Sunday, February 27, 2011

Healthy and Sleepless in KY

I am finally, finally, finally well.  Hallelujah!  It only took 2 weeks.

I am, however, suffering from insomnia and have been awakes since 4 am.  *Sigh*... you can't have everything.

This week has been interesting and exciting.  Along with recovering from the world's worst cold, I got to buy some new furniture and most of it was delivered on Friday.

This is so exciting for me and the kids, because we have had very little in the way of furniture and most of it was very old stuff given to us by friends, neighbors or relatives.  Not to mention the fact that since I moved 2 years ago, we haven't had a kitchen table and chairs or real beds.

For a dinette I was using an old card table that was dented in the middle and 2 metal folding chairs, so only half of us could sit at the table at once.  Never mind that the table was so wobbly that drinks couldn't be placed on it, because they were sure to spill.

We had been using air mattresses to sleep on for a few years.  Several things caused this- the many moves, kids ruining the 'real' mattresses with vomit, etc.

I don't mind air mattresses- they are quite comfortable with a memory foam topper.  However, they have 2 drawbacks: they are close to the floor (and actually crawling out of bed sucks) and they tend to get holes or tears (and waking up with the head of your 'bed' deflated and your feet elevated REALLY sucks).

So, this weekend, the kids and I have enjoyed the novel and  wonderful experiences of getting to eat all together at a table again and getting to sleep more than 6 inches off the floor.  This is what rich people must feel like!

Now, I am waiting for my sectional to arrive.  As lovely as it has been to sit on 4 pieces of  violently clashing furniture (some reeking of old foot odor)- I can't wait to perch daintily (lounge lazily) on my beautiful, cushy couch.

The chair I purchased has already arrived.  It is a very modern piece- round, leather and suede, seats two and SPINS!  OK,  I should say that it rotates, but not  the way my kids use it.  My mother believes I should be handing out carnival tickets to the kids to 'ride' the spinning chair.  I just hope that it is durable.

I will post pics as soon as everything is in place.

I am finally sleepy again, so I am off to catch a couple more hours of rest.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Finally feeling better

I wish to thank everyone for their kind messages for me to get well.  I only had a cold, but it was a doozy!  I think I sneezed more in the last week than I have in the last 10 years.

Of course, all that sneezing just made my head pound, and if I was really lucky, I got to experience the lovely phenomenon of stress incontinence.  Yeah Me!

Now, I am lucky enough to be awake at 5 am, because my son woke up vomiting at 2 am and I haven't been able to get back to sleep.  I realize that my son being sick IS the bigger issue, but looking at a full day on 3 1/2 hours sleep has made me very self-pitying.

On the very happy side of things- I get my new washer and dryer delivered today!!!!!  I am soooo happy!  I can't wait to show it love with the 20 loads of dirty clothes I have waiting in the scary utility closet.  I have not had a washer and dryer for a couple of years and the weekly schlep to my Mom's (or worse- the laundrymat) has gotten really old.  This week, I was so low on clean clothing options, that I wore neon orange yoga pants 2 days in a row.  Nothing like a fat lady in skin-tight, retina-singeing pants.

It is a really nice set with all kinds of neat features.  The washer doesn't have a load setting for you to select- it has a sensor that selects the amount of water needed automatically.  The dryer has a sensor that will stop it once the clothes are dry.  This will either be wonderful or awful- I have been saying for years that my clothes get shrunk in the dryer and it will be nice not to have that happen, unless of course I was delusional and the clothes weren't shrinking at all. . .

Finally, before I end this post, I would like to comment on some of the strange SPAM emails I receive.  I get the regular old SPAM for 'male enhancement' and 'hot girls' (though they really are pitching to the wrong demographic...) and the get rich quick schemes.  This morning, however, I saw a new one that just made me think how over-stimulated (and pathetic) many people are today.  It was for a service touting their ability to deliver your internet on the beach.

THE BEACH!  The place where you go to relax and connect with nature.  A place filled with sand FOR GOD'S SAKE!!  Who would take a computer anywhere near sand?!  I can't go near a beach without picking sand out of my nethers for 3 days- I can only imagine the effect it would have on a computer.  Never mind the fact that life guards are the only people supposed to be working at a beach.

Sad indeed to think that somewhere someone is compelled to check email and shop on Amazon when they should be enjoying the sights, sounds and smells unique to the beach.  Then people wonder why society is in shambles.

Sunday, February 20, 2011


I am sick with a lousy head cold.  I will be back online to blog and complain after I get over this snotty mess.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Tragic Disorganization

I try so very hard to be a somewhat organized person.  I have bins, drawers and folders.  Entire systems!  But all it takes is a bout of stomach flu, a busy errand day, a strong breeze- and all of my plans and organization are right out of the window.

The worst part of all this, aside from having to kick my way through toys from one end of the house to the other, is that I often lose things- keys, pets, or in this case, my cell charger.  (By the way- no English teacher should read my last run-on sentence if they don't want to develop a nervous tic)

Yesterday, I put my charger with my phone on my computer desk.

Last night, when it needed to be charged, it was nowhere to be found.  Typical.  The only working alarm clock in my house is on that cell phone and I was certain it would be dead before dawn.  Even though I was tired enough to want to cry, I began the fruitless search for the charger.

Anyone that knows me well, knows I only search for something about 15 minutes before I began ransacking like the CIA in Baghdad.

Nothing.  I said lots of bad words and may or may not have thrown a hissy fit.

Feeling guilty, and still so tired that my tongue was thick and I was debating sliding one of my new steak knives across my throat, I picked up some of the mess I had made when I tossed drawers and stands and boxes and cupboards.

Finally, I pray that 1 battery line on the cell means that if I don't use it, it will sit nicely until 630 am when I need it to wake me and fall into bed.  I was never so grateful to have my 6 year old kick me in her sleep whilst she stole my blanket.

Ping-ping-ping!  Why that is the sound of my dead phone shutting down in the middle of the night!  I may or may not have punched my cheap plastic dresser, thereby making it extremely difficult for the cheap plastic drawer to slide in, but I digress.

I angrily flop out of bed and begin the hunt for the charger anew.  This time I have the half-baked idea that since I put laundry away yesterday,  the charger may have inexplicably secreted itself away between my fleece pj's and gray sweats to taunt me from the closet.  I tear apart the closet...and my dresser...and everything I tore apart earlier in the night...and the hall closet...and the coat closet.  I am so insane with desperation that I begin checking the pockets of the clothes I had worn yesterday- like I 'forgot' I shoved a big plastic rectangle charger into my jeans.

I may or may not have knocked my head into a wall while saying every version of the F-word I know.

I return to bed, sick feeling, because now I have to rely on my body, the one that has never been faithful and supportive in 37 years, to wake me in time to get my son to school.  I underestimated my internal clock.  It woke me in PLENTY of time.

4:45 am to be exact.  I then crawled out of bed approximately every half hour, to check the time on the kitchen clock, until 6:40 am, when it was time to wake my son for school.

After he got on the bus, I hurried (well, my version of hurry- hunched in my coat to hide my bra-less state, limping along in my bedroom slippers) home.  I quietly slipped into my room, where my youngest lay on MY side of the bed.  I carefully eased her over to her side, cursed the pain this caused to my lower back, and gingerly lowered myself on the mattress.

Success!  I closed my eyes.  10 minutes later my youngest woke up.  Yippee frigging skippee!

Still haven't found the cell charger and I hid the steak knives.  It is going to be a long day.

Monday, February 14, 2011

If you give a girl a jerk...

If you give a girl a jerk,
She will probably want you to meet him.

When you meet him,
You will realize he is a total douche.

If  you try to help the girl see he is a douche,
She will not be grateful.

When the douchy jerk moves in with the girl,
you will be forced to see him occasionally.

When you are forced to see him,
you will  wish using a cattle prod on a man were legal.

If you try to explain your feelings to your friend,
she will choose the jerk over you.

When she does this often enough,
she will only have the douchy jerk left.

Eventually the jerk will disappear,
usually via prison or another woman.

When the jerk disappears,
the girl will want to cry on your shoulder.

If you forgive her,
realize she will find another douchy jerk to replace the last.

And to the girl with the douchy jerk in my neighborhood- just because you put up with him, doesn't mean the rest of us are willing to deal with his obnoxious bullshit.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

How to waste a Sunday

My jaw and face have nearly healed.  I am very grateful.  I couldn't smile or laugh without it hurting.

I have been nursing some sort of stomach thing on and off for a few days.  I don't know what it is- possibly my ulcer.  I know, such a nice topic for a Sunday morning.

Speaking of nice- we have finally had a break in the weather.  Yesterday, it was almost 50 degrees.  We walked to the park and I finished a romance novel while the kids played on the swings and slides.

Today it is even warmer and sunny.  I would like to say that I am going to get out an enjoy it, but I am not sure because of the nausea.

I have managed to continue working out.  Yeah, me!  I hope all of you that said you were going to try getting some exercise have managed to find time.  I will admit that on the 3rd day, every time I had to sit down or stand up, I whimpered.  My thighs were KILLING ME!!

I was hoping to get some early spring cleaning done.  Well, not cleaning so much as organizing.  I have a bunch of stuff that needs to move to the basement for storage.  I would like to be able to actually look into a closet, see what I need and reach in to get it.

Right now the closet scenario goes something like this:
1.  Try to figure out which of the 7 closets might be holding the desired item hostage.
2.  Pick a closet, open the door and break into a flop sweat over the man-sized mountain of junk piled wily-nily within.
3.  Begin digging for item.
4. Stuff falls on my head and back as I dig.  Feel momentary panic that I might be buried alive in closet.
5. Say lots of bad words.
6.  Start getting a little crazy and begin throwing EVERYTHING from the closet out onto the floor.
7. 45 minutes later realize that I chose the wrong closet to look in.
8. Dither for 2 hours (while recovering from earlier search) whether I really NEED the item.
9. Decide I need the item.  Repeat steps 1-7.
10.  Find the item, lying conspicuously in the open when I am searching for pain killers for strained back muscles.
11.  Repeat step 5.

The thing is to get to the basement, you have to use stairs.  I hate stairs.  Or, more accurately my bum knee hates stairs.  I also don't really care for my basement.

When I moved into this house, I had all sorts of grand illusions of making the basement in to a workout/ play room/ game room for all of us to enjoy.  Then reality crashed the party- my remodeling budget consisted of $6 to spend at the local dollar store.

I spent the $6 on cigarettes and have mostly ignored the basement for 9 months.

Maybe I will take on the closets and the creepy basement (inconveniently located at the bottom of some stairs) next weekend.

Probably not.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Exercise for the terminally lazy

I have a condition that I have lived with my entire life- laziness.  Unlike some people that protest their laziness as they deepen their butt-dent in the couch, I embrace mine.  I admit that if I didn't have kids and a house to take care of, I would spend most of my days deepening my dent on the couch.

Before having children, I would spend entire weekends in bed, with a book.  I would crawl out for the occasional bathroom trip or refrigerator recon mission, but I made sure to return to my cocoon of blankets and historical romance as soon as possible.  Often with a slice of cold pizza and  a diet Dr.  Pepper.

I could afford to spend most of my time barely moving and accomplishing little, because 5 days a week, 2 or 3 hours a day I would exercise- running, weight lifting and aerobics.  That sounds like a lot, until you balance it with sitting for 8 hours for work and then lazing around for 12 more at home and in bed.

Does anyone remember step-aerobics?  I used to hit a step-aerobics class every week day.   I was a sight to behold given my natural klutziness- flopping, flapping and sweating profusely.  I know this because gyms are considerate enough to place mirrors EVERYWHERE!

In 1997, I had a big, ol' life altering car accident.  I couldn't sit up straight, much less walk for a while.  It took months for me to recover enough to limp around on  my own.

During the time I was confined to bed, everyone that visited was so nice.  They brought me cookies and candy and I shoveled it in with my good hand (the left was smashed).  I got bigger and bigger lying in bed all day for months on end.

No sooner did I get up and start to lose a little of the 60 lbs I gained, when I got pregnant and gained 58 more.  The fat fairy wasn't finished with me yet.  I then developed hypothyroidism, but didn't realize it until I was near comatose, 2 years and 40 lbs. later.

By the time I had several miscarriages, 3 surgeries and 2 more babies over the next 6 years I was 130 lbs heavier than my starting weight.

Now, the sad part is that I do much more on a daily basis than I did 13 years ago.  I have to clean, feed and care for 3 kids, by myself.  It is a full-time job.  You add the fact that I homeschool and you can pretty much find me on my feet for 8 hours (or more) a day.  Sometimes I will realize that it is dinnertime and I haven't sat once since lunchtime.

Why have I bored you (and possibly made it hard for you to swallow your breakfast) with the saga of my ever increasing mass?  Because I have decided to try *GASP* exercising again.  Formal exercise, because apparently karmic justice does not consider a day spent on your feet cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, serving and playing with your kids enough activity to keep you from being big enough to have your own gravitational pull.

I never  minded  being big.  Luckily my ego isn't tied to my appearance.

 Let's be clear.  I would mind if Richard Simmons were screeching in my front yard while the cut off the side of the house to load me on a flat bed.  *Pffft*  I have some standards.

I finally managed to build up my strength in my legs enough last summer so that I could run short distances. I was very excited, because I used to walk/run about 5 miles several days a week.  It is a very cheap and effective form of therapy.  All of that pushing a freaking mower through the African savannah (my back yard) must have helped.

The problem is, everything else has gotten weaker.  I can barely sit up in bed (marshmallow abs) and I have flappy arms.  I don't have anyone else to do the heavy lifting, so I need to be able to do what needs done.

I can forsee a time in the next couple years when lifting a gallon of milk would be too much for me.  I can't let that happen.  Too many people I know have atrophied to the point where they can't lift more than 25lbs or walk up a flight of stairs without needing an oxygen mask.  

So, today I am going to start by tearing the shrink-wrap off of a workout DVD I won at Christmas time.  That can be my warm-up.

Here's hoping that after going 13 years with out participating in an exercise regimen that I live through the 30 minute workout.

If I do live and continue working out each day, I promise that I won't become one of those annoying women that only talks about her weight, exercise and diet.  Even when I was young and fit, those broads made me want to shake them like rag dolls.

If I don't live, well, now you will know why the blog posts came to an abrupt end.

Monday, February 7, 2011


I am still recovering from my dental visit.  My face is still swollen and I talk with a lisp.  My left side of my face is like Brando in the Godfather.

I spent Friday cleaning in a vicodin fueled frenzy, so Saturday and Sunday I didn't have anything to do.  I read several books and magazines, but quickly became bored with the same plot lines, characters and articles.  If there hadn't been decent TV (an NCIS marathon on Saturday and the movie Enchanted on Sunday), the entire weekend would have been a wash.

Woke up today to rain that quickly turned into snow.  My favorite snow, too- the huge fluffy flakes that blanket the trees and bushes.

I also woke up to a sick kid.  Throat, stomach, fever- the works.  I gave her some medicine  and she has managed to keep it down.  Now, she wants me to finish painting her finger and toe nails.  She only got the right one's finished, because she is left handed.

She is sitting right here, and keeps sliding the bottle of sparkly blue polish closer to the keyboard.  I guess, now that I can't hit the Ctrl key without knocking the bottle over, I should wrap up this fascinating and entertaining post.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Half my head is huge!

I went to the dentist a couple of days ago and had two teeth removed.  One was an impacted wisdom tooth.  Since it is the first time I had a wisdom tooth cut out, I will have to assume that the enormous swelling on the left side of my head is normal.  It isn't tender or red, so I don't think it is infected.  It just looks like I am a chipmunk with a cheek full of food.

 The procedure itself was all sweetness and light.  Well, it would have been, with the wacky gas, if the dentist hadn't insisted on doing his job.  For that arrogance on his part, I told him that "We can't be friends now" and called him "an assh*le for making me cry".  Luckily he is used to people saying crazy stuff while high, so he just laughed at me.  He is actually a very good dentist and I have seen him several times before, I am just really mean when hurt or scared.

I get incredibly nervous at the dentist.  If we have learned anything from sitcoms, it is that you are supposed to be terrified of going to the dentist.  I didn't always know this.

When I was a kid in Germany, I had a great dentist, Dr. Green.  He was so wonderful and never hurt me.  After that, I would go the dentist and be so relaxed that I would doze off during my visit- even when getting fillings.

That all changed about 7 years ago.  I had a tooth that started bothering me and I pulled out the yellow pages to find a dentist that accepted my insurance.  I found one in our town.  A woman who's name (and soul) I have cursed, repeatedly.  Since this is the internet and I don't want to get called out for defamation (because I am sure torturing people allows you to engage better lawyers than a single, stay-at-home mom), I will keep her name to myself.

Anyone that ever is thinking of getting dental care in Hardin County, KY, contact me first and I will steer you away from the Marquis de Sade's current incarnation.

Back to the saga- I made an appointment.  Arrived in the tiny office and did that thing where you try not to stare other people in the eye, even though you are face to face and only separated by 3 feet.  I flipped through some old copies of Ladies Home Journal, wondering (not for the first time) how many germs are on the magazine from 3 years worth of bored hands pawing them.

Once my x-rays are done, the dentist herself comes in.  She was beautiful, with a lilting soprano voice.  It was like Amy Adams in the movie Enchanted.

She told me that the tooth had to be removed and that she had time to do it that day.  So, I foolishly agree.  For everyone's future mental health- if someone that looks and sounds like a Disney princess is going to do something to your person, RUN!  Run as fast as you can, because it is one of those 'too good to be true' lessons.  It is a trick.

At this point in life, I had already had one tooth pulled.  I thought I knew what to expect.  Creak, pop, done!

I get numbed up and wait for Princess Dentist to come pull my tooth.  She comes in and her demeanor has changed from sweet girl hoping to lure birds for a musical number to serious and abrasive.  I don't care, yet.

She begins the extraction.  For the next several minutes (about 10 times longer than any other extraction I have ever had done) she yanked, twisted and tugged.  My head was pulled every which way and my neck was killing me.  She broke the tooth into bits while trying to pull it.  I know this, because she sneered something pissy about it to her assistant.  Like it was my fault that she crushed my tooth and couldn't pull it, because she had exactly the upper body strength of a chihuahua.

I have endured the popping, creaking, twisting and yanking for so long and I am so freaked out, that I am already weeping.   The graduate of Josef Mengele's School of Dentistry and Torture increases her efforts to traumatize me and puts her knee in my stomach (for leverage, I guess?).  I just want it all to end.

I suffered through 12 hours of childbirth, 2 1/2 hours of it pushing.  I clearly remember a point about an hour before my daughter was born, where I told my mother that I couldn't take anymore,  my mind was going to snap.  It was no where near as awful as what this lunatic was doing.

Finally, she manages one last yank and my tooth flies (and a good amount of blood) across the room and pings off the wall.

She doesn't say a word, just walks away.  Because of the damage she caused while tearing at my gums, I am bleeding heavily, crying and feel faint.  The assistant is trying to clean up all the blood and get me to bite on gauze.

After a couple minutes, the psycho with the chirping voice, comes in and says rudely, "Why are you still sitting there?"

I tell her I need a minute, that I feel weak and dizzy and she says, "Well, I have other patients, so you need to leave."

I don't even have it in me to give her the evil eye.  I have been brought down by a 5'3, 130 lb beautiful succubus.  I awkwardly stumble to the sink to spit out the massive amounts of blood, and to wash my face.  It is covered in blood, drool and tears.

When I bent over to splash my face, I got very light-headed and crumpled to the floor.  When the assistant came back, I was on my knees, crying and clutching the sink.  She ran to get the lunatic.  Loony comes in and voice dripping with disgust, "You are being ridiculous.  Get up and get out!"

I wanted to kill her, I did.  But, I was so stunned by how successfully she brought me to my knees.

I have had to fight off grown men- 6'3 and 240 lb men.  I have always held my own, if not gotten the upper hand.  It was such a blow to my psyche that this tiny, innocent looking sprite had reduced me to a blubbering puddle of fear.

When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to walk out into the waiting room, the look of horror and fear on the other patients faces was strangely gratifying.  I hoped they took a good look at what that nut had done to me.  I go to the counter to pay and ask about antibiotics and pain  meds.

The receptionist tells me that Princess Dentist did not leave any prescriptions.  I tell the lollipop head receptionist that my head and neck were already killing me and that I just knew I was going to be in pain.  I wanted something.

She must not have liked my tone (though, how can you have much of a tone when you are numb and mumbling through a mouth full of gauze), because she brought the evil dentist to the desk.  Evil dentist berated me for 'being a baby' and told me she 'never gave pain medicine' and then acted suspicious because I wanted it.  Like I was a junkie that had teeth pulled just to get a fix!!

I did manage to tell her she was a nut, but I was weak and mumbly, so I don't know if it had the venom I would have liked.  She huffed off, probably to stomp some bunnies and pollute a water source.

The receptionist tells me I owe $74.  I tell her I will never pay one cent.  That they  are all a-holes and to F off.  I slink to my car and bawl like a baby in the parking lot for several minutes.  I managed to drive the 2 minutes to get home and once inside, I took a fistful of ibuprofen and went to bed for the rest of the day.

The dental office called  for months for their money.  Each time I told them I was never going to pay.  The final time someone called, I said, "That bitch will never see one penny from me.  In fact, when I die, I want to be buried with exactly $74 and I want a picture of me clutching it in my cold, dead hands sent to your frigging boss!!"

It is now wonder that now I have to be gassed to within an inch of coma, just to get anything done at the dentist.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Fessin' Up

Thanks to everyone that tried to guess my fact from yesterday's post.  I heard back from so be sure to check out her post later today.

Now, time to confess.  Drum roll, please (so pretentious, like I am drum-roll material! La-di-da!)

#1- I am way too klutzy to ever cheerlead and since I am also pep and friendly deficient, I never considered trying out.
#2- I love bats.  I know that is a weird, but I find them fascinating and I think their little rodent-y faces are adorable.
#3- I wasn't mugged in Hawaii.  I have endured two mugging attempts.  One, when I was in 7th grade a kid tried to steal my lunch money at knife point.  I rolled my eyes at him and shook my Garfield lunchbox (complete with a smooshed Little Debbie and half-eaten apple inside) in his face.  He shuffled off, probably to find a real target.

The second time, I was in the Cornhill neighborhood of Utica, NY.  It is an armpit of despair and crime.  I was supposed to meet my boyfriend at his parent's house.  I leave my car and some guy pulls a knife and gives me  the crazy eye.  I felt my heart hit my throat, but then I got mad.  So, I sneered, "You picked the wrong white lady to rob, because I got about 47 cents in my purse."  I also told him my boyfriends name, which really put him off his quest to separate me from my riches.  He apologized (seriously) and I found out later he even told people about it.  Apparently, my brave front surprised him (inside though, I was calculating my odds of surviving various wounds).

#4- I never liked kids, even when I was one.  I definitely did not want to have any and I was very vocal about it.  I had no patience and I found them annoying.  I had friends with kids and I couldn't take more than 5 minutes of the little boogers before I was going mad.  I used to joke that my personal hell would be a Chuck E. Cheese on a Saturday afternoon.

That all changed when I got pregnant for my first child.  I was very content with pregnancy and the idea of having a baby, and once she was born, I fell madly in love with her.  Now, I have 3 kids and they are my absolute favorite people.

#5- This one is the truth.  I don't like people much.  I know, shocking.  I REALLY don't like crowds or noise or having to deal with strangers.  I am very happy at home, with a book.  I don't feel the need to 'go out' or do a lot of socializing.  When I start to feel stir crazy I can take a walk or run to the grocery store for some milk.  The 30 seconds I am talking to the cashier will hold me for 'socialization' for a couple of weeks.  I like solitude, which I guess is good, considering I don't play well with others.

One more truth, I have been up since 4:30 am because I have a dentist appointment today.  I am getting a wisdom tooth cut out and another (broken) tooth removed.  I am dreading this.  Obviously.

I have to go to a surgeon, so he can give me the good ol' wacky gas.  Otherwise, I freak out!  I suffered a really traumatic experience at the hands of an evil lunatic and have never fully recovered.  That will be another blog post for another day.

Right now, I am going to make up my meals for the next 3 days- jello, pudding and more jello.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Liar, Liar!

I have been chosen by my lovely blog friend Karen at Out of My Mind blog to participate in a fun bloggy thing (sorry, it is 9 am, my inner thesaurus is still loading).

It is the Memetastic Award.

Apparently, I have been tasked with telling 5 tidbits about me, only one of which is true.  You all are supposed to guess which is true.  Weee, fun!  Oh, and my mom can't play, cause she knows all my secrets.

I guess I also have to choose 5 other blogs to pass the Big Liar torch to and I am going to choose:
Kostiuk Crew:
Confessions of a Bookworm:
Crazy House:
Don't Read This; It's Boring:
My Journey with Candida Blog:

Whew, that was hard!  I follow a gazillion blogs, but Karen is the only blogger I communicate with regularly.

OK, on to the tall tales and nugget of truth:

1.  I was a cheerleader all through high school.    Even though I am not especially coordinated, I made it as a cheerleader my sophomore year and continued until graduation.  Away games were my favorite!

2. I have Chirotophobia.  It is a phobia of bats.  The terrify me.  I scream, cry and run for cover whenever I see one.  I had a bat fly into me when I was a kid and every since then, I can't even look at one without feeling faint.  *shudder*

3. I was mugged in Hawaii.   I foolishly went walking, alone, in Waikiki after dark.  I was trying to decide if I was going to grab a bite to eat at a small,. open air restaurant and my back was to a parking garage.  A man shoved me down, yanked my purse and jumped in a jeep and drove off.  He only got $41 and some cheap lip gloss.

4. I always wanted children, for as long as I can remember.  When I was little, I always played house and with dolls and couldn't wait to grow up and be a mom.  Everyone used to remark that I would one day make a great mom.  It was the primary focus of my young adult life.

5. I am very anti-social and would be happy as a hermit.  If  I had to live in the Alaskan bush and only see other people a few times a year, I would be very content.  I really enjoy being alone and I hate going out in public.  Especially places with lots of noise and activity.  Wal-mart is a nightmare.

OK, so how well do you all think you know me?  Which is the truth? Let me know in the comments.  Once again, Mom, you can't play.  Haha!