Don’t Drink the Water

I often have a cup of tea when I am creating, particularly when I paint, and this is tricky.

I have definitely put my dirty paint water mug up to my lips before and just barely stopped short of drinking paint water thinking it was tea. So naturally when I saw this today I laughed out loud.

dont drink the water

This is an awesome idea but let’s be real this would make zero difference for me. My power of observation is so poor it would still be a crap shoot even with properly labeled mugs. I mean, the paint mug I use is this ugly dark green plastic camping mug, it looks and feels nothing like my tea cups and I have still had a few close calls.

Something else I saw that I totally responded to was this:


This is so a thing it is unreal! haha.

This was my inner dialogue today when I was sitting on my floor cushion piecing together my wreath:

Yeah.. I got something here, this is cool as hell.

Wait.. That’s not quite right. Shit The glue already dried. Shit. Fuck.

What the fuck am I doing? This is crap. Absolute crap. Dammit!

Okay, now wait a second.. If I just.. Okay, okay, that’s better.

Hell yeah man. Not bad girl. You got this.

The creative process is literally just one long sequence of celebration, cursing, self-doubt, and euphoria. It is a confusing awesome roller coaster that I never get sick of riding.

I Don’t Like Letters in My Numbers


Let me start by saying math is the absolute worst. It is a form of torture so awful I would not wish it on anyone. And my math teachers lied, I have never used algebra “in the real world”.

As I was writing all of that I totally heard my husband’s voice in my head negating all of it.

No it’s not, math is the best. You’re just whining, try harder. I use algebra all the time.

For context, my husband is an engineer who loves math. Loves it, the weirdo.

So much so in fact that he reads math text books for fun and stays late at work to teach himself math and watches free Harvard math videos online before bed.

Last night I was not feeling good (I have a cold) so I took some Nyquil and decided not to read my books (right now I am rereading Couplehood by Paul Reiser because it is hilarious, the third and final book in my Thickety series, and one of the Humans of New York compilations because it restores my faith in humanity after social working all day).

So I was laying in bed awake but resting when my husband crawled in. I didn’t feel like reading but the Nyquil hadn’t kicked in yet so I told him I would watch whatever video he was getting ready to start. It was a three part lecture series on probability.

Needless to say I now know the different between traditional probability definitions, empirical probability definitions, and subjective probability definitions. It also helped me fall asleep because the second he introduced letters into the numbers I mentally checked out and fell asleep.

Thom Yorke and the Hiccups


I was writing while the TV babbled in the background. Hubs was watching something violent and I was actively tuning it out. Then I heard something familiar.. Pack and get dressed before your father hears us..

I started singing along. I got to my favorite part of the song, We hope that you HICCUP!!

It wasn’t a hiccup as much as a screaming explosion of noise that startled not only myself but hubs and Lu as well. Then we all laughed. Well, Lu would have laughed if dogs could.

Then I started thinking, what if that happened to Thom Yorke in the middle of the concert? Reckoner you can’t take it with you dancing for HICCUP! How funny would that be?

It made me think of the painful humaness we all are subject to, even famous people. None of us can escape it. We all hiccup and fart and have to go pee at seriously inopportune moments. We all get sick and experience loss and get super embarrassed at times.

If I ever met someone famous, like Thom Yorke or Tim Gunn or Stevie Nicks, that is what I want to ask. Tell me something human. Tell me something I can relate to. Tell me what you are afraid of or something embarrassing that happened. Show me how we are the same.

Here is one of mine as far as embarrassing stories go:

One of my jobs out of high school was as a teller at a bank. I was helping a client in the drive thru banking lanes and she had her poodle in the car with her. When I was finished processing her transaction I sent out her receipt with a dog biscuit. We always had dog biscuits and lollipops on hand for pets and kids (although let’s be real, the adults ate more of candy than kids ever did). After she received the plastic tube with her receipt she rang the bell to get my attention. I responded to ask if there was anything else I could help her with. She then asked what the dog biscuit was for. I told her it was for her dog and just then a frizzy/curly haired teenage girl leaned forward in the front seat revealing there was no poodle. The woman then said that’s not my dog, it is my daughter. I was MORTIFIED! Luckily both the woman and her daughter thought it was hilarious. That was such a gift, the fact that they were cool and able to laugh about it. Seriously.

It is fun to be reminded of our flawed humanness sometimes. Whenever I start doing real well the universe inevitably smacks me upside the head and reminds me to Take it easy dude, you’re still only human.

Philosophizing with My Husband


Hubs and I were sitting on the couch eating vegan ice cream tonight, watching the final installation of The Hobbit series when something occurred to me.

I don’t like the last movie in the series as much as the others in the series because it is all centered around the battle which does not interest me. I do not like war movies, I don’t like action movies with too much violence, I don’t like “epic battle scenes”. I am not interested.

As we were watching it occurred to me that in these movies the cast is primarily male. I then turned to my husband and said You know that if women ruled the world there would be no war, right?

He bit on my line and next thing I knew we were debating this theory.

Hub’s theory about my claim is that because of human tendency towards greed and because of both the perception and reality of scarcity on our planet even with female world leaders there would be war. His counter claim was that “it would only be a matter of time before someone did not have enough resources and decided to take from someone else”. He related greed and this action of “taking” back to evolution and survival of the fittest.

I disagreed. My rebuttal was that if we are talking about evolution then we have to look at woman’s role in society from an evolutionary stand point. Women have never been takers. Women, historically, have never been in a role of power to even have the opportunity to be takers. Women are givers. Nurturing, maternal, givers. My thoughts are that if women ruled the world there would be more compromise, more cooperation across the globe. Instead of taking from others in times of scarcity women leaders would look to their allies for help and help would be given.

Hubs then followed my theory but punched a whole in it saying that just because women are in power across the world does not mean that men vanish. If men are takers they would still be taking even if they were not in a leadership position. The actions of men, based on his proposal, would then force the female leader’s hands into conflict and war.

To this I simply quoted my husband’s favorite author: It appears that Mr. Crichton had it right then, “Dinosaurs eat man, woman inherits the earth”.

It is the only way to live in peace.

Hermit So Hard


I emailed my soul friend today because lately I have been in a place mentaly/emotionally where I am congratulating myself for managing to comb my hair at least once during teh course of the day.

I am in the land of zero fucks given and I needed someone to validate for me that I am not a failure as a human and that we all go through the I-just-want-to-stay-braless-in-my-pajamas-eating-ice-cream-on-the-couch-and-watching-bad-tv-for-a-month-and-not-see-another-human-except-for-my-husband-and-only-because-he-lives-here-not-because-I-actually-want-to phase.

I have been in and out of a funk most of this year so I was reluctant to get on here and write about it because I am sure you guys are sick of hearing about it. I don’t feel like I have had enough posts about gratitude and goodness to balance my mega-funk so I figured I would just not write for a little while until the ice cream works its healing magic.

Of course the decision to not write only amplifies my funk because writing is what I do.

So I have been walking around for days just wanting kick cans and make nasty faces at strangers for no reason other than I am mad I have to see them and I am not home on my couch. And I have been deliberating torturing myself by not allowing myself to write because clearly I am some kind of emotional masochist.

Really I was just trying to shelter you all from ALL OF THIS. Because it’s not pretty folks.

One thing I always struggle with when I am feeling particularly wretched like this is the tendency to compare myself and my feelings with the lives of others I see around me. I look at the outside shell of this person’s life or that person’s life and they are looking beautiful and having a great time and managing to dress themselves in clothes that are ironed and stainless. Meanwhile I am over here sitting in my t-shirt and underwear at 4pm because apparently putting on pants was just asking too much of me today.

So here are a few things I realized while on my latest feed-me-and-leave-me-alone-until-I-say-so funk:

  1. I need to be writing about this. This is real. This is not my highlight reel. I absolutely have my moments of zen and gratitude AND I have my moments where I am a shut in who doesn’t shower for an entire weekend. That is my truth.
  2. I am realizing that maybe other people’s highlight reels are not such a bad thing. What if we all just decided to be 100% about everything all the time? No Thank You! The world would be 100 times more overwhelming if everyone decided to just be super honest about how messed up life can be and how tired they are and that they hate their spouse’s cooking. The world is already a loud, scary, angry place sometimes – the high light reel (although only one piece of the whole picture) brings a balance to all that stuff. I will be a bit more thankful from now on that people I don’t know too well are not burdening me with all their honesty and instead are just letting me see fun pictures of their kids.
  3. When it comes to my/our tendency to compare our lives to the lives of others maybe we should try doing that another way that is less emotionally destructive. Although I am not in the mood to do a single thing other than eat, complain, and mindlessly stare at the television, I did manage to reach out to a few of my girlfriends and one of my soul friends over the last few days. When I compared what I am feeling right now to them they were super awesome about it. They not only did not make me feel like I was burdening them with my funk; they gave me some awesome funkiness from their own lives to compare it to that made me feel way less crazy. They were honest and they were the ones I needed honesty from. When I asked Is it just me? The answer I received was a resounding Hell No Man! To which I let out an enormous sigh of relief and said Oh thank God!

That last one is real important I think. If you take nothing else away from this post, take that. Because for me the comparing my life thing really drove me further into my hole of funk but the comparing my funk to the way my friends experience their funks thing is what pulled me out. One of my friends shared her funk story with me and told me how she wanted to Hermit So Hard – which I totally related to (clearly). Another friend commiserated over how much time is wasted doing chores and that adulting totally blows at times. Another friend is in a crisis that is a bit more serious and I cannot even compare my bad mood to it.

They were honest though and as a result we were able to really be with each other. So after all of this I decided I would write after all because maybe it will make someone else feel better to know that sometimes asking me to put on pants is just asking too much. Hopefully the next time you are in a funk you will remember this post and either feel better because you know other people feel this way or you can tell yourself Well at least I had my shit together enough to put on pants and take a shower today. Because honey sometimes you have to celebrate the little things. Life is exhausting, am I right?!

Apparently I am a Witch?

So I am reading this new book I mentioned that my brother-in-law got me for Christmas and it is an adult fairy tale.

In the book there is a suspected witch, for the record she seems like a good witch not a wicked one. Anyway I am reading some of the descriptions of the “weird” stuff she does or “witchy” things found on her property and I had to laugh. If this is what constitutes a witch apparently I am a witch, by this story’s standards anyway.

It is things like stacking rocks. For the record they are called inukshuks and they are used as a marker to let travelers know they are not alone.

And things with bells. Bells in my pockets, bells glued to sticks, bells hanging from the tree in my front yard.. I love the joyous noise of bells and my house will always be a home with bells.

And oils and herbs. What is so witchy about that? They smell good and how else would you make tea?

And believing in magic, and having a relationship with nature no one understood, and just having a general energy about her.. Well shit, if the witchy shoe fits!

The list went on and on and I laughed.

Just yesterday my husband told me I was becoming more of a hippy everyday. Maybe he meant witchy?


Hooked on Books

The title may be cheesy but I like that it rhymes!

Last night I colored on the couch while hubs sat next to me listening to a podcast. No TV, no noise (for me at least), Sade was playing in the background, candles were lit.. It was the perfect introvert evening.

At bed time it began to rain. It was no normal rain though, it was forceful and urgent and unrelenting. While I was turning off the lights and locking up it hit me, Shit! My book is still in the car. My book had been sitting in the back seat next to Maddie while she, myself, and my mother were out running errands together yesterday. I completely forgot to bring it in. Now I was faced with a decision, do I run out in my night gown in the rain to retrieve it or do I go to bed without reading my book?.. One guess what choice was made.

So there I was hopping over fallen tree branches in the drive way, digging around in the back seat the car, soaking wet.. all over a book.

It was worth it. Last night’s chapter was action packed. By the way, I am no longer reading Being Mortal. I read the first few chapters and loved it but realized the over arching message of this book is not one that speaks to me right now. I put it down with the intention of coming back to it when the time feels right. Now I have moved on to a novel that was gifted to me by my brother-in-law at Christmas. It is a young adult work of fiction and as per usual it is essentially an adult fairy tale.

So when I came back in with my book tucked into my night gown, my feeble attempt to keep it dry in the pounding rain, dripping all over our entry rug I said to myself, you know you’re an avid reader when you will go through all that just to be able to read one chapter at bed time. Thus sprouted the inspiration for this post.. Here are some of my truths about being an avid reader, I know some of my friends who read this blog are avid readers as well, I would love to hear what some of your truths are.

You know you are an avid reader when..

-You start to get concerned if your stock pile of “books to read” falls below three unread books.
– You have no family photos on the shelves because you need the room for the books.
– You always have at least one book on your person at all times.
– There is always at least one book in your bedroom, usually on the night stand.
– You prefer books to flowers as a romantic gesture.
– Many of your conversations with friends or family involve books at some point or another.
– One of the highlights of your day is laying in bed with your husband at bedtime reading.
– You cannot go into a book store and spend less than an hour wandering or you cannot leave with just one item.
– You are currently reading more than one book.
– You read more than you watch TV/Movies.
– You have cried over the character’s in your books.
– Some social outings revolve around books (going to a cafe to read, let’s go on a picnic and read!, going to the bookstore)
– You have ever uttered the words The book was better. (Of course it was, it always is!)



Best of 2016

This morning started off on the wrong foot. More specifically, it started off on the poop foot and the glass foot.

Let me first give a little bit of a back drop for this story by explaining who I am as a human in the morning. I am not at my best, I am actually more of a beast first thing in the morning. I wake up angry. It does not matter what time I wake up, I am usually upset to be awake. I recover quickly but this has been who I am for as long as I can remember.

In recent years I have found ways of easing into the day gracefully that work for me. I start with quiet time, which is most important. No talking, no noise, just me wandering around in the silence of our home. Tea helps too. Stretching first thing in the morning really helps. Meditation, soft music like crystal bowls, and sitting in sun beams. Long story short, peace and quiet is the best way to get me out of my morning grumps.

I actually love mornings. They are my favorite part of the day usually. I just have a hard time shaking off the sleepies.

So this morning I was awake for all of 5 minutes when things started getting hairy. I had my green tea, I was sitting in a sunbeam in the sun room drawing, the house was quiet..

I had the back doors open to let the breeze in. I was enjoying bird song and the sound of the train going by when Lucy came running in from the back yard. She ran over to me to say hello and I noticed a little leaf fragment on the side of her butt. I flicked it off for her and was horrified to realize it was not a leaf at all.. it was poop! Damn it Lu! I got up to wash my hands and called hubs in to see if she had poop on any other part of her. Low and behold, her back foot was covered in it. Time for a bath little girl.

This was not how I wanted to start the day.

I helped scrub her down and then left hubs to finish. I walked into the kitchen to get Lu a treat, she always gets a treat when she gets a bath, and felt a sharp pain in my foot. I looked and realized I had a minuscule shred of glass stuck in the ball of my foot. Oh that is just great.

We finished Lu’s bath and then I sat on the kitchen floor and hubs plucked the glass out with tweezers.

It normally takes me about a half hour to adjust to being awake in the morning and transition from beast mode to my human self. At this point I had been awake maybe 20 minutes. I was a bear.

Time to clear this energy. I sat  back in the sunbeam for a while and continued drawing and then thought about how I wanted to end the year, because I certainly did not want to end it in this energy.. I knew the answer instantly. In gratitude. I want to end the year in gratitude. I pulled out my phone and texted all the people I love and admire and expressed my love and gratitude for them while wishing them a happy new year. I instantly felt better. Then I went and sat in hubs lap for a while and cuddle with him and our clean pup.

As this is the last post of the year I decided I would do a true review of the year and share my personal favorite posts from the year. My year on this blog started in February as last year I was dealing with some heavy emotional work and had been on a break from writing when the year began.

So here we go, the best of 2016 from The Brain Work of an Idealist as chosen by the idealist herself:

February 2016: Acceptance

March 2016: I Built a Bridge

April 2016: Two Years Later

May 2016: Getting By Without a Mirror

June 2016: I Don’t Believe in Monsters

July 2016: Sacred Truth

August 2016: I Love Myself Most When

September 2016: I Am ——

October 2016: Now I Know Why I Am Here

November 2016: Letting It All Out Part III

December 2016: Hugs and Chickens

And my personal favorite of the entire year:

Constant Gardner

With corresponding art work for the post found on:

From Walls to Fences

Thank you to everyone who walked this path with me this year. Thank you for reading, thank you for responding, thank you for your support in all its forms. I hope everyone has a safe New Year’s Eve that finds you surrounded in love, comfort, and connection.

With unending gratitude,

The Idealist


A Glorious Mess of Color and Noise


A little over a month ago I shared that I attended a meditation/sister circle that ended with a drum circle. Let me tell you about this drum circle.

After we concluded our formal meditation we went outside. Set up around a stone fire pit were 8-10 hand drums set in front of a circle of corresponding chairs. Each drum had a slightly different shape, some were more squat and wide, others taller and more slender. They also had different designs, some were plain without much color, others had elaborate detail and were wildly colorful. Each of us took a moment to decide where to sit based on which drum spoke to us. I ended up choosing a squat drum with a colorful pattern.

Once we had chosen our drum we were encouraged to get acquainted with it. We all took this to mean different things, some people banged on their drum to familiarize themselves with the sound, others rubbed the top and sides to see how it felt, I grabbed mine around the middle and hugged it.

After this moment spent with our drum the real fun began. We were guided at first, we were taught the different ways to hit the drum in order for it to make different sounds, we were also taught how not to hit the drum in order to avoid finger injury. After a few moments of practice it was time to begin. Our leader got us started, she began her beat and the way it worked is that when she felt ready she would look to her right indicating that she was ready for that person to join in, this went on all the way around the circle until everyone had joined in and we had many different sounds playing all together.

During another point our leader brought out all kinds of fun hand instruments for us to try. Some opted to stick with the hand drum, others sounds that joined in were that of a wooden hand instrument that when played sounded like a frog, there was a high pitched bell similar to a wind chime, there were bells more similar to what you would imagine on a reindeer harness, I played an egg shaker during this time, there was a cow bell as well. All our different unique sounds played together made a glorious mess of noise.

At first all of us were intimidated. I think only one of us, other than our leader, had ever participated in a drum circle before and there was a fear of doing it wrong. I have said before that it is a very vulnerable feeling to allow yourself to be free and create in front of others, the trepidation at the beginning of drum circle speaks to that very truth.

What if I cannot keep the beat? What if I sound stupid? What if everyone looks at me? What if I am too loud?

5 minutes in all that fear washed away. We played with our eyes closed towards the beginning so we could focus on the sound instead of each other and that is when the connection happened. That was the meaningful take away from this experience, the connection. To be able to make your own unique sound that is just yours and is not swallowed up by the noise of any other but to be able to also connect with the collective noise. I was just one drum, just one shaker, just one person.. but without me the group would not have sounded the same. There was no right, there was no wrong, all that mattered is that my sound was heard.


This brings me into the next part of this post. I have been incorporating art into my practice with my clients. I cannot call the work I have been doing art therapy because that is something you have to be certified to do and I am not, but I am creating a space for my clients to express themselves creatively in order to help them with some of the work we are doing together. Art therapy may be on the horizon for me at some point.

One of my focuses with this internship is to give myself space to figure out what kind of therapist I am going to be. What unique thing do I bring to this field? How will I let my unique light shine? Art is certainly part of that because it is a very big part of me. One thing I have learned about myself while in this internship is that I am the kind of therapist that quotes Bob Ross. haha. (Yes I just laughed at myself, I do that. Often.) When I have been leading a creative arts group or working on an art project with a client during individual session I have definitely quoted Bob Ross on more than one occasion. Of course I have. That man knew what he was talking about:

There are no mistakes just happy accidents.

If you don’t like it, change it. It’s your world.

You need the dark in order to see the light.

I mean, yeah. He got it.

Creating this kind of outlet for a person allows them to get out of their head and be free for a moment. It allows them to put down their judgements about themselves and the world and let an inner voice speak. In a world full of black and white ideas about how things are art allows us to step back, call the world on it’s bullshit, and play with the full spectrum of color. Because life is a glorious mess of color, black and white is a myth of existence.

I am grateful for the personal lessons I have learned through allowing my own inner voice to be heard through art, and music, and other creative outlets I make for myself. I am also grateful that this is an area where my light is turned up and I can share my truth with my clients and help them to find their own. This is what makes this work special, this is what makes life special, it is all about finding your own unique voice and knowing how important your contribution to the collective is.


A Calamity Jill Thanksgiving


It does not matter how much we plan or how high our expectations soar, when it comes down to it sometimes we have very little control over how things will turn out. Quite often we have next to no control really, a post for another day – the illusion of control.

Leading up to Thanksgiving I had all these wonderful ideas about what the day would be; sharing our gratitude as a family, coming together for a meal, quality time.. All of these things happened of Thanksgiving but not in the way I had imagined.

It started not long after I finished my Thanksgiving day post to this blog. I put on the Thanksgiving day parade and started cooking. It was not a complete disaster by any stretch but I did manage to burn the pecans I was toasting so they were not able to be part of one of the dishes I was making, oh well.

Then the carrots took longer than expected leaving me less time to get ready than I thought I would have. I had this grand idea of wearing a nice outfit and going through the trouble of make-up but when it came down to it I picked out my favorite comfy artsy top and no special details with make-up and hair. That was not a big deal either, I felt more like myself anyway.

Then we were finally on the road. We arrived at my parents house and settled into a comfy spot on the couch while Lu played in the backyard. We were in mid-conversation with my parents when we looked out the back window and saw Lucy looking in on us covered in mud! Her front paws which are normally white were caked in sticky black mud, there was mad on her neck, and her mouth was completely black with mud. Absolute mud mouth.

We were all baffled. How did she get into mud? It has not rained.. The sprinklers had not been on recently.. Hubs and I opened the back door to check her out and clean her up and were almost knocked backwards. The smell! Oh the putrid smell! She smelled like a mix of cow and rotting death! We immediately slammed the door shut while letting out an enormous sigh in unison, LUCY!

She had dug up cat turds in the backyard left by my parents outdoor cat. She had not only been eating cat turds, she had been rolling in them. She created her own mud by drooling cat shit all over herself. Is this story gross enough for you yet? If not, don’t worry it gets grosser.

We had been at my parents for all of 15 minutes at this point. Thanksgiving was really starting off with a bang. Hubs and I went outside with soap, rags, and bucket and started scrubbing the yuck off our girl. After 15 minutes of heavy scrubbing she smelled a little less like death but still kinda like cow. We left her on the back porch for about a half hour to dry off and then let her in. She was inside for maybe 10 minutes before she proceeded to barf up cat turds all over my parents newly installed cream carpet.

We had not been at my parents house an hour and had already cleaned up cat turds twice. Luckily my parents love our disgusting baby and were totally cool.

After all was said and done hubs and I curled up in a recliner and cuddled until we felt better.

My father was sick on Thanksgiving so he was not able to join us for dinner to his fever poor guy.

All in all it was a wonderful day. I played with the big kids and the babies all day. The food was great and there was plenty. We shared our gratitude, I really liked Isaac’s honesty, he was grateful for no school, no homework, junk food, vacation, Daddy, Uncle Todd, and baseball. Emma-Lou and I created a new game where Emma jumps on Aunt Bean and Aunt Bean tickles her while quacking in her ear until she runs away. She played this on repeat for over an hour. Cassandra jumped in a few times as well. It was a tumble of babies and Aunt Bean.

There was quality time, especially for hubs and I, he helped me balance something I felt stuck on the day before and was still thinking about.

There was gratitude expressed and love shared.

And at the end of the day we did come together and share a meal, even Daddy when he felt well enough. Lu even got a little turkey in her kibble.

It was not the Thanksgiving I expected but I loved it all the same. The cat turd Thanksgiving story will go down in infamy and we had what mattered most – love and family.

I Don’t Need You to Validate My Tomato


This post has two purposes:

1. to talk about self-love and not needing to seek validation outside of myself.
2. to talk about how I speak in very abstract terms and at times have to reign that in for the sake of communicating with others.

This week I was talking with someone about the human need to be validated by others and how to temper that by being able to self-validate more. I don’t know that the need for outside validation ever goes away completely, maybe it does, who knows. I still find I need it at times. Like for example when I am new at a job and am unsure about my progress, Am I catching on fast enough? Am I doing this right? Am I meeting their expectations?
Or another example is from my Parents. I am in my thirties and I am not going to lie I still find that I am seeking out my parents validation from time to time, Am I making them proud? Am I disappointing them? Did that decision I made hurt their feelings?

This need has slowly gotten smaller over time for me. My boundaries are better, my sense of worth actually exists now, I am confident in my abilities and feel more secure in who I am as a person.

New jobs provoke a lot less anxiety than they used to. Fear of disappointing my parents has waned as well. I know I am capable, I know I am smart, I make decisions that I know are right for me and are healthy, whether they are right for others is less of a concern.

As I was having this conversation about the ability to self-validate and emotionally take care of our own needs I thought of this post I wrote back in April about tending to my emotional garden. I started talking in this metaphor to the other person and they totally got it, which was awesome. At one point I was talking about being the emotional gardener and how I know my tomato is great, I don’t need anyone to validate my tomato. My tomato being whatever piece of myself is feeling insecure and needs support. I love that not only did the person I was talking to get it but now “I don’t need anyone to validate my tomato” is a thing.

Sometimes your weird, and sometimes it works.

The other part of this post also has to do with how I use abstract thought to get my ideas across. This does not work with everyone. For example, my husband is super concrete in his thought patterns. If I said “I don’t need anyone to validate my tomato” in context, giving him the entire back story so it is not just some random ass thing I am saying, he would get it but he may not get why I felt the need to use the tomato metaphor. He would probably say something like, Why not just say, “I don’t need your approval or validation”?

My answer to that would be, because my way is more colorful and fun. Still, I see the point he would theoretically be making. Also, realistically my husband would probably say this to another person if they used the tomato metaphor but he likes my weird so he would most likely not say it to me and instead laugh and think it is cute/weird.

Back to my seeing the point of speaking directly, using concrete terms, and saying what you mean.. It is not how I typically communicate honestly but I see the value. It is important when working with young children because their ability to utilize abstract thinking is not fully developed, it is also very important with adults and older adults who have certain medical conditions which may effect the ability to use abstract thought. Not to mention some people just do not communicate that way and have trouble following that line of reasoning. A few people I am interacting with quite frequently this semester fall into this last category. They all are direct, to the point, not frivolous with their words, and expect to engage with others in this way. It has been a great opportunity for me to work on my communication skills, it is a work in progress though. I catch myself frequently falling into my pattern of metaphorical story telling to illustrate a point or just becoming too tangential in general. I am aware of it though and making a concerted effort.

At the end of the day though I am sure these people do not feel like they need any kind of validation from me about whether or not their style of communication is effective, and I certainly do not need them to validate my tomato either.

Bed Wetters, It is Not a Love Story

You can be known for many things, good and bad. I am known to cry when watching TV, to be very artistic, to go on feminist rants, and for avoiding goofy hand shakes at all costs. I am also known to have terrible hearing. True story.

If you are trying to talk to me and there is a lot of background noise chances are I will not be able to hear you. Do not bother trying to tell me a secret, I cannot hear whispers at all. My TV is always to loud, same with my radio. And in general in life I mishear a lot of what people say, no mumbling please.

This story speaks specifically to that last piece. I am constantly mishearing people and having to ask them to repeat themselves. Sometimes I don’t though because I know what I heard is 10 times funnier than whatever was actually said. Case in point, Todd and I were checking out at the grocery yesterday and the young man bagging our groceries was chatting us up. He was telling us about this book he is writing, whether he is actually writing a book or not is completely irrelevant because the conversation was hilarious, this guy had a lot of personality. He asked us what the title of his book should be, I said well I guess that would depend on the subject. He then said, Bed wetters, but it is not a love story. Todd and I both started laughing. I knew I had heard him wrong but the way he said it would have been funny no matter what the subject was, I just laughed a little harder because of what I heard. He then describes his two main characters, Gerge (not George, he was very clear about this. Gerge, pronounced Jerj. ) and Rain his love interest. I then teased him, Oh but it’s not a love story.. He joked back and forth with Todd and I as he bagged up the last of our items and we wished him luck as we left.

When we were walking to the car I asked Todd, what did he say before but it’s not a love story? Vampires, Todd told me. I told him what I had heard and we both started laughing again. My version of the book would have been waaaay funnier and more interesting than his I think. I mean there are a million stories about vampires out there but none that I can think about the misadventures of bed wetters. I should totally write that story, and for the record, mine would be a love story.



Hey guess what folks, as I was looking for some kind of funny picture to capture the essence of this post (I kinda wanted a guy and a girl with pee spots on their pants holding hands) I found this! Apparently the story does already exist after all. Ah well, that saves me from having to write it. Which is good, I should be writing a paper for class if I have the extra time to write I guess.


Oh This is So Awkward


I have been going back and forth about writing this post. I am sincerely concerned about offending friends and followers by being honest about something that makes me uncomfortable. I wrestled with this a bit and decided to go forward for two reasons:

  1. Trying to talk to Todd about it would prove to be a waste of time.
  2. I *think* others might be able to relate with the topic.

On that note please know I am about to make this really awkward. I am going to ramble on trying to buy time before I actually get into it, I am going  to dance around the issue and not be fully honest with how much it weirds me out, I am also not going to know how to finish the post.. I might even get lost in the middle somewhere and start talking about something else completely. Enjoy.

Okay, so I have made the decision to write this post.. but how.. Hmm.. I think my hesitance, for starters, is that I don’t know all my readers. I am going to speak my truth here, I am worried I will be talking about one of my readers without realizing it. I already know I am talking about some of my friends and at least one family member by touching this topic, that is awkward enough. I rarely share anything that I would be uncomfortable being confronted on in my real life, this is different though. This is not a conversation I would particularly want to have in real life, however I would if I had to. Also, I do not want to offend/hurt anyone’s feelings with my truth.


I guess I first want to say, I am sharing just one perspective on this topic, I know it does not speak to everyone’s experience. AND I love my own friends who this may currently relate to on some level, and my friends who may do this in the future.

Without further ado.. Here we go..

When I was 18 I worked at a restaurant as a hostess. One day a female customer stopped me on the way out and started telling me how pretty I was and how she would love to give me a free makeover.. I know, weird and sketchy. I did not exactly pick up on that at the time though. She explained that she is a Mary Kay consultant, you know where this is going I am sure, and that if I was interested she would do a free makeover for me and a few friends. I was going to be in a friend’s wedding the next month so I asked the bride if she would be interested in doing this with her bridesmaids, we were all young and naive. A week later we went to this lady’s house and had our makeovers, I know super sketchy again. When the make over was done suddenly there was this pressure to purchase. I bought an eye cream I never used, my friends bought lip glosses. The lady took each one of us aside in a separate room one by one to “discuss making a purchase”/corner us and pressure us into buying something. It was awful and awkward and thus began my experience with this kind of awkward social interaction.

I have been to candle parties, jewelry parties, make up parties/make overs like the one outlined above, sex toy parties.. The list goes on.

I have been with my mom when her friends were hosting, I have gone with friends when their friends were hosting, I have dragged friends along with me when my friends were hosting.. It has always felt like you can’t say no. Someone you know, a friend or family member becomes a consultant and suddenly you become their customer? That is weird right?


So I guess this started as Tupperware parties back in the day and has now morphed into what it is today. I appreciate that it is a way for people to make money on the side or even as a full-time gig, what I don’t like and get super squirmy about is the part where it puts this weird pressure on one of my relationships. I think it would be one thing if I reached out to the friend selling whatever it is and said, hey I am interested in purchasing something.. When a friend or loved one comes to you and asks though.. or really wants you to come to this “party” they are hosting because they get X, Y, and Z incentive for a certain number of attendants.. I am getting awkward just thinking about it. Suddenly this person’s success or failure depends on me? I love you but this is no fun for me at all.


Yeah so this was really awkward for me, hope it was for you too. And the next time your aunt or someone you haven’t talked to since high school asks you to come to their basket party or whatever you can think of me and this post and know you are not the only one who is super uncomfortable.



Calamity Jill: Getting Friendly with a Coat Rack and not so Friendly with a Car Door

Two quick calamity Jill stories to start the week off with a chuckle.

This afternoon I stepped away from my desk to fill my tea cup with hot water in the break room. Upon entering the break room I saw out of the corner of my eye an employee standing at the far corner of the room looking out the window. Instinctually I said good afternoon and went about my business of filling my cup while thinking about a client’s file I had just been working on. Once finished collecting my hot water for tea I turned back around to head for the door and glanced over at the other person to say have a nice day. That’s when I realized it was a coat rack. What is worse is that this was the second time I had spoken to this coat rack, the same thing happened two weeks ago! In my defense there was a long black jacket with a hood hanging on it and at a glance it takes on a bit of a human form. I was just glad no one walked in directly after me and asked who I was talking to.

Unrelated but also mildly humorous was my recent incident with the car door. As I mentioned Todd and I recently bought a new car, well I found out the hard way that the doors close much easier than those on the BMW. With the BMW I have to put a least a little effort into swinging them shut but with the new SUV a breeze could knock the door shut, an excited dog could also do it. The weekend before I started my internship Todd and I were loading Lucy into the car to go on a nature hike. I was putting our hiking backpack in the front seat when Lucy came flying around the corner and bumped the door right as I was stepping back. End result = my thumb being closed in the door. When I got it out I couldn’t think, my nerve receptors were overloaded, all I saw was a white flash of pain when I closed my eyes. Maybe a minute later I was able to think clearly again and noticed Todd was standing in front of me with a hand on my shoulder asking if I was OK? I took my thumb out of my mouth and shook my head yes. He said good and then started laughing. I was befuddled. What could possibly be funny right now?? He took my inside, iced my thumb, and got me some Tylenol, and then told me what he saw when he came into the garage a moment before.. Apparently my reaction to getting my thumb stuck in the door was to start sucking it (I feel like that is normal), close my eyes, and lean forward over the hood of the car running in place a really fast pace.

He apologized for laughing because clearly it hurt but he said he had never seen me run so fast, even if I wasn’t going anywhere.He said if it had been a Bugs Bunny cartoon there would have been smoke coming from my feet I was running so fast. I guess it helped take my mind of the pain? I don’t know.

I was worried I might lose the nail which would be an awful way to start my internship but luckily that never happened. I do have a discoloration under my nail but it is growing out and I wear nail polish so you cannot tell.

What can I say I always seem to find a way to embarrass myself/get into trouble.

Further Misadventures of Calamity Jill: If It’s not Lost, It’s Broken.

calamity jill   Seems about right..


In our house I am the reason we can’t have nice things. This has been true for me my entire life. I have always been the reason I can’t have anything nice and I am usually the reason why it is difficult for anyone I live with to have anything nice. It turns out to be quite fortunate then that I have never been a girl with expensive taste. Impeccable taste, oh yes absolutely, I pride myself in my good taste. But expensive, no never. It is also quite fortunate that nice and expensive are not mutually exclusive.

When Todd and I were dating and we both knew marriage was on the table I explained to him that my engagement/wedding ring would be the only real jewelery he has to get me. The title of this post is why I do not wear real jewelry. It’s true, that for me if it’s not lost it’s broken. I have owned four pieces of real, expensive jewelry in my entire life.. My wedding ring set (obviously), a bracelet bought for me by my parents and a Tiffany necklace that was bought many Christmases ago by an ex.

The bracelet did not make it a week. I was wearing it in a car with my arm partially hanging out the window when I accidentally banged the clasp against the door causing it to break. The bracelet fell out of the moving car into busy traffic and was promptly run over. I was heart broken. Not because of what it was but because it was from my parents and that gave it sentimental value.

The Tiffany necklace, although lovely, should have been a hint to me that the person I was dating did not know me at all. I wasn’t impressed by the fact that it was Tiffany’s, I just liked that it was from him. He could have bought me a sock, just one sock, not even a pair, I would have regarded it the same way I did the Tiffany necklace, I love it because it is from you not because of what it is.

Needless to say, true to form, I lost the Tiffany necklace about a month after it was given to me. Now this took some skill because I wore that necklace everyday. Never the less, I lost it. 3 months later I found it under my night stand covered in dust (I clearly didn’t spend much time under my night stand cleaning).

After those two incidents I decided that was it for me and expensive jewelry. It’s too much pressure and I value it the same way I value fresh cut flowers. Save your money and just get the flowers was my approach to conventional romantic gifts going forward. And my parents, while understanding about the bracelet catastrophe, learned their lesson as well.

Now here I am on my third and fourth pieces of expensive jewelry and wouldn’t you know it, in 8+ years I haven’t changed one bit. I am no less clumsy or more trustworthy with costly merchandise than I was back then. I blame it on the attention-to-detail issues I have always had. I have had my rings for a relatively short period of time (one over a year and the other about a month) and already I have managed to crush the band.

That’s right folks, I crushed platinum. Don’t ask me how for I have no answer. I just looked down and noticed one of the diamonds on my band was not shining as brightly. Upon further inspection (by Todd) we realized I had crushed one side of the band, completely obliterating the milgrain that was previously there. And in doing this I also apparently jostled one of the diamonds which is why it looks different.

I am very thankful that I married someone who truly knows how calamitous I am and therefore spared me the lecture and just started the process of filing a claim with the insurance. I love that man.

I am a little bummed that I will have to send my ring away to be fixed but I am not surprised by any of this. Guaranteed this will not be our last claim filed with the jewelry insurance either because this is me, I am rough and haphazard and these diamonds are in for a bumpy ride.

You know, what I said at the beginning about not being able to have nice things is not completely accurate the more I think about it. I have plenty of nice “things”. I have an incredibly nice husband, I’d venture to say he is one of the nicest. I also have a nice family and over all a very nice life. Lucky for me the nice “things” I have are durable and flexible and forgiving which means that no amount of calamities I can throw at them would cause them to ever become broken or lost. For that I am thankful.

The fault in my will power, wherein cheap books make me a hypocrite


I had no intention in reading The Fault in our Stars. In fact, I had quite deliberate intention not to. I did not know much about the book other than a girl has cancer and there is a love interest. It felt too obvious, girl has cancer, boys falls in love with girl, girl dies. So not only was I not going to read it, I was actively avoiding doing just that. I mean there are plenty of books I have no intention to read, like a book about how to raise milking goats. However, that is not to say if somehow my situation were to drastically change and suddenly milking goats became an important part of my families survival I would feel the same way about books involving how to raise milking goats.

No, this was different. I really was not going to read this book and no circumstances were going to change in my life that would convince me otherwise. That was until I was running errands a week and a half ago and saw a paper back copy for under 10.00. I think even after I bought it I still did not really intend to read it, not much of it at least, maybe just the first few pages to confirm that I was right and I will not like it’s guaranteed predictability. I think the only reason I even bought it was because it was on sale and it was a book. I have trouble passing up a good deal on a book. I once went to a going-out-of-business sale for a local book store and bought 15 books for under 6.00. I had mixed emotions about the whole thing, the 15 books for 6.00 that is. Although thrilled with my finds I felt a bit guilty profiting off a bookstore’s demise. I have a not-so-secret fear that one day book stores will be obsolete, a thing of the past, thanks to the advent of ebooks and the internet.

Back to TFIOS, so even after purchasing I am still standing firm on my decision not to read this book. That was until Todd and I had a very busy weekend and at the end of the day Sunday all we wanted to do before bed was read. Todd just finished Quiet. It is a book about being an introvert in an extrovert’s world. He picked up the last book in the Divergent trilogy as he never finished the series, he is in for some serious disappointment. I will let him come to that realization on his own. I, like always, have a few books to choose from. I am currently (still) reading Look Me in the Eye, as well as The Secret Life of Pronouns. After spending the last few weeks with my nose stuck in my texts for my classes and knowing the same fate awaits me this week as I study for my midterm I decided I wanted a fiction piece this evening. I want some fantasy that I can just read without having to think too much about. Then suddenly I remember, Well I have TFIOS and although I am sure I will hate it and it will be poorly written and expected I at least won’t have to use too much brain power.

I get through the first pages and I am mentally patting myself on the back saying You were right Jill, you should have never bothered with this one. There is no real build up in the beginning, it starts with girl has cancer, boy meets girl and a romantic plot line follows, typical. Not to mention I found the writing style to be  pretentious at times, making me feel that much more disconnected. With everything I have mentioned as reasons to put the book down, I chose to read on. What else did I have to do anyway? Plus it was serving its purpose as a distraction. A funny thing happened around page 30 though, I got interested. There were layers to this story that I was unaware of and suddenly page 30 turned into page 114. Go figure. I began reading this book 2 hours ago and I am now more than half way through. I am not going to say it is a great book, not yet. I will reserve final judgement until the end, specifically the predictability of the end. I will keep you posted though.

Further Misadventures of Calamity Jill

We have already established that I am a mess on my own, now we have added a hyperactive and equally oblivious dog to the mix. (Let me punctuate that last sentiment by saying our dog ran into a canoe while at the dog park a few weeks ago.) We are both lucky to have a good man with a fantastic sense of humor and patience that loves us. Yes, so now Calamity Jill has a not-so-trustworthy side kick on her evening runs, frantic boxer puppy.

My runs were already tricky due to my colossal lack of coordination. I am a sprained ankle waiting to happen. Running with Lucy brings a whole other level of awkwardness to the task. She, like all boxer’s, especially the young ones, has severe A.D.D. So I will be running along, Lucy trotting beside me, then Lucy will see a  input animal name here and all hell breaks loose! Seriously, it could be ANYTHING. A squirrel, a dove, a cat, her own shadow, you name it. Next thing I know I am caught in frenzy of boxer madness and tripping over dog, leash and myself. I am fully expecting a future post to be entitled Calamity Jill and the Case of the Dislocated Shoulder. How I have skirted a shoulder injury up to this point I cannot say. The dog has the strength of a small Clydesdale.

Today we did OK. We ran for about an hour with minimal disturbances. If I get her keeping pace with me she is usually less distracted. After our run we walked down to the lake for our cool down before we walked home. It was a beautiful time of day to be at the lake. The ducks were gathered having dinner, or attempting to before we showed up and Lucy tried to join them. The ducks were not interested in her company, they seemed offended by her intrusion. So we went down to the creek so Lucy could get a drink. Lucy doesn’t really understand water current. She steps down to have a drink and then begins to chase her drink down the bank. She can’t just stand there and have a drink of water she makes up her mind that she wants to drink from a certain section of water and then chases after it when it tries to get away. It is entertaining for me if nothing else.

20140401_190524                                                            20140401_185128

The hope is after some training Lucy will fall into a routine that includes good behavior during our evening runs. She seems quite receptive to training so I am not too concerned. In the mean time I am sure I will have stories.





Extra Bonus, the playlist from tonight’s run. Pandora did not disappoint, I was highly motivated throughout our run.

Florence + the Machine – Cosmic Love

Kid Cudi – Pursuit of Happiness

Matt and Kim – Cut Down

Rusted Root – Send me on my Way

Passion Pit – Sleepyhead

Justice – D.A.N.C.E.

M83 – Midnight City

Foster the People – Helena Beat

The Kooks – Naive

Phoenix – Lasso

Matt and Kim – It’s Alright

Empire of the Sun – Walking on a Dream

Coversations I can’t Remember


From what I am told I am an unpredictable person to sleep next to. I realize “unpredictable” is an unusual way to describe the person you share a bed with but this word choice is quite deliberate. In Todd’s words, “you never know what you are in for”. Unpredictable seems to fit.

I am known for talking, waking someone up and talking directly to them with no memory of it, dancing, singing, crying and laughing in my sleep. Once I jumped out of bed in hysterics because the baby was missing! I spent five minutes trying to convince my then significant other to call 911 and help me search while he spent that same five minutes trying to convince me that we do not, nor have we ever, had a baby. Unpredictable, like I said.

Monday night I woke up precisely at 2:00 am proceeded to roll over, shake Todd awake, and tell him.. Well in truth I am not exactly sure what I told him. I know that at the time I had information about the Swiss and Russian’s in the Olympics that was so important I had to tell him immediately. I knew this information would change the course of the Olympics for the US. He says that I looked him dead in the eye and blurted out some nonsense made up words. He then says to me, “What?!” (the usual response when I do this kind of thing). And I just say “Oh” and leave bed to find the bathroom. Upon my return he asks me about it and I just apologize and go immediately back to sleep.

A month ago I sat straight up in bed at 7:30 am on a Sunday (Todd was already awake practicing Spanish on his phone) I turned to him and said “Aren’t you going to be late for Church??” Again he responded with, “What?!” He says I flopped back down on my pillow rolled over and went back to sleep. I have no memory of this one.

When I was single living at my parents house in my early 20’s there was a night I got so loud my brother was convinced I hoopin and hollerin on the phone with a friend. (His words not mine). It was around 4:30-5am, he had just arrived on military leave and was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. My bedroom was on the other side of the bathroom wall and he said he heard me laughing loudly. He assumed I was on the phone with someone since he did not hear my TV on and walked into my room, assuming me to be awake, to say Hi. He says he stood in my doorway for a few minutes and the whole time I was giggling and then I would go into full belly laughs. The next morning he asked me about it, dying to know what on earth could have been so funny in my dream. Huh, I wish I knew was my response.

It’s so interesting to me this whole other life we live in our dreams. My have always been incredibly vivid. It is like the line between dream and reality becomes blurred in that moment when I wake up, I cannot tell for a moment what is up and what is down. I have all these memories from a life that has never actually taken place. It is a real wonder.

The boy that choked the palm tree

I am always joking at work about how all we do all day long is put out fires.  There are certainly days where it feels like there is zero progress and all we are doing is frantically bailing water out of a sinking boat. Today was such a day. From the moment I clocked in at 6:50am the trouble started and it did not stop until I left for the day. Truthfully even after I left I thought of 5 more things I would have liked to follow-up on but you can’t, you know? I am not superwoman and if I am going to keep any true level of balance and self health I have to allow myself to let go and leave when it is time to leave each day. There will always be more to do and another patient to take care of but I have to take care of me too and sometimes even first.

So all day long I felt like I was treading water and unable to come up for air. The lab ran the wrong blood test on a patient so I had to get in touch with them and correct that problem. There were issues with insurance (there are always issues with insurance). Not to mention I think we accepted at least three emergent cases today completely over booking our schedule and causing a tremendous back up for our scheduled patients. In the middle of all of this a ghost walked in. I have not seen this person in probably 7+ years, they are associated with one of my ex’s. Although there is no bad blood there anyone who knows me well knows that I do awkward small talk about as well as humpty dumpty attempting the balance beam. Small talk is not my thing, as a rule I find it frivolous (like all rules there are exceptions). And as I am not graceful in any other aspect of my life of course I am less than graceful when it comes to things like this. Luckily I was buried so deep in my work and the patients I was involved with that no awkward encounter ever arose. I was grateful, although this particular ghost is an incredibly kind person and I would have been happy to attempt awkward small talk if it came to that, especially given the setting in which we were running into each other.

So with the day I had you might think it would be difficult to find a silver lining on this cloud. However, you could not be more wrong my friend! First of all, I love this mess. Bad days are never that bad when you love it. But there was a specific silver lining and it came early in the day in the form of a 4-year-old hyperactive little boy, a little boy I fell in love with immediately. One of the fires I was having to extinguish today was two patients that arrived late for their tests. This meant I had to lock up their belongings and check them in after their test so we could get them started right away in order to keep our schedule on time. While screening a patient for the second time to make sure it was safe to do her study based on her medical history I suddenly noticed something out of the corner of my eye..

In our office we have a lot of plants. All different kinds of plants, big ones, small ones, wide ones, thin ones.. It’s like a Dr Suess book with a jungle setting. One of the plants is a floor plant that is tall and slender and resembles a palm tree but much thinner. It kind of looks like one of the funny trees from Dr Suess’s The Lorax. While I am screening this patient I suddenly notice that tree is shaking violently! It looked like the tree was having a seizure! I stand up from my desk to see what is causing it and there is this little boy who has the base of the tree in a death grip and is shaking the shit out of it! It reminded me of something I read in a book once about monkeys shaking palm trees to release the fruit at the top. It was hilarious. The patient in front of me, who happened to be the boy’s mother was embarrassed at first but once she realized I thought it was funny she giggled too. Then she yanked him up and sat him down with a book. Here I was running around, caught up in the crisis of the moment and I would have totally missed that. It was the highlight of my week at work. I do not know what possessed that little kid but it was very funny and I am glad I was able to break long enough to be present for it. The rest of the day as issues would rise and fall I kept thinking back to the convulsing palm tree and I would laugh.

After work I ran some errands and then came home for my big Friday night plans.. Wine, Sushi, Writing and Project Runway! Any introvert will agree this is the stuff dreams are made of on a Friday night! They had a sale on a my favorite kind of wine, Pinot Nior, at the grocery store so I got two bottles. I am set for the weekend! The rest of the weekend is jammed packed with wedding plans and parties and projects, I am elated to have a quiet night to enjoy the way I see fit.

The daily catastrophes of Calamity Jill

Oh the messes I make. I am becoming known for them.  Two weeks in to our relationship Todd gave me the nickname Calamity Jill after the famous frontier woman Calamity Jane. (I am less of a heroine however and more of disaster, I am not sure I am doing her moniker justice.) This week I have been particularly oblivious leading to some comically embarrassing moments.

At work I was calling to confirm a patient’s appointment, when they answered the phone I started by saying, “Good afternoon, my name is Jill, I am calling from xxxxxxxx and my name is Jill.” Uh yea dummy, we got that your name is Jill! The patient just started laughing as well as the rest of the front desk behind me who over-heard the whole thing. The patient and I joked back and forth for a moment before ending the call. Good one do-do brain.

At home last night Todd brought me chocolate almond milk with a straw, my favorite after dinner snack! 2 hours later when we were getting ready for bed I noticed I managed to get chocolate milk on my shirt. Under normal circumstances this would not be unusual, you could even say it would be expected but I was drinking out of a straw! How does that happen? Upon further inspection of my stain I realize I also had my shirt on inside out. ::Slaps forehead:: Good grief. That’s not all though. Of course it’s not. While I am in the bedroom putting on a new shirt for bed I hear the death call coming out of the living room.

In our house when you hear “Baabbe” (that extra B sound is important to really get the effect) you know your dead or at least busted on something. It’s all in a joking manner.

I creep into the living room, peaking around corners trying to observe the situation without being seen. Needless to say Todd noticed a set of eyes peaking at him from the side of the kitchen doorway immediately, I am sure my giggling had nothing to do with it. There he was standing over the sink wiping down his cell phone which was covered in chocolate milk splatters. Apparently my night-shirt was not the only collateral damage from my snack explosion that evening. I still cannot explain how I am able to spray everything in a one foot radius with milk when drinking from a straw.. Just years of practice I guess.

The cherry on the top of my reckless week came while out for my run this morning. I typically run in the evenings, it gives me some quiet time to think at the end of the day and helps me unwind. Not to mention, although I get up early every morning I am not a morning person. In our house we have rules about how to deal with me in the morning.

1. I do not talk before my morning Coffee/Orange Juice
A. Do not ask me any questions during this time
B. Do not give me any instructions or important information during this time

2. No rough housing while I am still in bed trying to wake up. This includes:
A. Tickle Fights
B. Blubbing
C. Jumping on the bed
D. Fast movements of any kind in my personal space

Todd always breaks the second rule.

Morning runs are not for me. Waking up is a gradual sometimes painful process for me, no need to add additional pain to it. This morning however Todd forgot to set the alarm so we both over slept (meaning we woke up at 7:30 instead of 6) and I was not going to make it to class on time. I decided not to kill myself rushing through a shower and speeding to school and instead enjoy a quiet morning at home before work. I also decided I would get a run this morning since I work late on Thursdays and do not get to run after work usually.

So there I was having a productive start to my day, listening to Miike Snow and feeling accomplished as I jogged along the side walks of College Park when BAM! Next thing I know I am ice skating and about to eat concrete in front of one of the bungalows on my route. (I would love to know what I must have looked like to the man across the street that was walking his dog.) Once I regained my footing and somehow managed not to fly face first into the sidewalk I was able to see what the issue was. Some of the sidewalks on my route must have a layer of algae on them that, when wet, becomes incredibly slick like ice. The problem is in the mornings all the sidewalks are wet from dew and sprinkler systems so it is impossible to tell the difference between the regular sidewalk and the parts that are going to send you flying into next Tuesday. Great. I proceeded with caution. Just what I need landmines on my run. I had three other instances of less than graceful recoveries on slick sidewalks before I finally made it home.

Can’t wait to see what other predicaments I will find myself in this week. It’s like I am always telling Todd, I like to keep things interesting.