Monday, July 12, 2010

The One Where She Asks " Does My Ass Look Fat in this Shower?"

So for about a year, I've been without.  Without a shower in the master bathroom.  I know, you're all  like "Hey Swirl Girl, quitcher bitchin - there are people in Africa who bathe in the same dung infested water that the hippos and wildebeasts crawl through!"  All that being said - I don't live in the wilds of Africa - I live in the  planned urban development in the wild suburbs of Los Angeles.  And while we may have our own tribal infestations of coyotes and rabbits, we live with the promise of not having to use {ugh, perish the thought!} the downstairs bath to shower. 

So after much consternation (read: nagging to Hubby) we finally bit the bullet (read: hired someone to do the job as while Hubby can put together Ikea furniture like his name should be Sven Jorgensen he is 'ethnically challenged' when faced with plumbing and flooring because everyone knows that schtick about jewish guys and how they hire someone to screw in a lightbulb) and began the work. 

Now I am reminded of a commercial from years ago (yes, I am that old..back in the day before DVR, we watched commercials) for , Alka Seltzer Plus cold medicine , I think...when a couple is doing a kitchen renovation and interviewing contractors which is never fun and even worse when you have a cold...anyway - the contractor says " first we'll come and tear up the place and then inexplicably disappear for two, maybe three weeks at a time - and when I come back you'll be so happy to see me you'll kiss me full on the mouth..."  So when faced with the prospect of having to actually find someone to do this work - this commercial keeps running through my head.  I expect to be blown off about 2 hours into the first day. 

But we find a guy through a guy and he's got good references - he calls to see if he can come earlier than expected {whu?  first expectation avoided} and arrives bright and early to begin demolishon of old shower pan and tile work.   For the next 10 days, on schedule - he arrives at 8:00 am.  Does his thing - cleans up after himself, works with me on design.  Done on schedule.  Even comes back on Saturday to do the finish work.  Fan-tastic. 

I just can't wait til eveything dries and sets and I can get in there and clean the gunk and dust  - take a nice hot  shower and shave my legs.  No more one legged flamingo stance! 

So Sunday morning - I prepare.  I turn on the water and let it get nice and hot.  Hubby joins me in the bathroom for a ceremonial "Ahhhh".  I kick his ass out of there and he heads downstairs.  I soap up and lather the mohawk that has become my right calf when I hear  "Swirl Girl, turn off the frickin' water!!!" 

The pictorial*  that follows exlpains it all.
  *{artist rendering- all likenesses to actual persons are opinions only}

"Hubby, does my ass look fat in this shower?"

"Cleaning my kitchen was such a chore until I installed the Suck-tastic Shower 2010!"

I know there's a water shortage in California, but do I really want to take a shower and clean my kitchen at the same time? 

I frickin' hate Murphy and his damned law. 

** edited afterthoughts :  Looking on the bright side, I guess it's better to hear "Uh -oh " and "Ah, shit" from your contractor than your doctor!
   ***totally edited afterthough:  This week I am joining Angie at Seven Clown Circus for Wordful Wednesdays!   Pop on over to see her!

Friday, June 18, 2010

The One In Which She is Most Certainly NOT FINE.

Okay, I was FINE when the Kindergarteners' filed out of class and were introduced as 1st graders. And I was still okay when Rachel says to me "Mom, I'm not entirely comfortable being called a 1st grader. You can still call me Bubba or Dolly, please." ( and that is the actual quote)  And I was still okay when Emily came out of 5th grade all "I can't believe it's over, ...Mom." But I was still FINE.

And I was FINE when I looked at the report cards with more A's on it than an Oakland baseball team and I am beaming with pride at my brilliant progeny.

And even when I saw Emily's friend Carlitos crying , no - bawling as he left the school (only later to find out that he was very upset that he did not make Honor Roll thus affirming the theory that some kids DO care about making Honor Roll even in 5th grade and that he is a really nice boy and I shouldn't be concerned when he and my 10 year old daughter hang out.)  I was still FINE.   Then when I took the girls on their annual celebratory let's-go-out-to-lunch-then-to-Toys-May-Be-Us-But-Customer-Service-Isn't-to-shop-for-excellent-report-card-rewards and we bumped into the entire staff of our school on their annual celebratory Yeah! Day luncheon...I was still FINE.

And even when I dropped off the medical forms at the Park and Rec department so the girls could start their camp on Monday (yes, folks...{all}daycamp starts Monday ) and started to think about what I was going to do with my summer days and the fact that I hadn't written or read a blog in practically forever and that if I actually did write something for my blog which I am surprised still even exists thus affirming the theory that the internet is, indeed, forever (as if two months was even close to forever) and that I shouldn't feel guilty about taking a few days to just loll around and maybe read a book or work on my tan and play on Facebook instead of trying to solve the Gulf Crisis(es) -and by that I mean the war and the oil...  I was still FINE.

Then - I unpacked the car of the mountain of STUFF , and started thumbing through it; admiring their progress, adoring their photos and artwork it hit me.  I started crying right there over the backpacks and Academic Award certificates and portfolios; tired tears rolling down my cheeks staining the achievements.

And...I was most certainly NOT FINE. 

I was most certainly NOT FINE when I considered what is taking place around here.  My babies aren't my babies anymore.  I was never one of 'those moms' who mill their own wheat and puree their own babyfood while working on the loom.  I consider myself just above 'slacker' on the Mom-O-Meter.  I do try to buy organic when I can (because there has to be something that we are doing to our cows and chickens and veggies that are turning our 10 year olds into women sooner than nature intended), I schlepp and cook and {sic} clean and try to make the best of this stay at home-ness I've been both bless and cursed to 'enjoy'.  I have spent the past 10 months Presidenting our PTA  to the tune of an average of 25 (unpaid) hours a week (but it's for the kids, right?) and have -if I do say so myself- done a hell of a job.  I don't always use politcal correctness, curse like a sailor at inappropriate times, and do way to much demanding of perfection that I am neither willing or able to achieve myself  {in other words I yell as much as someone with a severed laryngeal nerve can yell}.  I worry about things like money, and paying bills and all the while planning a vacation and buying lottery tickets (because if someone has to win - why can't it be me?) which in and of itself seems ironic.  And the guilt---oh, the guilt that is sometimes so overwhelming I am not sure if I am experiencing a hot flash or a wave of guilt.

...and to be quite honest, the hot flashes are easier to deal with.

Friday, April 23, 2010

The One Where She Just Needs to Get Back on The Horse

They say it's the thing to do after you fall off.  I don't really have an explanation for my unexcused absence from the interwebs (yours and mine!). Oh, I've been stalking lurking and sometimes leaving a quickie here and there for some of you. But for some reason, I've had a tough time coming up with a bloggable thought.  I've left myself plenty of starters - but nothing has come together in any cohesive manner of late.  I need some blog-to-blog resuscitation, so before I crashed  and burned  and joined  the average ranks of those who have perished before me (see my blog roll..some of these haven't posted in months!) I thought it best to back off for a while.

Then it happened.  Something so pure and blissfully wonderful.

O' muse  -  thy name is laughter.

{BACKSTORY}  Rocky the bearded dragon needed a new home.  Suffice it to say  that our pet experiment was a total failure.  You see, beardies are supposed to be gentle and mellow.  That is only if they are held and stroked from birth.  But the girls never quite took to the whole reptile thing and carry the {{shudder and freak }} gene just like their mum and if he looked at them stink-eyed (which is how a beardie looks at everything) they shuddered and freaked leaving poor Rocky to live a fairly lonely existence.  In fact, the only contact he ever got was from the crickets who would crawl on him right before they became his lunch (and the big ones crunch, by the way.  Eeww.).  So I thought it only fair that we find him a new home and cut our losses and move on. 

So I put an add in Craig's List.  We're into this thing for about $700 already, and he is kind of cool looking in a if-you're-into-leathery-looking-reptiles kind of way.   I scour Craigs List and find several other postings and write mine:

Rocky The Bearded Dragon...$250 O.B.O:  and I go on about how he's healthy, and comes with all the 'stuff' that beardies need.  Then I write something snarky  like "Go on, make an offer.  Make my kid cry" 'cuz I can't resist.  I add a picture ...get misty-eyed and wait.

The ad get's flagged and removed for some reason - 'for innapropriate content'.  I look back and realize that I had misspelled Bearded as Beared...and maybe they thought I got my lizzard drunk or something, who knows.  What do they think I'm trying to sell?  Nary the mention of cock-fights or skinning.  So I re-write the ad and double check the spelling.  And the second time I leave off the snark, so as not to offend.

Again with the flagging and removal.  I guess there is just something about selling your Bearded Dragon on that is just deemed inappropriate. 

Then - it happened.  Hubby was scouring ads for some equipment and found this. (check out the highlighted part)


Date: 2010-04-15, 3:57PM PDTReply to: [Errors when replying to ads?]













6901 STANFORD AVE .....
When you do get back on that  horse, make it a thorough-bred.

**if you care , Rocky has a new home right here in the hood.  Our neighbor , Milo , who is 6 years old loves his new friend.  The moment he saw him, he reached in the tank and picked him up with out a shudder or freak.  Rocky is much happier now.

(so am I)

Friday, March 26, 2010

The One In Which Everyone Know's It's....

' Windy'

I've been busy lately.  I know everyone says that ...but these past two or three weeks , for me?  I have been running around like the proverbial chicken with my head cut off.  And that's on a good day. 

It is Spring here on the left coast.  And Spring means greenery and warmer weather.  And wind.  And that means my girls have to mainline the Zyrtec ...We are the proverbial booger factory around here.  And the dry skin...oh the armadillo skin!  (We are not a supple people, folks- probably from years of our ancestors walking in the dessert.)

And Spring means warmer weather and that means...shorts!  I can't remember the last time I went shorts shopping.   I am more of a skort girl.  Or a coulotte.  Whatever happened to the coulotte anyway?  There was never a time when I would sport a pair of 'daisy dukes', but nowadays - I'd love to find a stylish pair of coulottes that would hide the junk in my trunk but still let my pasty white legs catch a breath.  I remember when I was a girl, they were like shorts with a flap that looked like a skirt.  Then came the gaucho in the 80's.  At this point - I am considering going full-on burka.  Modesty is not the issue.  Humiliation is.  Tu-Tu's are in for little girls this year.  Hmmmmm, how'd I look sporting one of those?

And Spring means longer daylight hours which means the cherubs get to bed a little later.  The little one says major-league adorable stuff like "I can't sleep in the daytime".  And then she sneaks out of her room for one more kiss (a nightly occurrence around here which has prompted the return of the 'ole bell on the doorknob trick so she doesn't scare the beejeezus out me when she creeps up on me at the computer or the liquor cabinet) and says wildly adorable shit like "I can't find a comfortable place to sleep.  It feels like my waist doesn't belong to my tushy"  - I have to flip her pillow over  which causes the treasure trove of crap that she puts under her pillow to fall between the bed and the wall which means I need to contort myself like a Le Cirque-us clown to retrieve the capless Sharpie, plastic coins, tinkerbell shoes,  and various and sundry flotsam and jetsam that she stores under there from being swallowed up by the Leprauchan that lives under her bed.  Botton line is that puts me behind on my American I-dull or Real Harpies of New York Shitty and that makes mommy stabbier than usual.

And if chronic tired isn't seems like every time I turn around  - there's another play, or PTA event, or meeting, or orientation , or softball practice, or game day or selling Daisy's Girl Scout Cookies (read: pimping my daughter out and teaching her how to say "Do-Si- Don't you wanna buy some Thin Mints?) or whatever.  I am the ulitmate in Mom-Taxi.  I need to put a meter on my 'dash' and start making some money at this job. 

And Spring means it's time for an invitation.  An invitation to a pity party. I really need a vacation.  Alone.  No offense to the Hubby - but I am really need a day or twelve two with no time frames to live by.  A few hours a day just doesn't seem to cut it because it's bounded by when I have to do this or that.  Alone time - where I don't have to drive, or pick-up, or prepare, or pretend, or talk or smile.  And when I am done playing the world's smallest violin at my pity party - I'll put my big girl coulotte's back on and start all over again.  (If you'd like, you can come  to come to my pity party.  Admission is one large bottle of Grey Goose, and something from the 'tos food group : chee, fri, dori or pota please and if you have pharmaceuticals, you get to pick your spot on the couch)

So I'll leave you with a little game - a sort of Caption This, if you will.
This has been making the rounds and it frickin' cracks me up!  And I need to laugh or else I will explode over this whole debacle about health care reform.  I voted for the guy - as the evil of two lessers. But don't get me started on's not cocktail hour yet.

  You know what they say. "Once Barack, never back!"

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

An Open Letter to the Maker of Her Ruby Slippers

Dear Ruby Slippers;
Today marked the end of an era.  I know, I know - as much as you'd rather be slipped on the precious tootsies of my little one, your days were  numbered.  You've served us well, dear Ruby Slippers.  But my little one just can't have your broken -strapped , scraped - glitter, sand-filled , leather-soled goodness anymore.   Sadly, you are relegated to the land-fill of Ick after years of frolicking in the land of Oz.

She clicked your heels three times and repeated the lines "I want to go home" over and over again, but you remained tattered and tired. 

Gone are the days of innocence when mommy could just walk into Target and get another pair of you. And just so you know - you folks at Target ...they are RUBY slippers and are meant to be festooned with (if not actual rubies or)  red sequins and have real heels that make that clicky sound when you walk down the Yellow Brick Road of life.  NOT the cheezy pink glitter ballet flats with stapled elastic straps that make squishy air sounds as you run towards the combo Starbucks-Pizza Hut in the front of the super-store that you guys are trying to pass off as the real thing.  If you need a copy of the movie, go to aisle 16 and you'll find it.   Just sayin'.

She's crushed, but she'll muddle through.  I don't know about mom, though.

For more Wordful Wednesdays. Go Visit Seven Clown Circus.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The One in Which She Has Too Much Ability

When my kid had the stomach flu for two days, she didn't eat much, the poor thing. After she felt better - all she wanted was a cheeseburger. She said "It's not so much that I am craving the flavor of the cheeseburger, Mom. I can live without that. It's that I am craving the ability to eat it! That's what I can't live without!" That about sums up the past 40+ years of eating habits for me.

No will power and too much ability.

I have always craved eating.  Not the food per se, or the flavors -  but the action of the eating itself.   I crave textures and temperatures.   Sometimes I feel like eating something with my fingers. (who doesn't love licking their fingers after downing an entire bag  a handful of processed cheese-food covered Cheetos?)  Sometimes I feel like eating something with chopsticks. (sushi, really good Ramen, anyone?)  Sometimes I feel like crunching, slurping, sipping my craving, while other times I feel like noshing and grazing it.  And yes, I do crave a good chew now and then.  Sometimes I just want to masticate on a well marbled , perfectly seasoned steak.  And don't even get me going on lamb chops...Mmmm, Mmmm goooooood.

I have always said that I'd rather take 100 bites of 100 different things than 100 bites of one thing.  I love the whole concept of 'small plate' dining.  And don't be confused by that term 'small plate' - it has nothing to do with portion control.  When one goes to a Tapas restaurant like this one and eats the entire menu...there is nothing controlled about that!  You just think you are eating less because you only have a tiny little plate in front of you and maybe a little bamboo skewer to spear your teeny tiny 'papas canarias' (teeny tiny salty wrinkly potatos with a mojo verde dipping sauce) you have the air of being a dainty eater..but the ability of a Sumo wrestler carbing up before the next match.   And don't even get me started on those 'philly cheese steaks' (individual salty puffs of crunchy air bread with hot, oozy cheese inside covered in a super thin slice of just seared Wagu beef).  Texture and temperature - I'm salivating at the memory as I type.

But don't get me wrong - I am not a buffet lover.  As it would seem that I would enjoy the options that a buffet could offer; I eat with my eyes , and there is nothing appealing about seeing globs of food splayed in even even the fanciest of chafing dishes.  Not that I wouldn't eat at a buffet restaurant, but given other options, I would opt out. 

It really sucks being a good cook - and even worse being married to one.  Our children have grown up on 3 or 4 course meals.  Their favorite foods run the gamut from hot dogs to rack of lamb.  When asked "what do you want for lunch?' they have been known to shout out things like " a simple charcuterie and triple creme Brie , please!"  When (and if ) they eat chicken fingers and boxed mac and cheese, they consider it a treat.  And doing so is tantamount to eating out...since they don't get that stuff around here.  (not that I am knocking prepared foods by any means...but my damned ability to cook has spoiled my kids)

In this , the year of me going from Flabulous to Fabulous  (and so far I am living up to my end of the bargain.  What about you thighs..I mean you guys?) I have managed to stave off some of those cravings.  I am trying to prepare meals that satisfy my need to become physically involved with my food.  In fact, it is a little known fact that if you eat directly out of the refrigerator {substitute pantry, or kid's lunchbox, or grocery store bags} you will lose weight since you are expending energy with all that bending, tearing open, and devouring; thus, burning unwanted calories and satisfying the required physical exertion required in any healthy diet and exercise plan.

*definition of overboard for a family of 4?

Part of my plan is to redefine my Abilily.  Because there really is such a thing as too much for your own good. 

Friday, February 12, 2010

The One Where Nothing Would Say I Love You More

Bullshit holiday if there ever was one.  Valentine's Day was invented in a Madison Avenue hotel room during a three way between Hershey's, Hallmark and Frederick's of Hollywood after an evening of cheap cava, stale Tipparillos and all those left over marshmellow Peeps from last Easter.  Hell, even those three can't escape the afterglow of steamy hotel sex and sugar-coma.  And what's worse is they manage to spread their sappy sentiment to the rest of us who feel obligated to express to their loved one's just why they are so special. 

Just for today, not for everyday.

I don't want flowers.  Don't want the obligatory 'love note' about being soul mates or any of that bullshit.
(even though it's true -no really, its true..while I might be a bit snarky, and I am not totally heartless and wholly the link, would ya?). 

You know what would tell me you loved me?

Listening to me when I talk;
really giving a shit about what you hear when you listen to me when I talk;
and responding to me when we talk so I know you're listening to me when I talk.
Follow through,
don't patronize me,
don't take me for granted,
don't take YOU for granted ,
and finishing what you start.

And not just today, but everyday. 

...okay, so a little blue box from Tiffany wouldn't suck either.  Just sayin'.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

The One In Which There Is Such a Thing As A Free Lunch**

**hassle free, that is!

I have been asked to do a product review by Mom,  a terrific consortium of Mom Made businesses, goods, and services, reviews, testimonials and a whole host of other good stuff.  I went on the site and registered and was contacted about two days later that there was a product right up my alley.

I pack lunch every day for my two girls.  I go through sandwich bags and snack baggies like crazy!  And if you have a child like mine who doesn't always want a sandwich, I sometimes had 3 or 4 odd sized disposable plastic containers to contend with.  And if we were lucky to get the containers back at the end of the day, I had to clean 3 or 4 lids and bottoms.  Not to mention all those baggies going to baggie landfills.

I have found a solution!!  The Easy Lunchbox System.  Each System comes with 4 three compartment bottoms and 4 snap fitting lids.  They are are big and deep enough to fit a sandwich and two sides.  And the lunch bag is big enough to fit the lunch container, a freezer pack (rectangular and under the container - I found that works best) a drink and extra snack!

Their compartmentalized lunchboxes are non-toxic, food-safe, polypropylene (PP or plastic #5). These are the top-choice safe food containers if you’re looking for BPA-free lunch boxes, phthalate-free lunch boxes and non-toxic lunch boxes.  They are dishwasher safe too!  And because each system comes with 4 containers and 4 lids - you can use two and wash two!

Their Easy Lunch Bags are vinyl free (PVC free) & lead free, with an FDA compliant PEVA lining.  They come in several colors and have a gromet on the strap to hang ID tags or clip on a hand sanitizer!

I thank and for  helping make my morning a little less harried and hassle free!

Friday, February 5, 2010

The One In Which There is Too Much Crap, Crap and More Crap

4 jewelry boxes containing various beads, plastic rings and (up)Chuckee Cheese chinese finger handcuffs;
feathers, 5 piggy banks with hand-drawn coins and bills so she knows what goes where; paper kitty ears; orange string; duct tape wallet; paper flowers and stickers; two soccer trophies; most of the Russian matryoshka dolls  hair bow 'doggy'; barbie shoes; various and sundry Littlest Pet Shop accessories and crap, crap more crap

Pens, pencils, crayons, and tons of erasers; 2 wallets; Hannah Montana pencil case; old fashioned mechanical coin bank; note cards; Ipod speakers; papers; notes; origami cranes; polished rocks; and crap, crap and more crap

And in an the All Out Effort to live up to our goals and resolutions for 2010 - while I am killing (literally killing myself which would explain my lack of posting ) myself at the gym, and trying to eat right and go from Flabulous to Fabulous in 52 weeks..I am going to ask my kids, I am going to make my kids do something with the mess that is their stuff.

Look at the pictures of their stuff.  I realize that kids have their little collections of shit, but does my little one really need that half ball of orange string on her dresser and duct tape wallet??  Does my oldest really need that 7 inch cadre of stackable pencil erasers?  What's worse it that when Mommy asks them to clean up their rooms, they just rearrange the clutter instead of dispersing it. 

I am not saying that they need to go on Hoarders  or anything that drastic.  I may not always be neat and tidy...But I am organized.  In fact, I pride myself on my Ability when it comes to organization.  To the untrained- one might look at my desk and see momentary chaos.  But I know where everything is.  Over winter break I went through every drawer and cabinet in my kitchen and desk and neatened and straightened and tossed and tidied up.  My motto is and always has been , if you haven't used it ,worn it, looked at it, or missed it in a year - See ya!  Donate and Liberate!

Just ask my mom. When I was a kid, I would redecorate my room and rearrange my closets and drawers every few months.  I can't recall ever needing to told to clean my room, because it usually was.  I used to help my sisterbestfriend organize and clean her house in exchange for laundry priviledges (amongst other things...heh, heh sisterbestfriend).  I worked retail at Pier One and my favorite part of the job was setting tables and folding napkins and organizing the knick-knack bins.  So as much as my girls are messy - Mommy seems to be boarderline OCD in the neat freak department.  Not that there is anything wrong with that mind you.

Imagine my chagrin when we had our usual Thanksgiving lavish party , and I (who prides herself on everything in it's place and a place for everything) was teased by friends for being too organized?  Is there such a thing?  Nobody cleans my kitchen but me for that reason.  I don't need anyone making fun of where my coffee filters go (next to the coffee cups of course...makes perfect sense to me since you use both at the same time usually, don't you?)  I know, that was months ago- get over it, Swirl Girl.

So join me, won't you?  On my quest to rid myself and my house of Junk and Stuff.  It's only February, and we still have 10 months to #2, #6, and #9.  And if you can't find me ...I'll be the one buried under all the crap, crap and more crap sucking my thumb ..alone , hungry amd sore.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The One In Which She Shares What She Has Learned

I have learned that a week of rain in Southern California means the following:

  • Never buy an umbrella from the $.99 Store.  There is a reason they are selling them for under a dollar. As soon as I opened the thing, it imploded on me.  Mary Poppins, I am not.
  • My hair looks like crap all bouffy and curly.  Even though people say how great it looks - I have learned that they are just saying that because they were taught an an early age that if they didn't have anything nice to say, lie like a son-of-a-bitch.
  • People who drive like asshats when the sun is shining, which is most of the time around here, are even more asshatt-ier when it's pouring out.  Slow the hell down, whizzy whizbanger - and, no... not that's not a right turn...that's a frickin' stone wall.
  • Our kitchen ceiling is indeed not a ceiling - but a floor.  We have learned that what we thought was a leak in the upstairs shower is actually a leak in an eave roofline outside.  Let's see if State Farm is indeed a 'good neighbor' and 'there'...
  • I have learned that although I still loathe (up)Chuckee Cheese..they have wine, albeit bad wine, but wine nonetheless.  It does make that booger factory a bit more tolerable. I met a couple of other Mom's there this week to let the kids burn off some energy.  Full body douche for each child when we got home.  Funny thing is, they somehow make good pizza.  And I think their salad bar has become the final resting place for cottage cheese and 'jello salad' and those little crispy chinese noodle things.
  • Fabreeze Fabric Spray works.  My poor kid hurled all over her carpet last night.  Twice. She got the crud.  The hard part will be keeping it to herself.  Hello quarantine and Purell.
I have learned from attempt to go from Flabulous to Fabulous
  • I wish I had a penis so I could pee standing up.  Like seriously, at this moment that is the only thing I could think of doing with it if I had one.  My legs and ass muscles hurt so much the squat is ridiculously painful. 
  • People say there will come a time when I will look forward to going to the gym.  To feel  the 'burn'.  Nnnnope.  Don't see that happening.  Working out will always be a chore for me.  I hope 'People' prove me wrong.
  • Oatmeal with raisins is mighty tasty in the morning.  I am not a breakfast eater.  I have survived on coffee in the morning for many years.  I literally have to force myself to eat breakfast.  Oatmeal is easy and satisfying.  If I keep saying that over and over again, I will start to believe it.
I have also learned that Twitter seems to have killed the Bloggio-Star.
  • I think Twitter is totally fun, but I miss reading up on the lives of my Bloggy friends.  I admit to having what I consider not so interesting things to talk about sue me.  And some of my Bloggy friends who used to post every day are slowly getting sucked into the vortex and a few (dare I say?) have disappeared altogether.
  • I have fallen victim to the 'instant gratification' syndrome that Twitter and Facebook seem to have spread throughout these Interwebs.  We get out lives in short spurts these days.  You'd think if societally we were so interested in headlines. America's newspapers wouldn't be going out of business.
  • I think I have figured out the whole follow me/ follow you thing.  What I don't get is why some people follow me.  Do most people do what I do and read a funny or catchy Tweet and click on that person's Bio and see if their interests match mine?  I also seek out some Bloggy friends and follow who they follow (the same way I created my Blog Roll).  Or, do they just pile on the Followings to make their numbers (read:ego) more inflated?  Or are these new Followers the new wave on 'tele' marketers whose spambots find a key word in a Tweet and Follow me?   If I get Followed and don't Follow back, do people get offended?  I mean , if I don't know you or your blog or your friends - and I go to check you out and it's all coupons and marketing stuff -are you even a person?  For all I know, you could be a prison inmate who's getting paid a penny a Follow or something and the one with the most Follows at the end of the day gets to avoid the shiv in the yard or the short end of the soap on the roap.
In any case, Follow me on Twitter and Facebook and Network Blogs and Twitter Moms and....because I need validation.  Then I can share all that I have learned in multi-techno ways...because I need the insti-grat and have become too lazy to even write anything more than 140 characters long.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

the one in which she thinks e.e. cummings had a personal trainer**

So it's week 2 of the 52 to Fabulous challenge.  And while others might be motivated by their loved ones and thoughts of being around for years to come - Swirl Girl is motivated by money and...dare I say it?  Abject humiliation.

I signed up for 8 personal training sessions at my gym.  I will not waste the money.  Or if I do waste the money - I will mentally and physically beat myself up about it and therefore expend calories and get some exercise (the physical beating part) and lose weight,  And if I beat myself up about while eating directly out of the fridge  (open - bend - unwrap- bend oooh feel the burn)  the fat will really start melting away.  Either way, it looks like it's a win-win for me. 

I also signed up to participate in the gym's 12 challenge which is where the abject humiliation part comes in.  Next Monday they are going to weigh me (got crane?) ) , take measurements of all my parts (got lots of time?) and here is the kicker >>photograph me in a bathing suit (got 20's style flapper suit?) The winner of the 12 week challenge is the person who shows the most improvement, not necessarily the most weight loss.  I think I am supposed to say that it's okay to gain muscle weight - but quite frankly - it isn't.

So I went to the gym for my first training session with the 'boss'.  He worked me to the point of actual sweating and genuine hurting.  Sadistic bastard.  I used muscles I didn't know I had.  I pulled a face muscle I contorted so hard.  In fact, even my finger muscles much so that even stretching my pinky muscle to hit the *shift* key hurts.  So to that end - I will only type in lower case letters for the rest of this post.  and no numbers either.  ouch.. i also think i will be avoiding my trade mark parenthetical expressions where i think out loud sort of like the chorus of a greek tragedy... **i think  e.e. cummings must have had a personal trainer too. 

so after the beating work out we go into the office to schedule the rest of my sessions.  at that time, he tries to match me up with a trainer who best fits my personality and will be a good motivator.  and because of all my years of sitting across a desk from someone i have become quite the skilled upside-down reader. (read: paper eaves-dropper)  i see he writes next to my name ' no skinny bitches' for this one.  hence- my new sadist trainer is named matt.  hope you can take it, dude.  i can be mean.  just ask around. 

in other news - i just want to thank Jen from Jen's Voices (and for you my dear, I will use the *shift* key and the parenthetical expressions because you deserve it!) for all the wonderful awards she has bestowed upon me.   Most recently  - she gave me the Feels Like Home award.  Go read her.  Jen just started blogging and already gets more commentors than I do.  And the popular ones too.  Her blog is full of snark, reality, humor, relatable flashbacks, and honesty.  You rock Frog!  My door is always open.

Friday, January 8, 2010

The One In Which She Vows to Go From Flab to FAB !**

** alternative title could be "What I did on my winter vacation"

So we had a remarkably unremarkable winter break.  Went to the movies , a few play dates, shared some holiday celebrations with friends.  Slept in.  Wore my uniform everyday (read: stretchy pants).  Thanksfully we live in Southern California and save for two days out of 14 - our weather was play outside-able.  Mighty fine.      

But unlike a lot of you , other than the sleeping late part of winter vacation- I missed the routine of the routine and was excited to get my kids off to school this week.

This is the time of year when everyone is jumping on the Resolution Band Wagon - and Swirl Girl is no different. In fact as a family - we celebrated New Year's Eve by playing Resolution Pictionary .  We made sort of a family contract listing things we all could do to make our family successful (read: happier, less stressed = less yelling!)

In order to be successful
We want to do the following:

1. Pay attention to your surroundings  (which is a nice way of saying don't be such a klutz!)
2. Keep your room clean! (which is a nice way of saying ...mommy doesn't like the clutter!)
3. Listen to each other (which is a nice way of stop finishing other's sentences)
4. Make your bed
5. Set the table (which is a nice way of saying - help mommy out!)
6. Pick up your mess (kitchen, toys, ect.)
7. Accept responsibilities for our actions (which is a nice way of saying punishment will fit the crime)
8. Take care of our bodies (which is a nice way of saying brush your teeth without me reminding you!)
9. Put away your clothes when they are clean (which is a nice way of saying I ain't doin' it anymore)
10. Put yourself in other people’s place (= empathy!!)
11. Treat others the way you want to be treated (oh, the Golden Rule...right?)
12. Think before you speak or act (Which is a nice way of saying no more Ready, Shoot, Aim!)

 We typed it all up after the doodling - and put in an 8x10 frame and it hangs proudly in the house.
So far, a whole week into it, we are doing just so-so .  Mommy just has to say #12, or "Did you #4 today?"
We're all about code words here. 

And I have my own personal list of Wants for this new year. 

1) Exercise Daily
2) Read more for pleasure
3) Monetize her life
4) Try to fill my ubiquitous Glass Half Empty attitude (adjusting my A).  In other words - I am gonna lighten the fluck UP!

I can still be funny and snarky without being so dark and gloomy all the time.  (IthinkIcan, IthinkIcan.)
I want what everyone else seems to have.  Or if they don't have it...they just pretend better than me.  And I want to learn how to do that. 

I am joining a group of like minded women on a project spearheaded by Linda Sellers of Short Pump Preppy called 52 to Fabulous.  The key to this challenge is the support.  I started my personal training sessions at the gym yesterday.  I want to not be totally grossed out by my nekkid body.  I don't expect to be sporting a bikini this summer - not that that wouldn't suck, but when your 5 year old tells you that you look like your gonna have a baby - it's time to shift gears. 

I wonder what the next best thing is going to be? In this world of insti-grat (that's instant gratification for you tweeters who don't want to use up too many characters)because if I could invent it...Hhhhmmmmm  that would surely help me monetize my life. 

So I am giving myself a realistic 52 weeks to go from Flabulous to Fabulous!!  Who's with me?? 
Anyone?  Anyone?  Buehler??