Why can't I get anything done?

Sitting with my bowl of cereal this morning, I spied a jar of protein whey i bought for #1 to drink while doing football practice.  Reading the back *builds and repairs body tissue*.  My tissue needs repair!  Maybe this will help my shoulder heal?!  Can't hurt.

"Mix in Blender or Shake with ice".  I have a nice Oskar blender that i adopted from Mom.  Great chance to justify the real estate it takes up on my counter.

But first i need to move the crock pot that sits in front of it.  I've been wanting to find a better permanent home for this guy for awhile.  So i drag a chair over to the fridge.  Maybe it could just hand out there?  Toss the Christmas tins in the garage sale box.  Find my birthday cake.  Hey!  I forgot i had any of that left.  Ponder having a piece, but it really doesn't look that good.  Anyway my shake will be chocolate flavor.  Toss out cake.  Pat self on the back.

Heck.  There's cupboard space back there?!  Open to find the box that holds #4's dino magnets.  Hop down to put in his room.  Glance at the mess.  Open the window for fresh air...and hopefully let in a magic cleaning fairy.  Close door and run.

Back above fridge, get crock pot tucked safely next to cookie cutters and ice bucket.  Hopefully I'll remember to throw a Christmas cookie/pulled pork/cocktail party in December so i have a reason to visit these 3 things again.  Put away kid paint brushes.  Everyone keeps those above the fridge when you don't want your kids to ask if they can paint. Right?

Back to Blender.  Find shampoo/conditioner that has been awaiting return due to itchy scalp after using.  Reach under sink for a bag.  Spot dishwasher tabs.  Did i run the dishwasher like i meant to?  Yep.  Unload dishes.

Let dogs out.  Let dogs in.

Back to Blender sitting next to an empty fishbowl.  Flashback to Scout's Goldfish Regatta and our deceased fish friends.  Remember that i promised to think about a pet hedgehog.  Google *hedgehogs as pets*. Realize they don't have much memory and don't bond as well as other pets.  And let's not even imagine how the dogs would feel.

Let dogs out.

Look at Facebook (i deserve a break?)  Laugh at a few crazy cat videos.  Move over to okCupid.  Get a little depressed realizing I'm only catching green card seekers.  How do I know?  Their messages say, "How is you doing lady".  My reply.  "I is good".  It's amazing how many men continue to respond to that and figure they really have a live one.  All of their dreams are about to come true.  Good luck guys.

Let dogs in.

Back to Blender.  Put away electric knife, apple corer/slicer/and suction cup hangers.  What?  They don't hang together at your house?  Pity for them.  Also see Thanksgiving magnet with #4's picture that never made it to the refrigerator door.  Find Elmer's glue on another counter with vitamins, calcuim chewies, flashlights, unopened McD's toy and sharks teeth my dad brought over from our 1988 trip to Florida.  Again?  You say you don't group these things together at your house.  How would i be expected to find anything if i visited your house?

Admire the dust free oval the glue leaves on the counter.  Decide not to clean counter today...but soon.  Turn on iPod.  Dance to ABBA's Voulez-Vous.  Heading to hit replay see the nearby plant needs water.  So do all of my other plants.

Potty break which always includes a chat with the dogs.  Really?  You go to the bathroom by yourself?  Weird.  While in bathroom take meds.  Grab phone to call in prescription for BP meds and make a note to pick up fish oil at Costco.

Let dogs out.

Back to Blender.  Whew.  Dusty.  Pull from corner and find a stray chocolate chip.  Ponder eating it, but think back to the cake and the chocolate shake I may just get to.  Look around.  Can't find where I put the Chocolate Protein Powder after moving it from the table. Oh...not far from the blender.  By the toaster oven, next to the gingerbread ziplock bags from Christmas.

Open blender and wonder *why the heck am I making a blended drink on my day off?*  One scoop of powder, handful of ice cubes and 8oz of cold press coffee, cuz it seems like i could use more caffeine, eh?

Let dogs in.

Blend. Pour. Scowl.  Not exactly a Caribou milk chocolate cooler...but it'll do.  Sit down to enjoy my drink and write this blog and wonder if I'll ever make another one?

Pain is such a...pain!

So...that whole "take a leap" theme for this year has morphed somewhat into "just git 'er done".  There is such a long list of things i have procrastinated on for the past few years.  I've just signed my second 2 year lease and the words *I just wish my craft area was organized* still sneak out of my mouth.  So...it's time to get busy.  Start crossing crap off of the list.

At the top was...figure out why my shoulder pretty much constantly aches.  Arthritis? Rotor tear? Out of alignment?  Wasn't sure, but i was banking on ignorance is bliss and...it just might go away.

But...no.  It just got worse.  To the point where my left arm was pushing my right arm to set a12 oz iced latte down on the serving window. Not high above my head. Just a smitch above the counter.  Felt kinda weird using 2 hands to dole out drinks.  And I kept dropping stuff.  And forget about restful sleep.

Diagnosis: Frozen shoulder.  ugh.  Physical therapy...here i come.  And that hurts like giving birth outta my armpit.  Seriously.  Now i have round the clock Advil, stretching exercises and PT to look forward too.  Yipee.

Pain is such a...pain.  It makes me sweat. I've got the pinched face/sucking on a lemon look going on. I'm cranky, tired and very anti social.  Not my typical micro climate.  Good news...it will be back to NORMAL in about a month.  Bad news...it will be back to normal in about a MONTH.

It gives me such a perspective on people who live with chronic*on going-kick ya down* pain.  With no promise of a return to normal...even in a month. 

Back to that "just git 'ur done" list.  This is exactly why i haven't tackled more things on that list.  Unpacking the last few boxes from Mom's house sale last summer will lead to gobs of emotional pain.  Purging and garage saleing will lead to hesistant regret pain.  Organizing the entertainment room downstairs will bring on "I wish I was smarter than this" pain.  Starting my new novel will trigger the writer's block pain.

So, I've been avoiding these tasks.  There will be some sort of pain involved.  No doubt.  Every. Single. Time.  Which drags me back to Daisy Doo leaping into the lake to attack that Sheep Dog.  I've gotta take a leap right into the pain.  And be comforted that most of the pain won't last.  I'll be back to normal in about a month.

And then, onto the next item on the list.  Happy high dew point day!
amy

Another year wiser...

Yesterday I celebrated the 16th anniversary of my 29th birthday.  If you don't have enough fingers and toes...that comes to 45.  Uff dah. 

I ran through a list of options on how to spend the day...house party?  Feed my Starving Children? Valleyfair?  Beach? Bars? Bumming around?  I landed on a few days at Grandma's cabin.  A little off the grid and far enough from the crazy.

The theme of the day was "can we do it on the pontoon?"  Coffee and donuts.  Watching Loons, Bald Eagles, Blue Herons. Cruising to the sand bar. Summer Shandy. Peanut M&M's.  Dipping toes in the water with pups and kids. Nap. Reading my book. Mini Twix/Snickers/Milky Way. Listening to the kids play on the rubber raft and catch fish. Watching the stars.  Singing songs.  Chatting with my kids. All on the pontoon. 

Sadly the wind was brisk and the water still hasn't warmed up much.  Swimming will have to wait until next time.

I decided to add the fur babies along with my human babies for this weekend.  They did enjoy it, although Peek-a-poo #2 dove off of the pontoon...literally flew...to swim to the neighbors dock.  She was sure she could eat their English Sheep Dog, but didn't plan on how far the swim was or how she'd get up to the dock.  About halfway there, her four inch legs pooped out.

"Now what are you gonna do?"  I asked.

She had a little panic on her face, but i knew the water was only 18 inches deep.  Her chance of drowning was quite slim.  She made it to shore.  Cold.  Scared. Still thinking she could whoop that Sheep Dog.

So, with the help of my brother and his friend, Paul, we decided my theme for this year is to live a little more like Daisy, peek-a-poo #2.  Don't worry, i won't be quite as neurotic.  Unlike her, i can play nice with others. 

I'll be less afraid to take a leap.  I can always head back to shore.  And know that someone who loves me will warm me up with a towel and a snuggle.

roller coasters

So many emotions. Happy. Sad. Scared. Excited. Lonely. Fulfilled.  And then I go eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.

Tonight I met the youth group (including my 2 oldest) at Valleyfair.  So therapeutic.  I had some serious screaming to do.  Emotions to squeeze out.  Sadness to flush away.  And what better way to do it than when you are certain to be plunging to your death...accompanied by your precious kids?

Seriously.  Have you ever tried to just let out a random scream?  Sounds kinda like a peacock with something wrapped around it's neck.  Terrible noise.

The past two summers, the kids and I have had season passes to the park.  We have laughed.  We have clutched each other for dear life.  Remembered how to feel really happy for a speck of time. We have shared a lot of memories and relive a bunch with each visit.  Definetly a good thing.

Usually, about ten minutes after close, we are dragging our butts to my van parked in my secret parking space (under wild thing...at the very end of the parking lot...front spots are always open) and collapsing.  Tired.  Spent.  Emotionally free.

Not sure how else to tap into it...but i am here to report that i will sleep well tonight.  And although there's a good chance i'll be riding the emotional roller coaster again in the morning,  I'll be starting from a different place.
amy

Band Aides and a Broken Heart or Two

Again.  Dog-gone-it.  Just when i think i have this life somewhat figured out the silk table cloth gets yanked out from under my china.  Wobbling fragility. Gasp. Awwww crap.


This one...however...was between me and the man i fell in love with.  Head-over-heals-let's-fly-to-Vegas-baby-because-YOU-are the-perfect-man. I had such a dream built up around our life together.  Coffee and the Sunday paper. Weekend get aways. Shopping for knick knacks.  Home improvement. Yard work.  It all sounded so exquisitely fun to do with him.

And he fell in love with me first.  First!  That has never happened before. See...I'm the silly kind of gal who hands out chunks of her heart faster than a realtor with a business card at a funeral.  Luckily I have strong regenerative tissue, but I'm not the least bit selective in who gets a nibble.  And this time, this time he was giving me an enormous hunk of his before i even finished the inventory on how much i had currently available.

Six months is almost forever in the middle aged dating vortex.  If ya make it that long, ya seemed destined to make it all...the...way...to the end zone. 

And I did want to make it.  I wanted him to be the one.   Keep Diet Coke (and Sprite, and Mountain Dew, and whatever else was on sale) in the fridge.  Hang my curtains. Haul in my groceries. Kiss the back of my neck while i wash the dishes.  I wanted him to text/tell me how wonderful i was every night before we fell asleep, forever.

But you all know how the Black Moment of the story sneaks in and undermines the hero and heroine. For me, things just got heavier.  What should we do?  Where should we eat? A stream of lava starts to flow. Participating in each other's past lives.  The heat rises.  Miles from me to him to work.  Steaming pools around the souls of my shoes.  Relationships take a lot of work.  A lot of work.  And my feet feel burning hot...and filled with a need to run. 

I had so hoped that it wouldn't get worse. 

But as with any Black Moment, trouble continued to mount and I was using a ton of energy holding off the break up. 

And he had no idea.  None.  I tried dropping hints, which are 100% ineffective in relationship rescue.  I got quieter.  I talked more.  I pointed things out.  Got bossier.  Quit micro-managing. 

Both of our dreams went up in smoke.  Poof.  Gone. 

New days will come.  New dreams will get summoned.  But I'll leave the band aide on my heart for awhile.  The dogs will have less teary tissues to eat. The emptiness with fill in. And I'll always remember the kindness, the consideration, the admiration, and the LOVE.  xoxo JD.

PixieChick #3. Red flags

I'm currently tucked into a cozy relationship and am off the dating sites.  But, back when i was working the sites hard, I found a lot of red flags.  Usually they seem humorous...

1. Soul mates. Web sites are great for perusing the potential.  Real Estate. Cars. New shoes.  Books.  None of them expect to be the eternal perfect fit without a real life once over.  Let's have coffee and decide if we'd like to move onto dinner before i start planning to do your laundry.  Because, I think that's really what he's searching for...

2.  Too many words.  When writing about yourself, most sites give you up to 5,000 character spaces.  As a writer I know you should aim for chapters around 4,500.  I'm not willing to invest an entire of chapter of reading before we meet.

3.  The Rant.  I had a guy who's profile kept popping up as "my potential match".  He was handsome enough, but pretty much all he wrote about was his disgust that *the world is wasting their lives sitting behind the TV*.  After a few beers with a girlfriend, I decided to write him and suggest that he try sitting IN FRONT of the TV.  Maybe he'd understand what all of the fuss was about.  Didn't hear back from him.  Huh.

4.  Wedding photos.  As in...them standing up in a wedding.  The other groomsmen are not so delicately cut out, and he has a big ol' beers in the parking lot smile on his face.  Yep, I like a guy who can dress up, but who really shows up for a date in a tux?

5.  Really Bad Grammar.  I taught 3rd grade for a bit.  If you couldn't survive as a student in my class, well...

6.  Crazy Physical Expectations.  They could right-out ask for a blond, blue-eyed athletic gal who'll play beach volleyball and run a marathon with him.  Wouldn't I shock him?  In fact, I struggled in talking to anyone who gives off a whiff of gym rat.  They typically give me a funny look when i suggest a quick stop for donuts.

It sounds like I'm all Goldilocks about my search.  Too talky.  Too needy.  Too dull. Too fussy.  I bring to he table my own batch of too much.  The sticky part is seeing if there is enough room in the relationship for all of our abundance.
amy