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Top Twelve Clues That You're Working Too Hard or Too Much:

1. You start dreaming about your work
2. You find yourself having trouble distinguishing between work you have already done and work you've dreamt you've already done
3. You call your family members, spouse or children by coworkers' names
4. You take your laptop or PDA on a family vacation
5. You give out your personal cell phone number to clients
6. You discover that at least two days a week, you eat every single one of the day's meals at the office
7. You go shopping for essentials to restock your workstation, such as lotion, dental floss, contact lens cleaner, deodorant or perfume, snacks, aspirin, air freshener, or anti-bacterial wipes
8. You buy bulk supplies of hot chocolate/coffee, boxed cereal, granola bars, fruit, and other food staples to keep in the office kitchen
9. You leave your headphones, radio, cell phone recharger, and other small electronic devices or appliances at work because you're tired of taking them home and not using them—or worse, you buy duplicates to leave at work!
10. You keep a change of clothes at work
11. You leave work at the end of the day and then go back or start working again as soon as you get home, just to finish up what you didn't get done from your To-Do list
12. You start talking about having a "work ethic" to your young children

I totally get caught up in music (and videos, which I think of as mini-movies). I bask in the emotions music evokes in me. I marvel at the power. And I pity those who seem unaffected by song.

Today I found a new favorite song. I actually heard it the first time on the radio while on my way to the group's live concert at an amphitheatre over a month ago, and the song resonated in me. I stored the sensation away in my memory. Later that night when I heard it performed live, I was pleased to hear a different rendition of the song every bit as powerful as the first version I heard. New images and emotions blended with the initial ones to play through my imagination and then sunk deep into the back of my mind and took hold in my heart. Every time I heard the song on the radio, it pulled up those sensations again. Still, I didn't quite register the song's full impact on me. I couldn't say what sets it apart from others. But the song jumped forcefully to the forefront of my mind the moment I started watching the music video. Man! It's amazing how it floored me! To have the lyrics and images all come together so perfectly is like premonition, like having the artists in my head sharing ideas and emotions with me. It's like a gift. I don't know how long this particular song will top my list of favorites, but I know it will remain in that list forever.

Now, I'm purposefully not saying what song, group, or video it was that affected me this way. My point would be lost. I hope instead that you can insert your favorite song or music video into my meandering thoughts and call up your own memories and emotions. Go ahead, have a little moment of music appreciation with me!

After two days in bed, I feel I'm pulling through the migraine pain and regaining my strength slowly. I know now that it wasn't just a migraine but a touch of the flu too. This happens to me when the season changes. I must have been severely worn out this time, though. I haven't felt the desire to do any projects or even had the energy to get out of bed for three days now. That's really not like me. I can tell I'm getting better, not only because a thread of energy has crept back into my body, but also because I keep glancing at the couple of stacks of projects I have lying around, and when I do, the ticklings of a desire to produce and to progress stir in me. I'm viciously batting it down right now because I know I'm not fully recovered yet. But soon I'll complete things, I'll create again.

Yesterday I was in the middle of a training session when I realized I could no longer see my screen. I had a migraine coming on fast. I haven't had a migraine in years, but if you've ever had one, you know that what was coming wasn't fun. I knew time was short, so I wrapped up my work and had a coworker drive me home. It was a rough, half-hour ride. By the time I got home, I couldn't walk, couldn't see at all. I threw up several times before I was able to keep pain killers and a sleeping pill down. Then I slept all afternoon and evening. Waking up today was painful. I still feel like someone has a vice grip on my cranium and is shortening the muscles in my neck. The spots aren't gone entirely, so I know I have a small window of time to finish typing this. I could ill afford this setback. I'm on the verge of being overrun by my workload. What can I do, though? I think I'll go back to bed before this gets any worse. I hate feeling weak. I'd really like to take a vacation to get out of work, not get sick!!

It has recently become the fashion at my work to be germaphobic. Are you? (I scored a 42.)

I have been a wild, cleaning thing this weekend. I absolutely scoured my house in preparation for the long winter that is almost upon us. I started out with the intention of just washing the carpets, but in my true family form, the project ballooned out of control. Before I could wash the carpets, I had to vacuum them. Well, I started moving furniture around and noticed the state of the walls in addition to the carpets. So after clearing furniture out of a room, I vacuumed the carpets and then washed down and repainted the walls. Then I ran the shampooer over the carpets and let that all dry while I moved to another room. I did the same thing to that room, and while that room was drying, I moved the furniture back into the first room. In between all this, I kept the laundry going washing all the linens in the house and I did dishes, mopped the floors, and did some rearranging of furniture.

Sometimes a little craziness can be a good thing. I'm tired but satisfied with the work I've done. You could eat pudding off my floor, it's so clean right now. Another half hour could be a different story, though, given my family's lack of attention to the cleanly state of the house we all must live in. *sigh*

Don't you just love the Olympics?! I hate television, but I've been glued to the set watching the Summer Games 2004 with my family all around me. We're not experts. We weren't fans until a week ago. We're plenty appreciative and amazed. Don't you just love the Olympics?!

Do this right now: Get down on your knees, clasp your hands together, close your eyes (after you've read the rest of this sentence, that is), and thank the Good Lord that He completed your intestinal system's growth when you were in the womb. Otherwise, you'd be going through what my nephew is going through.

Tomorrow afternoon my twin's baby boy goes under the knife for the third time since he was born so specialists can attempt to construct a makeshift intestinal and urinary system for him . . . again. His first surgery for this condition took place when he was barely nine months old. It worked for a while, until the little squirt had a growth spirt, and his bladder didn't keep up. In six weeks, he'll have the second half of the procedure. That's four major surgeries and countless hospital visits before age 5! He's a brave little cuss, but his birth defects (one being a rare defect called epispadias) are taking their toll on the whole family. Thank goodness for modern medicine. Without the specialists and intensive care he's had, this kid would have suffered far more and probably wouldn't be alive today.

On another, much more superficial and ridiculous note, I have hot chocolate again! We've been out for about a week, and we finally went shopping tonight (how does a person not have time to SHOP?). Question: Why don't stores feel a need to stock get-you-through-the-winter, family-sized cans of hot chocolate mix yearround? I promise there's room next to the huge, feed-an-army-sized coffee cans. It's descrimination. It's an outrage. I'm writing a letter to Sam "Wal-Mart" Walton. Right after I finish my giant mug of hot chocolate.

My baby turned six today. I can hardly believe it. My girls are growing into fine little women. Ben's family arrived for a quick birthday party with streamers, balloons, a Barbie Swan Lake birthday cake, and lots of presents, including a Barbie scooter. She's so proud. On Saturday when we had a quick party at the cabin with strawberry shortcake as the cake, she turned to me and said in a whisper, "I'm the Birthday Girl, huh, Mom?" I squeezed her and she danced off to bust the pinata, happy as a princess. Man, I love these kids!

I celebrated the day in bed sick with the stomach flu that had me puking all night long. I still feel weak, even after sleeping for most of the day (I normally don't ever sleep during the day). What a tough way to get a day off!

Last night I stood on the patio behind my grandparents' cabin in the High Uintah Mountains near Flaming Gorge Reservoir and absorbed the beauty and brilliance of the night sky at nearly 9,000 feet. As I gazed at the sky littered with stars, I realized I'd forgotten how brightly lit the mountains are simply from starlight. I'd forgotten there even was a Milky Way. I'd forgotten the smooth, steady, and quick movement of satellites overhead and the difference between them and an airplane's movement with its blinking lights. I'd forgotten the feeling of peace and wonder that fills me in a way I can only fumble to describe, a feeling that I've never felt in the city in the twelve years I've lived there. I'd forgotten my home.

Things men seem to know that women don't (and may not care about):

"Shame on you if you fool me once; shame on me if you fool me twice."

I really think I should listen to my intuition more, especially when it comes to judging people's characters and intentions. I was blessed with a gift for seeing to the heart of people, seeing them for who they really are. Unfortunately, I was also cursed with a kind of naivete and an intense desire for everyone to be as nice as I am. From this desire, a warped sort of "Golden Rule" has been born. It makes me want to give people the benefit of the doubt who do not deserve it, despite my inner voice screaming "RUN AWAY! DO NOT LISTEN TO THAT LIAR!" (my inner voice has no compunction about calling a spade a spade—or an ass an ass, as the case may be). My ignoring this voice sometimes prevents me from protecting myself. But I know the truth, because when it comes to someone trying to hurt someone I love, I'm on them like stink on . . . well, you know the expression. But I realize that sometimes not protecting myself from other people can hurt not just me but the people I love, by extension. I think I'll stop shouting my inner voice down. I'm getting pretty hoarse anyway. She's spunky, sassy, and seriously irritated.

Yesterday, I watched as my oldest daughter was happily gaming with her father and uncles for nearly three hours. Seated at my computer gazing at the screen and operating my complicated ball scrolling mouse, she was comfortably using words like "mage," "titan," "dragon knights," "griffin," and "cavalry," while mastering her hero character, Kara, the seventeenth-level wood elf Druid, in a walled city she built and protected by towers, lightning hawks, archers, and dragons. The look on her face was pure delight; her comments, barely restrained enchantment. She is thoroughly her father's daughter. In favor of the laptop my company got me, I've officially relinquished my computer, where Kara the wood elf now merrily blasts away giants, knolls, harpees, goblins, and lords. And sometimes visits Cartoon Network and even Barbie online.

I'm subconsciously burying myself in work and projects. That way I don't have to think about anything too close to my heart. My employer loves it. My husband hates it. My kids are desperate for more of my attention. My friends are feeling ignored and worried. And I'm on the outside of all of this, looking in helplessly, powerless to do anything but ride this out. Ever felt like that?

Yesterday I spent time with friends from a time long gone, and together we said good-bye to a common friend whose eulogy celebrated the man we knew and recalled events and antics we'd long forgotten. We all huddled around each other trying to fill the emptiness inside, each of us thinking things we dare not say aloud. But I don't just mourn this loss. I mourn other losses too. The emotions I felt during the services still grip my chest, and I find myself laboring to breathe from time to time. It passes, and then later I'll be ambushed by a suffocating sadness that suddenly blankets me for several heart-stopping moments. It passes slowly and I stumble back into my consciousness dazed and confused and afraid it won't pass the next time. My forced lightness fools and keeps others from hovering around me. I can't explain what I'm going through. It's not all about death. It's partly about loss. It's partly about reunions. There were people there whom I miss with an ache that won't end, deep in the dark recesses of my mind, friends I once was close to but never will be again. Being with them is bittersweet—but it's better than not being with them. I've been here before.

My county was issued a severe thunderstorm warning tonight. The sky is all sorts of shades from yellow to green to black, and it's absolutely dancing with lightning. I can't wait for the thunder to start. I left work really late tonight and was immediately ushered with all other motorists off the freeway by highway patrolmen into a labyrinth of side streets whose traffic lights were all nonfunctioning. It took me nearly an hour to make my normally half hour commute home. You'd think we'd never had a good storm here! I'm anticipating a much bigger storm, though. Tomorrow I will drive to my hometown to reunite with many old friends to say good-bye to one of our posse. This event will inevitably send me reeling, and I'm already bracing for its effects. Add to that the mounting pressure at my job and the restlessness I feel, and you've got a pretty good recipe for a violent and tyrannical storm that won't quit until I'm utterly exhausted.

I may be crazy, but I love a good storm.

Today was a roller coaster. The day started out fine. I was organizing my week and settling into my workday, feeling happy and hopeful about accomplishing a lot. Then I got some news that knocked me flat. I learned that one of my friends from high school had shot himself last Thursday, leaving behind a wife and three children. We weren't super close, especially lately. But we were on swim team together, lifeguarded together, and taught swimming lessons together for three years. We hung in the same crowd, and he even went on a couple of dates with my sister. Upon learning about this tragedy, I instantly started crying and left the office. Then I sat on the steps in the stairwell and pulled myself together enough to call my sister and arrange to attend the funeral together on Wednesday. I spent the rest of the day brutally shoving down overwhelming feelings of grief and trying to clear my head enough to get my work done, especially knowing I wouldn't be in the office on Wednesday. There's no easy way to hear that kind of news, and my past experience with suicide brings up all kinds of emotional turmoil I thought I'd left behind. I hate to think it's more about me, but honestly, death is always about the survivors. I wonder if I'd have been a better friend to him if I'd known he was struggling. It sure makes me think about my old friends and want to contact them to make sure they're okay. Think I'll go update my address book and shoot off a couple of emails, just in case.

I spent the weekend with my twin sister helping her while she held a garage sale with some of her work friends and then went to work. That means I spent most of the weekend babysitting 5 kids all by myself. It wasn't too bad, actually. I adore the baby. But I didn't get much sleep, changed more diapers than I have in years, and felt (and looked) like a dead mommy most of the weekend. It was great to spend a little time with my sister. She renews my strength and refills my energy. And I do the same for her. We shape our dreams and vent our worries, and in the end we breathe better. My sisters and I will always be close (I was blessed with three of them, each remarkably different from the others). My brothers (I have 2) are a mystery to me, but I love them just the same.

I left my twin's house later than I had planned and was anxious to get on the road for the 1.5-hour drive back to our house, tomorrow being a school/work day and us having much to do to get ready for a new week. I wasn't all that pleased when my oldest reminded me that I'd promised to get them some treats for the trip. But I kept my promise and turned into the gas station on the corner. My kids were picking out treats when I looked up and saw something I never ever expected to see. My youngest brother was browsing the aisles! Background: I haven't seen my brother since last Thanksgiving. He keeps to himself and works hard not to bother people with his troubles, which have been considerable since my Mom died. I was so happy to see him that I grabbed him in a big bear hug. He looked slightly embarrassed, but I could tell he was also pleased. We went out to my car and I whipped out a photo album I happened to have picked up from my twin's house so we could reminisce a little—and so I could remind him he has a family who needs and loves him. Then I whipped out my handy dandy new digital camera and further embarrassed him by snapping his photo. (Sorry, I can't post it because I didn't get his permission, and I don't do that.) What a happy coincidence. What a great weekend!

I love getting new toys! So far this week, I've gotten a new digital camera, a new laptop, and a wireless mouse and keyboard. Can't wait to see what I get tomorrow! WiFi in my home? A new cell phone? A new deep freezer? A new wardrobe?

I started out my day delousing my daughters' hair . . . both of them . . . again (last week, yesterday, and today). I moved on to dropping them both off at school for their first day of the school year (I now have one in first grade and one in second grade) and finding out that the school district hadn't assigned bus numbers yet to shuttle my kids safely home from school. At work I got a new laptop and discovered that our wireless network isn't accepting any new users; IT is working on it. In the meantime, I'm the only person in the company who can't access the new time tracking software, which means I'm going to get a scolding for not keeping track of my client-billable hours (in all fairness, I'd probably get in trouble for this anyway, since I'm no good at time-tracking). After a hard day's work, on my way home from work (I actually left on time today!!!), I felt a peculiar bumping while getting on the freeway and realized that I had a flat tire. A highway patrolman stopped to help me change the tire. I got to drive home on a doughnut tire going 45 MPH on the freeway—which is taking your life in your own hands anyway—in a tumultuous rainstorm. I drove straight to the tire center at Wal-Mart. They were closing shop for the night. I convinced the grumpy man to fix my flat while I shopped for some in-between groceries like milk and water bottles—and more lice-removal shampoo. While I was in the store, the building got hit by lightning. I spent the evening applying the lice-removal shampoo to both squirming children's heads while listening to Ben's eclectic collection of piano instrumentals interspersed with big hair band ballads.

Now, after hearing all this, you most likely think I had a bad day. I didn't.

The girls were so excited for their first day of school that their mood was infectious. They raced around gathering their new school supplies (I have a real love of school supplies, oddly enough, a penchant that my daughters apparently share), showing off their new school clothes, and letting Ben and I groom them to perfection. I then got to drive them to school (a rare treat, since I usually leave for work too early), and I got to meet their teachers and some of their friends while waiting for the bell to ring, and I got to take darling photos of them with my new digital camera. The school bus thing just showed me how brave and wise my oldest daughter is, because she announced to me that she could get home with the teachers' direction and would help her younger sister as well. When I got to work I had a brand new Dell Latitude Notebook. It's an awesome machine: 1.6 GHz processor, 40 GHz hard drive, 8x CD drive, built-in wireless card, MS Office XP, a sleek gunmetal grey slim design, and a handy black carrying case, all in appreciation for my work. While I worked on my old computer all day long, I had Spider Solitaire running simultaneously on my laptop by my side! And who wants to track time when you have the perfect excuse? On my way home, I realized that I had a flat tire before it became damaging or serious. While I was waiting for the auto club to come, the highway patrolman stopped to help me. He was a sweet man who showed me all the steps he'd taught his daughters to take when changing a tire. I was touched by his kindness and grateful for his suggestions. And he got the job done before it started raining like a banshee! When I pulled into Wal-Mart, they were closing the doors. The grumpy man took one look at my pathetic doughnut tire and opened his bay back up to allow my car in. I happily shopped for the necessities my family needed (plus chocolate, which I needed). When I got back to the tire bay, lightning had struck the building, effectively killing all their computers. So they gave me the flat tire fix for free! (I bought all those guys Cokes and a smile!) When I got home, my cute little family was there waiting to tell me about their fun day. We all sat around chatting and sharing while we worked on getting the wee beasties out of my kids' crops. My eldest even let me cut the bottom 2 inches off her hair when we couldn't get a comb through the snarls. She looks adorable! I got to snuggle with them both as they dropped off to sleep, and now I'm going to snuggle with Ben. That, my friends, is a great day!

Yep, I did it. I sluffed work this afternoon to go see Borne Supremacy with my husband. We were supposed to be going with a bunch of my coworkers, but everyone ended up bailing out on us, so we had a little date instead. Now I'm going to briefly attempt to pose as a movie critic:

The movie was pretty good, despite the fact that we sat too close to the screen. I liked the first one better (I'm not the only one), but part 2 was a welcome break from normal life, thrilling and action packed. Matt Damon is looking a lot older these days; "Maria" was prettier—and briefer, demoted to a bit part. The camera work was queasy-making in many places, jiggling too much and making me have to close my eyes in many scenes just to refocus. (Says one critic: "Somebody needs to tell filmmakers that holding a camera by hand and shaking it around is not artistic. It looks like The Bourne Witch Project."-- Fred Topel, ABOUT.COM.) The plot resembled the camera work at times. And to my huge disappointment, they forgot the love scene (now I'm really going to have to see a chic flick over the weekend!). They certainly set it up for part three, but don't expect the entire cast from Borne Identity to be back! TMI? If you like action flicks and don't have a weak constitution, see the movie, but you may wanna wait for the DVD version. The more I think about it, the less I like the movie. But it could have been worse: I could have seen Catwoman.

In the end, it was worth the sluffing—but I think paying taxes would have been worth sluffing work for today!

Yesterday I got my hair cut. When guys say this, it usually isn't a big deal. When girls say this, it could mean all sorts of things. So lemme attempt to show you.

A representation of my hair before the clip		A representation of my haircut now

Lest you think I've gone and gotten a celebrity haircut on purpose, let me point out that I didn't go in with this haircut in mind. I had a couple of problems I wanted the hairstylist to address:

Allow me to pout for a few minutes:

Lately I feel like I don't belong in my home. When I get home from work, I have no where to go. My house isn't big to begin with, and there are always so many people filling it up further. My husband's family fills our lives. I can't have any privacy anywhere. What should I do when I get home? I can't watch TV or get on my computer. There's always someone watching TV or playing on my computer at precisely the time when I want to. I could read, but I've already read so much this summer that 1) I've run out of books, and 2) I'm sick of it. I find myself restless and bored, and I feel like I don't belong here. I work really hard all day long, and by the end of the day, I really want to get out of there. I feel a sense of duty to go home to help Ben with the kids and to spend time with my family so they won't become strangers. But the irony is that they're strangers already, and they don't miss me much. My eldest daughter has suddenly decided that my computer is hers to play Warlords on with her father, which I don't really want to discourage because it's just so cute and they both have so much fun. Still, it's mine and I nearly always have plans for using it. My youngest daughter is stuck on Harry Potter right now and watches the TV noon and night; when she's not on it, Ben has it tuned to news. They busy themselves in the little spaces they've spent all day carving out. I feel like an intruder. So I eat too much junk, take way too many baths, clean up messes I had no hand in, and putter about waiting for bedtime so I can go to sleep and then go back to work. Where impossibly I'm even less appreciated.

Yes, I'm crazy and being selfish, but I want to run away from home, from my life.

In the cultures who believe in the role, a Rainmaker is an honored member of society or a group. (See Rainmaker definitions.) When I was in college, a movie called The Power of One came out (1992). It is about a boy who was orphaned in South Africa and raised by Zulus and open-minded, forward-thinking freedom fighters and anti-apartheid activists. The little boy becomes a hero in the fight, and soon earns the nickname of Rainmaker for the oppressed black people. It was a movie with themes my mother championed. The music is stunning too. It's how I learned about the concept of a rainmaker, a hero.

I have a slightly more literal spin on the role. It's been raining this week. It doesn't normally rain in Utah in July. But I figured out why it's raining. I washed my car. I have an unblemished record of correspondence between my car washing exercises and the downfall of wetness from the sky onto said car. If you're thinking that Utah has been in a drought for the past five or six years, and if this rainmaker trick were true, then I could be at fault for the drought if I simply didn't wash my car. There you have it. Obviously, I don't wash my car all that much. But this one is new, so I've been paying it a little more attention. And also, the reverse isn't true; not EVERY time it rains have I washed my car, so someone else must also be responsible for rain making in Utah.

I am so tired right now that I cannot successfully complete a game of Spider Solitaire or Super Collapse. I finally gave up after a few tries with stupid mistakes. How pathetic is that?

My children watch cartoons throughout the day. (Well, the TV is on, anyway. They don't really hold still to watch, but just try changing the channel!) I have a number of problems with this. First, I hate television and feel that watching television for more than an hour is a gigantic waste of time. I recognize the need for escapism, but they're 7 and 5! They could be spending that time reading the many books we've gotten for them, or they could be expending their bounteous energy outside. The other problem is that the television is parked in the middle of the house, so there's no peace and quiet in my house, no place to escape at all. And they dominate the channel selection.

Their favorite channel is Boomerang, the Cartoon Network channel that shows all the retro cartoons, from the Super Friends to all the Hanna Barbara cartoons. Nothing is more annoying than the Hanna Barbaras, because they are all exactly the same. They have the same voice actors, the characters are all formula, the plots are the same, the music is the same, and even the jokes are the same. Crazy making, I tell you!

I hate how the men and women are portrayed in the old cartoons. All the progress that we've made in the last twenty years towards equality between the sexes is escaping my children's minds as they absorb the petty, trivial female characters (who stand idly by affecting nothing but looking pretty) and the arrogant, domineering males (who always get what they want quite by accident instead of through cleverness and effort). *Sigh* I can only hope that living examples are stronger than animated ones.

I wish my kids liked the newer cartoons more, the ones I could get into—like the new Teen Titans, Gargoyles, Kim Possible, Sponge Bob Square Pants, and Dexter's Laboratory. I actually miss Cartoon Network's ads from last year that highlighted the villains and the heroes in their cartoons with catchy spots entitled "Chillin' with the Villains" and "Hanging with the Heroes." Why can't my kids get stuck on one of Pixar's many stellar animations?! Or Disney's? If we own any of these movies, it's because I wanted to watch them, not my kids.

I'm thinking about getting another television and DVD player just to put in my room. It won't solve the peace problem, but at least I'll get to watch what I want to watch when I want to watch it. So there! My kids aren't normal, I think. Or maybe I'm not.

Today was a roller coaster. I came pretty damn close to quitting my job. In a nutshell, I'm sick of being overworked and underappreciated. I spent the entire day on the phone and working like mad to get a thousand things done and help customers and coworkers all at the same time (it seems my new boss can issue commands remotely). I was a multi-tasking fool. And what thanks do I get for it? Well, I got bitch-slapped over the phone by somebody who thinks she's my boss. A couple of times I got accused by a customer (the one I worked late for last night) of not doing what I said I'd do. After a much-needed and very nice late lunch, I got bombarded with what felt like attacks from every side as I walked in the door (how does one get SIX voicemail messages in an hour?). I was exhausted by the time I left work at 5:30. I was feeling pretty helpless and angry at the time I left, but the reason I left then was because I found some kindness in the world. My sister in law won tickets off the radio to see John Mayer and Maroon 5 in concert tonight at Salt Lake City's Usana Amphitheatre, and she invited me to come along. The concert was great! I was able to forget about the problems of the workday and just relax and dance and sing along. Medicine for the soul, I tell ya! But then when we got home and I checked my voicemail, I had another nasty message from the boss impersonator accusing me of dropping the ball. I left a pretty direct voicemail message back for her. I refuse to apologize. But the second voicemail I had was from a concerned coworker who was actually kind to me and wanted to make sure I was okay after the long, hard day he knew I'd had. Man, if I didn't have those little kindnesses in my life, I'd be reworking my resume instead of typing this blog for you to read. So be kind to others and play nicely. Few things in this world are within your control or anyone else's, and I didn't get a magic wand. Did you?

I got home from work at 9:30 p.m. tonight. Yes, I went to work at 8:00 a.m. Aside from a break in the middle of the day for my Toastmasters group, I spent my day pinned to a computer. You would think that I'd be depressed about that, but the truth is that I like working so much that it scares me. I like the feeling of accomplishing things, of helping others. What I don't like is getting bogged down, because that doesn't help anyone. I seem to be getting bogged down a lot at work lately. I'm running an experiment over the next two days to see if this could be because of my new boss. She'll be gone for the rest of the work week, so if things ease up significantly, that could be really telling. I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something about the situation if it does turn out to be a lot easier. I can't continue to be at everyone's beck and call or I'll never get anything done. And then what's the point of going to work? I just wish everyone in the world would do their little part to make things easier for the rest of us. *Sigh*

I go through cycles. One of my cycles is a restlessness. I regularly make a wish list of things I want, or things I want to do, or places I want to go, or whatever. I started making a mental list today, as I sat on a beach by an inlet of the Great Salt Lake waiting for my friends to come back from waterskiing with their kids. The sun was shining, I was sipping a pop, feeling luxuriously relaxed and tanning (sort of)—it was more fun than I've had in a good long while. I started to think of how much experiences like that meant to me as a child and what they mean to me now. I could tell my children were having a blast, an experience they won't soon forget. I loved giving it to them. What other kinds of experiences can I give them, I wondered. I started planning some things right then and there. What's wrong with that? you may wonder. I'll tell you.

The problem is that I couldn't be more opposite from Ben. He acts like my cycles are a disease, like I should strive to keep my life constant. He lives his whole life in pretty much a straight line and acts like everyone else is crazy for looking for activity. Sure, I'm restless and love activity. I don't think it's a bad thing. How else would I learn and grow and stretch myself and have new experiences? I'm an adventurer. So are my daughters, thank the Light. Ben is perfectly content in his life as it is. The likes of me will never be content, but we'll have a lot of fun trying to find it!

Follow Up
Oh crap. So much for fun and adventure. Like most things in life, it was fun while it lasted, but now I'm horribly burned. It appears I missed a couple of spots when I was slathering sunscreen on today. I'm allergic, remember? You'd think I would've learned my lesson by now. The sun is NOT my friend. I just wanna die right about now.

I saw the oddest thing this morning on my way to work. A police car on the side of the road pulled into traffic on the two-lane highway I was traveling on, almost causing several traffic accidents. Then he proceeded to weave back and forth across the two lanes for about three miles going about 10-15 miles under the speed limit with his lights on. Of course, it caused an almost immediate traffic jam. I've never seen speed suppression quite like that! When the police car reached the freeway interchange, he turned off his lights and sped away on the other freeway. We happened to be going the same direction, so I followed him. Another mile down the road, he pulled into the median between the freeway, turned around, and headed back the other direction at high speeds but without his lights on. If I hadn't seen his uniform when he turned around, I still would be thinking that someone had stolen a police car and gone joy riding. Bizarre.

I gave a speech today for Toastmasters. Ironically, it was on de-stressing your workplace and your life. If that ain't the blind leading the blind, I don't know what is! The speech was supposed to be 5 to 7 minutes long. I talked for over 10 minutes. I had no idea I'd talked that long. I was stunned when they read my time. Afterwards my fellow Toastmasters told me it didn't seem like that long. In my head I am still thinking, I need to just shut up. And not just at Toastmasters. I really hate the thought that I could be coming off as a know-it-all or just a jabbermouth. I don't think I've ever been this mentally and physically tired. I have no control. I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams, and I cannot stop the slow-motion blowing up. Most days I just wish I could get it all over with. The waiting for the hammer to fall is excruciating.

My oldest daughter has a part in the first grade play called "Click Clack Moo - Cows That Type." We've all been giggling as she practices her parts. Some people are so clever. If you want a fun read, look up the play by Doreen Cronin.

Wow. I mean, WOW!

I just got back from eBay Live 2004 in New Orleans. I can't believe the energy that was at this year's conference and surrounded everything in New Orleans. My hotel and all the restaurants were filled with fellow eBayers, a truly unique community. That really is one of the weirdest collections of people I've ever come across. Appearances can be deceptive, though. Some of those people are remarkably bright—and remarkably rich! They're just strange beyond belief. Some of them truly need to learn some social skills—buy them if they must! I was faced with a few really intensely difficult and dramatic situations; for example, one required that eBay's security guards get involved, one required a quick-thinking colleague's bail-out, and another required an enormous amount of restraint and a lifetime of good training in handling jackasses.

I am all sorts of exhausted. It's been a really long week, believe me. I have never worked so hard in my life, I am certain. I have practically been on my feet and talking till I'm hoarse for the past four days straight. My eating and sleeping schedules are all screwed up. My brain is fried beyond recognizable thought patterns. I missed my family desperately. The flight home was a nightmare. I was already very tired and annoyed when I was chosen to be searched by airport security and therefore now feel violated; due to a rainstorm in Houston where we had a transfer, we were forced to sit in the plane on the tarmac for nearly two hours with no air conditioning amongst a flight crowded with young children; and the airline broke my coworker's bag, requiring a delay while he filed and resolved that complaint. I am dreading going to work tomorrow because my work hasn't stopped coming in with a vengeance while I was gone, and I have so much wrap-up work to do from the conference. Woe is me!

But all in all, I'm really glad I went. I met so many people and forged some great friendships, including making some valuable contacts inside eBay itself. Just be prepared to listen to me whine for a few days or weeks about how crazy busy I am and how I can't catch up fast enough. But of course, you expected that already, right?

Vive eBay!

Other Stuff:

My youngest graduated from Kindergarten on Friday

Tomorrow morning I will be boarding a plane all alone for the first time in my life. I haven't traveled a whole lot in my lifetime, and I've flown even less. I'm headed to eBay Live in New Orleans (said "New Orlins," my sister insists, or I sound like a Utahn). I'm working the whole time I'm there, which is pretty much what I always do, so no worries there. But I miss my family already, and they just barely went to sleep. I'm nervous and anxious and irritated already. This should be fun. To make matters worse, I had an emergency root canal surgery this afternoon, so that pressurized cabin should make my mood just delightful for everyone with whom I come into contact. Joy joy f***ing joy. I need drugs.

Try as he might, Ben could not get out of attending a family party at my sister's house tonight, the purpose of which was to meet my younger brother's new girlfriend / fianc�e. Even if my brother hadn't been a sore spot in our lives (he's been a downright burden a few times in our past), Ben wouldn't have wanted to go. You see, family parties equal husband hell for men the world over. I'm not sure the reverse is as universally true, although I'm sure some women have trouble mingling with the in-laws.

Ben and I have been married for a dozen years now and have known each other years longer than that, and it still surprises me how much trouble we can still have with each other's families. Ben's family is always around, in our lives daily. I'm fine with that. Why is it such a big deal when my family is around? Tonight it dawned on me that Ben may not particularly like my family members. He has a way of being polite to them, which isn't the same thing as being friendly or comfortable with them. He's better with each of them alone, but us as a group is way too much for him. Not surprisingly, I feel most comfortable when I'm around my family, alone or in groups. I just wish he didn't make me feel like I need to apologize for including him in my family functions.

Actually, I secretly wish he didn't make me feel like I need to apologize for ANYTHING. Ever.

When I was a girl, I remember sitting on our family's patio watching the summer night sky. My Mom was a big astronomy buff, and she taught us kids a lot about the sky—planets, stars, nebulae, gases, constellations, galaxies, and worlds without number. She'd patiently pointed out satellites while we watched meteor showers or Halley's Comit pass, explaining why stars appear to fall from the sky or why they seem to be blinking and winking at us. I remember her teaching me to wish on the stars. I don't remember what I wished for, but I'm pretty sure this ain't it. Most days I feel very akin to those stars.

I'm making a deal with myself. I'm not going to whine today. I'm not going to participate in whining activities. The mood at my work is tense, and everyone is whining. Sales are suffering, clients are being wholly unreasonable and taking their frustrations out on us, the programmers are bogged down in a some serious and elusive bugs and are being snippy, management is busy focusing on eBay Live—it's a bad scene. I realized that listening to people whine and commiserating with my coworkers not only took a huge chunk of my day yesterday, but it also brings me down. I can't afford to wallow right now, for may reasons. I will never get out from under the pile of work I have to do if I have the wrong attitude and waste my day with unproductive tasks. No one else is going to do them, and they'll blow up in my face if I don't get them completed. So today I'm going to retreat into my headphones and just really knock some work out.

(Save your snickers for later.)

Note to self: STOP making plans, deals, goals, strategies, bets, or anything resembling something that can be plotted against! Frustration inevitably follows.

1. See notes from 4 March 2004. Same story, different month. Remarkably, I can't wait to have surgery next Tuesday.
2. I have been carrying a paycheck in my purse for three weeks waiting for just the right time to deposit it.
3. See yesterday's entry. After bumming rides all day long, I finally got my car back. *huge sigh of relief*
4. I have 174 emails in my Inbox at work—or I did when I left at 4:00 p.m.
5. The countdown to my attendance of eBay Live marches on. I'm dreading it. At the end of this month, I get to spend four days in hot, muggy New Orleans at my company's booth schmoozing with some of the weirdest people on earth. Last year - I didn't go
6. Remind me why I had kids: Current Health Crisis
7. Above health crisis lead to the nastiest fight Ben and I have had in ages. Ben had been growling and snapping at us all the entire night last night. Finally, he snapped. He grabbed a pair of scissors and a fistful of my youngest's hair and *SNIP*
   *gasps from all girls in the house*
   *several moments of shocked silence*
   *siren-like wailing and shouting from all girls in the house (including me—plus a lot of swearing)*

   Yep, he cut her beautiful blonde hair from beyond her shoulders all the way up to the nape of her neck. Followed by angry wife stomping around the house and giving him a well-deserved silent treatment until kids were in bed. Then we had words. I'm not sure who won, but my youngest actually had clips in her hair when she went to school this morning. *hint, hint*

And that's obviously not all. Never a dull moment 'round here. I'm going to soak in the tub.

I got a call today around 3:00 p.m. from the collision repair center telling me my car was ready to be picked up. Yippee! I get my car back, I thought, surprised by my anticipation. I wrapped up my work business and drove down to the rental car company to return their perfectly good little car with a surprisingly kick-ass stock stereo and a hello get-up-and-go accelerator. It was a fun little car to drive for the past six days, I must admit, but I miss my car. Or, more correctly, I miss having my own car that I can personalize and feel pride in caring for and not have to worry about what I leave in it or what other people (or birds) do to it when I'm not around. The rental company gladly shuttled me over to the collision repair center, which was silly because it was two blocks away. But the cute, young female rep insisted, since there was a major six-lane road in between me and my destination--and since the air conditioning in her office was broken but worked fine in the shuttle car. Added kudos for good Samaritans.

My car wasn't proudly displayed up front, something I would do if I ran a collision repair center. The Enterprise girl assured me that my car must be in back and waved good-bye. I should have listened to the nagging alarm bells in my head. A moment later the receptionist at the collision repair center searched in vain for my paperwork and keys, then left to begin asking around the shop. After a few minutes, the guy in charge came out apologizing profusely that my car wasn't ready, and in fact I'd been called by mistake. This never happened, he assured me. I promptly dug out my cell phone and called the rental company again. My speedy sporty car was already rented out—in 15 minutes! Crap. Did I want another one? And wait another hour and a half for it to be detailed and brought over and to go through the paperwork again? No, I didn't want to wait. I had my brother-in-law pick me up instead. Now I'll have to beg a ride tomorrow when they've finished painting my car.

The CRC guy was so apologetic, he bought me a soft drink.

I'm in a Sarah McLachlan mood. She's coming in concert next month to an amphitheatre near my home. I'm not really a concert-goer; I usually consider it too expensive. But I may make that show. Sarah knows how to sing to the soul.

Her site has lyrics, in case you're not familiar with the artist. "Fallen" hits quite close to home.

I gave blood today. I'm not sure why. I don't know who wants my blood, but I'm assured they do. A Red Cross bus parks in front of my office building twice a year and silently begs passersby to bleed a little. I've certainly bled a lot more on occasion. What's a pint more? You answer a thousand questions. They're very careful to screen people who've lived outside the country, had West Nile, shared drug needles, and what not. I felt confident in the knowledge that I have enormous blood vessels sticking out on both arms, a hematologist's dream. How can anyone miss them? My nurse was somewhat cold, and although she appeared practiced, she managed to make my particular needle slip and bruise me painfully. I raced the woman next to me, although she probably didn't know it. I won. I'm oddly proud of the wide, colorful mark that has spread from the crook of my elbow down my arm. It hurts still, hours later, so that I can barely make a fist. I'm hanging on to the pain in a way that makes me worry. Maybe I'll save a life.

I remember an episode of West Wing where Toby talks about the voices of President Bartlett's demons shouting down the better angels in Jed's brain. I'm beginning to understand a whole new meaning in that concept. Somewhere deep within me is a good soul silently screaming. She's hoarse now, shredded and tired of me not listening to her, as my demons grin smugly. I'm in a living nightmare of my own creation. Corruption walking.

My demons aren't as unfamiliar as they ought to be. But the real problem is that I usually don't want them to be. I can call myself nine kinds of ugly, but I've suddenly had a glimpse into some souls whose demons would glady eat mine for breakfast. And I find myself repulsed, and thus, I'm faced with a decision: Do I shout down my demons and let my angels govern for a change, unnatural and unpracticed as it seems to me, or do I give in to the fate I've been refusing to acknowledge but towards which I've been haltingly marching, the angry resignation that wants to consume me? Is it better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all? Why can't I feel anything? I can't even cry.

If I let my soul scream, what would she say? I fear she'll be a devil, not an angel.

I envy turtles their solid shell. If I were a turtle, I'd retreat inside my shell until the enemy has passed. I wonder how long I'll stay inside. The good side is that I've lost 5 pounds in three days. That's not all I've lost.
I feel terrifyingly numb.

Have you ever been betrayed by someone you trusted when you never should have? Have you ever known you were wrong and refused to admit it? Have you been scolded by someone who had no right? Who had every right? Have you ever been chastised by someone who never said a word? Have you ever been tricked by someone's cunning because of your naivete? Has your own inexperience ever gotten you into a situation you couldn't control? Ever been monumentally sorry?

I have.

On my way to work this morning, I did everything right. I didn't speed. I had my seat belt on. I didn't talk on my cell phone. I didn't have my music up too loud. I signalled when I changed lanes. I didn't cut anyone off. I maintained proper following distance. I was alert, careful, and considerate. To no avail. As I approached my office, I stopped at a stoplight that was unusually backed up this morning. There were nearly a dozen cars in front of me. The lady behind me apparently didn't notice that, because she hit my car going probably 40 miles per hour. I was stopped over six feet behind the car in front of me with my foot on the brake, and she still knocked me into the car in front of me, despite my stomping on the brake involuntarily. I heard a muffled thump and a crunch, and then I saw, in slow motion, my car heading towards the car in front of me. I was powerless to stop it. We all limped over to the sliver of space on the side of the road to survey the damage. I first looked at the car in front of me. Neither of us could see any damage to her car. I didn't hit her very hard. Then I looked at the front of my car. It wasn't scratched or dented either. Then we both looked at the car that hit me. And gasped.

Oh my, it was munched. The hood of her Audi was crumpled, there was red fluid leaking from underneath her car, and you could see into her hood, the carburator and engine lifted at abnormal angles. The car was a tangle of fiberglass and metal and strange smells. It was obviously undrivable, completely totalled. An inspection of my car's gauged and scraped up rear bumper revealed that the Audi had slid underneath my car.

The poor lady, who looked to be a normally very put-together woman in her mid-forties, seemed like she wanted to cry. Her teenage daughter in the seat next to her looked pissed and stunned in turns. I've never been in an accident. I think we all handled it very well, calmly calling the police and retelling the story without blaming or exaggerating. For my first fender bender, it wasn't that bad. I'm pretty sure the soreness and stiffness will hit tomorrow, though. And then also starts the inconvenience of getting my car appraised, my bumper replaced, and the whole thing repainted. *sigh*

Can I just tell you how much I love The West Wing? It all started with an admiration for the movie that started the series, American President. I loved that show. And now I find myself loving the series that followed. The pace, the interplay between characters, the juxtaposition of emotions, the quality of humor and wit and human understanding, the variety of topics—they all sucked me in to make me thoroughly a fan of Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme's work. On recommendation from my little sister, I purchased Season 1 of West Wing on DVD for Christmas last year—and purchased a second copy for my little sister as well. Ben and I immediately got hooked and watched an episode a night for over two weeks and more on the weekends. A little over a week ago, Ben and I purchased Season 2, and we've been engrossed in the DVDs ever since.

Now, I never watched West Wing during the viewing season. I came to the game a little late. But then, that's not surprising, since I'm not a TV watcher. I just can't make that kind of weekly commitment, I guess. Besides, it seemed sort of trendy at the time, and I try not to follow the crowd. I'm glad, too, because I'm perfectly happy to digest the whole seasons in big chunks like I am now. Season 1 was superb. Season 2 is even better. I can't wait to watch Season 3. And I expect Season 4 will be more of the same. Remember, I haven't seen any of it!

But when I turn on the new episodes of West Wing, I find that they're lacking something. They're not as pithy, they seem to be trying too hard, and they have lost their charismatic formula. Besides losing some key characters, they lost Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme. At the time of the announcement in May 2003 that Sorkin and Schlamme would be leaving the show, the head of the production company, John Wells, said, "Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme are irreplaceable." No kidding. I don't think I'll be buying Season 5. Or maybe I will, just to see how the mighty have fallen. And possibly for loyalty's sake. Hang in there, C.J. You're my hero!

My twin sister is coming down this weekend so all we sisters can bond and go bargain hunting. I haven't seen her kids in a while, so I'm super excited. We'll play, eat junk food, spend money, shout at the kids, and giggle like girls. I can't wait!

Just call me "Madam Secretary." Has a nice ring to it, huh? I was elected to be the secretary of my Toastmasters club today. The previous secretary had to quit because she had too much going on in her life. I'm pretty excited to do the role. And I'll join my two sisters who are also officers in our club.

By the way, I learned an axiom about working hard today. I work at a company where there is always more work to be done. It's a great little energetic company accomplishing great things, but we are all slightly overworked. For instance, today I worked close to a 10-hour day, and it's not the first time this week. I have about 162 emails in my work Inbox right now, all issues I need to address somehow. I work all day long to take care of that Inbox and juggle my other duties and attend meetings as well. And I'm very good at what I do, if I do so say myself. Here's the axiom I learned: You can help ten people, and the eleventh one will be the one who pitches a fit about you not helping him immediately. Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to my children. When will the grown-ups in my life GROW UP?!

Okay, I'm finished ranting now. I actually had an excellent day. I'm just too tired right now to convey that mood properly. So I think I'll go have a few awesome dreams now. Good night!

No, I wasn't sick long, and yes, I'll write about my family reunion and how perfect it was later. Blah, blah, blah. I only have a moment to write before bedtime, and right now I want to write about my daughters. My daughters are learning to read and write, and I can't tell you how excited I am about this. For their treats the last time we went to the store, they both chose books! I'm so proud! My youngest writes her name on anything and everything. My oldest already went through that phase. But now my oldest is writing other things. For instance, she has a note scrawled on her door. Not on a piece of paper on her door, but on her white-washed wood door—in black watercolor paint. It says "Kepe Owt." Again I ask, can a seven-year-old be pre-teen? But I really am proud.

(And just in case you're wondering, yes, I am again avoiding making up my calendar for the new month.)

How are you feeling? Good? Good. How am I feeling? Not good. Way not good.

I woke up at 4:00 this morning feeling odd and couldn't get back to sleep. Now, a mere three hours later, I feel decidedly SICK! This is an emergency (see yesterday's posting). In a few moments my children will awaken energetic and all excited to head onto the desert for our camping trip, and I have already thrown up twice in the last three hours and have seriously considered cutting my head off a couple of times (I'm obviously experiencing cloudy thinking too, since this ailment seems to be in my stomach not my head). Right now, the thought of motion of any kind is queasy-making. Problem: It's a two-and-a-half-hour drive to the camping site!!! I will spend the next three days miles from the nearest toilet, almost my best friend right now (second only to numerous over-the-counter medications that are currently keeping me alive). How could this happen? Are the gods really so cruel? I've had my suspicions, but this is beyond my most pessimistic expectations. This is definitely not a good way to start a camping trip. Shit!

Today was picnic weather!! This morning you never would have known it. It was drizzly wet and cold. I even wore a long-sleeved shirt to work. This whole week has been wet and cold. But by mid-morning today it was gorgeous, with high, drifting clouds and a warming sun that started thawing me out. This is a good thing. A very good thing. I'm scheduled to leave tomorrow morning for my annual reunion with my Mom's family on the Delta desert for three days. Ben isn't going. He hates camping. It'll be me and my girls camping in the wilds with my sisters and their men.

This tradition dates back to my childhood. It's been interesting to watch it change and the group grow through the ages. We used to camp all together, but as our little families expand, we have broken off into different groups, like spokes on a wheel around the main camp's fire where we all meet for meals, the occassional corny skit, and my favorite part, the nightly gathering around the huge campfire. This is the only time of the year I get to see and interact with many of my cousins. And they are characters! My Aunt MaryAnn's boys, who are a good 15 years older than me, are always the life of the party because of their good-natured, zany humor. And then there's my Uncle Eddie's kids, who are so good-looking it's shocking. My Aunt Peggy's two kids are as opposite as it gets, which makes some interesting dynamics. My Aunt Eva's family of girls all married men with the same names: Nate and Jeff. Their kids are my kids' ages, so I know we'll spend a lot of time in their camp. And that's just my Mom's family. The reunion includes all her relatives too! Yep, we're quite the wild bunch!

I love reconnecting with my family. And my aunts and uncles are a wealth of memories and information about my mother, whom I dearly miss. Perhaps a lot of what I feel at these reunions is a connection with my Mom, as well as an intense desire to pass the love of events like these on to my girls. I'm sure I'll have some fun tales to tell when I resurface. TTFN!

I live in a neighborhood that's mostly Spanish speaking and older folks. We stick to ourselves, for the most part. My daughers speak more Spanish than I do. Their school is practically bilingual because of all the Spanish-speaking students. My oldest daughter seems to have no problem with the language or cultural barriers and makes lots of Mexican friends. This afternoon she attended a birthday party for a little boy from her class named Cristion. When she got the invitation, she was so excited for the party. I don't know the boy or his family, so I purchased a safe toy for boys (Hot Wheels) and dropped my daughter off at a house two blocks from ours. There were no kids there when I got there, so I was worried. But the cute little mommy seemed delighted that she was there, and the boy and his brothers took off to play with my grinning daughter in tow. They even invited my other daughter to join them. She looked mildly interested, but I felt she wasn't overly excited to join and she wasn't invited so she shouldn't stay--that's Caucasian thinking, I figured out later. I asked the mommy how long the party would be, and in broken English she conveyed about two hours. Two hours?! I thought. Wow! What do you do with a bunch of other people's kids for long two hours? So I decided I'd come back in an hour to check on the party status.

An hour later, I drove up and there was a small group of kids playing in the back yard. In getting out of the car, I saw that it was the little boy, his brothers, and my daughter. No other little kids were there. Now I got really worried and pulled the invitation out of my purse to check the time. There it was written, just as I remembered it: 3:00 p.m. It was now 4:00. My daughter came up to me and explained that they'd just been playing. I assumed she meant party games, but it turned out they'd just been playing with the boys' toys like they would on any other day of the year. I left my daughter happy as a clam and vowed to come back in an hour.

An hour later, I drove up and there was no one in sight. After a minute, my daughter came running out to tell me they were watching Shrek. In Spanish. She said the party hadn't really started but that they were getting ready to do presents, cake, and ice cream. I became alarmed. There was one other little boy there now, and no one else seemed to think anything was amiss, so I vowed to come back in a half hour.

Forty-five minutes later, I drove up and saw a larger group of children and some adults wrestling to put up the most enormous pinata I'd ever seen. My daughter came running up to me to tell me that they were doing the pinatas--there were TWO of them!--and asked if I'd wait. I waited and watched as carload after carload of Mexican families filled the tiny backyard. Everyone was dressed up in festive party clothes (kids and adults alike), and their arms were loaded with more food and babies. It was an amazing sight to see. A half hour later, they'd finally finished with the pinatas. They hadn't done cake and ice cream or opened presents yet, so my daughter dumped her two cone-shaped, paper-mache decorated candy buckets in the car and ran inside to watch Cristion open her present. Then I told her it was time to go. She had a happy, satisfied, but tired look about her as she said good-bye to her little friend and thanked them for the party. The Mexicans were just getting started.

I gave a speech today about downloading music from the internet. I wasn't for or against it, I was just giving a background and vital information for forming an opinion about the issue. But after the meeting, I soon learned that I was amongst many, many pirates (why do I like the sound of that?). The subject hit home with many of the listeners in the audience, and I was able to continue the discussion after the meeting with several individuals who were quite involved, interested, and informed. I even got asked for piracy help. In short, I found some kindred spirits.

I woke up really early on Saturday morning all excited to embark on a quest with two of my sisters and my sister in law. We met at my younger sister's house and piled in my youngest sister's car. Soon we were off combing the neighborhoods for florescent yard sale signs. My sisters are experts, having conducted several garage sales and yard sales themselves. We first combed the benches behind the capitol building, but those people thought they were Old Navy to Gap and were charging as much. No bargains there. We then headed over to Holladay, a quaint little part of town where all the rich people live. On the way, we stopped to pick up a paper. This is where we scored big time. Loads of garage sales, all the right elements: Multi-family, good directions, good parking, good merchandise and variety, good presentation, the ability to make change, and good pricing. Good yard sales are a science, and we've got the strategies down, like starting early and taking plenty of cash but never showing any of it (in other words, don't look like you're shopping). A good yard sale has lots of good-condition furniture and clothes of different sizes but few books, old toys, vases, unrecognizable and ancient electronics, and "kitchen crap." We start early, and my sisters haggle shamelessly, as if they are in a Mexican bizarre. A lot of people seem to like this game, to my surprise. You know someone doesn't really want to part with an item when they won't barter. At one garage sale for a charity, we saw an old man steal some stuff. Everyone just stood there watching him shuffle to his car and drive off, and our jaws hit the ground in shock. Sick people.

There were four of us on this quest, and we were each looking for something different. We all found treasures that day. My score of the day was a nearly-new portable massage table for $40. Ben and I have been talking about getting one for months because I want to improve my technique--and so my massage therapist friend doesn't have to haul his out here every time he comes out. He spent over $500 on his table, so I know I got a good deal. My younger sister found some never-used linen clothes. My youngest sister found some fishing supplies for her husband and some rare books for herself. And my sister in law, who had never been to a garage sale in her life, found some adorable clothes, including a perfect fluffy bathrobe, for her 3-year-old daughter. It was like winning a game! Afterwards we went to lunch and bonded like only sisters can. It's times like those I feel bad for men because they just don't understand.

I'm embarrassed. Lately I found myself enjoying a couple of new tunes on the radio. One is so completely NOT my taste, and I can't believe I ever listened to the entire song. But I find myself humming along and drumming out the beat with my hands and pens throughout the day. Despite all my efforts to displace the tune, I can't get it out of my head—not like a jingle that drives you mad, but like your favorite tune you could hear over and over and not get sick of. This morning on my way to work, I discovered that the song was sung by a group called D12 and that, in a way I don't understand, Eminem is linked to that band and is in fact singing the song called "My Band." (He certainly seems solo, but is he really part of the band--or is this part of the rash of collaborations we've seen in the music industry of late?) In the past, I haven't had much of a fondness for Eminem's crudeness and topics that don't speak to me but to kids a third my age or younger; I dismissed him, like I've dismissed P.Diddy (or whatever the hell he calls himself these days) and other artists. So now I'm embarrassed to admit that I like an Eminem song. And in a weird, ironic twist, the other song I am so fond of happens to have a cameo with P.Diddy; it's called "I Don't Wanna Know," by Mario Winans. So I've learned once again (through some black culture music this time) that I shouldn't pre-judge or dismiss opportunities for new understanding and enjoyment. My Mom and Dad taught me that lesson first; I'm glad it's getting reaffirmed continually.

For more learning opportunities through music, visit www.vh1.com. I'm gonna go see if I can build an appreciation for the Beatles and Queen now. Somehow, I think that'll be a harder lesson to learn (sorry, all you Beatles fans, but I'm not one of you). Rock on!

If I didn't know better, I'd think I was pregnant. Of course, I can't be TMI?. But I feel exactly like I did when I was pregnant. Heavens, what a horrible memory! I may be getting sick ... or it might all be in my head, since Mother's Day just passed and Memorial Day is just around the corner. These are not easy holidays for me.

On Mother's Day I lay low, trying not to dwell on the holiday or to think too much about my losses. Mother's Day is a hard time for me, but it's getting easier. My two great kids made me homemade presents for Mother's Day and could hardly contain their excitement when presenting me with these treasured gifts. Bless their little hearts! Still, I miss my Mom terribly and wonder if the feelings of loss and sadness will ever go away. (Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You know why I'm late telling you that.) Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.

The weather here was very strange today. We had a rare and hearty wind storm that kicked dust up all over the basin, and for parts of the day, the power was blinking on and off throughout the valley. My office building had rerouted emergency power to certain parts of the building, including the handicapped amenitities. Traffic light outages caused all sorts of problems as grown people frantically tried to remember what they learned ages ago in Driver's Education about whose turn it is to go when the lights are out. My contacts are burning in my eyes from all the particles and irritants in the air, which are also aggravating my already aggravated chronic cough. When I arrived home after work tonight, we of course had no power either (my side of the valley is always last to get fixed). But while outages elsewhere are irritating, the home part was fun. It was primitive--or more like camping. First, we rooted around in the kitchen for no-cook foodstuffs. Next we did homework before the sun failed. When it became dark, we lit candles all over the house and read books by candlelight like the colonists and pioneers. It was a great adventure. But still, everything I tried to do in my regular routine required electricity. I missed my computer and my microwave most.

In a couple of weeks, I'll be going on my family's annual reunion camping out on the Delta Desert in the middle of Utah. We have a favorite camping spot sheltered amongst some rocky hills. It's quite pretty, actually, and I have been getting more excited to see all my cousins and aunts and uncles. But all this power outage stuff all day has reminded me that I don't do very well without power--and neither do my children or my husband. This should be an even bigger adventure!

My energy waxes and wanes, as I'm pretty sure everyone's does. I seem to have a lot more energy than Ben has and a lot less than my girls have. It's probably normal for the kids to have a ton of energy, tons more than their parents. I have a theory. I'm absolutely convinced that children suck their energy from their parents. Ben's lack of energy supports this theory, since he spends much more time with the kids than I do, which means he's much more susceptible to being drained of his energy.

Energy is also created when groups of people come together, but it's the opposite of the child energy suck: groups of people feed energy into each other, summoning it from deep within each soul to contribute to the group's shared energy, so wondrously, you seem to end up with more energy was available to begin with. You see this phenomenon in riots and parties.

And speaking of riots and parties, we had one at my house last night (a party, that is, although casual observers likely wouldn't be able to tell the difference). We had a large group of friends, children, and family come over for a rather spontaneous party. It was a lot of fun, and there was a lot of energy created. But I noticed that as soon as everyone departed, my family's energy level plummeted. (Of course, the fact that it was nearly midnight--three hours past normal bedtime--might have had something to do with it. )

Today, I'm trying to squeeze to the surface what little energy exists in my body so that I can accomplish the tasks I have prepared for the day. I'm sure after some noble attempts to be productive, Ben and I will both crash this afternoon and sit curled up together reading and watching our children use up what's left of our energy. And that will be an wondrously pleasant feeling.

P.S. Happy Birthday to My Fantastic Sister!

Last night I played a game of Hide and Seek of sorts with my youngest daughter. Or maybe it was more like Hide the Thimble, since she didn't really participate in the seeking part. It wasn't a fun game, and I was quite upset the whole time. You see, my youngest seems to think that what is mine is hers. She spent the afternoon playing in the master bathroom and my closet. She went through my makeup bag, all my amenities, and my jewelry (this time she didn't get my wedding ring, since I had that on) picking out her favorite pieces or whatever caught her eye. Then she proceeded to play with these items all over the house and yard. I found most of the items, including my glasses *gasp*--I'm very blind and they're very expensive, with high-density lenses. But now my shopping list has random items such as fingernail file, fingernail clippers, and tweezers on it. I'm considering adding a 100 lb. state-of-the-art security safe to the list--not so I can lock up jewels or money, but so I can lock up items like my Oil of Olay facial moisturizer, my loofah, and my fingernail polish remover! *Sigh* Having kids is such an adventure!

I suppose I have been avoiding blogging because I don't want to have to create a new calendar for the new month, but rather than avoid blogging, I'm going to stall on creating the new calendar.

Let me tell you about a trip I took to the park with my girls last night. Around 7ish, the girls were ansy, so I threw them in the wagon and headed to the park a few blocks from our house. It's a city park with two playgrounds, lots of lawn, a couple of baseball fields, a horseshoe tossing area, and a basketball court. The basketball court is located next to the park that has the swings, my daughters' favorite thing to play on at the park. There were a group of boys playing basketball, but I ignored them at first and settled into reading my book on the grass while the girls were swinging. (BTW, I bless the day they learned to push themselves on the swings.) Pretty soon, though, the noises from the basketball court got out of control. The game had apparently become quite competitive, and the string of cuss words that were coming from that court would have made my brother uncomfortable--and that's saying a lot. Now, I've long believed that I have fewer maternal instincts than most mothers. When my kids were young, I had to set timers to remind myself that the girls might be hungry and need to be fed. I'm not one of those really protective mothers. I believe that kids should be exposed to different environments BUT have those events explained to them so they can make decisions about how they will react in similar situations in the future.

But, maternal instincts or none, those boys have no idea how close they came to death last night.

It took all my inner strength to avoid going to jail shortly after I'd beat all those little snots to a crying bloody pulp. At first the girls seemed to ignore the boys. But when I caught my oldest daughter glancing over at them after a particularly bad shot that sent the ball flying in our direction, I snapped. Quickly I herded the girls in the wagon and took off with my palms itching and my face set in an expression that would have had those boys trembling if they'd paid any attention to anyone else in the park. We left just in time, it seems, since I passed the boys' smoking, pregnant girlfriends just as they were invading our swinging space with their little brats in tow.

It'll be a while before I go back to that park (like maybe tomorrow), and when I do, I'm taking Ben with me so I can set him on boys like that. Ben is quite an impressive figure. I actually considered marching him down there--for about a half a second. I really wish I could avoid having to explain to my young daughters about rude, crude boys and puffing, pregnant girls.

It's really May 1st. It's 5:30 a.m. though, so it doesn't count yet. Besides, if I acknowledged that it was May 1st officially, I'd have to update all my blog pages with the new calendar. Since I'm coding this whole thing, I'm inclined to pretend it's still April 2004. So there.

Normally I would be sleeping peacefully right this moment. Unfortunately, I woke up with a stomach ache over an hour ago and felt it was useless to lie in bed pretending I might go back to sleep. So I thought I'd get up and get some work done. I ended up doing some catching up on reading blogs, listening to music, drinking warm milk (with chocolate in it!), and working on some unfinished work stuff remotely. It's actually quite peaceful. With my children asleep, the world around me is calm for a time, and I'm able to think clearly and deeply (although every other thought is about how I'd much rather be having a nice dream right now, possibly a hot, steamy one starring Brad Pitt and me). Okay, not so deep, it seems. Still, it's nice to have uninterrupted time.

Except it's fricking cold! (In Utah we say "frick" because other words make people look at you like you're a baby killer, or worse.) My husband and I have a long-standing temperature battle. I'm a small girl (meaning not a lot of fat although somewhat tall) with low blood circulation, so I'm ALWAYS cold. (I really could use a shivering, blue emoticon right here! Made one: ) It's been raining or *gasp* snowing for most of the past week. I haven't recovered yet. Sweaters all week long. Ben turned the heat off in mid-February and won't turn it back on. He and the kids also insist on running fans on them all night long while they sleep. So I freeze in a house full of cold-blooded beings--warm-hearted but cold-blooded, so they don't feel ... just brush up on your biology if you don't follow. I'm thinking deep, early-morning thoughts here! I'm out of hot chocolate now, my nose is cold and is going to start running soon, and despite a complete outfit of sweats and thick cotton, I'm icy chilled to the bone. So now I think I'll go soak in a hot bath until I thaw out. I may need to call in Brad Pitt, though. This is an emergency!

We were going shopping. We always go as a family, because, as I've said before, we are crazy. We had our neighbor's daughter, Anastasia ("Stasia"), with us (because we're crazy). While headed to the Wal-Mart about 10 miles from our house, my oldest was asking questions about where things are. She suddenly asked where Mars was. Ben, being obsessed with outer space, latched onto the question and started explaining that Mars was millions of miles away and pointed East towards the mountains to show where Mars was in the sky right that moment. My youngest, without missing a beat, piped up, "We can't take Stasia that far! Her Mommy will worry!" It was very cute and we had a good chuckle.

But that got me thinking about relative distances and our perception of things in our world. Of course, my 5-year old's perception of distance and measurements in general is still developing, but she's catching on quickly to the concepts involved. It's odd to think that we are all living here with different perceptions of what surrounds us. We have such very different viewpoints, largely based on past experience and our states of mind/mood. So two people can experience the same event at the same time and see the experience in two completely different ways. It's no wonder we have such trouble communicating! We need to find ways to fill the distances--and mostly to understand the people who surround us and what they mean to us.

So next time someone seems to be a million miles away from you... let me know how you filled that distance, because I don't know. I'm still trying to figure that one out!

Yesterday was Ben's third palendromic birthday. On Friday afternoon, I hurried home from work early to suprise him with a special date. Ben was right in the middle of baking his own birthday cake, a triple chocolate cake with triple fudge frosting and chocolate chips. Talk about a sweet tooth! I took him out to eat and then to buy a DVD for his birthday present. Then we played Everquest for 2 and a half hours with the gang. It was a good start to his birthday.

In the morning, Salt Lake had its historic first official 5K and marathon. I ran my first 5K. It was very cool. Most of the people in my company ran it. They even printed shirts for us that said "Infopia Running Team. We Never Stop!" I ran with my younger sister, and I was so glad she was there to keep me going. I had built the race up so much in my mind that, by the time I ran it, it turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I also liked it better than I thought I would. I was feeling so good when I got home that Ben and I decided to do some yard work. And that's where I went wrong. We went berserk. Nutso. We wanted to do some things to the yard that would make it easier to do the upkeep for the rest of the summer. We dug up all the flower beds (which have never had flowers in them), laid weed shield in them, planted flowers and new bushes, and recovered the area with woods chips. Then we made a fitted brick pathway. Then we made rock gardens until dark. Today we followed up with digging dandelions, spreading weed and feed, patching the lawn, and washing down the driveway and sidewalks. In the course of this frenzy, I got sunburned. Yes, I am still allergic to the sun. I am nearly dead right now. My body feels so weak and sore, I can't tell where the ache of the race stops and the ache of the yard work and the sun begins. But the yard looks awesome! Ben also got a nice long massage and some of his favorite meals for his happy birthday, as well as some cute kid cards.

What a great weekend! And the best part about it? Being fed triple chocolate birthday cake with triple fudge icing and chocolate chips!

Here are the results from my 5K run:

Race: 2004 Salt Lake Marathon 5K
First Name: JESSICA
Sex: F
Class: F30-34
Pace: 00:12:05
Final: 00:37:28
Class Rank: 177 out of 325
Overall Rank: 1893 out of 3037

Have I mentioned that I have a phenomenal memory for faces? Well, I do. I see people all the time whom I shared classes with in college a decade ago, or worked with in the early nineties, or went to elementary school with, or met through a friend at a social event in 1982--it can get that bad. Most of the time I don't say anything because people obviously don't remember my face that well. Today, however, I couldn't keep quiet. I was eating lunch with a friend of mine at Taco Bell, and there was a guy sitting at the table next to us that I swore I knew but couldn't place. We kept looking at each other and then, in that embarrassed way people do when they've been caught staring, looking away really quickly. Finally, it got ridiculous. So I leaned over and said, "I know I know you from somewhere, but I can't figure out how." He agreed that I looked familiar too. That launched this big search for where our paths have crossed. You should have heard us. It was a sight to see. We covered past and current jobs, schools, professional organizations, social events, mutual friends--even common cell phone carriers, oddly enough! Nothing. Blank. Since it was the lunch break and we were all due to be back at our places of employment, we gave up, shaking our heads and knowing it would drive us crazy wondering all day long.

As we were walking out, it hit me: He had been the goalie on an intramural indoor soccer team I'd joined over two years ago!! We'd only played about a dozen games together over the course of a few months before I had to quit because of surgery and he had to quit because he broke a crucial bone during one of the games. See how freaky my mind is? But that was a lot of fun--not to mention a lot of relief for us both for having figured out the puzzle! So the next time you catch someone staring at you in that "I-think-I-know-you" way, don't be afraid to strike up a conversation. They're probably going crazy trying to place your face!

I've been getting some great links from friends and family. Check them out.

Hear that whistling sound? High-pitched, faint, vaguely familiar? Sounds sorta like a punctured balloon. Yep, that's me. Deflating. It isn't worth it, after all.

*gasp* *gasp* I'm desperately trying to breathe. I don't know that I've ever been this busy or had this much important work on my plate in my life. I'm struggling to stay on top of it all. It's a good direction, but I can't let it get away from me. *gasp* *gasp* I may already be in over my head. My schedule tomorrow goes like this: 7:30-8:30 meeting, 8:30-9:15 meeting, 10:30-1:30 web training sessions (I'm the one conducting the training), 2:00-3:00 meeting, 3-5 scramble to get everything else done. Plus, somewhere in there I have to eat and pee. Am I nuts?!!

Wait! I AM nuts! I'm running (and I use the term loosely) a 5K next weekend to benefit cancer research. Normally, I only run when chased. It's a good thing my younger sister will be running/walking with me to keep me motivated, along with my coworkers--well, we'll all start at the same time, anyway. Many of them are marathoners  (i.e., ).

My massage therapist friend has invited me to be part of an experiment to discover if a regular early-morning massage increases energy levels and brain power throughout the day. Hmmm. This may seem like a no-brainer to you, but read my 6 April 2004 post and you'll find out why I'm hesitant. In some ways, I'd rather be SLEEPING!!! We'll see. I'll let y'all know how it turns out.

My faith in a strong work ethic may have been renewed this week. My hard work is paying off. I not only got my position solidified with my company, but I also got a promotion. Things are really looking up, and I'm excited about the prospects. I'm remaining guarded, though. The fight ain't over yet. I sure love my job, though.

On the flip side, I'm crazy busy. I rarely have time to just sit and think. I think it's extremely important just to meditate and process all the bits of data we intake and chew on our problems looking for solutions. Sometimes we get so caught up in the race, we forget to look where we're going. We desperately need the 5,000-foot viewpoint. So lately I've been trying to take at least two "step back" breaks a day at work. I take about 15-20 minutes and breath and chill. No meetings. No interruptions. I hide in my headset or even better, go outside, go sit in my car, take a walk with a coworker--anything to get that different, "unburied" perspective. And I'm pretty committed to not bringing work home. That's my family's time.

We've been doing more things together at my house. Sunday we had about a million Easter egg hunts in our yard. Tonight Ben and I watched an episode of West Wing together (mostly because I was too tired to move). Last night we journeyed back to the land of Toxxulia into the Warrens to confront the Mugwump, king of the creepy crawly things. He's about 15 levels higher than anyone in our group, but we killed him! Right before I got killed by all the other mean creatures that were aggro'ed on me. It was worth it. But then I got killed again when a nearly naked lizard man drew out his much-lower-level pet and aggro'ed everyone on me so that I got attacked by a bunch of nasty little battlings whom I wanted to step on with my Luminant Heraldic Boots. But I couldn't because they're much tougher than I am, and they rooted me so my feet wouldn't move. I died within two steps of the zone line and had to go loot my body to get all my gear back. Three times in one night I died for the cause. Sheesh! It really is fun!

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing." --William Shakespeare

And into it I fall . . .

Considering what the past couple of weeks have been like, it's a wonder I'm still alive and grinning. Not only has my sleep pattern been seriously compromised (and I'm not saying some of the cause of that sleep disruption wasn't lots of fun), but I've been working like mad to get out from under a pile of work stuff, plus some other serious but non-work-related engagements. Some of my friends are becoming extremely impatient with me. It's not fair. I honestly don't have very many slots open in my schedule for quality friend time. I suppose I'm not very fun right now. I can see that. But it makes me wonder what the heck all these other people around me are doing that they're so NOT busy. I have one friend who is busier than me, though, so I know how my other friends feel. You understand, but you still feel left out. So to my poor left-out-feeling friends I say, Hang in there. This is temporary. It has to be. One way or another, this wave of busy-ness will kill me or pass over me.

But what on earth would I do with it? 5:30 a.m. is too early for anyone to get up and be expected to function normally for an entire day. Of course, "normal" is a subjective concept given to wild swings in interpretation. And if I'm making no sense, it's just one more bit of proof that I should have been dreaming hours ago.

I've spent the last hour curled up warm and cozy in my favorite armchair reading a good book and sipping hot chocolate with a hint of mint from the great big black mug my twin sister gave me a few months ago because she loves me and knows me so well. I'm feeling relaxed and soothed and ready for a good night's sleep. As I sat there thinking about my love of reading, I heard my oldest daughter announce to Ben that she needs harder books to read. And now that she's said that, I've suddenly realized that she has been reading quite a lot lately, and the books she chooses are more and more advanced. It's strange how one day she was learning the alphabet and the next she was reading books! I'm stunned, truthfully. She's learning so fast and getting so good at it. And she genuinely seems to enjoy reading. I can't tell you how proud that makes me! It's also comforting to think we share a love of reading--just like my Mom and I did. Wow, they do grow up fast, don't they?!

Today is 04/04/04.

And because of day light savings time, I lost an hour's worth of sleep this morning. Do we really need to continue with this plan? Don't the authorities know how valuable sleep is to a person's well-being? There is only one day a year I wish I lived in Arizona, and today is it. Arizona wisely decided to ignore the odd, antiquated custom and keep the same time year round. Of course, we sort of like in the fall when we gain an hour back. But I don't know if I like it enough to give up an hour in the spring. I wanna sleep! And, being a night person, I was feeling so proud of myself for getting up around 6:00 a.m. every day, but now my eyes pop open at 7:00 a.m. I think getting up at 6:00 a.m. now may kill me.

It's Saturday and I'm working. I've been working since I got up this morning. I didn't sleep in. I can't anymore. My eyes pop open, sans alarm clock, at 6:00 a.m. I lie in bed with my eyes held tightly closed pretending to be sleeping in. I'll do that for at least a half hour until my mind is racing with tasks to do and I can't stay in bed anymore.

So I get out of bed, get ready for my day, and head to my computer. Normally on Saturday morning I would be vigorously cleaning my house inside and out, buzzing from room to room until I'm completely exhausted and most everything is sparkly clean. But this workweek, I had more work to do than I had time to do it. That wouldn't be enough to induce Saturday work by itself, but some of this work, if done quickly, will definitely cut down on my workload in the near future.

So here I sit at my computer running reports, downloading and uploading key files, and composing website and training content for my job. All I can say is that it's a good thing I'm a contractor right now so I can get paid for this work. If I were on salary, I'd be eating it. Still, I need to get on salary as soon as possible. The taxes and no insurance are weighing me down.

It's also a dang good thing I like my job!

It was raining here in Utah today. I love the spring showers because everything is so fresh and clean-smelling, and the rain is somewhere between refreshingly cool and comfortably warm. The air is cool and easier for me to breathe, for some reason. And I love my mood during stormy weather. I feel so calm and yet alert, as if the rain clears my mind as well as rinsing the dust off of everything else, making it all like new.

The rain got a few new fans today. My daughters, while playing outside after school, became fascinated with a swarm of snails. They gathered the snails up and placed them on a cardboard box in our garage, then made little maze tracks for the snails to follow and gave them "snail food" (grass) and water. This was really fun for a while. But then, as kids do, they became bored and moved on to riding the new bikes Ben got for them over the weekend. They left the snails there. A few hours later, when Mommy came home from work, the snails were no longer following the little tracks. Oh no. The snails were trying to find home, but snails don't seem to have much of a sense of direction. They were everywhere. My oldest daughter and I spent the better part of an hour crawling all over the garage with a flashlight in search of the slimy little creatures, being ever so careful not to crush the poor things in their little mobile homes. This task was hard on Mommy, who isn't so fond of hanging out in dark, dusty, dirty garages with a bunch of bugs. But the girls thought it was great fun, like a treasure hunt. They can't wait to see if it's still raining tomorrow so we can do it all over again. I love those little creatures so much!

Mommy is going to sink into a long, hot bath now and leave the rain, dust, and all slimy, itty bitty little creatures outside.

In closing her nightly prayers, my seven-year-old daughter became confused. Instead of saying "Amen," she said, "The End."

I just got back from a three-day company retreat in Sun Valley, Idaho. I'm exhausted but strangely calm and renewed inside. It definitely helped my psyche to get away--and in ways the planners didn't intend. I enjoyed my good friends, the good food, the beautiful place, and living the good life for a few days. We had a couple of company meetings, but the rest of the time we spent playing or recuperating. I had the most awesome room, but I didn't spend a lot of time in it. Since I don't drink, I was the "designated driver" both nights, so I got to babysit drunk people into the wee hours of the morning. That's always funny to me. I still don't understand why someone would want to drink so much alcohol that they make themselves sick, make fools of themselves, and forget whole chunks of their lives--especially the "fun" parts. But I love being with my coworkers, and I loved going to the clubs. There was a really good live band both nights at "Whiskey Jacques," so I soaked it all in and danced the night away.

I also braved the ski slopes after over a decade of not skiing. It was really challenging but fun. I wasn't as good at it as I remember being, but I wasn't as bad as I thought I'd be either. I only fell down a few times. The snow really sucked. It was icy at first, and then got really slushy when the sun came out. Utah snow rocks. When we got back, I spent three hours soaking in the lodge's gigantic hot tub--a circular tub that's something like 25 feet wide and 10 feet deep in the center. Even so, I was plenty sore this morning after a half day of skiing, a half day of driving, and being badly in need of sleep. Now we're all working on recovering from the retreat!

I noticed something at work lately. When I first speak with a client, I'm addressed in semi-formal tones and addressed by proper titles, such as "ma'am" and "miss." I HATE it. I think all of my generation might hate the formality. But the second time I talk to the same client, I am addressed by my first name. Usually by the third or fourth time speaking to the client, I'm called by my nickname, Jess. Most of the time, that's where I'm most comfortable, but there's also a struggle to keep people professional instead of personal. The lines get blurry.

I realized that the formality is uncomfortable to me, but I recognize that there is a generation of people I have to deal with that is still uncomfortable with the informality. It sure is tough getting along sometimes as we bump into each other in this world. Another thing I noticed: I'm starting to think of 22-year-olds as "punk kids." Man, I really am getting old.

I've talked before about how I have hardly any sense of smell at all. Most of the time it's a great blessing, because I'm pretty sure our world stinks a lot. Well, lately I've been noticing all the measures people take to prevent smelliness. All your toiletries are scented. You wear cologne or perfume and deodorant. My coworkers all chew gum. We bought an air freshener for our brand new car after the new car smell wore off. People have candles lit in their homes. The fancy all-automatic bathroom at my work spurts out a burst of vanilla- or orange-scented air freshener whenever you open the door. We even have sprays that neutralize smells, like Febreeze. Most of the time these measures simply camouflage, when things really ought to just be cleaned properly. But even though I often can't smell the stink, I truly appreciate these efforts to keep the shared space pleasant.

I was stretching before doing some exercises this evening, and my daughter was watching me, sitting Indian style in a chair in the living room. So I asked her if she could touch her toes. She paused for maybe half a second and then grabbed her foot—while it was still curled up under her leg. Very cute.

Of course, then she stood up, reached down straight-legged as easy as you please, and placed both hands flat on the floor. (I cannot now and never have been able to touch my toes. )

Why do we work to tear each other down? Why are we determined to believe the worst about each other? Why do we hurt the ones we supposedly love? Whatever happened to the Golden Rule?

I had a pretty good day today. I completed a big project at work and was able to finish a couple of other tasks as well. I was feeling pretty positive and bouyant. But I also had a series of incidents with people I know who seemed to want to chink away at my good mood. Little acts of undermining. A little off-loading. Little barbed comments, sometimes framed in "teasing." Here a thinly veiled accusation, there a nasty look. I try hard to let these irritations bounce off of me; I'm not always successful. Call me sensitive. It's not such a bad thing. It's a whole lot better than being insensitive. I'm a kind person, I take care of my own responsibilites, and I try to do what's right. What's wrong with that? What part of me is such a threat to other people that they feel I have to be put down or pushed away? Are people really that nasty and spiteful? Does misery really love company so much as to override the teaching "Treat others as you would like to be treated"?

You know what? I'm not gonna let a few stupid, shallow people ruin my day. Instead, I'm going to remember that this morning, when I was getting ready for work, I took a moment to go cuddle with my seven-year-old while she was waking up. With her eyes still closed, she entwined her arm with mine and held onto my hands for a minute. Then she opened her eyes, turned toward me, and whispered, "Good morning, Mommy. I love you." No wonder I had a good day, eh? I should start every morning so armed!

Yesterday, my daughter came in the house and grabbed a broom and the vacuum cleaner extension and some duct tape and started constructing something like a telescoping pole. Curious, I asked her what she was doing. She said, "Trying to get the toys off the roof." I kid you not. I dashed outside, and sure enough, our roof was covered with toys of all shapes and sizes. I had to have my big massage therapist friend hoist me on top of the house so I could push the toys onto the trampoline. I burned my feet. I was not in a good mood after that. Damn kids.

For years now, I have had a slight tickle of a cough during the fall and spring. It's not a deep, flemmy cough. Just a quiet, surface, annoying, tickly cough. I think it must be an allergy, but it hasn't been bad enough to get tested. This year it is bothering me to no end. And if I've noticed it, other people must have noticed it as well. If I concentrate, I can keep from coughing for long periods of time (like maybe 15 minutes or so). I've tried drinks, throat lozenges, humidifiers, warm packs . . . nothing helps it. It's definitely worse while I'm at work, so I thought maybe there was something in the building ventilation or the foliage in that part of the valley that was aggrevating it. So today I was sitting here relaxing after a long, hard day at work, surfing the web, listening to music, drinking hot chocolate, all comfy. Then . . .

Ben: "That's your tired cough."
Me: *Blink, blink* "Huh?"
Ben: "You keep coughing. You do that when you're tired. Or stressed."
Me: "I was coughing?"
Ben: *Grins at me and nods*

Point: I hadn't even noticed. It must be way worse than I thought. How clever of my observant husband not only to notice the cough but to know what situations CAUSE the cough. But I've been coughing for most of our married life. What does that tell you?

And then there's the part where I wonder how long he's known the causes. Ben doesn't just speak those kinds of things right out loud. His philosophy is "don't rock my boat and I won't rock yours." He's not exactly quiet; he just keeps to himself. Passionate way down deep, as I like to call him. Surface stuff just ain't worth the trouble. It's kinda refreshing sometimes. Sometimes it's crazy-making, though.

By the way, we are all stupid. Want proof? See? Well, I guess it's more accurate to say we're ignorant. (In Utah, those words are synonymous.)

I haven't seen Passion of Christ and probably won't see it. I don't handle violence very well. And the truth is, I am surprisingly UNinterested in this movie, despite all the hype. So, please don't form any opinions about my providing this link, but I had to share: Useful Aramaic from Rachel

By the way, I just killed a mosquito flying in front of my computer screen. It's officially Spring.

I'm afraid to blink I'm so tired right now. If I do, I'll fall asleep sitting right here at this computer. I would wake up hours from now with the imprints of my keyboard in my forehead and on my cheeks. Whatever happened to the days when I could stay up until 2:00 a.m. and still get up for a class at 8:00? Honestly, there are way more rewards for going to bed, I've come to realize in my old age. I just wish my @#(*& kids would also realize that right NOW so I could go have a nice dream....or SIX! Actually, they're great kids. I'm just way too tired to deal with anything remotely annoying right now. Good night.

Yesterday I told you about the bus that hit my building. Today, the guy who lives in the office it hit outside of taped to the window a photocopy of his face with his hands held up and an expression of terror on his face. It said, "The bus is coming!" I love clever people.

I spent the entire evening avoiding some important work I was supposed to be doing to prep for a meeting early tomorrow morning (did I mention that I'm crazy?). Instead, I did some research about twins for a speech I am writing to deliver in a Toastmasters contest in two weeks (bet you liked that string of prepositional phrases). I had so much fun with this project that I think I'll add a twin page of my own to my website in the near future. We have some great stories, my sis and I. I hope that one day we'll be able to attend the Twins Days in Twinsburg, Ohio. This is the world's largest annual gathering of twins. Since 1976, the first full weekend of August has attracted twins from around the globe. We're going someday!

By the way, Happy St. Patrick's Day! How many times did you get pinched? (*pinch* "Oops! Sorry, I didn't see the BIG GREEN SWEATSHIRT you were wearing." *snicker* Just kidding. Didn't happen but within the bounds of possibility, if not reason.) For some dumb reason, I pinched my boss--on the arm, people! Sheesh!

A public transport bus crashed into my office building this evening. Apparently, the bus was left "unattended" and the parking brake was either not set or failed. Details are sketchy, and we certainly weren't getting many answers out of the police or officials. The bus drivers often pause at our large office complex to stretch their legs, get a bite to eat in the eatery, grab a drink, and take care of business. I find myself pitying a man I don't even know because I know he lost his job today. Accidents happen, for pity sake. No one was hurt, the building sustained very minor damage, and the whole event provided much-needed diversion for an entire complex of overworked office people for well over an hour! Give the guy a break! On the other hand, his timing couldn't have been more lousy. Look what happened to the same company yesterday. No wonder the UTA people were so upset.

Kids toys these days scare me sometimes. We just got back in town from a two-day trip involving two new porcelain crowns on my molars. The kids slept the whole trip back (4-hour drive), so I was afraid to stop the car even to use the restroom for fear they'd wake up and torment Ben and me. So when I got home, I had to go REALLY bad. I dashed right into the kids' bathroom--"the Swamp," I call it--because it was the closest facilities. But as I was fumbling with the buttons on my jeans, I looked down at the bucket of tub toys that sits next to the kids' bathtub and was suddenly staring at a sea of buggy, freakishly large eyes all tilted toward me. I swear I was being watched. My Little Pony and Shampoochie were the creepiest. I was so disconcerted that I went to my master bathroom instead, cramping be damned. The next lawsuit against Fisher Price or Barbie should be for their psycho-eyed, nightmare-inducing toys. I can't help but think that if I'd had boys, there would only be toy trucks and water guns in that bathtub bin, I know it. But I'd still call the room The Swamp and avoid it.

We set up our trampoline this week so our girls could spend more time in the out-of-doors--and less time under foot. (BTW: Shame on those dirty minds who thought this post was about ladies without morals coming out in droves. That will come later when the weather is even better.)

I now know why women who have had children do not jump on trampolines. First, you are no longer the nimble kid you once were and now look like a broken marionette up there. Second, once the kids talk you into joining in once, you will be begged for days and days to do it again. Third, you now have embarrasing accidents if you bounce too much and are not careful. I have pretty strong stomach muscles now, having had 5 years to recover from the last childbirth. But trampolines are pushing it. So is sneezing really hard and unexpectedly. These folks seem to think that jumping on the trampoline will strengthen my muscles even further--and make me happier and detoxified as well. Of course, they aren't talking about the 13-footer in my backyard when they say "trampoline" but about Rebounders, those little exercise mini-trampolines. And they aren't talking about doing "gainers" but about bouncing, an infinitely gentler activity.

Still, they might be onto something. Exercise generally makes me feel like I wanna die shortly thereafter. Ten minutes of light jumping on my trampoline with my girls makes me feel the same way. But my muscles do feel tighter when I can breathe again. In my typical "if a little is good, a lot must be better" mindset, my 13-footer should have me in shipshape by the time my friend starts sluffing work to pull his boat up to the lake for a day of waterskiing. Sheer bliss is a-comin'.

And bless my children's hearts, they do not care that Mommy is making a fool of herself on the tramp with them. They just love to be with me, and we have so much fun all tumbly and giggly on the tramp. I am trying to teach them some of the games my siblings and I played during my childhood (like "Sharks and Minnows" and "POP"), passing on a family tradition. And after a shaky start, I found out I can still do a backflip. Victory is mine!

Here is a fun online trampoline game I found so you can practice your skills too: http://online.sector.sk/hra.aspx?game=805

Contentedness:
My sister says it best: "Now that I know what it feels like, I am going to aim for it more often.

Oooooooooowwwwwwwwuuuuuuuuuuch!
I hurt. Today I did a full exercise routine and then proceeded to do deep cleaning housework and yardwork for the remainder of the daylight hours. And then instead of sitting down and resting, I baked Easter cookies with my kids. And then did I rest? Of course not. To reward myself for all the hard work, I took my family "special treat" shopping at Media Play. The kids got new books. Ben and I picked out Twister on DVD (our VHS copy disappeared) and a new book that I am considering returning because now it doesn't look all that good. When we were checking out, one of the store clerks saw my movie and said, "Hey, there's a two-movie box set for only $2 more"--so I ended up with A Perfect Storm too. PLUS, my new Self magazine came today! I'm spoiled. But my body is screaming at me.

On the subject of yardwork, I should point out that the sun and I do not get along (sorry to let you down if you still think the bikini pic above is authentic--Oh how I wish I could tan like that!). When I was a young girl, I got a really bad sunburn one summer. Ever since then, I have become extra sensitive to the sun. It's been known to give me hives, chills, and cause head rushes and dizziness, but now that I'm older, it's milder and usually just makes me feel slightly nauseous, light-headed, and tired. My doctor said I might grow out of the sun poisoning effects someday. In college, I ended up in the emergency room on two separate occasions with quarter-sized blisters that were blending into each other, all because I decided to try suntanning ("laying out") with my roommates. I hadn't grown out of it yet.

I have the lovely beginnings of a tan on my face and neck after today, and judging from how I feel right now (somewhat whoosy and weak), I'd say I still haven't. Lesson of the day: WEAR SUNSCREEN and drink plenty of water! It's a good--and, given our society's love of tan skin, somewhat cruel--reminder now that we're moving into warmer weather and my short short skirt and strappy sandals are calling me.

All deadlines are simply unrealistic. There are just too many variables to consider. I could say more, but I'm exhausted and am going to dream now so I can tackle a vicious deadline tomorrow.

I was driving today and quickly caught a small, colorful flash of light in my eyes. It was absolutely gorgeous. I looked to see what it was, and after a little hunting, I realized that it was my plastic unicorn air freshner that my daughter picked out swinging merrily from the rearview window, where it rests next to a shell necklace that belonged to my Mom. I think it's from Hawaii; I imagine she got it when she was a young woman studying to be a flight attendant. Lastly, I have a parking permit for Salt Lake Community College--not because I'm a student, but because I attend a weekly Toastmasters meeting there that is partly sponsored by the college. With this flash of light today, I suddenly felt a great connection to these items hanging in my car, the place where I spend over an hour each day driving to and from work, running errands, and taking care of all the bustle we go through. I've only had the car for a couple of weeks, but I've already moved in and added my little touches. I began wondering what other people's mirror items mean. I noticed that a lot of guys don't have mirror decorations. That struck me as odd. I saw an awful lot of those little blue or turquoise dolphin air fresheners that Wal-Mart sells. I want to have more of that flash in my life, so I'm going to have my little sister, who is a first-rate beader and seamstress, make me a glass bead light catcher for the mirror as well, to welcome summer. Hey! I have a better idea! I'll have her teach me, and I'll make them for all my friends! That way, they can have rearview mirror decorations that mean something special to them too!

I really need to stop. There I was rereading some of my past blogs and frankly (sadly) cracking myself up on some of them (I know I'm lame sometimes; you don't have to point it out OR rub it in). I was having a jolly ol' time . . . until I started reading some other people's blogs. Usually I enjoy this activity immensely. But today I must have been feeling less than confident. Come with me on a tour of my downward spiral of emotions. It goes like this: As I'm reading the clever and interesting diatribes of veterans, I forget that some of these blogs have truly been around almost as long as the internet has been an office staple. I find myself jealous of the little communities that have built up around the more popular ones. I start daydreaming about what it would be like to be linked and to have real Archives and a following of commentators (even though I don't have that capability yet) and a group of fellow bloggers who write cute little notes to each other ("Thanks for the e-card, PrettyPet; you made my day! *hugs*). Suddenly I realize, it's HIGH SCHOOL all over again. You have the cool crowd, the cheerleaders, the jocks, the bad kids, the brown-nosers, the nerds . . . they're all there! And I feel inferior and left out. Just like I did in high school. I'm horrified. Has it really come to this?! Fifteen years later and I still have scars. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, I hastily recall the Sunscreen song lyrics about how life's choices are really 50/50 chance. I fly through the mantras: I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and people like me. I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful. Breathe. Breathe.

Then my daughter comes in and gleefully hands me a homemade card that says, "I Love You. Dir Mommy, You ar my favrit Momy in the wrld." Whew! I've been jolted out of awkward, frightened teenagerhood. I feel better. Once again I'm a lucky thirty-something gal doing the best I can with what I've been given. (Did I just say "gal"? Weird.) And I really, really need to STOP comparing myself to others. I wonder, if comparison is such an unhealthy way of determining self-worth, what are some healthy ways? Men use competition, but I know few men who are reduced to puddles over it. I need to ponder that question more. Or you can give me suggestions.

Volvo just made a car "where every aspect of design and production has been overseen by women. 'We learned that if you meet women's expectations, you exceed those for men,' says Hans-Olov Olsson, Volvo's CEO" (Source). A truly enlightened man!

I lost a day over the weekend. I ended up blogging on Sunday, but recorded it as Saturday. Strange how that can happen. I didn't even get to touch my computer on Saturday (quite alarming for a computer addict). My kids had taken over playing Neverwinter Nights. They play it better than I do. Sometimes, getting lost can be a good thing, like getting lost in the eyes of someone you love, or adventurously exploring new places or ideas until you find what you're looking for. It's good to let your mind wander and dream sometimes, as long as you come back to earth when you're needed.

I am now one bubble short of a 15th level Paladin on Everquest. I got a new Velium Geode Bracelet, which gives me increased stamina, dexterity, and armor class. We popped the Kobold King and spent the entire night in the Throne Room, except for a quick train that got one of us killed just inside the zone line. C'est le vie. Needless to say (or maybe needful, if you have no idea what I'm saying), we had a blast! I love Ever-Crack!....er, a, Everquest. *grin*

Ben and I spent most of the weekend watching two of my sister's kids while she and her husband went to St. George for a softball tournament (they took the baby, my favorite kid in the world right now). They mostly played imagination games, which are always fun to listen to. We even spent some time at my little sister's house, where they tore apart the basement and shattered a great big glass jug she had full of brightly colored marbles. Let me just say, I am SO glad I only have two kids. These cousins get together and cannot calm down--as in INcapable of winding down. They have a lot of fun, but they also fight because they all have strong, aggressive personalities. I'd worry, but I fought with my siblings all my life, and now there's no way you could separate us. It's good to spend time with my nieces and nephews, and I love helping my sister out, too. She needs the break more than anyone I know. Besides, Ben gets to pretend he has a son.

On another note, I found a link to this website, Justly Married, on Fussy's blog. Ben and I have been having a long-time and heated argument about gay marriage. I must say, the subject gets me confused at times. Most of the time, I don't condone homosexual acts, and that's admittedly probably more a result of my religious upbringing than a pondered, lucid argument against it (God said don't, but he also was very vague on heterosexual acts, IMHO). But I don't deny that some people feel attracted to members of their own more than the opposite sex (some people actually don't believe the urge exists). I don't know if I believe they're born with it; I tend to lean more towards them being socialized to it. I also don't believe it's a result of something bad they did (although I have talked to several gay folks who admit to pornography addictions--don't know if it's related). Ben believes that homosexuality in any form or expression is wrong, wrong, wrong. Besides the morals this country was founded on and the Constitution that supports the majority rule, Ben sites God and something he read a long time ago about a study pointing to society's acceptance of homosexuality as the major downfall for every society in the history of man. So accepting gay marriage could be the beginning of the end.

So what? It's coming anyway. That's a historical pattern. No judge in America is gonna stop it. Maybe I'm too liberal on this point, but the people in these photos look so relieved and happy. I can't imagine what they've been through. Most of them are already living together, so the argument can't be about their cohabitation. They should have the right to join their households and assets legally and receive the benefits of marriage the rest of us committed folks enjoy. It's not like they could be worse at it than we heterosexuals are! Besides, look at those photos. They're not the stereotypical flaming, uncomfortable-making gays. They're just happy couples.

And yes, I've thought about polygamists being the next group to demand these rights. All I can say there is, Utah will get more attention. Maybe it'll help our tourist economy.

There's a story about a pair of lions who went on a rampage in Africa and killed over a hundred people. Later, forensic dentists determined that the poor animals likely had sore teeth. I know EXACTLY how they felt. "A toothache can make a person edgy, uncomfortable and highly irritable" (Source). No kidding! As you may know, I had dental work done a week ago today to prepare for a pair of gold crowns to be placed on my molars. My teeth are stubborn and mean, and I haven't recovered yet. Today the pain killers weren't working quite as well as normal. I was trying to be a good sport about it and not convey my discomfort to others. I really did try. But everyone seemed to find my "buttons" today--and hammered on them. It would have been a pretty stressful day anyway, given the things I had on my plate. After about the fifth cutting and nasty remark I received, I retreated into my headphones for the remainder of the day just praying for quitting time. But it didn't end at work. My kids were doing tap dances on those nerves all evening, and Ben . . . well, Ben should have known better. I think he must have had a sore tooth of his own today.

Whilst most of us were trapped behind desks and counters plunking away at machine keys and smiling in all the right places, the United States had a huge news day. Just 30 minutes of Fox News viewing revealed a big day in Democratic politics on this Super Tuesday; an enormous multiple bombing in Iraq; more legal battles for Martha, Kobe, Scott, Jacko, and those WorldCom scums who are all turning on each other in the blame game; the discovery of the missing Mississippi family's bodies and their suspected murderer's arrest; the U.S. Marines joined the international peace-keeping forces in Haiti to safeguard strategic sites during the chaos; Europeans are upset to learn that Dasani water is from the tap (duh - Evian started it. "Evian" is "naive" spelled backwards, points out Ethan Hawk's character in Reality Bites); the Roy tiger attack recovery; the developments in the New York gay marriage legal battle; proclamations from NASA that Mars had water a zillion years ago (and Dick Clark is an old guy); and an announcement that a weaker dollar is good for foreign trade but interest rates will be climbing.

Does it make you tired, too?

I'm a level 13 Paladin now! Next week we're fighting the King Kobold in the Throne Room. He's tough. We're tougher. What I'm talking about.

I have a funny notion that I like my appliances to be working while I'm asleep. It's a warped sense of multi-tasking that makes me feel better. I load up the washing machine and the dishwasher and let them run their course while I sleep. Then I wake up to cleanliness! Nice! Besides, I'm told it saves water, particularly in the summertime because of the evaporation. I'll have to get the facts behind that theory.

Some things are harder than they seem. Working, for instance. Relationships, for another instance. Fighting, yet another instance. Hard to live with 'em, can't live without 'em.

Happy Leap Year to y'all. I have a childhood friend who turned 8 today. When we were little, she got to pick when she'd celebrate a birthday all the other years. One year we went water skiing; the next year we went snow skiing!

Happy Birthday, Mom. I miss you so much. My mind refuses to rest in your absence. Wish you were here.

Most people I know aren't good at accepting compliments. I especially have trouble with comments on my looks. First, you may be incredulous, but I really don't think I'm anything special--and no amount of flattery on anyone's part will change that. So when I get these compliments, I feel awkward, and I don't know what to say back. I try to be gracious, and then I change the subject as quickly as possible, hopefully without being obviously deflecting. Often, I want badly to return the compliment, but I don't know of a way to do that and sound sincere when someone has just given me a compliment.

Friend: "I love how your sweater matches your eyes."
Me: "Thanks. And I adore the way your hair matches your shoes." *blush*
Me, in my head: "Who says THAT? Say something nicer, NOW!" *blank*
Me: "So, how's your job?"
Me, in my head: "Boy, that sounded pat and insincere. Way to go, Jess. By the way, I love the way those shoes match that new hairdo!"

And even worse:

Friend: "Hey, your sweater matches your eyes."
Me, in my head: "Is that a compliment, or do I look freaky?"
Me: "Thanks . . . . How's your job?"

I'm actually in awe of people who can give compliments and sound sincere. I think society doesn't teach this skill enough. How does one say "You have a perfect mouth" or "I love your eyes" or "You look super in that dress" out loud to someone's face?!

I think part of the problem is the expectation. What are you expecting when you give a compliment? There's a fine line between compliments and flattery, and flattery has a way of seeming like a "You-Owe-Me," or an invitation for reciprocation.

The other part of the problem is the compliments themselves, and the way they are delivered. For instance, when you're not even sure it's a compliment. I have a much easier time with a compliment has to do with something the person obviously put effort into, like how they're dressed or how they handled a difficult situation--things they can control.

Wanna know how bad I am at this? One of my friends actually said, "You are one of the few people I know that can make me feel bad for giving a compliment." How's that for lousy? So, obviously I'm working on being better at it. Just be patient with me. By the way, you look maaaaaaaaaaaaahvelous today!

"Fun" things my kids did today:

What do you think about when you hear the word stroke? You might think of a swimming movement. You might think of phrases like "a stroke of genious" or a "stroke of luck." You might think of touching or rubbing. Yesterday, for me the word stroke meant a medical condition where blood flow to the brain is blocked and can impair speech and movement usually in one half of the body, and in severe cases, it can cause paralysis, coma, and death. This word is haunting me because my twin sister had what could be called a mild stroke, or "brain attack," yesterday (a Transient Ischemic Attack, or TIA). Back in November, she was diagnosed with a blood clot in her brain and spent a week in ICU trying to get her blood pressure and a painful migraine headache under control. She'd just had her third child only weeks before. The doctors were baffled that she hadn't had a stroke already. They "stabilized" her and sent her home, but her stressors haven't changed.

She's home and recovering now, but there's nothing I can do to help her, and it makes me feel completely helpless. I worry about her and her little family. And it may sound selfish, but I'm terrified of losing one of the most important people in my life--again. I suddenly find myself looking at all the relationships in my life and trying to define them and figure out how I can protect the important ones. I'm sure this will take some time to process, and I'll be in my head for a while. If you have advice or information about these things, I would welcome it.

Read about Jeanna (said "Jean-a"), my identical twin sister.

Here's some more information about Stroke and TIA: Clip about TIA located in the second article halfway down the page.

Here's some information about twins:
Close Identical Twins Live Longer
Twin Stories
Raising Twins
Books about Twins

Yippee! After several hours of painstaking sifting through dozens of "pre-owned vehicles," I finally picked one I like: My New Car. Now I can safely drive to my dental appointment today. More about that later; see February 18th in the Archives for more info. Gotta jet so I won't be late!

I must admit, I'm a bit of a trouble maker. Something in me must like the drama. My psyche says, "It's too quiet. Let's stir things up!" And I'm very good at it, because before I know it, I've gotten in over my head and am looking for ways to escape the self-made mess. It's a vicious cycle.

I also believe in karma--I promise I won't start chanting--because trouble has a way of getting around to me without my planning it. I must have been particularly busy causing trouble recently, because yesterday was payback day. It was supposed to be my first day back at my old job, but on my way there, my car decided it didn't want to accelerate anymore, at least not reliably. I ended up working from home and making various limping trips to the car fix-it people to have my car run through a series of diagnostics, after which the nice car experts told me they couldn't recreate the problem (and looked at me blankly as if I might have imagined that my stepping on the gas pedal didn't convince my car to do anything except maybe buck and protest in turns). So I drove my car back home, and on the way, I recreated the problem quite nicely on the freeway. Screw it. I'm buying a new car.

And on top of all this, I've had a caffeine headache for three days now. Up until now, I've been pretty successful in ignoring it or quieting it with a handful of painkillers (not really a handful, but every time I take one, I consider taking a handful). But if I don't go to sleep right now, I'll probably end up down at 7-11 purchasing a 32 oz. bottle of Lemon Diet Coke or Code Red Mountain Dew within the hour. Good Night!

This weekend my husband hosted "Game Day," a full Saturday of networked computer gaming with his brothers and friends, held every third Saturday of the month (but really it lasts all weekend long). They've been doing this for over a year. It's pretty crazy fun. There's always lots of good food, fun conversation, and late nights. Most people bring their kids to play with my kids, and it's the perfect time for catching up with their wives and with old friends who converge on our house, even if only for a while. Our house becomes a very busy place with a smorgasbord of sounds and an indescribable energy. The most entertaining days for me are the ones where my twin sister comes down and brings her kids to play with mine. We're quite the crazy pair. We don't stop the entire time; we're either cleaning or shopping or chasing kids. But the whole time we're talking and emoting and connecting in a way the others don't understand but love anyway. By Sunday night, all the "Game-Dayers" are physically exhausted, but emotionally, we're oddly content and regenerated. It's a great tradition!

But I miss my twin already.

I sometimes wonder if I'm the only woman in the world who is confused by the obsession with dress and pants sizes. All my life I've heard about "size 6 women" and understood that that was supposed to be my goal. The problem is that I'm 5'8" with what I think of as freakishly long legs and torso, and I possessed birthing hips even before I gave birth. There's no way in this world I'd fit into size 6 ANYTHING without looking ridiculous! Okay, there's a WAY, but it involves a lot of painful and expensive surgery. In high school, for most of the year, I played tennis for one hour a day and swam for three to four hours a day. If I couldn't fit into a size 6 back then, what would make me think I could get into one after two kids' births, 11 years of marriage, 32 years of life, and an aversion to exercise that equates this with this? I'd much rather play sports or do this for exercise.

After doing a little research on the internet, I discovered that others feel even more strongly than I do about the whole issue of unrealistic expectations for the female body:
Fear of Being Fat
Impractical Weight Goals
Media Messes with Our Heads

And then a little more research revealed that I'm underweight!

"A rule of thumb often used by physicians to calculate ideal weight is to allow 100 lbs. for the first 5 feet of a woman's height and 5 lbs. For each inch over 5 feet" (full info).
Ideal Weight Chart

I can't win. I'm working on NOT listening to the messed up voices that want me to believe I'm one bit fatter than I am. Truth is, it does NO ONE any good for me to think like that. And rather than focus on what I could look like, I'll spend my energy looking good how I am and being happy. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway.

Well, I've done it. I've jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. I've accepted temporary (to become permanent eventually) re-employment at a company I worked for early last year. The circumstances are a bit strange, and I'm a little nervous. I already warned Ben that I may do a fair amount of complaining, since that's how I work through frustrations in my life. But I loved my co-workers, and the work is engaging and rewarding. We'll see how it goes.

My road trip went pretty well, wonder of wonders! I got to see lots of family members and people I knew, plus I got my next two months' free dental work lined up (it's who you know, you know). The only bad part is that my car's transmission is dying, so it kept slipping into neutral. We got home around 2:00 a.m., so I only got about five hours of sleep. I must be halucinating now. What fun!

One of my dearest friends in all the world, Jason, wanted a day of fame here.

I don't hold still for very long. Today I will take my daughters and drive to my sister's to pick up her seven-year-old daughter (a little more than an hour's drive) and then drive to my hometown (a four-hour drive) to visit my Dad and get my daughter's loose tooth pulled. Then probably tomorrow night, I will make the trip back. With three little girls in the small car, I soon expect to wonder if I'm going crazy for even planning this adventure. But at least I'll be spending time with my kids and visiting loved ones, and I'll need my insanity to make it through.

I spent the day doing this hard work, so naturally, I'm tired now and just want to sink into a hot tub with some luxuriously expensive bath products.

I love cleanliness and order, but I try hard not to be a freak about it. I realize that with kids, it's nigh unto impossible to keep things clean and orderly. Still, I try to keep things in their "homes" within my home. One thing that frustrates me most is not being able to find something that should be in its place, especially if I saw or used it recently. I collect organizers and containers. It's probably the only part of my clean streak that my daughters have adopted; my oldest loves containers and stuffs her favorite playthings in purses, boxes, and bins of all kinds.

A word about magazines: I'm crazy about them. I get all giddy when a new one comes in the mail, like a gift from all women. I carry it around for days reading little snatches as I go along living. There's a line in a Baz Luhrmann song, "Sunscreen," that says, "Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly." It may be the only line in the song I don't agree with (btw, I highly recommend that everyone listen to that song). Beauty magazines are full of ideas and helpful information! And I especially love the images, rich and colorful and creative. I probably get more out of these magazines than the producers ever thought possible. First, I read almost every stitch of the magazine (except I skip most advertisements). Next, I go into editing mode and analyze the layouts and advertising, critique the writing, castigate or praise the features, and basically pull the magazine apart. Then after a sufficient time period passes (usually about 2 weeks), I get out my scissors and cut the thing to shreds. I'll save the images and articles I like best for either "motivation boards"--poster board collages hung in inspirational places to remind me what I'm working towards (my youngest sister started me doing this)--or for my three-ring binder of "to-save" topics, and then I'll look for pages that would make good envelopes (I'll write more about these in a later post). And when I'm finally done with it and it's a shadow of its former self, I give the magazine to my children who always find more images that fascinate them to make collages. Who thought a single magazine could be so useful?! My favorites are currently Self and Glamour. I used to like Jane, but it got way too raw and raunchy for me.

In a few moments I will die of shock. My 7-year-old daughter is vacuuming her room! She cleaned it thoroughly and then asked Ben how to use the vacuum cleaner. This is NOT my daughter! It's common knowledge in my circles that my daughter's room is impassible. Most of the time you cannot see the floor. I'm not exaggerating. We've tried every type of organizer, but she refuses to keep order in there. Wow! I'm so flabbergasted, I may have trouble sleeping now.

On a completely different note, normally two total party wipeouts wouldn't be a good thing, but my warrior companions and I just returned from an awesome raid fighting Kobolds in the Warrens beyond the Toxxulia Forest past the town of Paineel in the land of Everquest. In this world, I am a 6th level Paladin clad all in gold, tight-fitting body armor and wielding a long blade of vitality and a heavy double-bound shield. Sounds cool, huh? Wanna see? Click here

And on another even more different note, I am in awe of my sister's strength. Her 2-month-old daughter has been diagnosed with pneumonia this evening. This is just another log on the fire of their medical woes these past several months, yet she seems to be taking it in stride and never gives up. I'll pray for this baby. Will you too, please?

My children have never been great sleepers. My sister's kids are worse sleepers (I feel for ya, Jean), but we've had our fair share of sleepless nights over the years. My kids weren't nappers either, so there was never any respite. Now that they're older and in school, they keep much more regular hours, for which I'm grateful. However, these last few days my youngest has had irregular sleeping times. She's normally an early bird in a family of night owls, poor girl. She wakes up early most days, but Friday morning she inexplicably woke up at 5:00 a.m., way too early for any of us. It's thrown her afternoons off.

Words cannot express how much I love a sleeping child. This afternoon, Ben was watching a movie on the couch, and she went in and sat next to him. Of course, having played hard all day and being off her sleep schedule, she immediately crashed. The funny part was that she was sitting up, leaning against him slightly. My heart nearly split and I felt that urge I had when she was a baby just to scoop her up in my arms and cuddle her against my chest, tucked safely in my arms, so I could feel her breathing and watch over her. That's my new definition of peace and motherly love.

To all you lovers out there, I wish you a Happy Valentine's Day! May you spend it well and continue to bask in that love you share. To all you single people, I wish you a Happy Singles Awareness Day! Remember, the grass is always greener but just as hard to cut--and still may make you sneeze from time to time. I'll write more tomorrow when I'm thinking clearly, which I'm convinced one cannot do whilst filled with chocolate and other good foodstuffs, fed sweet poetry and verse, and surrounded by good company and the hearty scent of flowers. I'm off to revel in them! Enjoy yourself!

After having suffered a painful blow yesterday and working hard to recover from what some might see as a minor betrayal (but one that cut me to the core), I was surprised to have had an excellent day today. Now, I don't normally like surprises, but today was filled with some really good ones. I think some of it stems from my efforts to help others today, from my very conscious decision not to wallow in my pity but to be cheerful (based on some very good advice I received), and some of it definitely was because fate smiled upon me.

Now, Valentine's Day is the day after tomorrow, and I'm wondering if I'm going to receive another good surprise. Ben isn't normally hip on holidays, particularly ones that require a lot of planning and gift shopping (he practically gets a rash going Christmas shopping). Perhaps I'll give him a good surprise this year and arrange our Valentine's event for him.

I played Spider Solitaire so much today that I'm sure I'll dream about cards tonight. I play the game when I wanna zone out, when I'm having trouble concentrating, or when I'm avoiding doing something unpleasant. All conditions were true at different times today. The surprise, though, is that I don't feel guilty about playing games today. I enjoyed being in my head, just daydreaming. The truth is, some days a gal just needs to be all by herself . . . solitaire.

Every once in a while, my little family has what we call "Family Fun Night." It's usually spontaneous and occurs when we're feeling out of touch with each other. Today we had it because my daughter's favorite book was stolen from school today, and she was hysterical. My other daughter was being especially clingy too. Ben and I decided it was time. These Family Fun Nights are not extravagant, we rarely spend much money or time on it, and we don't have lessons built into it. The point is just doing something fun together. But we talk about different things, like how other people act, and how we see the world, and the "Rules," and such. It works. Tonight, the kids are calm again, and we're a happy family. I highly recommend it.

Breaking....not the way you think. I wasted three hours today with a group of people I seriously can't stand. To make up for it, I spent the rest of the day taking a break from stupid people. I talked with great friends, spent time thinking about and missing some great friends, played with my younger sister (who, by the way, is smarter than I and from whom I always learn something cool and new), watched some movies I've been wanting to see, made Valentine's decorations with my kids, and reconnected with my husband. I really needed the break.

I just got home from visiting my twin sister the last two and a half days. We fill each others' souls back up and renew our energies and commitments to certain goals--but other goals go out the door. I fell off the caffeine-free wagon after only a couple of hours. The next couple of days are gonna be brutal getting back off caffeine. But it was well worth it to be able to give my sister the support she needs. She's a survivor, but the last year's medical problems and new child are threatening to capsize her. We stayed up very late two nights in a row dealing with the baby and formulating a support plan to help her get through these times. She's strong. She'll make it, but I wish she'd learn to trust her instincts more. I hope I help her see what she's capable of and give her the strength to get there.

Now that I'm back home, I can't believe how exhausted I am. It's more than being-up-all-night exhaustion. I miss my sister, but being home is so comforting. I feel the irrepressible urge NOT to think but to veg all night long and recover. But let me tell you what I learned, first. None of us could live another one's life. We all have our unique challenges and strengths. I'm so grateful to be home with my wonderful husband and our happy, secure kids, with our finances under control enough to allow a little freedom, in the home we have made for ourselves, healthy and living the lifestyle that works for us. Sure, life will hit me hard again in the days to come, but for now, life is good, and I'm grateful for the glimpses into others' lives to help me appreciate what I have.

Today was frozen. We awoke to a new storm covering our home. All day the wind whipped the falling snow in frenzied flurries and pulled at my clothing, demanding I pay her attention. But I was focused today, for a time. I had a purpose, even if only for a short time. Afterwards, I found myself wandering, looking for comfort and new purpose. I needed to feel needed. I need it still. Do you know what I mean? I wish someone could explain to me why that feeling fills me with a strange sense of . . . weakness.

I'm supposed to be taking it easy. I'm supposed to be recovering, taking a break. I guess I don't know how. I've been working almost nonstop since I quit my job. My time and energy keeps getting usurped, and my To-Do list keeps growing.

But that's not really what's bothering me tonight, because as a rule, I'd rather be busy than bored. No, what's bothering me tonight is the relative success of a close friend on the eve of what feels like my dismal failure. I want so badly to succeed. I have dreams and aspirations, but now I wonder if I can get there from here. I feel stalled and cursed, as if the moment I decide to do something, the gods unite against me.

I'm not a quitter. But I couldn't keep running at top speed in the wrong direction. I had to change directions. So now I'm headed into unfamiliar territory with a feeling of trepidation and insecurity about my abilities to reach my dreams. My support systems are wearing thin, and I'm battling a bombardment of negative feelings. The sun'll come out tomorrow--but I ain't holding my breath!

Today was my first day of unemployment. I spent the day working on an old project from a previous company that I do part-time work for occasionally. I felt happy as a cat lapping cream working away, listening to music, chatting with old friends, and ignoring the fact that deep down I was unsettled and restless and strangely out of place. I'm not used to sitting still all day after spending the last six months as a road warrior, and it doesn't feel right. My balance is off, and I find myself looking for consolation, for confirmation that I made the right decision to quit a job that was wearing me away to leap into uncertainty.

By the way, it's Groundhog's Day, surely one of the silliest traditions we have. The obnoxious little animal saw his stupid shadow, of course. We in Utah already knew there'd be eons more winter days; it's colder than a witch in a cast-iron . . . you get the idea.

Today I start my website blog. I do this mostly for me and don't care much if anyone else reads or understands it. I'm learning more about programming and designing for the web, so I plan to practice here. I also have lots of ideas I want to mull over. Writing usually helps me clear and order my thoughts, tossing out ill-formed ideas, refining infant ones, all in search of a truer truth.