Gag Me

I was walking around World Market perusing the curtain selections when a 30 something year old women walked by.  I had to take a double take because I thought it looked like she was sucking her thumb.   On the double take, I realized that I was correct; this lady was sucking her thumb.  I jaw dropped stared as she walked by and then I heard the suckling sound as she removed it from her mouth.  Gag me, literally gag me.  I continued to shop around but I had the hardest time trying to wipe the disgusted look off my face. 

This made me start to wonder why I ever stopped sucking my thumb.  It was one of the hardest things I had to give up as a seven year old.  Sure, had I not stopped I may have buck teeth and a permanent callus on the top of my thumb from my tongue.  However, I would also still have that security back that sucking my thumb gave me.  Anxiety would be gone because I could calm myself by rubbing my nose with my finger.  No matter where I went I would always have it with me, readily available at my disposal.  How many gag me looks would I get out and about shopping with my thumb in my mouth and more importantly would I care?   It also makes me wonder that if I would have continued sucking my thumb if I would still be a bed wetter as well. 

Don't look at me.

I rifle through my drawer among all the different options I have available.  Adidas, Jansport, Spi belt, leather, polka dotted, and a random one that says “outdoor photography”.  Which one will go best with the outfit I am planning?  Each one has so many different qualities to offer but when it comes to it, we all know that with a fanny pack you can never go wrong. 

My obsession began around 5 years ago.  The first time I “rocked” a fanny pack was at Cedar Point amusement park.  I thought it was a perfect opportunity to look like a complete ass.  Throughout my day at the park I was let down by the amount of attention the fanny brought, I figured there was bound to be someone like me out there snickering and pointing.  By the end of the day I had slowly became obsessed with the convenience and functionality this glorious little bag on my hip brought.  If I wanted to take a picture boom, done, need my wallet, walla, my phone, just a zipper swipe away.  It was fantastic.

I believe everyone should wear a fanny pack at least one time in their life, if only to understand how accommodating this little bag can be.  I wish I could say a fanny pack was a common accessory in my wardrobe but alas it is not.  It is always a staple for vacations and any other activity I wish to make other people jealous of me. 

As a side note, I have always said Fanny packs are going to come back just like terry cloth.  Terry cloth did by the way. 

Peanut Butter Jelly Time

The first time it was pointed out, I took it rather lightly and didn’t think much about it.  My girlfriend had come over and said she could tell that I seemed happier, apparently when she used to come over I would be like “hheeyyy” and just blah in general. A few days later I was talking with my sister after Thanksgiving and it went something like this:  "I like that you're happy again, I missed you.”  It’s weird to hear people say things like this when you think you were happy and that nothing really changed.  However, that wasn’t the last time I heard this, just today, my mom pointed out that her daughter was back; that I was laughing and joking again just like I used to and how nice it was. 

It makes me sad to hear and know that everyone around me had to endure and just watch me be miserable, hold there tongue because it wasn’t there place to speak up.  More importantly, it makes me wonder who I have been and when the "happy me” officially disappeared.  I try to think back and put a finger on the exact time my life wasn’t what it used to be.  The more I think about it,  the more I realize that it doesn’t matter and that the past is the past and I have all the time in the world to joke and annoy all the people around me just like I used to.  

Scorpio & TBD

Hey baby what’s your sign is going to be my new pickup line when I go out.  For the past 8 years whenever I meet someone new I always get out my trusty “Birthdays, Stars and Numbers” book to see if we are compatible on some level.  Hoping one day the book will inform me that I have officially met my soul mate.   I figured if I ask “what there sign is” beforehand I can cut out a lot of the meaningless small talk.  “Wait, you were born when?  Sorry, we’re not compatible.” Clearly, I could never just trust how I feel; I barely keep my thoughts in order let alone my feelings.  As of yet the book hasn’t steered me wrong or maybe it has, who is to say right?  I have yet to date a guy whose birthday falls into any category that might be for me.  Which means I am still looking and still hoping for the quote un quote MR. RIGHT.   

If you know anyone born on : January 9^th or 29^th, February 7^th or 27^th , March 5^th or 25^th, April 3^rd or 23^rd,  May 1^st or 21^st,  June 19^th,   July 17^th ,   August 15^th ,   September 13^th ,   October 11^th ,   November 9^th  and lastly Dec 7^th.   Send them my way, apparently we are meant for each other. 

the debt of a relationship

I never thought you could put a price tag on what you and someone else shared together.  Apparently, I have been misled because you can.  According to a recent bill I have been presented, a little over four years equals the cost of $16,000 however with the proper adjustments I now only owe $5,000.    The title was named “the money and time I have invested in the house for our future together”.   What started as acceptance has turned into anger and now disbelief, how could he ever put a price tag on what was us. 

Over the years we did multiple projects together both inside and out.  A few of the main ones consist of gutting and renovating both the kitchen and bathroom, building a shed and landscaping.  It was a lot of work for both of us and also a lot of arguing and fighting.  No one ever said relationships are easy and ending a long-term one has to be single most difficult decision most people have to make.  It took a little over a month before I was given the paper with the breakdown of what I owed him.   I was told that it was not supposed to be considered a bill; I guess I should have just ignored the payment plan on the bottom.   In hindsight he was the one walking away with nothing, no place to live, no new kitchen or bathroom, no shed to store empty windshield wiper bottles, nothing.  I don’t regret any of the time we had together but I do regret not following my heart sooner when I realized the one I should love the most wasn’t the guy living with me.

Best Friends

I was sitting at lunch and it happened, I made the sound I always hear my cat make, a brief push of air out my nose in annoyance.  I never realized before that I mimicked Beans but I think it has something to do with the increased time we are spending together.  With work lessening and the majority of my days off spent home with her, I guess one would expect something like this to happen.  It’s like two friends who hang out all the time; they start talking the same, having the same mannerisms, you know the drill, except I’m doing it WITH MY CAT?

I get made fun of for being “a crazy cat lady” and I think it is unwarranted.  Yes, I do abnormal things with my cat but I don’t consider any of it as crazy.  I do the same things any parent would do for their own kid.  Haircuts, clothes, holiday photos, all normal activities in a human relationship, why is it that when you put a cat in the mixture that it turns into something unusual.  I think cat ladies are getting a bad rap.  You never here “crazy dog lover “uttered to someone who does the same thing I may do to beans to their dog.  I am offended and disgusted by the prejudice out there against cat ladies. We need to hold strong and band together to stop the war against cat ladies.  

The Inviting Face of a Stranger

It never mattered where I was, whether I was walking through a store or standing in line, people loved to talk to me.  I always used to imagine myself as an uninviting person.  Eyes down low, arms crossed, attention occupied with something uninteresting but it never worked.  Random conversation from strangers would come at me from all sides… I tried to duck and dodge the attack, but it always failed.  I’d be hit, forced to respond with,  “Yes, these deals are amazing” “I know, this shirt is adorable”  (Which is why I am carrying it around the store with me you fuck stick, I plan on buying it), fake smile plastered across my face the entire time my head reeling with what part of my body language allowed the attack.   

I used to be envious of my friends who had that mean look to them, the uninviting face, the ones who never get forced into uncomfortable conversation about random things with random people.   I am no longer envious though because I have accepted my fate and embraced it in many ways.  I have a face that invites people in, like a vampire, ok, maybe not. (I wanted to make myself a little cooler than I am) Anyway, the face that says “talk to me, I give a shit”.    I am no longer annoyed or put out by these random attacks; instead I play the game, if they are excited about a sale, so am I.  If they like the shirt I am carrying around, I inform them where I found it, the cost and if there are any more.  Why not, right?  My next step is to be the random person who attacks and talks to that one person who looks like they want to be left alone.  Look out strangers, here I come.

Cheese and Crackers

The food of a single

 I like to think about how my eating habits have changed from when I went from being a couple back to a single.  Before breakfast, lunch and dinner used to be somewhat planned out and important and now they are meaningless. 

What used to be French toast with bacon has turned into only coffee.  Lunch happens if I’m working and at home it doesn’t.  Dinner has by far taken the biggest turn for the worst.  On multiple occasions I have eaten saltines with cheese, popcorn shoveled in with a big spoon, a meal of stove top only and who can forget my dear friend crunchy peanut butter.  I love cooking for others but it is a whole lot of hoopla when it comes to just cooking for little ol’ me.

 When feeding time occurs it always is a process trying to figure out what to eat.  The first time I open the pantry door nothing looks good, fifteen minutes later when I look again only to realize that the secret pantry stocker has yet to be there, I close the door and walk away.  Seven minutes later, I sneak to the door, say a small “let there be food” prayer and look again.  Hmm, all the sudden it catches my eye, a box of bisquick, pancakes? Nope, no eggs, back to the couch. Five minutes more goes by, the door is wide open; my eyes scan the shelves looking for the hidden gem that is going to satisfy my belly.   I know I need to make my decision on this trip; my stomach can’t bear another teasing.  That’s when it happens, my eyes lock on the can of freshlike green beans and I know that I’m not going to find anything better.   I wouldn’t call this a successful meal but at least I don’t have to go through this again until tomorrow.    

Gawd Damn Buckeyes

Over the years, I have slowly developed a dislike for the Ohio State Buckeyes.  I feel as if I should rephrase, I dislike the Ohio State Buckeye crazy obsessed fans.  I have learned not to divulge my feelings to openly, instead I now lead them to believe that I am just a dumb girl who hates football.    Maybe I’m just getting older but when I hear that resounding “O” ”H”, I cringe and scrunch my nose like someone just shit their pants, looking around for the culprit.  I know it is sacrilegious in Ohio to think let alone say something of this nature but I must get it off my chest.  

I feel I should fill you in on my last outing with the buckeyes…

Incident #1 

I was at the Varsity Club (I know stupid to begin with) during an Ohio State Football night game.  It was crowded loud and uncomfortable.  I was the fifth wheel on a bicycle rickshaw so the night wasn’t going so smoothly to begin with.  I decided to head to the bathroom even though I didn’t have to go, by the time I waited in the line I figured I would have to go then.  On my way back from the bathroom the buckeyes must have made a first down or something equally as great because everyone was celebrating.  I was walking through all the people when all of a sudden I get hit in the shoulder and slightly knocked off balance by some fucking douche bag.  Wide eyed and in awe I kept walking to the sanctuary of my group.  (Note: the fucking douche bag never acknowledged my existence)    

Incident #2

Still there, the game is over and I hate life.  I am sitting in a chair minding my own business when no other than Bart Simpson starts talking to me.  (ok, so it really isn’t Bart Simpson and no, I was not that drunk, this guy just looked like his human spawn)  The conversation began with “Bart” asking why I don’t like football.  This is when I made the biggest mistake OF MY LIFE.  I told a diehard Ohio state fan that I do not like diehard Ohio state fans.  WHO KNEW!?  After I was chastised for being so narrow minded about the fans and informed how all football fans are stupid obsessed in every state.  I should understand that “Bart” loves the buckeyes because he graduated from there and his mom has two degrees from there.  Apparently, a college degree gives you the right to make a complete ass out of yourself every Saturday in the fall.   I decided after this that not only to a dislike the fans, I should avoid all encounters with them.

I honestly believe that some fans probably pray to the buckeyes and not god.  Could you imagine “Dear Buckeyes please give me the strength to not get so intoxicated during your next game that I can make it home and not end up in the bushes again with an unexplainable wet spot, chipped tooth and an unnatural urge to scratch my crotch.  Amen”

Running in the Rain

I started jogging over a year ago and what started as going one mile turned into going five.  My favorite part is running in the rain.  The light drizzle that’s starts and turns into a full fledge storm.  It is like being out alone up against no one but myself.  Each step is taking me a little further and at the same time closer to my final destination.  

Liberating, exhilarating and sometimes freezing it is one of the best feelings I know.  When it falls down on my head and runs down my face, I feel as though I could go all night.  Staring up into the drops and smiling at them as they hit me in the face.  Clearing my head of the issues from my day, problems of the month and questions of my life.   As my jog comes to an end I run under the shelter of my porch and into my house.  Chilled to the bone, I remove my soaked shoes, socks and hop in a warm shower to unwind to the thought of running in the rain. 

Natural Born Quitter

I stated giving up on hobbies when I was young.  It seems like everyone around me excelled at something and when I think back through my life I DID NOT excel much.  I’m not saying I wasn’t good at something, I am saying I have mastered being a quitter and non-starter better than anyone around.

As a kid my sisters stopped asking me to play games because I would quit before the game was over (only if I was losing).   Once, I brought up to a boyfriend about wanting to learn how to play the guitar or banjo and was told that I wouldn’t get the instant results I would need and not to bother.  Is that what I need, instant gratification?  Hmm, deep thoughts.

 I went through a phase where I made jewelry, I can ride a bicycle rather well and I will say I am great at cutting people’s heads out of photos and putting them on other pictures.   Does any of that even count?   I am still trying to knit but the largest thing I’ve made is a bracelet.   I own a banjo and mini guitar that I haven’t ever attempted.  I guess I am waiting for the right time to pick it up and impress the world with my skills.  Maybe it’s time to pick one and get serious. I laughed out loud at the fact I even wrote that.  

Too Private

the fun thing about Facbook is that you have control of what the public has access to see. You can pick and choose what aspects of your life are open for all the "randoms" out there. I myself don't want just anyone to be able to see me and I keep almost everything private, almost everything. I even try to limit my "friends" to people I actually know and modify the list often. However, I had my first too private incident just recently.

Being newly single everyone in my family is eyeing someone if not everyone they know as a possible candidate to set me up with. This time it was my sister Amy and my brother-in-law Jim. Apparently, Jim works with a great guy and unbeknownst to me wanted to show him my Facebook profile. No big deal right?

Well, me being my true self I keep one album public for everyone to see, one glorious, head shaking album consisting completely of Beans, my cat. I was informed of my self sabotage by text from my brother-in-law, whom thought is was rather amusing (as did I).

Oddly enough after looking through all 18 pictures of Beans in multiple outfits, costumes and poses he must have decided against asking me out. What he did ask was what Beans was going to be for Halloween. Whoops, oh well.

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.1301141326961.46117.1183262310&type=1

Marie to Kay

Amy Marie:

Fun loving and very involved with her family and kids. If Amy is calling she is probably driving home from work. During this call you will hear about her drive and also her kids. Don't try to get a hold of her any other time because that is almost impossible. Amy likes getting the family together to do fun thing, playing games, making movies, baking cookies, you name it.

Married to Jimmy 5 and mother to my oldest nephew and niece, Ty and Mia.

Andrea Renee:

Crazy and a little unpredictable. Over time Andrea has slowly lost her sensor on what is acceptable to say and what one might want to be kept quiet. Although funny, just hope you are not the one she may be throwing good heartily under the bus. Andrea is always ready for a laugh and is guaranteed a fun time.

Married to Patrick and mother the the twins Porter and Preston and my little meatball Peyton.

Angela Denise:

Moving through life like a traveling nomad. Peace Corp in Micronesia, forest firefighter in Utah, cross country cyclist, park ranger in Arizona, and now the mother of 2 beautiful girls with a third baby days away. Going from crazy and impulsive to a stay at home mom Angie is still doing exactly what she wants.

Married to Brad and the mother of Holly, Fia and baby #3.

Alisha Nicole:

Me, myself, and I.

Annette Lynn:

Godly and domesticated. Annette is the sister I think most of us go to for advice. She is also the sister that tends to be in everyone else's business. Always trying to help and do the right thing. Cooking some of the most amazing meals and keeping her two little ones in line. Annette has always found the positive in life and spreads it where ever she goes.

Married to Ricky and mother to Ava and Luke

Ali Kay:

Independent and very talented. When you are around Ali be warned she may start laughing for no apparent reason. If asked, it could be something that happened an hour ago to years ago. She is artistically gifted and has a life full of possibilities.

Who throws a shoe?

As I sit here on my couch watching my cat lick herself, I wonder just how I got here. As the fourth girl of six, in a family of eight (yes all girls), I have always considered myself the less favored* middle child. Always walking a little to the left of the path my older sisters made and giving new direction to my younger ones.

I had a happy childhood, was a normal teenager and a rather tame twenty year old. Now at 30, I wonder when the fuck I grew up? From owning my own house, to driving my dream car, a modern day El Camino, all the way to holding down a decent job. When did this happen and more importantly where do I go from here?

After recently ending a four year long relationship I am in the process of figuring that out. Trying to find myself and what I want in life. Most of the time I feel like I have been asleep while driving, letting life and the things around me pass me by and not even realizing it. Those times are over and I am ready to take control of myself and my life. That is, as long as I can stay awake.

*Less favored in no way means unloved or ignored, it only means I had my shit together more than sister #3 did and didn’t require as much monitoring as she did. :p