Let's talk about body image

When was the first time you felt bad about your body?

I was 12 or 13 years old. It was summer time. My brother and I were swimming in our pool in the back yard. I hopped out of the pool for a moment and my brother started laughing and shouted "Hey, your butt jiggles!" I laughed it off and we kept playing in the pool.

That night I when I went into my room to change out of my bathing suit I stood naked in front of my full length mirror. I carefully examined my body from head to toe. I jumped up and down a few times. My butt jiggled. My thighs jiggled. Everything seemed to jiggle. I also noticed that I had stretch marks scattered from my belly button to my knees. My breasts didn't have any stretch marks because there weren't hardly any breasts there to stretch. I noticed that the acne on my face had spread to my upper back.

I was devastated. I didn't see any beauty. All I saw were those stretch marks. The harder I looked, the longer they grew. I was 5'4" and around 105lbs, long blond hair and tanned from the summer sun, but all I saw was imperfection. I was all knobby knees and gangling arms, and a jiggly butt to boot. After a time of self pity, I pulled myself together, put on some clothes and went out to join my family for dinner. My brother mentioned my jiggly rear once more. This time each word hit me like a ton of bricks.

Your. Butt. Jiggles.

My dad quickly told him that it wasn't ok to tease me and he needed to apologize. He did, but it was obvious that I was upset. After dinner my parents talked with me for a long time. I told them how much I hated the way I looked. I wished I didn't jiggle. I wanted to get rid of the stretch marks. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I perfect?

After assuring me that I was indeed beautiful and God made me special and almost everyone gets stretch marks, including boys, Daddy told me something that night that probably took a whole lot of daddy courage. It also was exactly what I needed to hear and it stuck with me. He said "Someday in the future there will be a man who appreciates that butt more than you could even imagine."

That may sound like rather odd advice, especially coming from a father of a 13 year old girl, but that short phrase summed up the whole situation for me. I was growing into a woman. A woman who would one day be desired. I wasn't going to look like all the other women. There would be things about myself that I loathed and wished would change, but someone would love those things I thought were faults.

Have you talked with your daughter about how she feels about her body? Has she tried to talk with you about it at all? I believe it's something that parents need to discuss with their daughters, and if at all possible I think that fathers need to be involved in the conversations. (there will likely be more than one conversation, so be prepared) Having my father involved in at least some of the conversations about "my changing body" (not the period part, just the stretch marks part) showed me that my father loved me for who I was. It cemented in my mind that there would be a guy out there who would love me too.

I have since grown a bit taller and filled out a bit more. I definitely still carry my junk in the trunk, and Jake goes crazy for it. That wasn't the only conversation we had about how I looked or how I felt about how I looked. I still call my mom to talk about my insecurities from time to time and I'm married and moved out. I am not always completely comfortable in my own skin, but I have a bit more self confidence to go along with it, so the issues don't always seem so big. I also can carry on a conversation for more than 15 seconds with a guy without him bouncing his eyes off my chest, and I know that I still have his attention as I walk away.

BTW, my brother never mentioned my butt again, unless he was complaining about how his guy friends were teasing him about how hot I was.

Cold weather cuisine

It's snowing here. Lots. And lots and lots. Feet and feet. This means that Jake has been "Mr. Mountain Man." He's always a mountain man, but during winter it is even more so. There is snow blowing to be done,wood to be brought in, fire to be maintained, a widowed neighbor to be taken care of, well pumps to be checked on and insulated to keep from freezing, and so much more! He's so awesome and takes care of ALL of it without the slightest complaint. Seeing him be Mr Mountain Man makes me feel all...domestic. I am driven to bake bread. Compelled to make cookies. Apple crisp haunts my dreams.

Then there is the fact that will this much snow we could loose power for hours or even days at a time. No power means no water for us. This causes me to keep up on the laundry and dishes like no ones business. I also keep the house nice and picked up because I just HATE tripping over things in the dark. Our stove stop is also electric, so I can't cook when we loose power. However, I can warm things up on the wood burning stove. So when a storm is coming in I have a couple fall back meals that I make up in advance that are easy to warm up by the fire, and I thought I'd share a few. :)

One Pot Meaty Chili

1 large onion, chopped
1 large orange, red, or yellow bell pepper chopped (I use half yellow and half orange because I like color)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1.5 pounds lean ground turkey (or beef, and sometimes I use venison)
2 cans (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
1 can (15 oz) tomato sauce
1 can (15 oz) red kidney beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (15 oz) pinto beans, rinsed and drained
1-2 Tbsp chili powder to taste
1 tsp ground cumin
a dash of red pepper flakes

Add a glug of olive oil to a large pot or Dutch oven. Saute onions, bell pepper, and garlic over medium-high heat until just tender. Dump in turkey and break up while cooking. When turkey is cooked through stir in the tomatoes (with juice) tomato sauce, beans, chili powder, cumin, and red pepper flakes. Bring to a boil on medium-high heat.

Cover and turn down the head to medium-low and cook for 1-1.5 hours, stirring occasionally. Add salt and pepper to taste about half way through cooking.

Serve with sour cream and cheese if desired.

It's easy, and it only takes one cutting board, one knife, one spoon, and one pot. Who doesn't love that? And it heats up in a small pot on the wood stove like a charm. If you do end up making it, let me know what you think. It's not a completely original recipe, but I have modified it a bit.

ETA: The chili is not spicy at all. Feel free to spice it up with more chili powder, red pepper flakes, cumin, or even hot sauce if you'd like.

The Kindergartner

 It was the first day of Kindergarten. I was 5 years old. I was nervous and excited to be starting school. I started making friends immediately. I also met The Kindergartner. He was cute. And apparently my attraction to "bad boys" and guys with issues started way before I was conscious about it, because The Kindergartner called me bad names, names he'd learned from his the lame guys his single mom brought home.

I don't have any real memory of being called bad names, or the foul language that was written on the side of the mom's boyfriend's truck that day after school, but I was told about years later. And if I noticed any of it in kindergarten, it only fueled the flame. On the second day of school I chased The Kindergartner around the playground, pinned him down and kissed him. Right on the lips. I do remember that. I also remember my mother very matter of fact-ly telling me that afternoon that I wasn't allowed to kiss boys until I was 16. Now for some of you that might have been a challenge, but I was rule follower. Especially if they were my parents' rules. I put myself in time out when I was bad. I had a very guilty conscience. Being told I wasn't allowed to kiss boys before I was 16 meant exactly that. I stopped kissing The Kindergartner, but I crushed on him for most of the rest of elementary school.

Why? I have no real idea. He was edgy -- for an elementary school kid. I don't think I have ever told anyone this, but The Kindergartner asked for my phone number on the last day of 5th grade. I gave it to him, and on the way home from school I started to panic. What if he called? What would my parents say?! OH NO! A couple days later he called while I wasn't home. My grandpa took the message. I never called him back. I prayed harder than I had ever prayed before that he would never call me again. I promised God I would read the whole Strong's Concordance if The Kindergartner would just loose my number and never be able to call. Why the Strong's Concordance? It was the biggest book related to The Bible we had in the house and I thought God would appreciate it. It was then that I learned that God comes through with his end of the deal even when I don't, because I never made it past page 3, and The Kindergartner never called.

Even though I got a thrill from the "bad boy" thing, I still wanted to first and foremost please my parents. I was afraid that they would be disappointed in me that I had a not so secret (because I swear my mom is psychic) thing for The Kindergartner. We had agreed that I wouldn't date until I was 16, and to me, giving a boy my number meant I was somehow cheating. Years later a boy gave me his phone number and I never called for the same reason. Damn that guilty conscience.

I'm still here

Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this blog. Jake and I have been dealing with feet of snow and taxes. I have a blog in the works, but it likely won't get finished until the weekend.

Just thought I'd give everyone a heads up.

The Need to be Needed

If you're just coming to this blog, or you haven't had a chance to see some other posts yet, please take a moment to read The Frog: Part One, and The Frog: Part Deux to really understand what's going on.

It took a lot for me to break up with The Prince. I didn't really WANT to break up with him. I wanted it to work out. I wanted it to end happily ever after. In the end, I had to decide that I loved myself more than I loved the idea of him. That sounds totally cliche, so let me explain.

I think one of the reasons self respecting girls and women get in -- and stay in -- relationships with loser guys is to fulfill "The Need to be Needed". Females (as a general rule) have a need to be needed. I think it goes hand in hand with that maternal instinct thing. I think women get a natural hormonal high from being needed. Maybe I'm completely out of line on this, but based on my experience and based on what I've seen happen to other women I know, the need to be needed can completely overshadow one's own life. I know more than one woman who finds a man who so completely needs her (emotionally, financially, etc) that she totally looses herself in him. She might wake up 10 or 15 years (and however many kids) later and think "How did I end up here?" I think a big part is The Need to be Needed. *

That's why I was with The Prince for as long as I was. He needed me. I was going to be able to fix him. I think that, in the US, the time between when a girl hits puberty and when she actually gets married and has kids is so far apart, it causes them to seek out needy guys to satisfy their need to be needed. 

WAIT! Don't run off yet. I am NOT saying that women have to get married young. I am NOT saying that women have to have babies early. I am NOT saying that women shouldn't go to college or have careers of their own. All I am saying is that I don't think the real and valid need to be needed has been properly addressed in our society. The same is true for some guys. I know one guy in particular who has only ever dated girls with issues. When I asked him about this pattern he has admitted that he wants to be the knight in shining armor and is attracted to girls who need saving.

Do I sound too loony? If I'm totally out of line please tell me so.

So back to what happened with The Prince. I really tried to make it work. When he wasn't acting the way I thought a boyfriend should act, I tried explaining what I was expecting and needing from the relationship. I was even open to listening to what he needed or didn't want and was going to try and make some changes. That's what you do in a relationship, right? Compromise. He didn't want to talk. I was honest with him about my insecurities to try and make him feel comfortable to open up. He brushed them off. One of the things I told him was "I don't feel comfortable with The Ex, I think she is going to try and take you from me." I told him this before she visited that fateful night, and he sincerely told me that I didn't need to worry about it, and he wouldn't give me any reason to doubt him. Now, call me crazy, but running off with her to spend the night in an empty house didn't fill me with a whole lot of confidence. By the time that had happened I was already close to being fed up. It was the straw the broke the camels back.

The drive to The Prince's house to break it off was the longest drive I've ever made, even though it wasn't more than a couple miles. When he came outside to see me he didn't try an apologize for anything or make any excuses. Did he actually think I didn't care about what happened over the weekend? He just stood there, waiting for me to talk. I made it clear that it wasn't just about The Ex (who was sitting inside the house looking out the window). I was breaking up with him because he couldn't give me what I needed. I told him flat out that I wanted him to be able to work it out with me, but I didn't think it would happen. He told me that he was sorry and he "just needed someone to talk to." What?! I wanted to scream, but I managed to calmly say "I was there all along. I wanted to let you talk with me. You never gave me the chance." I didn't want to give him any satisfaction he might have gotten from seeing me upset. This was a logical and mostly unemotional decision, as far as he was to know. He knew it was coming. He didn't really try and stop me. He didn't come to my house with a stereo held above his head, ala John Cusack in Say Anything. That made me upset too. Prove me wrong you idiot. It did keep me from going back to him though. I had decided that I wasn't willing to go running back to him if he wasn't willing to try to get me back. I had that much self respect.

The long and short of it is that even though he ended up being a really crappy boyfriend, it still took a lot for me to break it off with The Prince. And I see girls and women stick with bigger jerks for much longer periods of time for the same reason: the need to be needed.

*I understand that there are a whole lot of reasons a woman (or a man) might stay with someone whom they're unhappy with. I don't mean to discredit or invalidate those reasons, but I do think The Need to be Needed is usually an underlying factor.

ETA: I didn't even finish the story about The Troll. I understand I seemed a bit rude to label him The Troll, but in high school he really was greasy and smelled bad. I already had to sit next behind him in band, I didn't want to go dancing with him. Years later I ran into him in a cafe. He'd lost a ton of weight, his acne had cleared up, and apparently he'd started showering...likely because of the gorgeous girl hanging off his arm. We said hi, and started to catch up on life and the girl (even though he'd introduced her and was completely polite) was very offended that I was talking to him. He was OBVIOUSLY her property, and he didn't seem to mind. He got himself a happy ending. And, he was right about The Prince all along. :) No need to feel bad for him any more. 

The Frog: Part Deux

When we left off, The Prince and The Princess were falling madly in love. Or at least that's what The Princess thought. Please play THIS music whilst reading.

After about three weeks of bliss The Prince stopped talking with The Princess. To be fair, they would communicate verbally about where they would dine or when they would go to the lake, but all conversation was shallow and non-committal. Things were really awful at home and The Prince completely closed up. The Princess asked and even pleaded with him to tell her what she could do to help. He just told her he'd be fine. She resorted to figuring it out herself. She tried talking with him, she tried being quiet. She tried giving him space and being around all the time. Nothing helped. He was pulling away and she felt like her world was coming to an end. She would have given up right then except that at the beginning of their relationship he had told her that he felt that everyone in his life had given up on him at some point. He felt alone, especially now that the small town had taken sides in his parents’ divorce. The Princess refused to give up on him now. He needed her more now than ever, even if he didn’t know it. Unfortunately, all that ended up happening was The Princess ended up heartbroken night after night when he didn’t call or did call but didn’t talk. She cried a lot. The Queen and The Best Friend comforted The Princess the best they could and listened late into the nights.

What had she done? What had she not done? How could this have happened? He had said he wanted to be with her. Why was it all falling apart?

One evening towards the end of summer a mutual friend of theirs, The Actor, was performing in a local theater production. The Prince and The Princess went to see the play with The Best Friend and another mutual friend...who happened to be The Ex-girlfriend of The Actor. The Actor had dumped The Ex for the female lead in the play. To say the show was awkward would have been an understatement, but the Ex insisted on coming, and assured everyone that she and The Actor were on good terms. However, by the end of the evening The Ex was more than upset. The Prince, being the dashing hero that he was, quickly swept The Ex away to his empty castle—empty of parents that is—without so much as a goodnight to The Princess, leaving her and The Best Friend to fend for themselves for the evening. The Princess stood with a blank stare for some time as The Trusty Jeep dove off into the distance before The Best Friend exclaimed a royal “WTF?"

The Princess and The Best Friend returned to The Princess’ castle, and were quickly sent back out by The Queen to drive by The Prince’s castle to determine what was going on. Nothing was found out because The Princess was too much a chicken to actually go bang down the drawbridge like she should have, and she and The Best Friend ended up crying on the side of some dirt road listening to sad songs on Ye Olde iPod.

Want to know what was even worse? The play they had gone to see was Grease. Yes. The irony was not lost on The Princess. If prom was her Grease moment, then why the hell was summer ending this way?! Danny and Sandy were supposed to end up together in the end. Not Danny and Danny’s alter ego’s ex girlfriend.

The Princess lay in bed for what felt like two years, but only amounted to two days. The Queen and The Best Friend took turns sitting with her, trying to feed her, and holding her while she cried. Why was this happening? She had done everything right. Before they had started dating The King had threatened The Prince’s life in the appropriate fatherly way (with the help of the trusty Fire Breathing German Shepherd who, although he'd never admit it, scared the crapeth out of The Prince). She hadn’t let The Prince get the milk for free. She had been praying for him. And she wanted to be with him. The Princess was devastated. She could shake the negative talk going on inside her head. "He never loved you." "He never meant anything he said." "The Ex had been planning this all along." "He wants her more he wants you." She also was angry. Angry at him for going off with this The Ex. Angry at herself for letting it happen. Angry that The Prince hadn't called. Angry that she’d let herself be vulnerable with him. Angry that everyone else being right. Maybe he was a lost cause. Would she ever find her prince? 

 She didn't realize it at the time but he wasn't The Prince anymore. He hadn't been for some time. He was The Prince who, after being kissed, had in fact turned into The Frog.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I am The Princess.

I broke up with The Prince after those two days. I tried to stay positive and keep moving, but every night I ended up in my room crying or numb. If you seen or read Twilight's New Moon (don't judge), remember when Bella is sitting in her room after Edward breaks up with her and the months are just passing? It felt just like that. Except it was my own fault, because I'd broken up with him. There was no comforting me. My parents tried. My best friend tried. I needed to feel bad. When I started feeling better I'd watch depressing movies. If I didn't feel bad, then it had all been a lie. He'd never really meant those things he'd said. He'd never really cared. Nothing anyone said really made any difference.

As I mentioned when I was talking about The Crush, I had a thing for guys with issues. I knew intellectually that as a general rule they would be nothing but trouble, but it took a long time and a couple broken hearts to really know.  

It took me a long time to get over The Prince. We dated for 7 or 8 weeks and I mourned him for close to six months. Seems silly, doesn't it?  In my defense, I had had a crush on him for at least a year prior to us dating, and since I was such a good emotional manipulator (of my own emotions I mean) it really felt like we had been dating that whole year. It had been the real for me. I assumed that because he said "you're the type of woman I want to marry" he meant "you're the woman I want to marry." Anyone else might have been able to see he wasn't ready, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. We were supposed to live happily ever after. But we didn't.

Sorry to leave you on such a morose note. Here's something funny to lighten the mood.

Before The Prince and I started dating, my mom and I were shopping at Rite-Aid. She gently suggested that I think carefully about pursuing a relationship with The Prince because there was a very good chance I could end up very hurt at the end. We were leaving the store and I told her (and I quote) "Mom, I need to make some mistakes in my life. I need to get out there and spread my wings!" after which I walked smack into the closed "Enter" door at Rite-Aid. Not even kidding. I guess that should have been a sign. Except I couldn't have read it anyways because it was backward.

The Frog: Part 1

This post is best read with THIS playing in the background.

This is the tale of a two young people, The Prince and The Princess. This Princess wasn't kept in a tall tower by her evil stepmother or overbearing father. No, this Princess was loved by both her parents and taught to be chaste and have self esteem...and then was sent to Ye Olde Publik Hiegh Skool. After a long year at Skool, the Princess hadn't made very many friends. She knew some of the peasants from The Country Church, but didn't feel like she was noticed by hardly anyone else. When The Ball was announced, The Princess feared she'd have no one to take her. It was to be her only year at Publik Hiegh Skool, and she wouldn't even go to The Ball. What ever would she do?

The Princess had never been one to chase the boys. She wasn't willing to give her token to just any knight jousting in the courtyard. The few she would have considered gave nary a glance in her direction. She held her head high and waited for a handsome knight to take her hand. No one came. How could she compete with all the other maidens who seemed to lack a certain moral standing. It seemed like all was lost, and that The Ball would come and go and The Princess would sit in her castle room, alone again. She thought that she may as well have been locked in a tower.

Suddenly a thought occurred to The Princess. Perhaps The Prince would to take her to The Ball. The Prince lived out of town, for he had moved on from Ye Olde Publik Hiegh Skool, but would be back in town in time for The Ball. The Princess and The Prince had stayed in contact while he was away, and she considered him a friend. Perhaps he would be willing to escort her. And since he was just a friend, The Princess wouldn't need to lower her standards and actually ask a male out on a date. She proposed the idea to The Prince one evening and much to her excitement he accepted. And not a moment too soon for just the next day a clarinet playing troll asked The Princess to accompany him to The Ball. It's not that he wasn't a nice troll, and he played the clarinet very well, but even if The Princess hadn't had an escort, she likely would have declined. She wasn't THAT desperate. She told the troll that it was none other than The Prince who would be taking her to The Ball. The troll warned The Princess. He told her to beware of The Prince. "How odd," thought The Princess, "poor thing must be awfully jealous to say such a thing about the handsome Prince."


When The Ball finally came, The Prince rode in on his faithful steed, the Trusty Red Jeep, to take The Princess out on her very first real date. Now, the Princess pretended in front of the villagers that she didn't have feelings for The Prince. In the privacy of her own mind this was going to be the first night of the rest of her life.

Getting ready for The Ball

The two had great fun at The Ball. Sushi was eaten. Dancing was done. All the other maidens were jealous and all the other knights were stunned.In the long run it didn't make her any more friends, but it was a like the classic film Grease when fair Sandy dresses in black spandex and leather for sir Danny. Suddenly everyone noticed The Princess. And it felt good.

After The Ball The Prince began showing more interest in The Princess. She was thrilled. He actually liked her! They ended up even working for the same company that summer. Shortly after that they were an official item. Her first boyfriend. She never thought it would have happened. And finally, after so many years of waiting, her first kiss. The Prince had a bad reputation and a troubled home life. His parents were splitting up, but he always was noticeably happier when he was with The Princess. He told her that he was willing to give up his old life of partying with the other knights and maidens of compromised morals to spend all his days with The Princess. This thrilled her to no end. This was going to go down in the history books as the best love story ever. Until three weeks later...

Now by now you're probably thinking "Wait, I thought this was supposed to be about someone called The Frog. What's going on?" Stay tuned to find out what will happen in The Frog: Part Deux.

Dun dun dun......

The Crush

In light of a couple conversations I've had with women IRL about their teenage daughters and the fact that I think mostly mom's of preteen and teenage daughters read this blog, I thought that it might be of benefit to talk about my years as a hormonal teenage girl. We'll start with boys, since that seems to be a big deal right now.


When I was younger, I had this...fantasy, I guess you would call it, that a "bad boy" would discover me, turn from his ways of wandering, fall in love with me and we'd live happily ever after. That's what happens in the movies. That's what happened to some people I knew in real life. I thought it would happen to me. I wanted it to happen to me. I thought it was horribly romantic.

I wanted to live that fantasy so badly and was convinced that it was the reason God had made me so innocent and pure--which really turned out to be ignorance and pride--that I started throwing myself at any bad boy who I thought fit the bill. Not physically throwing myself (because I was so pure, remember) but I would let myself and even encourage myself to become completely emotionally involved with a guy before he had even given me the time of day! Blame it on Hollywood or blame it on the hormones, I was crazy.

At an awfully young age (sometime between 9 and 12, I honestly don't remember): I met the love of my life. At least I was convinced he would be. We'll call him The Crush. He was everything I could have wanted: He was cute, older than me, a singer and musician, a Christian, and above all else, he had a dark side. He was mysterious. He was troubled. Lots of other girls liked him. I was certain that we were meant to be together, even though he didn't show much interest in me. The Crush went to my church and our sets of parents were friends so we saw each other fairly often. Each time we did I fell more and more in love. (I use that term pretty loosely.) I spent many nights (I'm not exaggerating when I say over 200) over the years crying in my mom's lap because he didn't notice me. I mean, he knew who I was, and probably even knew I was gaga over him, but he was just. not. interested. I prayed with all the sincerity in my heart that he would finally love me back. Most of the time was dating other girls.

Why wasn't he dating me? What was wrong with me? I even knew that he wasn't best for me. My parents had told me. A girlfriend of mine who was his age and was friends with him had told me. I saw it for myself in his attitude and character. It didn't matter. Every time I thought I had gotten over him he'd do something cute or funny or just look at me with his clear blue eyes and I'd fall head over heels again. I had the songs picked out for our wedding. I got dressed each Sunday in hopes of catching his attention. I joined the youth group worship team to spend time with him. I jumped at any chance I had to be around him.

I was obsessed with The Crush until I was 16 and living on the opposite side of the state. Why, even after years of rejection and advice to just move on, why couldn't I do it? I still don't really know how to explain it. The whole situation was so ridiculous I'm embarrassed to even think about it. I was focused on "The Story" we would have. I grew up in a home with both my parents. They loved each other. My brother and I got along better than any of my friends and their siblings. We had enough food to eat. As I got older I didn't sleep around or even kiss. I didn't have the amazing, tear-jerking testimony. The kind that all the popular speakers had. This was going to be my story. He was going to be able to get over all his issues because of his love for me. And I was serious.

What did my parents do? Let me talk about it. For days. For months. For years. I know they were sick of hearing about it. They helped me process it. They talked to me about why he was the way he was and why it was a good thing we weren't dating. They let me cry. A lot. They didn't try and force me to get over him, or just ignore me. I felt real feelings, no matter how misguided they were, and my parents were willing to address those feelings.

How did I finally move on? Well my family moved more than 700 miles away, and I met someone new. Someone darker. Someone taller. Someone who seemed to be even more screwed up. Oh goody. I was just what he needed. Click here to read about The Frog.

BTW, I did finally get my revenge on The Crush. At least that's what I call it. A year and a half after we moved, my family went back to San Diego to see family and friends and get out of the snow for a week. Some friends hosted a party for us and The Crush was there. I knew he would be, and, to be honest, I planned to blow him away. I was completely focused on The Frog, but that didn't mean I was going to pass up a chance to get attention from The Crush. I got all pretty-fied and went to the party. I still have a the picture in my mind of his face. I was cool and casual, chatting with other people, and he stood off to the side of the room just staring at me. I was no longer an awkward teenager. I looked much more like a woman, and insisted on carrying myself like one, at least while he was looking. Yes. It felt good. I'm not even afraid to admit it. :D

Some stuff

Some basic stuff:
I'm 22 years old
I've been married for 3 years
I lived in San Diego until I was almost 16 years old
I now live in a small town in Northern California
I am a Christian
My husband and I own our own engineering business

Some fun stuff:
Dogs are awesome and want to own a Great Dane some day
I love to cook and try new foods
I thoroughly enjoy music and play piano and bass guitar.
I also have played flute and french horn, but not since high school
I sing and love karaoke
I like gardening, but I'm not very good
I like photography, but never make the time for it
I like wrapping presents

Some other stuff:
I hope to be a mother some day
There is nothing better than getting to cuddle up in bed with my hubby
I use the term "hubby"
I had thought about being a journalist or a nurse
Jake and I watch British TV shows, and love them
I used to have really long hair. I cut it in September and have had issues with it ever since
And I complain about it fairly often
I work out so I can eat junk food
I prefer fresh fruit and veggies, but junk food is so often easier

Some more stuff:
I'm organized when it comes to projects outside my home. Inside, well, I can ignore a lot of things
I have an iPhone and it is awesome
I'm married to a hunter
We installed a pull up bar in our hallway and I can't do even one.
If we had a garage I might take up taxidermy

I've run out of things, although there is tons more. I guess you'll just have to wait to find out.

Now what?

I have a couple followers now. Not a couple. Four. And I have comments now. Six. I didn't want to admit that I counted, or have been paying attention to that sort of thing, but I did, and I do. But now that you're here, and I know you're here, I don't know what to do. Maybe it's because there is no real purpose to this blog. I don't have any direction. I'm not planning a really awesome cross country road trip. I'm not an amazing prayer warrior with tons of wisdom about life. I'm not a cancer survivor. I'm not (I tried to wrap my mom up in a single sentence, but I just can't. She's too complicated) my mom. But on the up side, I'm able to check out all my followers and learn who they are. :) So welcome, and thanks for following.

I'm flattered that you've followed, although I really don't know why. Well, I know why mom did, and I'm pretty sure I know why Susan did (or at least I assume) but I don't even know you other ladies. What could I possibly have to offer you? And the commentators? As far as I can tell, you all probably have much more interesting lives than I do. I re-titled my blog a couple times in it's remaking, trying to come up with the best name. I finally settled on "a day in the life of a young wife" because I guess that's my direction. Why would that direction be interesting to anyone who isn't a young wife, or my mom, or my mom's friend? And even to them? I don't know. But I really appreciate you being here. I assume that I'll have some epiphany or something in the future and become really famous in the blog world and you'll be glad you stuck with me all that time, and you can say you knew me when, but it might never happen. Just a heads up.

This is me with no direction. Sad, right?

Anyways, I don't mean to be all whiny, but since this is my blog, and I can write whatever I want, and I don't want to NOT write, because then I just stop writing all together, this is what I wrote about today. And that is an example of me writing how I talk, in sentences all pushed together. I don't do this in real papers, just so you know. My momma taught me well. I at least KNOW that I have bad writing edict when blogging. However, through writing this post, I got an idea for another one. So thanks for listening. :)

I heart my mom

We're having a GNO (girl's night out). We're out of town, in a hotel room, having a blast. Well, right now we're just laying side by side being chill and getting ready for bed, but up until now it's been a hoot. Hot tubbing, strawberry mojitos, pedicures, and girl talk. I love hanging out with her.

She's such an inspiration to me. I think she knows it, because I'm pretty sure I've told her before, but I want all of you to know that she's an inspiration to me. She's a hard worker. She's opinionated. She's truthful. She's got a rockin' marriage. She's gorgeous. She's strong. She's gracious. She's wise. She's fun. She's loving. She's compassionate.

She's my best friend. I strive to be like her.

She hasn't always been my favorite person though. I totally believe that the reason we're so close now, the reason I respect her so much now, is because she was a MOM when I needed her to be, even when I didn't want her to be. Not in a mean way, but in a great mom kind of way. She punished me when I needed punishing. She called me on my crap when I was messing around. She made me go to school (or do school since I was home-schooled) when I didn't want to. She kept me in line. She told me about God. She taught me how to cook. She taught me how to do laundry. (And for the record, she taught my brother too, he just refused to remember. I'm not sure who does his laundry now because he still claims that he doesn't know how when he comes home to visit.)

She also took me to the movies. She giggled about boys with me. She taught me to really appreciate a nice pair of heels. She took me out to eat. She lay in bed with me while I cried about my first love (a lot. I'm a crier. And he ignored me for years) We got pedicures and massages together. We went to the theater together. She offered to slash the tires of my ex-boyfriend's car. She supported me in my musical endeavors, even when piano recitals were filled with horrible stinky children.

Now that I'm an adult(ish) and married and moved out, I still totally love hanging out with her! I love talking with her. I love laughing with her. I love crying with her. I still call her when I have a question about anything. I still feel the need to go crawl in bed with her. She has great insight, and I trust her with my heart.

This is us in February getting ready to go out for Valentine's Day with our Valentines. She's so awesome Jake and I double date with her and dad. :)

Anyways, it's way later than I planned, but I just wanted to show some appreciation for my momma.

I LOVE YOU MOM

Songs that make me happy

Although I'm croaking talking a bit better today, I still can't sing. But these songs still pump me up, so I thought I'd share.

Ignoring the half naked ladies and the poor morals in the lyrics, I LOVE this song. I makes me happy and I can't help but get up and dance around. So be happy with me and get up and shake it! :)


I can't get enough of this girl's voice.


I love Train. Have for a long time. Never actually had watched any music videos until just now searching for this song. Not sure who I was expecting, but it wasn't him. lol. Anyways, this song melts my heart.

Life as a mute

I still don't have my voice back. At all. If anything, it's gotten worse. I don't just sound like someone else, most of the time I don't sound like anything at all. Occasionally I can get a few words strung together, but for the most part it's a whisper punctuated by a squeak here and there. It's really quite pathetic. I miss singing. I usually sing all day. I miss making noise when I laugh. I miss talking. I feel crippled by my inability to vibrate my vocal chords. I can't even grunt like Frankenstein!

Jake and I went to the big city today for some hang out time and shopping. We went to Chipotle for lunch and I had to whisper/squeak my order to Jake to be reiterated to the guy behind the counter. I think the guy thought I was agoraphobic or something. After that Jake dropped me off at TJ Maxx while he ran some other errands. I found a muffin pan that I'd been wanting and cautiously headed up towards the cashier. I tried to keep the croaking to a minimum, but the lady looked at me like I was The Creature from the Black Lagoon.


I couldn't make pleasantries with my fellow shoppers. I couldn't ask for help. The poor Starbucks drive-thru window dude really earned his tip trying to make out my order. They say all you need is your looks...well whoever "they" are, they have grossly underestimated the power of vocal communication.

I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way.

So maybe I'm just not cut out for the blogging stuff. I've been reading lots some of my friends' blogs and some other blogs that I find interesting as well...and I don't know how they all do it! I'm a stay at home wife with no kids and I can't seem to find to time to actually sit down a write. The only reason I'm here now is I'm up nursing a sore throat. I had a pretty good flu on Sunday (not the tummy part, but everything else including fever and aches) and since then my throat has just been on fire. Then I was really naughty Wednesday night and went out to karaoke with my parents. I love to karaoke. I just can't help myself. I only sang one song because I was going to be nice to my voice, but it was already too late. By the time I got home I sounded like Jessica Rabbit. Sultry, sexy Jessica Rabbit. I love it when I sound like that.

Unfortunately by morning I sounded like Jeff Bridges. By mid afternoon my voice was swinging towards the other end of the spectrum and I sounded like Betty Boop. By evening I sounded like a combination of Mickey Mouse and The Chipmunks. Now, I don't even know what I sound like because it hurts too much to try. Or sleep for that matter. I'm sucking on a cough drop and drinking chamomile tea with lemon and honey. Maybe in a bit I'll be able to sleep. That would be nice. In the mean time, I've learned how to do my makeup like Mrs. Rabbit. I guess that could come in handy next time I have a cold.