exposed

I'm no athlete.
Even if I was, I think I'd still have issues with the locker room.
The closest I come to getting naked in public was camp - where I perfected the art of changing clothes without ever being naked.
But that's impossible in a swim suit.
Therefore, when swimming, I dress (and undress) at home.
And no - giving birth does not need to forever hinder one's modesty.

So there I was - the Aquatic Center. Ben's first night in a pool. Pretty exciting stuff.
We were just arriving, still in the parking lot, getting Ben out of the car seat and a woman noticed his cuteness and stopped to say a friendly hi.

When I entered the locker room, I saw her again, out of the corner of my eye. She was undressing. So I stopped myself from the impulse to turn and say hi again - she was really very friendly.
Instead, my inner dialogue went something like:
Oh boy - I hate locker rooms. Don't panic! Divert the eyes. Where is the bloody changing table?! Why is it in her area? Oh yes - I can have my back to her.

I got Ben settled in nicely on the changing table and got to work. It didn't take him long to figure out how cool his voice sounded in the echoey room. So he started jabbering (aka YELLING) up a storm.
I was talking to him and laughing.

From behind me I heard, "He's so cute - how old is he?"

I turned around thinking "If she's initiating conversation, she must be dressed."
You can guess how wrong I was.

So there I am, one hand on naked, squirming, yelling happily Ben - while my body is half turned towards an aging 100% naked woman -and my eyes are darting around like a pinball machine.

What's the polite thing to do here?
Turn your back to her?
Face her. All of her?

I settled on locking in on the most intense eye contact of my life.
She made some other comments about Ben. Or babies. Or the economy. I have no idea.
I smiled, nodded, and turned back around - never happier to wipe Ben's butt cheeks in my life.

The grapevine

I have always wished I was creative. It wasn't until college that I realized it's much better for me to just be friends with creative people because my creative endeavors are never really successful. And you all thought I just like to play it safe. No, it's really my only option.

My grandma passed away a few weeks ago. In the process of preparing for her funeral and visitation, many MANY pictures were viewed. Pictures I didn't know existed. Take, for example, the pic of me in my head gear. You heard me. I seriously thought there was absolutely no proof that contraption ever existed. Now that Keith has seen it, I've never been more sure of the longevity of my marriage.

And then there was the picture of the Worst Idea Ever. In caps because it is. Straight up.
It was halloween. 3rd grade? My BFF Alissa had figured out how to braid wire into her strawberry blond, butt length hair. She found striped tights and was going to be the best Pippi Longstocking ever. I adored Pippi and was insanely jealous. So I said to myself, "Self, if you're going to be seen with Pippi, you better come up with something good!"

I had this sassy pair of red sunglasses branded "California Raisins." I might have gotten them out of a cereal box - not too sure on that one. Then it hit me. Standing in the center aisle at Meijer, looking at all the halloween head dresses. I could be... a raisin!!!! From California! HA!

I knew the dance move. Roll hands, point to left. Roll hands, point to right. Give a little hip sway. Repeat.

And I would be funny. That was important. No way I can compete with how cute Alissa would be. So go the funny route. This was gonna be great.

In my head, it was hilarious. And to be honest, it was funny in my head up until three weeks ago when I saw the picture:



I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this costume didn't go over that great.
Forgive the caps here, but seriously people -
WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I WAS WEARING GRAPES ON MY HEAD. NOT RAISINS!!!
My mom would answer this question with some response about how head strong I was and how once I made up my mind about something... but SERIOUSLY! She let me out into the streets to beg for candy looking like this!
And no, your screen doesn't need to be calibrated - my face is blue. Not purple.
My sweatshirt is blue and inside out.
I think we can all agree that my mic was rad, but that's about it.

Picture me, sitting on Alissa's bed emptying my pillow case looking for razor blades while Alissa let down her hair.
"Why in the world would people think I was one of those underwear guys??? Weird!

(You might remember this story...)

Guilty Pleasure

I promised Keith not to name our child while he was out of town, but I have been playing around with a few (trying my best not to fall in love with anything as he still has veto power).

Whenever a name gets stuck in my head for over a day, I consider it a contender. And by name I mean first and second. Once a name is a contender, I google it. No need to name our child after a serial killer. Or porn star.

It's seriously entertaining.

And that's really all I have to say about that. Because no, I'm not giving you any hints on the contenders. Osama's out, though. For sure.

In the middle... but of what?

I was driving home from Care Group last night, listening to Jimmy Eat World. I really like them, so I was singing along. I sang along pretty loudly to "The Middle" - it's quite catchy. However, at the end of the song, I realized that I only really knew about 1/2 the words. And I was singing loud. But "little girl, you're in the middle..." of what? A rind? That's weird. Does it have anything to do with that group Over the Rhine? If any of you are as bad as me (in other words, you've listened to a CD for 6 years and never actually learned the chorus), I've posted the lyrics here. For your sake, and mine.

Hey, don't write yourself off yet
it's only in your head
you feel left out or looked down on
just try your best
try everything you can
and don't you worry what they tell themselves
when you're away

it just takes some time
little girl you're in the middle of the ride
everything(everything) will be just fine
everything(everything) will be alright (alright)

hey, you know they're all the same.
you know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in.
live right now.
yeah, just be yourself.
it doesn't matter if its good enough, for someone else.

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride
everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)

hey don't write yourself off yet.
its only in your head you feel left out
or looked down on.
just do your best, do everything you can.
and don't you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride.
everything (everything) will be just fine,
everything (everything) will be alright (alright)

The evidence

I took these partly because few things happen in my life that don't make me think "I could blog this." And partly because at the time, I wasn't sure if we'd have to file some sort of claim or not. Adrenaline always makes me jump to the worst case scenario!

The smell is mostly gone now. Odoban ROCKS!

Reason #76 why I hate electric ovens

We skipped church today.
We intended to go - were even looking forward to it.
I love Communion Sunday.
It was supposed to be a normal Sunday - church, then lunch at the in-laws, then a whole lot of vegging.
I always pack three things on Sunday morning - my Bible, my slippers, and my novel.
This morning, I put my 560 page novel on top of the stove, with my phone on top - to make sure I didn't forget. I was getting a little bored of the book and really want to push through to the end.
Keith decided to make some breakfast, so he started the tea pot for some oatmeal. Or so he thought.
I hate electric ovens.
I could hear a little crackle and pop from the bathroom - it's usual with our nasty old electric stove top. Even smelled a little hot - nothing strange about that either. But then all the sudden it smelled real hot.
I came into the kitchen and saw at LEAST 8 inch flames from my fully engulfed novel.
"Hello, 911? I could have sworn I turned on the BACK burner..."
(I'm not proud of this next part).
I grabbed my phone and quickly started to save it, while I yelled for Keith to come deal with the book. What do you do? Do you throw water on it? It was seriously engulfed. Luckily, my husband has teflon hands and he just picked up the book and threw it in the sink and ran water on it. He doused the few pages stuck to the burner with water.
The whole thing was over in about 30 seconds. By thing I mean fire. Because 9 hours later, we're still airing the house out with open windows and fans on high and it still smells like the morning after a frat party.
Blech.

The moral of the story?
No books on the stove. Period.
AND... cell phone covers are worth it. A little melted plastic at the hinge, a horrendous smell, and a whole lot of luck later, I can still make calls with the little sucker!

And yes, I did actually snap a few pictures. I'll post those soon.

"circle of life" or "justice" (depending on my stage of life)

I had dinner with a dear friend last night.
While we were visiting, her husband called to report that he was locked out of the house.
I gave my dear friend a pretty hard time about that.
I have never known anyone to get locked out of things more than her... and now her husband.
But I paid for it.

Scene: morning, exterior
Keith: "You have keys?"
Sara: "oh, you're kidding."

The good news is we got in the house pretty quickly - like in 3 minutes.
The bad news is we got in the house pretty quickly.
I see a weekend project of installing glass block basement windows in our near future...

Thanks for the support

It's so nice to know everyone's behind me.
That they have my back.
Even without needing to assk.
I really appreciate it, butt I'm waiting for it to get old for all of you.

Oh yeah, and thanks for the memories - of course I remember that one time when...
...I broke my elbow tripping on my bedsprsead.
...I feel hard and fast at the winter retreat with everyone watching, all the while gloating about how smooth I was.
...I got hooked to the pole when we were sledding... right as all the cute boys pulled up...
...I fell during a marching band rehearsal, wearing my snare drum, getting called out on the speaker from the podium...
...I was in marching band.

You guys are the best.

coccygeal contusion

Living in Michigan all my life, I survive the winters in a state of anxiety.
It's not if I'll fall, it's when.
And until I do, once a winter, I'm on edge.
Looks like I'll be able to chill out this winter because I fell this morning.
Hard.
Friggin frost. It's not even Thanksgiving.
I wiped out taking the dog out - slipped on the top stair of the deck and thudded down three more.
Bottom line (pun intedended) is that I either bruised or broke my tail bone. No need for an x-ray as the treatment is the same - just drugs.
And yes, I will be sitting on this little dream boat for the next week or so...