The hubby's early Christmas Present

My husband got a wonderful early Christmas present yesterday.  We signed up for a Thanksgiving celebration and tree cutting over at a local development I work for thinking a pretty tame event, lunch and a tree.  Lunch was great in front of a huge BBQ pavillion, everyone huddling by the fire as it was 24 degrees outside, then it was time to go and cut a tree.



Cut to director, he walks by us and says, "you're fine" then goes and talks to a few others in minivans, they all park their Baby Buses and climb in with him in this HUGE hummer.  We proceed up the mountain on a paved road then start down the backside of the mountain on a dirt road.  My husband goes from yelling at the boys to childish glee as he says, "I think I need to put it in 4 wheel drive".  You see his truck is new and this is his virgin backcountry drive.  He says, "The truck is equipped with automatic sensing but on roads like this I think we'll all be safer with 4 wheel drive."  He explains to me how the sensing the road stuff works and that it's something special (that was translated for us women, from the technical lecture I just received)

Nik our smore hot apple cider guy

We continue down a hill, climb over some rocks, slowly go over a ditch all while I hear commentary how the other trucks are "much slower" than his, that they must not sit as high - he purchased an off road package that has the truck sitting higher, "I am glad I got that package going back through here."  His package (no, his truck package) includes some type of red thing that makes it stiffer, of course my mind went right into the gutter with that lecture - package, stiffer, easier ride?



Do these trees make my butt look big?



We stop at a fire ring sitting in the middle of a valley, and more guys come out - they are our tree cutting guys.  They pick off the guys in the acura and tell us that our Avalanche is fine and I think I see my husband puff up in pride.  Hearing "You'll make it all the way" makes him nod at me and say, "see that off road package was a smart purchase."   We go down more narrow roads, up a hill and end up at a secluded Christmas Tree Farm nestled on the hill.  The boys jump out and run and disappaear into the trees, yelling and screaming with other children.

I'm freezing (it's 24 degrees) as we're walking looking at trees, the kids are lost in the maze screaming, I hear a chain saw going and am glad that it's not followed by a scream(you know Jason thing)  We're followed by guys with axes (luckily no banjo music) waiting for us to pick our special holiday decoration.  When we do pick one, two men make quick work of bundling then cutting the tree AND taking it and putting it in our car!  Of course we're glad they were there because we came woefully unprepared with out an axe, or saw or even string.  But we got the truck  and the off road package to get us there!

He takes us a little quicker on the way out, the kids squealing as we slide a little bit, my honey with his manly, 'Don't worry the wheels have special shocks that (i can't remember what they do, insert something about mud and dirt and torque and whatever here) we stop and look out over the mountains with smores and hot apple cider and as I watch them enjoy this I know that a memory is made.  I think, "this is it, this is the holiday season" as I hear about the red something shocks added to the truck for just those ditches we went through and the special mats that hold the mud and water after off roading - the kids got a memory of a great ride and actually cutting down a Christmas tree this year and my husband got an early Christmas present, a great ride using all the cool stuff that comes with a new truck that makes a man feel like a man.  Sometimes it's not about the truck but about how great the ride is (insert snicker here.)

Hiding behind our pictures

Ya'll seen plenty of pictures of my feet, I hide behind those feet because it's much more fun to be open when there's just feet showing then when a picture of my smiling mug is showing.

I've watched people change profile pictures to encompass children, pets, flowers, trees, anything under the sun.  I value my feet because they've taken me everything where with only a few complaints, or blisters, or bunions along the road.

Periodically, there's a change in profile pictures that causes a slight case of stalking in my case.  I watched one "friend" on Facebook change his profile picture to a well, ahem incredible picture.  He went from the abstract to a "me" picture.  Hence a bit of stalking, does someone this cosmopolitan call Winston Salem home?  Is this the real picture or is it just like my uncle that picked a picture of a favorite celebrity to call his profile picture.  So stalking I go, and when looking at the other pictures I find more of the same and begin to believe that maybe this is in fact his profile picture.  A noise behind me causes me to turn quickly feeling guilty a little like looking through that hole at the construction site and getting a finger in the eye.  I move away from the profile telling myself to keep my lid on and move on down the newsfeed on my site, but I move one more time over the picture before putting it quickly to rest.

Do you stalk people on Facebook when they become your friend, do you look through their pictures?  What do you think about people looking through your pictures and you don't know it?  I have nothing to hide, just quite a few feet pictures that may make people smile.

Oh wait, someone else just changed their picture......who's that?  Let me go and look at their pictures........

The art of surviving pumpkin carving with boys!

The poor pumpkin sat there for days, awaiting his fate.  It is a his, because my boys named him, "Turdalicious" no really, they were talking that but I made them settle on "Punky Pumpkin" boy Mom can be so boring.  So poor Punky watched as the boys came running out of the house with Psycho style knives, then after my yelling coming out again with the smaller Criminal Minds knives, the ice cream scoop (my idea).  We rounded what we needed with a stiff martini for Mom and at least two sips before the games begin.

I wonder if I should be afraid at the maniacle looks on their faces as I let them hold the knives to "sketch out" the face for Punky.  The first try at sketching involved a serious stab into the poor boy, so I banished them as Mom sipped the martini and started taking the lid off of Punky.  Once the lid was off, this is where the ice cream scoop came in, what easier way to carve out the "guys" (my boys term) than with an ice cream scoop!  The ice cream scoop along with two little arms to pull at the "gooey, chunky, yucky mass" (their words) we hallowed out Punky.  I have to keep the boys from stabbing each other, from taking off a finger as they both dig out the eye, keep them apart when they argue about who got the most "guts" out!  I can't tell if they enjoyed more the stabbing of the pumpkin or the gooey insides (is there an episode about this on Criminal Minds?)  Then we came to the face, both explained they wanted a scary, yet funny face.  A pumpkin that would have trick or treaters running screaming but would make them laugh.  How in the heck do you do that?  Another sip of the martini and I figure you're typical pumpkin face will accomplish the "look" we are going for. 

5 minutes into carving the face, I realize I'm by myself.  Both boys have disappeared to watch spaghetti cat on youtube and left me to stitch up poor Punky's wounds.  When I come in and ask them what they are doing, they simply tell me they are waiting for me to finish so they can supervise.  Aren't you supposed to supervise during the project?  And when do kids supervise the parents?

We make Punky into a true Jack o Lantern and they both say, "Our work looks good!"  Their work, their work?  I'm left with cleaning up the pumpkin goo, roasting the seeds, and finding the candle to bring Punky to life.  Little trick I learned, put the GOO in water and the pumpkin seeds will float to the top!  Punky and I high five each other and bask in the glory that is Halloween!  BOO!!

My PERFECT day!

Tomorrow will be a perfect day!


I’ll wake up tomorrow morning EARLY enough to make my wonderful family and healthy and wholesome breakfast of whole grain pancakes, turfurky bacon, AND some fresh organic fruit. While they eat and talk about everything they are excited to learn that day, I’ll put the finishing touches on 26 cupcakes made with my own homemade cake mix and then frosted with my personal frosting system for each letter of the alphabet. I include a few more cupcakes spelling out Old Richmond Elementary for the teachers lounge because we “appreciate” our teachers.

Arriving at school ON TIME, I have plenty of time to walk my boys to their classroom, delivering said cupcakes along with all the fundraising orders totaled, collected and alphabetized to help the teacher. On my way out, I stop by the office and take a minute to stuff all the take home packets for several teachers before leaving into the sunshine of the day.

I make it to my gym class early and have time to setup my bike correctly, get cold water for my bottle and stop and talk with the instructors about the proper way to do a sit up. After the gym, I’m home with plenty of time to clean the house, dust the bookshelves, clean the baseboards, collect all the money sitting in the couch AND make that batch of cookies to greet the boys when they come home from school. The bus drops them off 10 minutes late so I have PLENTY of time to sort the laundry and fold them neatly in everyone’s drawers.

The boys are home excited about their day at school. They tell me, “No Mom, we have it. Our teachers told us that we need to work on our homework by ourselves. We’ll fix ourselves a snack and sit at our desks and finish our work.” As they do their homework, I’m sorting through the paperwork – check for school pictures, early….chocolate needed for teacher gift basket-got it…

The uniforms are sitting on hangers by the door as the boys prepare for cubscouts. They cubscout books are waiting to go, the badges completed sorted and color coded according to earned, halfway through earning, on the list to earn. The scout meeting turns out is a den meeting but I’ve still got leftover cupcakes from school with a trip to the grocery store before the boys came home from school and left the bag of Cheezits sitting in the trunk.

Once home, the husband is there to kiss my cheeks-complimenting me on such a job well done on my day, he asks if there is anything he can do to help with putting the boys to bed as they take all their homework packing up their backpacks and making their lunches for the morning. They all go up and go to bed without a single, “Are you coming up?” or the 15 goodnights before they fall asleep. I sit with a good glass of wine and Criminal Minds is featuring a story all about Shemar Moore with a surprise visit by Vin Diesel. I go up and my toothbrush is charged, there’s still toothpaste in the tube AND there’s no sleeping pill needed as my head hits the pillow for some blissful slumber.

I wake at 430am, “Shit, it was just a dream.”

Athlete's Amnesia

This started at a trip report on the Knob Hill Climb in Boone, NC.  The Knob is a 2 mile run - easy peasy, right - wrong!  This is 2 miles of PURE HILL, the kind of run that has your legs burning, your lungs burning, your head aching, your mind cussing, and I stand at the bottom of this hill EVERY year!  It's athlete's amnesia, that's what it is.

Athlete's Amnesia is a cousin to Baby Amnesia, the Kelly Melang definition - that state of mind where your brain blocks the BAD and REALLY BAD parts of an experience where you are left with only the good memories.  In birth, this is the "honey, we're gonna have a baby" to "here's your son" - I can't really remember much in between thought my husband has full memories of the "I hate you's, why did you get me...."  never mind.  In Athletes Amnesia, you remember standing at the bottom of a hill, or on the shores of that lake, or on the beach looking at the ocean, then remember the medal around your neck!  You remember BEING DONE, not what it took to get to that finish line.

In Athlete's Amnesia, like a fool you sign up year after year(hopefully not too make more kids).  You come back again to that race and as you start up that hill and feel ready to heave again, the memories flood back.  "This feeling of my insides burning, it seems familiar.  And the ache in my lungs and my legs, I seem to remember this.  This is so painful.  Oh yeah!  I remember this curve, I threw up over there!" 

Standing at the start line of your Half Ironman and the memories come flooding back, "Oh yeah!  I'm out here for over 6 hours.  Why in the H%LL did I sign up for this again?"  "This is the same spot I started getting the back ache.  Did my feet hurt this bad last year, oh yeah, now I remember!"  Your mind laughs at you as you kick, claw, scratch, puke your way to that finish line.  It then conveniently takes those memories and tucks them with the labor contractions, the stinky diapers, the cleaning up dog poop, the snot, the tears, the drool.

So you're sitting at the computer and an email pops up again, "Don't forget to sign up for The Knob Hill Climb....."  Stare at that and think, "That's not too bad, it's only 2 miles..." and start signing up.  Or you watch an Ironman on TV and think, "I've done a half, I could do a whole," forgetting all about the blood, sweat and tears that went into it.    Heck, I guess it's better than thinking, "How about another baby?"  Or "A puppy isn't THAT hard...."

Ever had a case of Athlete's Amnesia?

In my mind I am Lance Armstrong

In my legs there's a totally different story.  I stood at the starting line with  my team from St, Timothy's Episcopal church scared to death.  I'm a lone rider,a triathelete, used to always staying 2 bike lengths behind other riders (or disqualification) so a mass start to this ride, with a sea of humanity waiting to start, I'm nervous about the new bike, the new clips, and simply keeping up!

My goal the first day is 50 and I'm amazed at how quickly things go by and great I feel all day!  The end of the Rock The Blue Ridge I simply fell over, but this was different, sure there was a fair share of hills but this was -----FUN!  5 broke away from our peleton in their breakaway group but we didn't care, we simply chugged along and enjoyed the ride.  We stopped and ate all the rest stops (was there food?  Man, there was food) we rode with others, then with each other.  It was nice having people to talk to during the ride.  We lined up together for the picture moment at the end, "so no one finishes last".

The second day, huge black clouds loomed and I promised my sweet husband I'd do 30 and get home early.  We rode as a group, pulling along, feeling like part of the Tour as we snaked along the side of the road.  My 30 mile turn came up and before I knew it I was talked into the 40 and just kept on going, I watched the clouds get darker and darker and bagged the 50 figuring that I wasn't going to tempt my luck and turn back!

I learned the lessons of riding in a pack, of keeping the line, how the front riders pulled everyone along (thanks Lori, Dwayne, Keith) yelling about cars, gravel, slowing down, holes, runners and all the things that keep the ride exciting.  I had a great teacher helping me figure out drafting, her waves telling me to get closer to her wheel-throw caution into the wind.  Being with such experienced cyclists was a little unnerving but they helped me ride along and at the end of the each ride when I still felt pretty good, I know it was their work.

We did our 90 miles for muscular dystrophy, we enjoyed each other's company making the rides go by quickly, we drank a few beers and talked a little smack about how much faster we'd be next year as we go for the century.  It's these things that make me sign up for things I really shouldn't sign up for, but putting my first 90 miles in two days (on a new bike) and still feeling alive-no crashes no LOVELY falling over in the clips incidents, I'm already looking at the race calendar.  When have you been pleasantly surprised?

A lesson in humanity - traffic court

I've traveled around the world, I thought I was prepared for anything.  I've squatted over the holes in the floor in Japan to do my business (now I know why they have vending machines just for tissues), I've ridden on the back of a Harley through Sydney, I've watched friends eat coagulated chicken's blood.  I thought I was well traveled, until I hit traffic court....

I got a ticket for expired registration after the sheriff whispered to me, "Probably not a good idea to pass a police officer on the highway." I could just pay the fine, but I'm cheap so I figure I could save the $160 dollars and go to traffic court.

Boy now I know why people just PAY tickets.  I arrive at court 15 minutes early and wait in my car until closer to 9am.  When I go into the courtroom, I realize that a:  it's a first come, first serve system and b: I could be getting in line a lot earlier had I known.  Then I wonder, how did all these people in here know this, are they experienced traffic court sitters?

This court room is such a huge swath of humanity that it takes me back as I sit in the line with two other people WAY TOO close on either side. I sit next to a granny who got busted for doing 91 in a 60 mile hour zone, then another woman who was in her 40s after chemo therapy for colon cancer with her 22 year old boyfriend (yes, we learn too much about each other when stuck in a court room waiting for the judge).  There's too many mullets to count, tatoos, screaming children, saggy and butt revealing pants and then there's.....the smelly dude.  This guy made me think of Pig Pen from the peanuts, remember the dude that had the black cloud that sat around him, this dude had a smell that just sat like a black cloud around him and all of us sitting around him.  As the first odor of stale shit, wafts my way,  I cursed now knowing that had I come in earlier I could be in a MUCH DIFFERENT seat.  Immediately I start breathing through my nose and notice that a few more around him are looking his way and holding their nose, OK, it's not just me.

There's those smells that you can politely dismiss, then there's those smells that are so bad you can almost taste it!  This guy's go a lime green nuclear cloud hanging over him until finally the sheriff feels sorry for us and comes over and sprays odorizer in the direction of the offender.  Our next two hours are lively as we discuss the cause of his smell, the nature of his smell, how to get away from his smell.

After two hours of living in the smell, finally he's called to the seats in the front.  All of us breathe fresh air and sigh in relief until we realize that....."Next 6 take your seats in the front...." we're back in the shit, I mean smell, really it's that close again.  We become friends in this court, joking with each other as he inches closer to the judges chambers on his his ticket is gonna go.  Everyone at this point is holding their nose around him.  FINALLY, he's called into the judges chambers.  Just like we thought, he was there a total of 3 seconds ("DISMISSED, now get out of here!) and black cloud Louie leaves the courtroom.  Several spray hand sanitizer on the seat he occupied, the Sherriff sprays Febreez in his shadow sort of like the flower girl following the bridge with the petals.  In a small way I feel sorry for the dude, maybe he was sick, nah he just needed a shower.

I get called in, my charges get dismissed in 15 seconds so I figure....$160 dollars, 2 hours of enduring Stinkmeister, equates out to $80 dollars an hour - not a bad hourly rate when you think about it.  Mullet anyone?