I Am: a procrastinator

I Want: more things than the wallet allows

I Have: been blessed more than I deserve

I Wish: there were more hours in the day

I Wonder: what I’ll be like 40 years from now

I Regret: being bullied out of Bio 101

I Always: wear my seatbelt

I Am Not Always: confident

I Lose: patience very easily

I Need: a vacation. I so want to go to Santorini

I Should: get off this computer

I am most proud of: my college diploma

I still can’t get the hang of: texting

Something most people don’t know about me: I have a hard time making friends

My mother always said: If I had shit on a stick, you’d want a taste.

Last major purchase: My Mary-Jane Dansko’s. I don’t know what I was wearing before I got those.

The worst idea I’ve ever had: I think I’ve blocked it out. . .

Words to live by: Don’t take gum, don’t take candy, don’t talk to strange men in strange cars, keep your legs crossed, your buttons buttoned, and always come home in a group (thanks, Dad!).

I’m thinking about: My first glass of wine post-Lent

I’m guilty of: believing in someone’s else’s misconception of me

My favorite possession: my wedding band

If I could be totally wild, I would: have about 4 more tattoos, a motorcycle and a flat on the Rive gauche

The most important things I ever lost: the childhood quality of un-self-consciousness

Sounds like a disease, doesn’t it. Really, what that means is that spring has sprung, and today, as the first day of spring, day and night are equal. Ahhh, more time to surf the ‘net looking up websites that have no educational nutritional value!

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and even though the wind is whipping, it’s a great day. I should strap the girls into the Phil & Ted and wheel them around Waterside or something. Of course, with the wind blowing off the water, we might get blown into the MacArthur Center, into a store like Nordstroms or Ann Taylor Loft and my wallet can’t take another hit like that.
It’s precisely days like this and days to come that also renew my resolve to move from this apartment and into a house, particularly one with a yard. We’ve lived in this apartment for almost 2 years — that’s longer than any other place that we’ve lived. Oy! I want to be able to throw open the back door and let the girls play in the yard. If I had trees in the right spots, I’d actually hang laundry out to dry in the morning sun! That pinecone birdfeeder that Morgan made would hang from our tree — of course, since it went to Grandma and Pa, I know that it’s being well tended.

I haven’t got the heart to go into a diatribe about the real estate prices or our search for the holy grail that is a dwelling suitable for us. The search continues, and until then, I’ll just slide the windows up for some fresh air and a cool breeze. Look at the two fairies that blew into the living room yesterday. . .

Coever likes it more than she’s letting on *smiles*

So, here’s the thing. *sigh* I don’t proofread my blog entries. It’s all I can do get it from my head to the pc. Strictly stream of consciousness. I do spell check, but what I may have started our talking about may not be the same thing that I end up talking about. I felt that you should know that in case I go off an a tangent, digression, side note, whatever and. . .what was I saying? You get the idea. Happy Friday!

I was at the little work-out room at our apartment complex today, running on the treadmill. Yes, running! Five minutes fast, ten minutes walking and so on until I completed the 5K program I had punched in. I’m going to start training for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Virginia Beach. It’s in October, so I’ve got plenty of time.
I’ve been trying to fill my iPod with lots of tunes to get me motivated, no easy task, let me tell you. I feel like everything on there, I’ve listened too so many times already. I just need to hear the opening bars of a song and guaranteed, my finger is toggling forward to the next one. I did create a playlist for running, called “Run It” (my creativitiy knows no bounds) and one for when I jump rope (that another story) called “Roped Up”. They’re pretty much the same list with a few slight changes. Still, running and jumping rope require some seriously pumping music.
Anyway, I’m watching the Top 100 songs of the ’80’s while I run since burned through my playlists earlier this week. I had to give it a rest or I wasn’t going to make it through the work-out. So, the commentators on VH1 are pretty funny, and the music that is making the list is even better. I’m feeling really good, kicking up the speed during the best songs like “I Want Candy”, “Walking on Sunshine”, “Word Up!” “Rock Me Amadeus,” and so on. It’s funny because those are songs I would never have downloaded on my own.
You know how you hear a song from the past and it sounds SO good right then and you are singing it at the top of your lungs, rolling down the windows of your car, letting your arm dangle out the window while your hand surfs the breeze and you get that pulling in your chest when your mind and your heart meet for latte’s while the talk about that high school week-end when you and a friend jumped the subway to NYC to meet the boy you liked who lived in the city and it was the coolest thing ever because this was the way to live, just walking up and down the streets while life happened with you, around you, and you had such a great time that you forgot he couldn’t get on the subway with you, so you kissed him through the fencing as the train whooshed into the station and almost left without you, and how you swore you would remember this day forever because it was the best out of your 16 years on Earth, and you would absolutely DIE if you forgot any single detail, and that was pretty much the extent of your worries, none of this crappola like mortgages, cholesterol, Geraldine Ferarro, and 401ks? Do you know that feeling? Yeah, me too.
I can’t remember which exact song that was #1 on Z100 that week, nor can I even remember a song that we heard that day, but I can remember that feeling. I had it today while I was panting along on the treadmill. Unrelated from the memory, from the day, but totally connected to the feeling. Joy, thanks for being my wingman, Jason L, thanks for the memory. For your listening pleasure and be sure to turn your speakers up. Way up.

So on Tuesday, I’m coming out the YMCA with Coever in my arms, Morgan in tow and a huge gym bag slung across my body causing me to kind of limp my way down the sidewalk. I decided to carry Coever because that carseat contraption ain’t getting any lighter and because she likes to see and be seen. It’s kind of stupid on my part though, because of said gym bag that slows us down. Inevitably, somebody wants to stop to say hello to Morgan or Coever or both (I’m just the assistant, evidently), and comment on how big they are getting, how pretty they are, how they are doing, their respective opinions on this debacle called the Race for the White House 2008. You know, the usual.
So this (insert your own expletive) says, “Wow, six months! It just seems like yesterday you were waddling around here all pregnant.”

But, that’s not what I said. I replied, “Hahaha, thanks.”

I’m not quick on the barbs, I never have been. Oh, two minutes lates, I’m a chock full of snappy responses, but in the instant it’s called for, no dice. I’d like to say my mommy instinct kicked in, effectively blocking all synapes firing offensive, off color and raunchy language that would have set that sucker straight, but scarred the girls for life. We all know the truth. I froze. The minute he was out of eyesight and earshot, it was all I could do to stop the barrage of verbal fisticuffs wanting to escape from my mouth, but what good did that do me? I’ve got to have a crib sheet or something handy so that I can just roll out the quick hits when stuff like that happens. Either that or I’m just going to have to walk around answering every comment, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Yeah, that’s going to go over real well.

You know how on Animal Planet or Discovery Channel, when they are doing a segment on life in the Serengeti, they often times show the pride of lions stalking an unsuspecting gazelle through the grasses? C’mon, you know what I’m talking about — the lions are on their bellies, crawling stealthily forward, the gazelle is munching grass, totally unawares. The music starts to crescendo as the lion surges towards the gazelle who is caught in the camera lens with a look like, “Oh, crap.” followed by “Run, Forrest, Run!” The pursuit ensues, through the brush, over streams and around the lone tree on the tundra until either the gazelle is caught or the lion(s), energy spent, sulk off as if to say, “I didn’t want that stringy ass gazelle anyway.”
I saw this very same scenario play out early this morning during the highly anticipated community children’s clothing consignment sale here in Norfolk. Of course, you are thinking, “Surely, you jest.” First of all, I’m dead serious, and secondly, don’t call me Shirley.
This consignment sale is oft talked about and highly anticipated. We’ve lived here almost two years and I have missed every time it’s been held. Not this time, I resolved. I had my cash ready, the promise from Craig to watch the kids, and I was out the door by 7:30 to get there early.
It was 40 degrees this morning, so I was toasty in my car, the first one in the lot as a matter of fact. Other people started coming and lo’ they got out of their cars to stand in line in front of the closed door. In 40 degree weather. Some with no coats!! Not to be outdone, I got out of my car, too. When the doors opened, it was like Moses had parted the Red Sea and the Israelites fled across the exposed ocean floor. People ran down the stairs into the room, freezing for just a split second to get the lay of the land. Linens and baby items to the left – toys, Halloween costumes to the right — clothes (a.k.a. the Mother lode) dead ahead! It was Chaos and Pandemonium dressed in Ann Taylor casual separates!
I knew that I wanted to get Morgan some dresses and maybe pick up a few things for Coever to get us over this weird weather spell that we’ve been having. So, I head for the 9-12 month girl rack and start to pick. Now, I’ve never been a good shopper at TJ Maxx or Marshalls. Havin go through every item on a rack isn’t fun for me. I don’t consider it the thrill of the hunt, but there I was, up to my elbows in children’s clothes, jockeying for position.
I saw this semi-cute dress covered in umbrellas that I thought would be nice for Coever, but then I thought better of it and put it down (remember this, it’s important). I then decided I’d spent enough time over in this section and I made my way to the 3T section. I worked my way down from one end of the rack to the other, trying to be courteous of my fellow shoppers at all times. I think there about a half dozen of us who brought our manners with us today. So I’m looking, I’m looking and hey! There’s that same umbrella dress in a 3T! How cute would Mo and Co be in matching dresses? And for $5 a piece?! But then I faced a dilemma. Do I go back for the smaller size and miss out on other possible goodies on the 3T rack or do I keep shopping and just focus my thoughts on willing that smaller size to remain on the 9-12 month rack? I went with the former and Morgan should be kissing my face for all the goods I racked up for her.
In the midst of the shopping, I ran into other moms I know, all leaden with bags and armfuls of clothes like suburban Sherpas. The fact that we could converse without making eye contact because we were too engrossed in finding clothes says quite a bit.
When I exhausted the clothes, I picked my way over the toys and books which were in a separte room. YOu would have thought they were giving away the toy du jour (Cabbage Patch kids in the ’80s, Beanie Babies in the ’90s, whatever the devil is popular these days). The room was crammed with board books, stuffed animals, play yards, an Atari (hello!), Little People playsets, rocking horse bouncers from wayyyyyy back in the day. Unbeliveable. I snagged a Bee Bop Band that I had been coveting on Morgan’s behalf since Thanksgiving and then extricated myself from the fray to re-evaluate my finds.
Hunched down in a small corner between the Halloween costumes and the pile of “sold” items, I felt like Gollum going through my bag. “Precious . . .my precious”, I know I muttered as I mentally patted myself on the back for snagging primo Gap dresses and Gymboree outfits at fraction prices. I ran into another friend and her mother, did a little comparison shopping and then decided to actually return the items I didn’t want to their proper places. That was my good deed of the day. Then, to go stand in line.
Holy mother of pearl. The line was RIDICULOUS!! I spent more time in line getting to the check out than in my entire shopping experience. Still, once some of the consignment volunteers went through the ranks suggesting we remove the hangers from out items in order to speed things up, the line did move much faster. All told, I easily got over $100 worth of merchandise, and some fodder for this blog, for a scant $37.50 — and I can’t wait for the next one.
Incidentally, there was another consignment sale this morning at one of the local elementary schools, but I begged off on that one. Like the lions, I was spent, and besides, I heard that one wasn’t nearly as good as this first one. Yeah, whatever helps you to sleep at night 🙂