Sprite's Keeper

Oops.

I can't believe I didn't remember my own anniversary.

I am so bad at that.

On January 23rd, Sprite's Keeper celebrated its fourth year, albeit very quietly.

This site, one started out of desperation in an effort to find my voice again, which had been lost in a sea of motherhood, has been neglected more often than not lately, lost in its own sea of sorts.

I'm sure other bloggers will agree with me that it's much easier to forget about posting when life's to do list has so many other items in front of it, the guilt over not adding your voice to the others in the blogosphere a momentary blip on the radar, "oh yeah, oops."

A routine that had begun as a salvation is now a semi-regular hobby, but still a soothing cup of relief when I need to escape the day.

There are so many things going on right now, and I do want to catch you up on it, not just you, the readers and friends I have made through this portal, but also Sprite's Keeper as well, for when the writing does end, if it ever does, (please don't let it ever end) I will keep this site alive if only to pull every favorite post of mine, a living history of our life together as husband and wife, mother and father, daughter, family. This site is a two dimensional representation of us, and a damn good one at that, at least from 2008 on.

Thinking back to the morning when I clicked on to Typepad and wrote my first post, a topic so mundane and ordinary, about nothing in general, I can still remember how effortlessly the words flowed through, almost like a waterfall I couldn't find the pressure valve to. I smiled as I quickly turned one post into two then three. At one point, I had my posts lined up for two weeks out, I couldn't publish them as quickly as my brain spit them out.

Then life happened. Sprite grew, and as she grew, her demands changed. Now, evenings are flooded more with homework than with inspirational play. John's evening job also became more demanding. Time is now siphoned even more.

It's easier to turn Facebook into a microblogging catch all then take the time to write it out more eloquently, add pictures, edit, re-edit, and so on.

The house is in a constant state of change, as we find time and a little bit of money to invest into our home that we don't intend to ever sell. Our setbacks in adding to an already pretty nice family have also been cause for investment of time and money.

Life was so much simpler then, four years ago.

So, let me take a moment to celebrate Sprite's Keeper, apologize for completely spazzing out on something that still is so important to me, and promise to make it up to you on your fifth anniversary.

OUR fifth anniversary.

Cheers to this year,

Sprite's Keeper

IRL

I don't really get nervous anymore when it comes to meeting bloggers.

Well, mostly.

When the prospect of meeting someone I've "known" for years comes about, at first I'm excited, giddy even, right up until the second before I come face to face with my assumptions, then I experience a brief pause of "What the hell am I thinking?" before profile and person become one right in front of my face and the mental E-Stop button stops flashing red as I realize this is exactly what I hoped it would be.

When I got word that my cousin was getting married in Baltimore this summer, I had one side plan on my agenda other than seeing DC for the first time, meet Jenni "Oscarelli". I knew she was local to the area I would be around and having read her for the better part of two years, hell, she even has one of my mom's quilts which she won in the early part of 2009, we already had a blogging relationship.

Once we cemented plans to meet, it was just a matter of making it happen.

We had already spoken on the phone a few times and I was excited to meet her, but when she rang to say she was in the lobby, my heart faltered a bit. Would she be as nice as she was online? Would she be as witty?

As soon as we saw each other, the fear, like a wave, rolled away.

And the talking started. (Sorry for the fuzzy photo. My dad's unfamiliarity with my camera added to the darkness of the hotel does not make for optimum F-stopping.) (Did any of that make sense?) (Aperture!)

We walked around the vicinity of the hotel, finding a Lebanese place (Um, Jenni, was it Lebanese?) that is evidently a chain around the DC area, a restaurant so delicious, I would be a card carrying member if they brought it down to my neck of the woods. Throughout the entire evening, we talked.

I was supposed to be making an appearance at a nearby piano bar where my cousin was celebrating her last night as a free woman, (which in theory sounded like fun, but remembering how many family members would be there and how many of them I did NOT want to see imbibing since you can't take back visuals once they happen, became more of an omen) but time slipped away as we made our way back to the hotel and a couple of chairs in the lobby to keep finding more things in common while my cousins and uncles and aunts started to trickle back in, signaling the end of Happy Hour.

Jenni was an absolute peach, and if we're ever within 100 miles of each other again, I'll bend over backwards to meet up.

Next week, I'll bring you IRL Part II where the meet up with a blogger takes place in the happiest place on Earth. (No, not my mind.)

HASAY: I am beautiful, no matter what I say.

HASAY: These people say "bless you" when you sneeze, they're THAT nice.

Today, I'm going to hit on two forums, my usual Monday favorite HASAY post and a newer forum called Beautiful Like Me hosted by Wicked Step Mom over at Life and Times of A Wicked Step Mom (which she so isn't. I don't think there is a wicked bone in her body. Every time I read one of her posts, I think she is one of the nicest people in the blogosphere. But she's never released her name. Which is a little wicked, I guess. So her name should be Life and Times of a Not so wicked she'd scare small children but wicked in a omitting kind of way Step Mom, but then that title would be way too long and she'd probably get the strangest Google hits, so leaving her moniker the way it is would probably be best.).

I've been watching WSM's project take form and wanted to contribute, so as sickness and my desire of health (in the purest form of health possible, you know, being able to breathe out of at least ONE nostril..) have kept me from exercising this week, I have nothing new to offer on the weight loss front. (Plus, I'm still waiting on Casey to let me know she's made it back alive from her PA trip.) (Still dealing with the air travel butterflies.)

The topic due today is "What features/qualities would we like today’s children to see as beautiful?"

I have hips. In fact, I believe they're called "child bearing hips" as my grandmother liked to put it. (And she had seven kids. I guess that would be an expert opinion.) Hell, if Sprite didn't have a big head AND hadn't gone breech, I'm sure birthing her would have been like throwing a pencil down a hallway. Yes, I have hips.

I've never considered these hips to be beautiful. When I was in high school, I still had no chest to speak of, but my hips had already begun to widen and take on that vuloptuous tone certain guys found appealing. I would get some stares, but I never saw these stares as flattering. I always thought I was being critiqued for my hips being too wide.

I would get dressed for gym next to these skinnier girls whose pelvic bones jutted out farther then their actual physique and be jealous of them. In my mind, the comparison was a no brainer. I always lost the vote, even though I was the one voting.

As I grew older, I dealt with the weight loss issues that plagues so many people out there, and my hips were always a priority on what I would prefer to trim down.

I still focus on my hips as being too big for my liking, but I've also grown used to John's compliments. He LIKES my hips. He likes the curves I have. He's seen me at my heaviest and loved me then. He sees me after losing all the pregnancy weight and loves me now. This has helped quiet those inner voices of ridicule over the years, a little at least, especially after running into some of the girls I went to high school with and realized it just took them a few more years to catch up to the rest of us who grew into our bodies.

Watching Sprite slim down out of her baby weight, I can't help but hope she doesn't have the same body image issues that I did. Her hips are exactly what a toddler's should be, nothing to them. I'm pretty sure this will change since she has sturdy legs, muscular legs like mine. These legs will most likely become shapely far before she's ready to embrace curves emotionally, and her hips will curve much like mine did, but I will use my past mistakes and lessons learned to remind her of where beauty lies. I will remind her that even if her hips don't match the cheerleader whose locker is near her own, she has qualities of her own that are just as beautiful.

Plus, she'll be snarky. I'm almost positive of it. I find that beautiful too..

STATS:

John: Down three! Damn! He was so proud of himself this week and he's being so good!
Me: Even. I was sick. I still am sick. Achoo! See?

Bless me.

30,000 feet is not an ideal location to face my fears.

John: "Would you like a seat on the wing or aisle?"

Me: "How about in a car? Do they have one of those?"

I haven't been on a plane since 2000. That summer, I went to Hawaii for the second time to see my sister, this last time dragging a willing John with me. By the time we were ready to board the flight over to Honolulu however, I was near hyperventilation.

I remember John staring at me, asking if I would be okay, and in response, I showed him the two sleeping pills I had packed in my purse, to be consumed the moment boarding started.

The flights went well, both to and from, although in my mind, they were far from perfect. The slight turbulence was a sign of imminent danger. An overhead compartment which hadn't been closed properly, sprang open and deposited a large backpack onto a passenger's head. This, to me at least, was an omen of things to come. Nothing happened. I slept fitfully throughout the long flights, and made it back onto solid ground with nary a hair out of place. (Although frizzy hair may look out of place to others, I actually considered it a good hair day.)

Back then, I summed my anxiety up to a fear of heights, something which had only begun plaguing me in my early twenties. My fear extended to balconies, bridges, and any high places where the lobby wasn't within sight. This fear still exists now as I am unable to stand too close to a railing without feeling as if I'm about to pitch forward and takes me a while to get comfortable when I'm positioned anywhere elevated.

Now, this fear of mine doesn't just involve heights, it involves control. I never like to be in any situation where the control is not in my hands. I do not have a "devil may care" personality, nor do I like to "take life by the horns", because the possibility of injury or death scares me too much.

Yes, I am afraid of death. Even the thought of my possible demise scares me. I'm sure there will not be pain, but I don't want there to be "nothing. This is it. Game over. You're done. You've had your turn. There are no do overs, Charlie Brown." This is where religion helps others some, but me and my scientific brain are not easily convinced with hearsay and theory. We like the tried and true money back refund if you're not satisfied, but I don't believe death even has a customer service department, let alone a guarantee. Sure, I can say what I hope will happen when my ticket is up, that I get to keep tabs on those I love, haunt those I don't, and maybe skip back and put a little gloss on those blunders I would rather forget, but you just don't know. My friend Robin and I recently had a conversation about it, and her answer on why she's not afraid of death was "I'd rather be wrong than right" when I questioned her belief in the hereafter. I love her reasoning and would love nothing better than to get on board with it, but my inane desire to be right would probably not be squelched.

So, I decided, way before the economy and terrorism put their two cents in on the matter, that I would never again step onto a plane. It was that simple. When people tried to make plans with us, I would give a noncommittal "maybe" and then point the finger at money, timeliness, or the Northern Lights as to why we would be unable to fly up, down, or over.

John, showing me just how much patience he had, compromised a lot when we made travel plans, sticking to areas like Orlando or St. Augustine so the drive wouldn't kill us. Over the years, he eventually stopped asking if I would ever work up the courage to fly again. 

But then..

Back in the beginning of the year, fellow bloggers decided to join up for a weekend of hedonism in Colorado and I REALLY wanted to go, not only because I admired these women so much from what I had read about them, but also because Colorado just looks beautiful, I had never been, and damn it! I needed a vacation. Away from John and Sprite. So it would remind me of how much I love them... yeah. That's it..

I immediately looked into booking train tickets. I know. Insane. John told me so for months. But now I DO know that it takes 36 hours to get from Fort Myers to Denver. For a weekend getaway. At the rate I was going, my three day weekend was turning into a one week road trip with ample opportunity for pictures (of passing trees) and I was actually okay with that since my logical side had already decided to take a sabbatical, or I'm sure she would have put her two cents in. (I hear she should be back in a few years, although the "for rent" sign where this logic was is a little tacky.)

John finally put his foot down (by way of his mouse and endless Googling on my behalf) and told me I would fly or I just wouldn't go because I was making myself (and him) a little batty.

Well, as the Recession and prices indicated, these plans were canceled, and I was secretly relieved that I wouldn't have to cop out due to my own stupid fears and loudly blamed it on the economy with the rest of the bloggers who had shown interest.

Then another plan came about. While hashing out these possibilities, I found out that Jen from Steenky Bee also had a fear of flying, so we agreed to come out of hiding together. We also agreed we would face our fears together, even if it's on separate flights. (Besides, Jenbo owes me a shirt.) (And after flying all this way, she'll owe me a hug too.)

I am going to get on a plane. It's done. My ticket is booked. John threatened warned me that there is no turning back now. I am going to climb into a metal tube and hope that between take off and landing, the plan doesn't need to make an unscheduled stop. I am going to pick up a prescription for Valium or Merlot, whichever takes the edge off the easiest, so the other passengers aren't eying me for drugs or insanity. And I will do my best to not scream out "We're going to die!" every time we hit an aerial pot hole or some other nonsense. (John thinks that with training, we can turn that go-to "We're going to die!" into an "Oopsie!", kind of like when we replace certain words with "sugar" or "shnikes". I'm sure this will draw looks, but John said these looks will at least not come with restraints.)

Thanks to John finding me a direct flight both ways to limit the amount of times I have to do this, I will arrive in Chicago and arrive back home with only my hair as an indication of my frizzy thoughts. (Somehow, he reasoned that my fear may hamper my quick thinking during layovers and having to get from one gate to another gate forty minutes ago and even the possible "John, can you pick me up? I'm in Tulsa." scenario which would not be pretty. For me. Or Tulsa, I reckon.)

I am giving up control. I am facing my fear(s).

Will I see you there?

Unduplicated, Unconquered, Unmitigated

I met Middle Aged Woman from Unmitigated! Damn right, you're jealous. When she first started posting about her upcoming vacation, I left a comment mentioning how close I live to their retreat. She and her husband were staying and playing in Captiva, an island hop from the mainland where I live.

On Tuesday, she posted a picture of the scene outside her boudoir door, a picture so idyllic, nature at its finest, at first I wondered if she was really in Florida. I actually looked out my office window to confirm, "Yes, it is that sunny outside," confirming I really do live this close to paradise.

We had emailed each other a few times before she arrived for her week's respite from the snow, sleet, and all things cold and coffee plans were made for Wednesday.

I was nervous. I admit it.

I mean, this woman has a reading list the likes of which I would need to study for before I felt wise enough to crack the spines. You know what's on my nightstand? Sippy Cups Are Not For Chardonnay and Toddler 411. Real brain busters. It took me 4 months to make it through the Twilight series! (Yes, this includes the times I put the book down, sometimes for weeks, in sheer frustration over Bella's angsty, stubborn, "Edward, please do us all a favor and bite her NOW!" life.)

I drove over to Starbucks, wondering how the evening would go. Would she be as nice as she seemed in her blog? Would she think I was who she thought I was from my own site? I had imagined her to be well spoken, quick, knowledgable, and subtly snarky. Think about it. When you find a blog you keep coming back to, the author takes on a persona of your own molding, every post adds more to the character, and any real deviation from the expectation can be a let down.

I really didn't want to be let down.

When we walked toward each other at Starbucks, every fear I had of liking her or her liking me melted into the chilly night. She even had the purse her daughter, Ms. Partly Cloudy, had scored for her. All I could think for a few minutes was, "That's the purse from her site!" Starstruck? Me? Definitely.

As we sat with our drinks, Mary, her husband, and I talked about whatever flew into our minds. As she describes in her own words, virtually any subject was embraced and discussed. At one point, she and her husband even threw out pull quotes from Burn After Reading, a movie John and I had loved. (I know this movie is a controversial topic since you either like it or you don't. My sister and best friend rented the movie after hearing me rave about it and called me afterwards, saying, "Jen, are you sure you liked this movie?") John has since put the movie at the top of our queue so we can re-screen it sooner rather than later. I even failed myself once for not having a recent picture of Sprite to show her husband. (See? You would think from all the photo essays and wordy blather I spew about my daughter, my purse would be overflowing with brag books. I was only able to come up with her year old photo taken last year. What kind of mommy blogger am I?) (John reminded me later on that my phone has a couple of recent pictures worth sharing. Oy!)

I got to hear some posts in person, including some hilarious stories, as told by both her AND the husband, that she had written about before we found each other during the beginnings of NaBloPoMo November. She was as smart, well spoken, and quick as I thought she would be, even more so than I'd hoped. I had such a good time with her and her husband, I didn't even notice the hours flying by until it was well past the time I had promised John I would be home.

All told, it was a wonderful night, I am so glad Mary reached out to invite me to intrude on her vacation and make a virtual friendship a real one.

She really is unmitigated.

And I am unworthy.

I hope your week was thoroughly enjoyed, Mary. You certainly made mine.

A Tale of Two Topics (Or Message In A Post) (Or Proof That Jen Is Certifiable)

Would you believe I offered myself up for another meme? The new year is only 6 days old and this is my second meme! I'd tell you to do the math, but I just realized this is actually my seventh post which puts the numbers at odds with easy fractions, so I'll save you from doing unnecessary finger counts.

Anyway, I really liked this one. One of my more frequent stalking routes brings me over to It's Sherendipity and yesterday's jaunt proved interesting. An interview meme! I had never seen a meme like it before. It was a meme that practically wrote itself! So, I commented (TWICE!) and expressed my interest (begged) and Sher sent me some questions (a cease and desist) (but it wasn't notarized, therefore not legal) (and I thought those law courses I took would never come in handy, ha!).

1.  Do you remember your first kiss?  C'mon, dish.

There's two that have to count as one. When I was in middle school, we had the usual school dances with boys on side and girls on the other side of the room with only the brave (ones who had made it to first base) in the middle intermingling. Someone started the game of sending a boy and girl into the pitch dark bathroom with to find each other, "make out", and come back with tales to tell. I went in, got popped a peck on the lips, barely registered what had happened even after it was over, and then the lights were flipped and he was gone. I never found out who it was, but I had a clue. (He had braces.)

The second one? Ninth grade. I was pretty close friends with a boy my age down the street, we had spent the summer trying to get our hamsters to hook up, (never worked) and he finally expressed his interest in me. I had had a clue, but was also trying to match him up with my friend. One day in his garage, his mother called him in to dinner, and we were saying goodbye. As if it happened all the time, he leaned in and kissed me, short and quick, but definitely to the point. I told him shortly after that I wasn't interested, he turned to my friend for a relationship, grabbed my breast in the middle of a busy school hallway a year later, and the resulting backlash of me reporting it caused a huge rift in my friendships with several people that took years to repair. Good times..

 

2.  What lesson did you learn from your parents (good, or bad) that will, or has, influenced your style of parenting?

I watched my father earn his college degree while still maintaining a full time job (and even a second job at one point) and also MAKING the time to be a caring and involved father. I don't mean that he had the time. I mean, he made the time. This has taught me that no matter how cluttered my life is, no matter how busy I am, no matter how many hours in the day are already dedicated to work and whatever else, I will make time for Sprite and John. My family will always come first.

My mother taught me that no matter how much I should use my head to make decisions, my heart should also have a say in the matter. My mom is known for being a soft heart, and having a hard head. (Do too, Mom.) I'm proud to say I take after her in a big way. By the way, today is my mother and father's 35th wedding anniversary. My mom has used the same joke for years that she will never divorce my father since she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. I've stolen that joke sometimes. I hope to keep stealing it, no matter how many times John rolls his eyes. (That was the second topic.) (And the message.) (And if I'm certifiable, it's strictly evidence that the apple not only didn't fall far from the tree, it bounced a few times.)

3.  Was there ever a time in your life that you passed on an opportunity that you really wanted, only to realize later that it was more of a benefit that you didn't take advantage of it?

Hm, this may be a two parter. The next question fits very well. I had the opportunity to continue my education in Criminal Justice, work for a governmental agency in some form, and live the single life that I had grown to like. Then I met John. My entire world as I knew it crashed down around my ears, showing me that I was capable of so much more than I had figured. I wasn't selling myself short on my plans. I had been selling myself short on my dreams.

 

4.  The year is 1999.  Ten years ago, today, what were doing?  Better yet, what did you THINK that you'd be doing ten years later, and how close were you?

I was working at American Express in the claims department, also going to school full time (with a 4.0 GPA, thanks) and holding down weekend job of leading bus tours of Miami and the Everglades with a travel company. I had achieved the vision of Miss Perfect and was working insane hours to keep it going. I thought I would finish my degree, continue on for my graduate degree, intern with the FBI, and become a profiler. (I did my research and knew there was NOT an X File department in the basement of the J Edgar Hoover building, but liked the show anyways.) I also thought I would play the single game, not let myself get attached or trapped or, gasp!, settle for someone. And kids? Out of the question. I would not be tied down. I am so far from where I thought I would be, I would need to get my passport renewed just to be in the same time zone. Thank goodness, I met John in the late Spring of 1999 and now, I love where I am. I keep accusing John of settling for me, my family typically threatens to dump me and keep John if things ever go sour, and I am vocal in my desires for another baby.

5.  If you could write a letter to the future you, reminding yourself of anything at all, how would that letter read?

I put aside some money in a MM account and a couple of CD's for me. They've matured and I've got about fifty thousand waiting for me now.The papers are in the safety deposit box. I'm welcome.

 

I lu-huved this meme! Thanks again, Sher. I am inviting you to participate. Leave me a comment letting me know if you want to be interviewed and I will gladly send you some questions. Be prepared though. I may look through your site first for some inspiration...

Oh yeah, and happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. You're a marital force to be reckoned with. We love you.

 

My Christmas List

(Quick note: Take a look at the wonderful Secret Santa Spins so far and don't forget! Tonight is the last night to get in on the fun! Email me at spriteskeeper[at]live[dot]com with your short list of favorite blogs!)

"All right, Jen. We're down the the wire. What do you want for Christmas?"

I smiled at John. This was the third time he had asked me, and for the third time I answered simply, "Nothing."

He rolled his eyes, as he had done the past two times. "Come on, there's got to be SOMETHING for you under the tree!"

My smile never wavered and my mouth never opened again. Case closed.

I am typically a very easy person to shop for. If you're looking for a gift for me and happen to be in the vicinity of a Barnes and Noble, Target, or Starbucks, chances are you'll see me smile when I open my gift(card). I never want for anything since I just don't need it. I'm not a clotheshorse, nor a fashionista, not even a purse aficionado.

(Total tangent on the purse thing: My current purse- yes, I have only one- is what John calls "the black hole". It's a big bag on the outside, even bigger on the inside. I lose everything in there. If you call my cell and I don't answer, chances are that I heard it, but had to stop somewhere around my wallet and ask for directions. I have overturned my purse in frustration and anger too many times to count only to lose more patience as I picked everything back up. So, when my mom wanted to know what I coveted for Hanukkah, I kept my eye open for sales on Black Friday and spotted a nice purse with organizational compartments made for someone like me. The price was perfect and I dropped my new purse on the counter as she was paying for other items. "Want to know what I want?" I asked. She looked to the purse I had forced into her pile of purchases. "Happy Hanukkah to me," I added. The purse is now sitting wrapped under our tree while I torture myself for just one more day until I can switch my things from old to new and reduce "the black hole" to more of a dwarf star. I would give the old purse to Sprite, but I'd probably lose her in there.)

John gets annoyed with me when I can't give him concrete answers on what I want, since my answer is always "nothing". (His list was easy. He wanted the World of Warcraft expansion pack. And he got it. Or will get it tomorrow.) So, to appease his growing temper (or completely push him over the edge), I am publishing my list.

What I want for Christmas:

1.To wake up Christmas morning next to my husband (that would be you, John) and smile in anticipation of all the plans we have for our daughter for her first Christmas at home.

2. To see Sprite's face light up with the wonder and excitement that every new activity and gift brings.

3. For my parents to arrive safely upon our doorstep in time to celebrate the ending of Christmas and continuation of Hanukkah with us.

4. For the brisket I will attempt to take on to actually come out okay. (Or we can look forward to spending time together in the ER.)

5.. For my sister, in-laws, nephews, and nieces to know how much we miss being with them at this time of year and to know how hard it was to make this decision to start our own traditions, especially knowing we may not see them.

6. For the economy to stop picking on my family. And my friends, real and blogwise. Let's just say the country as a whole. (I think the economy could use a little Christmas spirit in its eggnog.)

7. To relax in the safety and warmth of my home with the closest people in my world. And my Google Reader.

8. For John to fold the load of laundry that is currently beeping in the dryer and breaking up my concentration. (Just seeing if you're paying attention, babe.)

9. For all my friends, in both the physical and literary sense, to get all of their Christmas wishes.

10. A wonderful memory of Sprite's and my first actual Christmas to carry with me for the rest of my life.

John, if you can find a way to get this all under the tree, you'll have made all my wishes come true. And give Santa a run for his money..

He Spread, She Spread, He Spread

...the bloggy love, that is.

We all know that I have this thing against memes. I basically shot them down before I even knew what they were since my first post on this site was bashing email forwards. I didn't even know blog forwards were a blip in the blogosphere.

Over the last few months, I have received bloggy love from several bloggers (Not tooting my own horn, really! I think it's mostly because people look at my site, notice the lack of blog bling on my sidebars, and take pity on me, when actually, I don't know how to add the awards to my sidebar, get too frustrated to play with Typepad long enough to conquer it, and am too stubborn to ask my IT department to stop playing WoW on my dime so he can make my site prettier.) and I have either played the meme in the comment section on their site since my best friend and I have a running feud/truce about me pushing the meme meds forward or thanked the author, promised to somehow someway pass it forward and twiddled my thumbs until I could fly beneath the radar again.

But then...

Good Father and Captain Dumbass got together to battle the flowery accents dotting most of the awards/badges out there and unleashed their manly man-awards on the estrogen filled blogosphere at large.

I HAVE to pass this forward.

Good Father is up first:

 

The Rules as determined by Good Father (because he's the creator after all..)

1. Say one nice thing to a man in your life.
"Hey, John! One nice thing!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I have no idea! Good Father told me to say it!"

2. List at least six ways that you measure success in your life (or for your blog).
1. With a tape measure. (How else would you measure success?)
2. Making it through the day without blowing my top.
3. Making it through the day without blowing someone else's top.
4. Making it through the day without a tantrum from Sprite. (My standards are high.)
5. Looking at John at the end of the day and still loving him deeply.
6. Being proud of what I write. (Even the less proud stuff..) 

3. Assign this award to six other blogs and leave them a comment telling the blogger that you’ve assigned them this award.
Er... I'm not good at this. You like it? It's yours. Just let the Good Father know how much you love his bling.

4. Link back to the blog that you received this award from.
Let this serve as fair warning, Good Father!

This award comes from Middle Aged Woman over at Unmitigated:

 

Frou-frou, no? I know that I'm dedicating this blog post to men and manly men things and turn your head and cough and what-not, but I like Middle Aged Woman. She's snarky, funny, and knows how to pick her teams. She's been right so many times, psychics are calling HER for lotto numbers.

The rules:

1. You have to pass it on to 5 other fabulous blogs in a post.
Again, if you want it, it's yours. I'm too tired to check to see who has it or doesn't have it. (Wait, that didn't look right. Exchange "tired" for "lazy". Yup, better fit.)

2. You have to list 5 of your fabulous addictions in the post.
1. I'm addicted to my site. It needs to update every day or I will have failed. Failed what, you ask? Do you really want to scratch THAT surface?
2. I'm addicted to my Google Reader. Nuff said.
3. I'm addicted to Vivanno drinks at Starbucks. Yes, it's getting cooler out there and I'm turning more to the warm drinks, but if they discontinue the Vivanno's, I WILL take it personally.
4. I'm addicted to Dunkin Donuts. Why yes, Virginia, I am allowed to be addicted to two coffee joints, especially if they are rivals. Dunkin Donuts is my morning savior. Starbucks is my forbidden treat.
5. I'm addicted to the Sesame Street DVD's. I never thought I would admit it, but after listening to them while driving for so long, I absolutely LOVE the clever songs on these DVDs. It's almost sick that I want to sing along with Mandy Patinkin as Huxley in "Elmo in Grouchland", but I do. Proudly. Don't get me wrong. I'll stop soon.. when Sprite learns how to tell me to stop.

3. You must copy and paste the rules and the instructions below in the post.
As Sprite would say, "Did it!"

Instructions: On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link them as well. To add the award to your post, simply right-click, save image, then "add image" it in your post as a picture so your winners can save it as well. To add it to your sidebar, add the "picture" widget. Also, don't forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog.

But wait! There's more!

Last but not least, to round out this blog-o-ward manwich:

From Captain Dumbass at Us And Them:

 

There are no rules. The Captain says to take it and run. Where? I dunno. I just admire and respect him (some fear is involved, but fear is healthy, he says..) so I pass it on. Want a skull and crossbones on your site? Here's your chance!

So, there we are! I broke the rules of the blood signed contract I had with my best friend. I'm still standing. The site is still here.

..Are you?

Six on the Six

Okay, I've been trying to steer clear of the meme marathon, but Krystal over at Mommy's Escape twisted my arm (and pulled my hair) (she's a fiesty latina!) and out of love (and a little fear), I will do this one.

But I'm not passing it on! Susan, this does not break my end of the bargain! I am not tagging anyone else and I am beseeching all of my blogging buddies to stop the insanity!!!! (Deep breath)

Oy!

This is my fourth post today, and my last, because I'm too busy reading Dad Gone Mad Danny Evan's twitters about the debate, and the guy is hysterical.

Krystal tagged me with the instructions to look in the sixth folder of my picture file and pull the sixth picture and then explain what's happening.

All right, hold on. Let me take a look:

 

Um, yeah. Here I am, still swollen from giving birth a week earlier, holding a sleeping Sprite, only a week old at the time. John snapped this picture while I was snarking on something or another. Most likely the news, since the television is in the general direction of where my eyes are focused. See the bags under my eyes? Happy bags! And the paleness of my skin? Happy paleness! And the matted down, oily hair? Happy- I know, it lost the funny after the bags..

See that pink thing under her shirt? No? Hold on...

 

Much better. Those toes provided some great late night snacking for much of her first year. She still likes to huddle close, all of her limbs brought into the middle, when she's being held or falling asleep.

Yes, she was a glow worm in her first few weeks. We were fighting the Jaundice and just starting to kick it's yellow keister when this photo was taken.

All right, this post made me walk down Memory Lane. I'm going to go stalk my daughter for a few minutes now.

But I am asking, no begging, no BESEECHING!!!, stop the meme madness! Practice what you publish! Practice safe posts! Only you can prevent forest fires! (...And we're done.)

Have Geek, Will Travel

High speed isn't just for odometers anymore.

John has been dealing with this blogging thing since January. He seems to think I'm a little addicted. Addicted? Me? No! Well, maybe the pen and paper to catch ideas before they fall out of my head can be a little much and I have been known to type as he's talking to me to make sure his words are coming out verbatim, but no addiction here... Right? (Crickets)

John knows that whenever we go to the East Coast for visits with the family, I miss my laptop. I miss it greatly. Nothing to look at besides John's profile (Not that looking at his profile is bad. But if I feel as if someone is looking at me from the side and my peripheral senses are tingling, it tends to creep me out a little and I prefer not to creep someone else out, especially when they're driving at speeds upwards of 70 MPH on an open road! 'Tis all.) and the road ahead. I could look at Sprite, but her eyes are usually focused on the DVD player since she lost interest in pointing out trees a long time ago and the trees just don't look like Elmo no matter what I suggest. (Rural scenery can get a little repetitive sometimes. Tree, water, dirt, gator, tree, tree, gator, tree.. Get it?)

He knows when I have a post brewing, because I get very quiet and a little smile starts to play on my lips. This happens often, although I get interrupted by the traffic and my own backseat driving which can annoy him as well. And then that idea gets snuffed out by the interruption and I lose what I was thinking, where I was going, and what I was going to do. (Sigh) I lose a lot of posts that way..

So, John decided to make my blogging passion a little more mobile and at the same time make his long distance driving a little less nagging.

He hooked my laptop up to his Blackberry phone so I have Internet! On the road! I can blog on the road! (Hey, it's new to me!) (!!!)

This will come in very handy for those trips down the Alley when Sprite is sleeping in the back and John is listening to some of his music that I don't like AND for an immediate posting on any alligator sightings, because, well, you want to know about that, right? Right? (Crickets) (Will someone close the door please? Bugs are getting in!)

I love my IT department. I don't have to pay him much, I don't offer benefits, and there's a lot of overtime. He's loyal to the company though. And thoroughly vested.

So, this weekend, we have a lengthy trip to Fort Lauderdale for a huge family gathering which will most likely take a majority of the weekend. (And my sanity.) (And my patience.) (Oh, God! Not my patience!)

I will try this out for the first time, trying to write a post while on the road. If it comes out jittery, it's not due to the coffee I've been consuming, it's because the roads are in need of some repaving, okay?

Fort Lauderdale, ho! (I'll be taking my IT department with me. Oh yeah, his job requires traveling too. Should I give him a raise?)