Happy Mother's Day!

I posted a picture of my backyard yesterday and Kari was all, 

"Uhhh your yard is ridiculously gianormous. Seriously. Gianormous."  

Girl, you've got no idea.

  

It takes 2 hours to mow with a push mower. 

I really didn't think it through when I told Jimi the house with the big yard was the best one.  

Of course, he hadn't yet told me of his "grass allergy", either, so how was I to know?

Happy Mothers Day to all of the Mommas out there!  My Momma spent the weekend with her sisters; she'll be back home this afternoon and the plan is for Jimi and I to go over and make dinner and plant the lilies we got to replace the ones that were accidentally mowed over last year (Dad).  Daddy's birthday is tomorrow, so I've gotta figure out something for that - nothing like waiting till the last minute.  It'll all be fine.

I've been reading the things you've all written about your moms and how much they mean to you, and I want to do that for my Momma, too, but I feel like I'd probably do it wrong.  I don't know; I don't feel like I'm a very good daughter sometimes.  I love my Momma more than just about anything else in the world, but I take her for granted; I don't spend time with her the way I should, I don't invite her over for dinner or to bake, we don't meet out for lunch and shopping once a week or even once a month.  I'm pretty sure I went three months without seeing her after New Year's and she only lives 20 minutes up the road.  It's shameful.  I know I won't have her around forever, but it feels like she'll always be there because I can't imagine an alternative; she couldn't possibly grow old and die because she's my Mommy and she still has so much to teach me!

Sometimes I feel like I've let her down by not having a grandchild or two for her yet; like there was a way things were supposed to work out and giving her grandbabies was on the agenda and I've not done my part.  She doesn't make me feel that way - she doesn't pressure or nag - I just feel like I've let her down.  And I fear that if I wait too long I won't have her wealth of knowledge and advice at my disposal.  

Jimi asked me last night what Momma's favorite meal is, and I don't know the answer.  I could only come up with "chicken livers" - I know she loves them, but I don't think they're her favorite.  She likes eggs but can't eat many of them because they make her belly hurt.  Her favorite color is green.  She's left-handed and she plays the piano beautifully - she can open up a piece of music for the first time and play it like she's practiced for days.  She goes to the grocery probably 5 times a week.  She cooks dinner almost every night even if there won't be anyone but her to eat while it's hot.  She's a worrier - all the women from that line are, me included.  She's brilliant with money - Daddy says it's all because of her that the banks would be happy to lend them more money than they could ever hope to pay back.  She makes delicious healthy foods and says they're not worth eating because she forgot to add this or she put in too much of that - Granny did that too, and apparently, so do I.  

She says she's not my friend - she's my Mother.  There's a difference.  At 31, I'm still working to get her to revise her stance on this topic - I get why it was important 10 or 15 years ago, but these days?  Not so much.  

I love holding her hand or hugging her close to me; she's my Momma, and it feels like coming home to touch her.  I know I'm always safe and loved when she's in the room.  Her smell is Aromatics Elixir from Clinique - if I get a whiff on another woman in a store, I have to call Momma to tell her I love her because she suddenly feels close.  

She always has the right words.  When an ex-boyfriend hurt me and I had to leave the apartment we shared, I thought I'd have to suck up my pride and beg to go back home - Momma's words were "Natalie, you get what you have to bring and you come home.  And for God's sake, don't let your father find out what he did."  I don't remember the exact words either of us used when I called her from El Paso to tell her my husband wanted a divorce, but I remember the fear I felt dialing the phone, and the relief that washed over for me when she said she was just so sad for me, but that I was strong and she admired my strength and that she'd get my bedroom ready for me again - and then she sent me a check to pay for my moving expenses.  And last year, when I was pregnant and then I wasn't, she loved me and cried for me and with me and told me everything was going to be okay and I believed her because she's my Momma and she'd never lie to me.  

She's my Momma and everything I have, everything I am, is because of and thanks to her.  She's taught me everything I know, but I still have so much to learn.  I'll try harder, Momma, I promise.  I'll do better.  

Happy Mother's Day to all of my friends out there in blogland, also.  You've all taught me a lot - about life, family, friendship, womanhood.  Like a community of motherly knowledge I can draw from - thank you.    

In other news, this:

Okay, now that I've found 100 things...

Today, a week and a day after my 31st birthday, I'm finally getting my cake and ice cream.  I've requested my favorite, strawberry cake with fun-fetti icing and vanilla ice cream. (Very grown up, Momma says.)  For my 13th birthday, my Momma made me a strawberry cake and decorated it to look like a pink boom box.  My friend James made me a strawberry cake and decorated it with tiaras and princess castles last year.  Strawberry cake really is my favorite.

Momma asked me if I had any input on what I'd like for dinner.  The only thing I could come up with was grilled asparagus.

31 feels like a turning point, a crossroads.  Like I'm going through some sort of awkward phase, a growth spurt. Maybe I am.  Maybe I'll come out on the other side, 32 and a full-fledged adult.  One who does a load of laundry every night instead of letting it pile up for two and a half weeks and then only breaking down and sorting and washing because clean panties are nowhere to be found.  One who immediately does the dinner dishes when the meal is finished.  One who vacuums and dusts every Sunday.

I'm not saying it's likely, just that it COULD happen.  You know, miracles happen every day.

31 does feel weird, though.  Not old, I'd never dare use that word in relation to that number.  Wiser?  More aware?  More appreciative?  Something.

So far, though, aside from feeling a little odd, 31 is pretty cool.  I'm happy, healthy, loved.  I've got a job and a home and a car that just rolled over 70K miles Friday night.

That's pretty cool, actually.  My little Honda Civic, the one I bought all by myself with my very own credit in September of 2004, the one I didn't need my (ex)husband's income to qualify for, the one I drove from Nebraska to El Paso and then back home to good ol' Kentucky, has just rolled over 70,000 miles.  I can probably get 70,000 miles out of this car three more times before it shits the bed and has to be replaced.  Of all the decisions I've made in my life, buying that car was probably the most sound financial one.  (Well, as long as you don't take into consideration the fact that my OLD Civic was paid off and in good shape and had only 145,000 miles on it and probably could've been driven (for free) for another 150,000 without much more than basic preventative maintenance.  But whatever.)

I'm so glad the sun is out today - the weekend's been kind of a bust and the sun makes everything seem happier, doesn't it?  Yesterday was Thunder Over Louisville - a huge air show and fireworks display that kicks off the official Kentucky Derby Festival festivities.  Every year, my boss gets us tickets to the Bats (local AAA baseball team) game, and we hang out together all day and watch the game, watch the air show, watch the rednecks, watch the fireworks.  And drink beer and booze we smuggled in and eat fried foods and complain about the heat or the cold or the sun or the clouds.  Yesterday, though, the weather sucked.  It was cold and windy and drizzling and gray.  Everyone backed out, and then I did too.  I think the only tickets that were used belonged to C and her family - so 5 out of 20?  That sucks.  I'm going to have to offer to reimburse the company for the four I requested and didn't use.  Suck.

Did you know Haagen Dazs makes Sweet Chai Latte ice cream?  Holy shit, it's to die for.  Go get some now.  I'll wait.  Delicious, right?  I told you.  Haagen Dazs just has it like that, though.  They make everything delicious.  I'll never forget the night Kat and I got that banana split from their store in the Crystal City Mall in D.C. - cherry vanilla ice cream, a banana, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts.  God, my mouth is watering just remembering it.  We drove around the Ft. Belvoir area for much longer than we should've, running in and out of Targets and Food Lions, darting to their frozen foods sections in search of that never-before-heard-of-but-now-must-have-it flavor - Cherry Vanilla.  No one carried it.  No one had it.  We gave up and hung our heads and stopped at the gas station to fill up her car and get some snacks.  Guess who had Haagen Dazs Cherry Vanilla ice cream?  That's right, the gas station did.  Grocery stores didn't, but the gas station did.  For years after that, I felt as if I had to buy 2 pints every time I found the flavor in stores - it was like a rare gem!  I'm kinda over it now, though.  Maybe it's guilt by association.  But this sweet chai latte is delish.

Jimi's going to take me to "breakfast" (it's noon already), and then we'll go find some fun until it's time to head to Momma & Daddy's for my birthday dinner.  It's kinda like "Natalie's 31st Birthday, take 2".  That's what I'm doing today.  What are your plans?  May I make some suggestions?  First, go enter my giveaway.  I'll mail you some shit from my house.  Fun, right?  Then, go join in on the Comment Love Day over at FTLOB.  Everyone loves comments.







Happy Sunday, Friends!

Stuff and Things

I sat out in the front yard yesterday afternoon, my chair positioned just-so, lining my body up directly into the rays of the sun, no shadows anywhere if I sat just right.  I tried to read, but the book I've got right now is some bullshit fluff mystery novel that is poorly written, if not entertaining on a base level - it wasn't enough to keep my eyelids from getting heavy as that warm light beat down on me, so foreign and welcome after weeks of rain and dreary.  Finally, I gave up and put the book down on the arm of my chair (breaking the spine, of course, because that's how I roll), leaned back, closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

I woke probably 20 minutes later, my hands asleep and numb because of the way I'd had them positioned, Finn lying next to me, sniffing the air, watching for interlopers into his yard (squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits - we've got them all).  The world was blue-tinted - that weird off shade that comes from sleeping in the sun, even behind sunglasses.  My skin was warm and tight - when I showered before bed last night, I found I had a new pink tint on my chest, and my freckles are a darker brown.  I think I remember briefly wondering before I drifted off to sleep if I should put on some sunscreen, but I was so comfortable, so warm...

I think Spring is going to be here for good any minute now.  It feels new and sunshiney and bright and promising out there.

We took Finn for a long walk in the park yesterday, too.  I'm starting to really enjoy movement, exercise, and it's a new and welcomed thing.  Not that the scale's moved at all, but that's cool.  It feels good, and I only ever do anything because it feels good anyhow.

Red Hot Chili Peppers on my Pandora Ben Harper Radio station.  I'm not going to give it a thumbs down, either.

Jimi just suggested pumping up the tires on the bikes and going for a ride down Southern Parkway.  OMG, yes, yes, a thousand times YES!  Getting him to walk with me is like pulling teeth, but he went yesterday and didn't make too much noise about it.  We're going to DC in less than 2 weeks, though, and DC?  It's nothing but walking.  Walking here, looking at that, walking there, looking at this.  Spending the next 10 or so days doing some form of physical activity daily is a really good idea; otherwise, I fear there will be trouble.  And by "trouble", I mean we'll get to DC and he'll have a hard time with his hip or his ankle or some such other thing and I'll be super pissed off and I'll want to be a complete bitch to him over it and say mean things but I won't because I love him so I'll sit there instead and not talk at all except to answer in one-syllable words and he'll know I'm pissed off and he'll feel like shit just like if I'd said mean things and I'll feel awful and he'll feel awful and we'll get back home and be like "wow what a great vacation" in a monotone itsucked sort of tone.  No one wants that.  And I'm going to try to find some non-walking things to do up there, too, just in case.

I love the weekends.  I love having all the day to myself, to do whatever my little heart desires, even if that means reading the internet and napping outside and eating quinoa twice in one day.  (Quinoa with walnuts and cranberries?  Holy smokes, yum!  And the fact that it's good for you?  Double yum!)

That's all I've got for now.  Oh, except that it's Sunday again, and that means Comment Love at FTLOB.





So that's pretty awesome.  Happy Sunday, Friends!

Real fast...

I need to put in some overtime, so here I am taking a break to blog.  Awesome, Nat.  Good job. 

I'm meeting my Momma at the get-pretty place tonight for haircuts and facials.  My Momma's never had a facial, and I can't wait to see how much she loves the experience.  I wanted to spring for some hot stone massages, too, but she was all "I don't know...I don't want you to spend all that money on me..." so I didn't do it, and now I'm regretting it and wishing I'd just said "whatever" and signed us up anyhow.  Maybe we'll do that next week.

I've been in desperate need of a haircut for probably the last 2 years.  No, I'm not exaggerating - for some reason I'm incredibly nonchalant and lazy about having my tresses trimmed.  My last two "trims" were self-inflicted - fed up with my ragged split ends, I got out of the shower, pulled my wet locks into a ponytail, then used nail scissors to cut the most damaged 2 inches or so off the ends.  Dull, curved nail scissors at that.  Needless to say, tonight's professional touch is long overdue. 

The boss is out of town today and tomorrow, which mean Finn-dog gets to come to work with me.  YAY!  Work!!!  I wish I could get as excited about it as him.  He doesn't even get paid to be here and he loves it.  Maybe we should all try harder to be a little more like a dog when it comes to work.  Or something.

I made my famous, delicious, you-know-you-want-some beefy vegetable soup last night.  SO YUM.  I brought enough today to share with my co-workers because I'm sweet and generous like that...and because I don't know how to make less than a full stewpot of soup and I know Jimi and I aren't going to be able to eat only soup for the next week.  One of these days, I'll start meal-planning and will freeze my leftover soups and such.  One of these days.  Kimmie said the next time I make this particular soup, she wants me to triple the recipe and sell her the extra.  I wish Kimmie was rich so i could charge her a million bucks and not feel bad about it.

I'm still reeling from all the love last night that came from the awesomeness that is FTLOB and their readers.  So many new comments and followers!!!  I feel so special.  Thank you for liking me.  Now I have to go read all of your blogs so I can get to know you and how awesome you are. 

That's all I've got for now, and I really need to go do some work, so I'm gonna do that.  Have a lovely, happy, sunshine-filled Wednesday!

OH YAY OH YAY OH YAY!!!

They featured me!!!  YAY!!!

Wait.  Do you even know what I'm talking about?

For The Love Of Blogs (that place you'll go if you click that button up there on the right), they have this Featured Blogs thing they do, and today is my turn!!!  YAY!

There's no other way to say it:

So, if you're from there, thanks for stopping by, and why don't you pull up a chair and stay a while?  Welcome, new friends.  :)

Tag, I'm It!!!

A while back, a girl (woman, now) who lived up the street from me when we were growing up left a comment on my blog.  It's always cool in a i-hope-i-haven't-written-anything-too-embarrassing sort of way when someone from THE REAL WORLD finds my blog.  I'm still pretty hopeful my Momma doesn't know about this published-for-the-world-to-see-but-somehow-still-sort-of-private journal of mine...I use the eff word here and I try really really hard not to do that in front of my Momma.  Anyhow, I was like "Oh cool!  Stephanie blogs too!", and then I was like, "Oh, crap, I hope I didn't say anything that she'll go tell her Mom about and then her Mom will go say something to my Momma..." and then I realized she has far more interesting things to talk to her Momma about than my boring blog.  (It's not all about you, Natalie.)  It's neat to find a blog of someone you know in THE REAL WORLD, isn't it?  Stephanie and I, we'd said a few hellos to one another via private messages on a local social networking site, but that was years ago, when her babies were still itty bitty babies, and it's not like we took the time to share family photos or to tell each other about our days.  Linking back to her blog, Dirt and Lace, I read about her girls (they're 3 and 4 now, and look so much like Stephanie did when she was a kid.), her husband, her family, her business ventures.  And I also discovered For The Love Of Blogs.  (See the button over there to the right?)  (Oh, and coincidentally, Stephanie's blog is nominated for the March Blog of the Month Award.  She'd probably really like it if you voted for her.)  So, For The Love Of Blogs (we'll call it FTLOB here, it's quicker), it's a shiny happy place where bloggers go to find other bloggers and spread blogging love to all the blogging world.  In other words, as a blogger, they help you find readers.  As a blog-reader, you're introduced to all kinds of new blogs and stories and tales and sads and happys.  It's win/win.

So, I've found some pretty cool new reads thanks to FTLOB, and my most recent favorite, Elephants & Rainboots (I mean, how freakin' cute is that title?), she tagged me in this 7 Facts blog-love-spreading award thingy.  Thank you, thank you, thank you for the bloggy love!

This is the first time I've ever done this, so I'm sure I'll do it wrong and break the whole thing, and I almost didn't do it at all because I'm so afraid of failure but then I remembered:

The Pledge

In for a penny, in for a pound.  

The Rules:

1.  Copy the 7 Facts picture (above - the one with the sunflowers) and paste it in your blog.

2.  Thank the person who tagged you.  Share the bloggy love and link back to their blog.

3.  Share 7 Facts about yourself.  (I guess that's where the title comes from?)

4.  Pass the love to 15 other bloggers.

I feel like the fat kid in dance class.  Again.  You're not all laughing at me, are you?  If I'm doing it wrong, you'll tell me, right?  Okay, here are seven things about me that I'm pretty sure I've never talked about before here in this space:

1.  I really was the fat kid in dance class.  Stacy and I took dance lessons when we were little - I was maybe 7, 8?  Who can remember?  I was awkward, that's all I know...but that really could describe almost any period in my life.  Anyhow, for a year, once or twice a week, Momma would drive me up the road to the dance academy in the strip mall with the 6 foot gold-colored plastic trophies in the windows, where a pretty 30-something blonde lady tried to teach me and 8 other girls tap, jazz, and ballet for an hour; where I would pretend I hadn't spend most of my days watching the Smurfs and He-Man and She-Ra instead of playing jump-rope or propelling myself across the monkey bars.  All (in my not-reliable memory) of the other girls were tall and lithe and graceful and already looked like superstars in their leotards and sheer pink gauzy skirts.  I was round and soft and my leotard bunched up in my butt crack and my tap shoes rubbed blisters on my heels.  At the end of the year, shortly before my little brother was born (so I was 8 and 9 during my lessons), there was a recital.  My costume was red satin, with silver sequins glittering on the spaghetti straps and the 6" wide swatch down the front of the leotard; there were two skirts, (because of course, costume changes are awesome!) one with a thin band of silver sequins supporting a 4" long skirt of red fringe, and the other was an 8" skirt of fire and glare - it was nothing but sequins.  The whole thing had a flapper-ish feel to it.  We were required to wear pancake makeup - I remember my Momma, big and pregnant, working on making sure the rouge was bright enough on my cheeks, that the bright red lipstick didn't smear.  I'll never understand the blue eyeshadow thing, but we had to have that, too.  My dance shoes - the ones for tap and ballet - were spray-painted silver.  I loved every minute of it - the dressing up and wearing make-up part, not necessarily the learning part - but looking back it was expensive for Momma and Daddy.  They didn't put up any fuss when I decided I didn't want to go back.  To this day, I'm a lousy dancer.  

2.  I like popping pimples.  It's gross, I know, but I can't help it.  I don't want to watch videos of other people doing it, because that sorta makes my stomach do flip flops, but I kinda like popping pimples in real life.  Jimi doesn't let me talk about it; he won't let me pop his, either.  He says it's gross.  I know he's right, but I can't help it.  

3.  I chipped my tooth last night.  On Finn's dog bone.  It's a pretty innocuous story, really.  Finn had the bone, I was holding it for him, I leaned forward to kiss his nose, he let go of the bone and it smacked me in the teeth.  It hurt.  Fortunately, I don't think the damage is serious.  

4.  When I was 19, I got a tramp stamp and had my belly button pierced.  I was dumber then, and thinner.  The piercing only lasted a year or two; the tattoo is still there, but I never see it, so whatever.

5.  I love Sudoku puzzles.  I'm pretty good at them, too.  

6.  I once decided to quit a job because they changed my schedule at the last minute and it was going to cause me to miss the season finale of Friends.  No, really - it was an office job, where i worked from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. four days a week.  At 6 that fateful Thursday night, they told me they needed me to stay till 8, and that my schedule had changed to 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Tuesday through Friday effective immediately.  I thought about it for a minute, realized my show would be over 15 minutes before I got home (this was in the days before DVRs and Hulu.com), then I packed up my desk and went home and watched my show.  I sent an email the next morning saying I wouldn't be returning to work, but I would be in to pick up my final paycheck the following week.  They tried to make me do an exit interview, but I refused, and I knew they couldn't deny me my final check, so I avoided giving them a last opportunity to berate me.  

Okay, I didn't quit just to watch Friends - the schedule change was just the final straw in a long history of abuse and mistreatment I suffered at the hands of the owner of that company - one that specialized in Human Resources, not even joking.  For six months before I quit, I drank Alka Seltzer every day, four and five times a day, in an effort to combat the horrible heartburn I felt from the time I woke up until I was finally home for the evening.  The morning I sent that email?  No heartburn.  It was like a miracle.  No guilt here.  

7.  I'm a pop culture ignoramous.  On the rare occasion that I watch a movie all the way through, it's likely that I won't remember much about it a week later.  I don't know actors names and I don't recognize them when they're in good costumes.  I don't know who's been on SNL or what happened on Lost or Dexter.  I don't know what music is new or good (I listen to NPR in the car).  I have no guilt about any of this.  

Enough about me.  (That was hard.)  These 15 blogs are ones I enjoy, and I think you should give them a look-see, too:

1.  The Halloween Wife

2.  Very Trashy

3.  The Happiest Sad

4.  The Ramblings of a Realist

5.  No SugarHoneyIceTea

6.  Operation Shrink Charlie's Big Butt

7.  Well, Goddamn

8.  Shrinking Violet

9.  I Won't Say

10.Diary of a Newlywed

11.Very Ape

12.'tine's Top Tens

13.About Life*

14.Know-It-Not-So-Much

15.Chubby McGee

Now I have to go post links to this post on their blogs so they'll know I've tagged them.  I hope they don't laugh at me. Tag, friends, you're it!  C'mon, play along, go join up at FTLOB, etc. and so on.  

Oh, and Happy Saturday!