you got to PW, signing books. Once we made it to him I was ready to hit the road. Who needs PW's signature once you've had your arm around MM and listened to his voice and maybe sniffed him just a little. Oh lordy. That is one fine specimen of a man. And the only proof I have of actually having touched him is a really crappy cell phone photo. It's not even fit for my blog. Cause I forgot the camera at home. I will never live that one down.

We exited the Wal-Mart at approximately 9:15 in a dead sprint. The sushi joint closed at 9:30 and was 5 miles away. Supergrandma may or may not have broken a few traffic laws in getting us there and then threw me out of the car in the parking lot to go and beg for the sushi people to feed us. They were very nice and understanding or at least I think they were and the service was extremely fast and the sushi was delicious. We were out by 10pm.

Through all this Sugarbaby stayed awake. This girl's bedtime is no later than 7pm and it was after 10 and she was still wide eyed. We made it back to the base with the requisite bottle of wine for us and bottle of milk for her. Everyone bedded down with their respective drinks and watched TV until Sugarbaby went to sleep. Except she didn't. Sleep that is. She hung out thinking it was a damn slumber party until after midnight. Finally we slept. And then at 6am on the dot, she puked.

Dog tired, we got ready, hit up a Starbucks (mana from heaven!), and did some more shopping before stopping off at Chili's for lunch because we're original like that. We made it to town just as the school bell rang, swooped up the boys and came home.

The end.

I'm going to take a nap now.

Chores?

When I was little I don't remember having any chores. Sure I had to clean my room, but I was pretty bad at that and I remember about twice a year my mom coming in there and really cleaning it, ranting and raving the whole time.

Once I hit the tween and teen years I think I had to help with the dishes and do other general housekeeping things. But...my mom is a bit of a perfectionist and also a bit impatient. So when I really didn't like doing something, I just did a horrible job and she would get irritated and do it herself. Thus....no chores. (Feel free to chime in here Mom, and correct me if I'm wrong.)

Then I got my own house. And my mother vowed to never eat off my plates or drink out of my cups because she knew how bad I was at cleaning. She was right. I couldn't keep a clean house for the life of me. But when the Monster was born, I started turning things around. Now? I freak out over crumbs. I can't stand a couch pillow out of place. Clutter causes me to vaporlock. My eye starts to twitch over spilled coffee on the counter and granola bar wrappers on the floor, right beside the trash can.

So I've learned how to be a good housekeeper. But I wish I had learned a lot earlier. I think my mom should have made me do chores. Even if I was bad at them.

All this boils down to.....the Monster is getting chores. He already helps clean up his room nightly, and clears the table every now and then. But I want set rules. Every single day. We have a moderately large family and its going to take everyone's cooperation and help to make it run smoothly. Might as well start now. He's six. He can handle it.

So my question to you, dear readers is: What chores should the Monster do? What is age appropriate for a six year old? How do I track them? Should he get rewards or are chores undeserving of rewards? Are chores considered responsibilities and therefore your reward is a job well done?

Give me your two cents.

Suck On This

Sugarbaby likes to play this little game where she puts the handle part of her pacifier in my mouth and the business end in her mouth. We look something like Lady and the Tramp in their infamous spaghetti dog smooching scene.

She thinks this is hilarious. I tolerate this because it makes her laugh and something about being face to face with her makes me giggle too.

And here is where I step up on my soapbox about the use of pacifiers. To each his or her own I say. If pacifiers work for you and your family, then use them. If you never had a need for them, that's awesome but leave your opinions about other people's children and their pacis at home. The only person excluded from this is Supergrandma. She's allowed to mess with my children all she wants cause well....ya know, she's their grandma.

But you, random person in the store? I don't need your observation that she doesn't need that paci. I also don't need you to yank it out of her mouth in a playful way, causing her to scream. Playing keepaway with a 17 month old is not in your best interest. I'm tempted to kick you in the balls so you scream in the same manner she is.

Pacis worked for us. The Monster had his and it was the only way he would sleep through the night. It took me until he was nearly three to break him of it. I'll admit that went on a little long. Cashman was done with his by the time he was Sugarbaby's current age. But I don't see Sugarbaby giving her paci up voluntarily any time soon. Pacifiers are toddler Valium. Leave me and my daughter's prescription medication alone.

Wordless Wednesday: SB & SG

She's not your run-of-the-mill granny, but we think we'll keep her.

She's A Shoe Gal

I've been carrying the same $10 clearance Old Navy hobo bag for the past two years. I only just replaced it with a $25 Target bag last week. And the only reason I spent that much was because I had won a Target gift card on Twitter a month ago. Point is....I don't spend much money on purses.

I like shoes. They are necessary, they get you where you're going, they complete your outfit. But I don't have tons of them. Enough but not a surplus. And most of them are cheapies from again either Old Navy or Target. The costliest shoes I do own were gifts from Supergrandma. That woman has a shoe addiction and taste to go with it. If only she didn't wear a dainty size six and a half we might be able to share. Damn her and her small feet.

If I had the money to have a fashion object addiction, it would be jeans. I love jeans. I love the way a great fitting pair of jeans makes you look and feel. All my jeans are bootcut, I wouldn't wear any other style. Once I hit my target weight, that will be my splurge. I really want to try the new Gap styles but it will probably be a few more months until I'm brave enough to face the fitting room mirror.

Sugarbaby seems to be showing her preference early though. The girl is taking after Supergrandma. She loves her some shoes. If it were up to her, she would wear them all day. She screams bloody murder when you take them off her and if you show her a new pair her face lights up and she tries very hard to put them on herself. This could prove problematic as a teenager because her Dad keeps a death grip on his wallet. Here's hoping she has tiny feet and can just mooch off Supergrandma.

I'm Doing a Pharmaceutical Rain Dance

It's been one of those days where I wished Valium was available by the handful for a quarter stuck in one of those gumball machines at the tire shop.

Right. That didn't even make sense to me either. Don't worry, I seem to making less and less sense every single day.

My big ass truck has been in the shop for a few days. Calipers and whatnot rattling and causing much distress to my ears. (Thanks for the diagnosis Dr. James). And you know, when your big ass truck is in the shop you have no other choice but to rely on any alternate means of transportation possible. The first day Supergrandma was kind and generous and allowed me the use of her super shiny, super fancy, super way too nice to put my kids in car. The kids couldn't understand why I turned all crazy and neat freako all the sudden. They're like WHAT? WE CAN'T DRINK SLUSHIES AND EAT EXTREMELY CRUMBLY MOZZARELLA STICKS IN SUPERGRANDMA'S SUPER BADASS CAR? I'm like yep. You heard me. No eating or drinking or breathing in here. In fact, don't even look at all the buttons and screens and never sat on leather seats. Just looking at it might break it.

So I gave back the way too nice for me super badass car and this morning I took the hubby's 4-Runner to work. All I can say is WOW. There are no words for driving it after driving the car of my dreams. Did I mention its like a 94 model? That he hauls groceries in? And it doesn't even go in reverse? Yep. Yep. Yep. Oh my gah. Shoot me now.

Then this afternoon I still had the problem of getting the fifteen miles back into town to get the boys at school and my truck which was supposed to be done by 2pm. J was kind enough to give me a ride in. Once I got my truck (at 4pm instead of you know 2pm) I discovered that while it sat at the shop overnight it had acquired some new passengers. Like about 900 of them. Ants. Effing ants. Shoot me again.

So I spent the next two hours spraying, vacuuming, cleaning, and cursing all the buggies in my big ass truck. Fun stuff I tell ya.

Once home, I served dinner (leftover spaghetti again, my kids think i am awesome!). While I was giving Sugarbaby a bath the boys were finishing up their plates. At least that's what I thought they were doing. Instead they were having a noodle fight. The scene I walked in on made my head spin around and word vomit spew forth. I prayed for Valium to fall from the heavens like rain. Too bad there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Just A Few Things

I rearranged my living room yesterday. Because that's what I do when my mood isn't quite right. I rearrange things.

I'm trying to take a break after having all three kids at home, all day, for 21 days straight. The Monster went to his Dad's on Sunday for another two week stay. I would be lying if I said that I didn't heave a big sigh of relief. I love the Monster, a fierce firstborn type of love, but he is the type of child who is mentally exhausting. So entertaining, funny, charismatic. But so taxing on the brain and prone to know-it-allism, with a bad penchant for backtalk, and having to have the last word, which almost always lands him in time out. School is necessary for him. He needs that stimulation and interaction with other people in order to be able to behave at home. He starts First Grade on August 19th. I swear I am not counting down the days.

Cashman also starts school in August. Preschool. His first time ever to be away from home for extended periods during the day. I thought about it last night and I wasn't sure why it was making me feel so sad. I'm not that type, to get all weepy over little milestones. But I realized that he has been by my side every day for the last three years and nine months. We've had our occasional splits but babysitters have never been readily available and he's only spent a night away with Supergrandma when he was about 8 months old. I know he'll do fine. I'm not worried so much. It just feels like this huge huge thing.

Sugarbaby and I have big plans for when the boys start back to school and it's just us two at home. Library visits, park outings, shopping. I won't know what to do, not having to unbuckle and unload two or three kids every time I have to go somewhere.

And on the subject of Sugarbaby, this little gal is quite amazing to me. She is 14 months old. She attempts to diaper herself and will retrieve a diaper when asked. Tell her no and she ceases whatever she was doing immediately (unless it is tantruming). Tell her to spit out whatever foreign object she put in her mouth and out it comes. She plays with her tea set realistically by pouring you a cup, handing it over, and then drinking her own. Hand her a doll and she hugs and kisses it as hard as she can. She eats absolutely anything you put in front of her: zucchini, avocado, yogurt, meatloaf, salmon, broccoli, lemon slices. She can devour a whole peeled peach right to the pit in about a minute and a half. I'm sure this is just par for the course with lots of toddlers (omg she is a toddler!), but I just don't remember the boys acting so mature and aware of having such a sense of what everything was. They seemed more like babies at this age than she does.

And to completely change the subject but still be on the topic of children, my nephew Trip is set to come home from Children's Hospital on Wednesday. HOORAY! More on that complete with pictures next week.

Mothers

I wanted to write the story of my mother. But when I started constructing it in my head I realized that it would take far too long and based on my scattered knowledge, wouldn't make much sense to anyone outside the family. She's complex, my mother. Her story is full of independence, restlessness, a great lost love, a long drawn out painful marriage, numerous missteps and triumphs. It is a great story, but an unfinished one. And without her permission and memories to pick from I'm afraid I couldn't do the telling of it justice.


The same goes for my grandmother, the matriarch of our small triangle. My mother, my grandmother, me. We are the only family I claim. The only family I really know. I broke the triangle, transformed it into a circle with the birth of Sugarbaby. Four women with the same middle name and the same hot-tempered bloodline. Each unique but each like the other.


I don't so much see myself as being like my mother. Physically there are a few resemblances. You can most certainly tell we are related. Our mannerisms and facial expressions are quite alike. Our voices, especially over the telephone, are a complete mimic of each other. But my mother embodies beauty, grace, and class. A knack for knowing just how to act in mixed company. There is a secrecy about my mother that keeps me at bay. Just beyond knowing her as well as I could, that is where I stand with her.


As for personality, I claim my grandmother. We two are comrades, confiding in each other and seeing one another reflected back. My grandmother was said to be mean, tough, and headstrong as a young woman. She had to be I suppose, raising three boys in her situation. And then my mother came along. And then I came along and somewhere in there she softened up. Just enough that I never knew that woman that they spoke of. But sometimes, I'll be talking to her on the phone and start getting onto the children and she remarks how much I sound just like her. And I take that as a compliment.


Sugarbaby is yet to be pinpointed. I assume, if history repeats and generations skip, she will act like my mother. I hope for her sake she has my mother's levelheadedness, her quick mind, her steadfastness to do what it takes to survive. I hope she has my grandmother's humor, her wit, her sarcasm, her strength that has carried her through all these years. I wish all these things for her and that she knows how amazing her grandmother and great-grandmother are and that she appreciates that she is here on this earth because of three women who are so much alike.

Happy Mother's Day.

Photography by Expressions.

Winding Down Just to Gear Up

Stage right into the boys bathroom. Scene: sopping wet dog, accompanied by laughing naked boy, water everywhere.

Cash: He got in the tub. He's a baaaaaad dog.

That pretty much sums up life with Bruno so far. He is sweet, cute and furry. He potties everywhere. I've successfully house trained two previous puppies without much problem. Bruno pees every 15 minutes like clockwork. (And there he goes again) This weekend will be spent constructing a pen for Bruno to give me a break and to transition him into spending his summer outdoors.

******

As the school year winds down I can feel increased pressure to get things done before summer vacation. I have yet to get the details of yes or no on a family lake vacation. I think it would be a blast, I think GG is all for it. I also think Supergrandma needs some convincing. I mean who wouldn't want to spend 4+ days with the SugarBritches family circus? C'mon.

Cashman is signed up for T-Ball and this I am really looking forward too. 10 three and four year olds chasing one ball in teeny tiny baseball shirts? I can't freakin wait. Plus it will tire him out and he needs all the help he can get in that department.

Also this week, the Monster helped me plant some bulbs in the front flowerbed and beside the shop. Cashman assisted with the tomato plants in the side flowerbed. We're foregoing a large garden this year until we see the damage the fire ants do and how far we can push them off our land. They are already rampant, even with the repeated treatments to the lawn by the hubby.

Always on my mind is my battle with weight. Just one more thing, one more pressure and expectation. I'm attempting to just eat better instead of burning out on some insane diet that I couldn't follow anyway. I found this neat little site called FitDay and I've been using its calorie counter and food journal. After just two days of tracking carbs, calories, and fat, I am appalled at what I eat. Just seeing the daily totals is enough to keep the junk out of my mouth.

******

And not to be forgotten...a weekly Sugarbaby photo who is turning one in a month and driving her momma absolutely crazy. Three kids, one dog (who isn't house trained), an overworked husband, and no prescription drugs. CRAAAZY.

(I used The Pioneer Woman's Actions Set 2 Seventies on this pic. Doesn't it look well...from the seventies?)

Let The Ritualistic Starving Begin

I'm pretty sure I put on 20lbs this weekend alone.

The baby shower and after party were a hit, with lots of carousing and carrying on. Booze at a baby shower you say? Well not for the pregnant lady for sure, but all the other ladies who stayed on enjoyed it. I decided that sushi would have been too headache inducing of a menu and opted instead for a chocolate feast. Dylan from Short Trip to the Crazy Hospital came to assist me and we foundered ourselves on the gooey sweetness before the party even got underway. Cake balls from PW and Bakerella, a chocolate cake and chocolate chip ice cream concoction, and peanut butter dream bars. The peanut butter mousse in the dream bars was enough all by itself. Divine. All of it.

Cashman hung out with his Supergrandma before coming home toting a prized new robot. A day out with her was a special treat for him. He keeps asking when he can go again but I just tell him she probably needs to recuperate from the trauma of it all.

Sunday the hubby gathered some guys for a full on Texas Hold Em game in our shop. The man den. Complete with beer fridge, snacks, and far away from me. They played until 11:30 that night. I slept. The chocolate and wine had taken their toll over the course of the weekend. I woke up Monday feeling like a lead weight and decided that since the remodeling is all but done, the baby shower is thrown, and I have no excuses now, I must begin the arduous task of rebuilding this body.

Wish me luck. And good mood vibes cause I get real cranky eating brown rice and vegetables.

A Whole Different Spin On Things

Hmmm...so I got some crickets from that previous post and some real life flack from Supergrandma. Who by the way should start her own blog just to offset mine. That's a challenge woman!

Religion was not a big thing when I was growing up and I can recall on more than one occasion SG saying that she didn't need to get all dressed up to go hang out with people she didn't know, inside a cramped building just to get to Heaven. She was much happier believing that sitting on the back porch early on Sunday morning was enough worship for her and brought her closer to whatever it is she believes in. Which isn't God in a biblical sense. More like a creator, but not the all seeing, all knowing, supreme being that Christianity encompasses.

I've had a lot of faith related questions over the years and I have attended numerous churches for short stints. I got some satisfaction and a sense of well being from from some of these churches, others, not so much. I, like Supergrandma, think that one can worship where ever they choose and in any way they see fit. I posed the question to a friend that went to a Christian academy, "Will I go to Heaven, even though I don't attend worship regularly. I'm a good person, I've committed no major sins, so surely God is merciful and I'll go to Heaven even though I don't want to go to church, right?"

"Absolutely Not!" she told me.

Well that burst my bubble. And it still weighs on my mind to this day.

Another thing that bothers me is the fact that I'm not baptized. I think I might be the only one in the family who isn't. In regards to my previous post regarding Baptists themselves, it might be prudent to point out that my paternal grandfather was a Baptist preacher. That in itself is a whole 'nother set of issues trickling down to my father and his shady dealings all through his life. So on one side the Baptists, on the other a Catholic and an Episcopalian. Even Supergrandma was baptized, so why wasn't I as a child? Before it became an awkward thing for me to want. Compounded by the fact I couldn't conceive of doing it in front of everyone. I'd want it to be like confession, shrouded in mystery and anonymity. Just me and my priest.

To be truthful, I didn't intend this post to be about religion past the first paragraph. That was just to be the basis about a discussion on motherhood, overpopulation and why if you chose not to have children that was fine by me cause I had overpopulated already and had taken care of replacing you. Or maybe Nadya Suleman took care of that.

Maybe I'll get to that post later, or maybe not. I'm going to go sit on my back porch now and talk to the birds.