Me & Charlie Sheen

Lose respect for me, if you like - but the whole Charlie Sheen thing fascinated me. Is it sad? Absolutely. Is it a tragedy that someone has to fall this far down the addiction hole? Absolutely. Am I going to park out in front of his house and watch the show? No. That said, if he is going to put his crazy out there, I will tune in from time to time for a release of my own reality to check in with his delusion. Like I said, lose respect if you will - but don't hate me for my honesty.

Also, it's not my fault - it might be genetic.

Time out on this... walk with me. I promise we'll get somewhere. I'm not actually about to go down a nonsensical road alla truth torpedo Sheen style.

This here blog was started to keep people posted so they could stop asking "how do you feel" when I was preggo with the kid.  It was the lazy(wo)man's mass email.  It's starting to merge into something else. There is some stranger danger here, I may not know you are reading.  Sometimes people think I'm funny.  Sometimes I think I'm funny.  It's a way for me to deal with, document, get through and celebrate what happens everyday.  Sometimes, I keep the family in the know, sometimes with things I'm sure they'd rather not know about.

My mom (Nana Lu) is a big time stalker. Hey, Mom!  Besides this here space on the world wide web, she keeps an eye on me on the twitter & 'book of face. She's started to comment on Facebook posts, but that took awhile. For awhile it was just text messages. She has yet to comment on this here blog, but has commented on another blog as she took it upon herself to heckle sour grapes style when we didn't win a contest we entered. Awesome (sarcastic font).

Note to self, random person - if you are watching and thinking about starting a blog, think about not using it to keep your family in the know.

Why would I say that? I believe in interaction. Instead? I have people checking in, not telling me they are there.  You, reading this. I don't really know you are there. Then there is the book of Face, which is I worry about. Am I sharing too much? Lord knows I have people on there that I want to hide. Between sleep schedules, meaningful quotes or passive aggressive status updates that leave me wondering - I know people who share too much. I think a lot about the book for some reason, it's more personally tied whereas twitter is more general for me.  It's probably where I am most real, quite honestly, with some semblance of anonymity. Well. Except for the fact that there is my mom. Opening a twitter account. JUST to watch me. Just to see what I update.  It's weird.

It was weird, until it just got weirder. And by weirder, I mean hilarious.

Time in. Back to my thoughts on Mr. Charlie Sheen. Just when I thought I was the only one I find out that I can use me and Charlie Sheen in the same sentence.

My mom only follows two people on twitter, me and Charlie Sheen. 

Rudolph is a (Dirty) Chip off the Ol'Block

I'm a HUGE stats dork. Excel? It's my dirty little secret. That bastard can make me happy no matter what kind of mood I'm in.
In the same vein, I LOVE finding out stats, numbers, visitors, who stays, who goes, how you find this little space online. 


I started paying attention when I realized how many smokers out there are attacked to this space... bizzaro world. Now? Now Rudolph has brought you here, perhaps. Here's my question though - why is Rudolph considered dirty? A weenie, fine. Perhaps a loner. Dirty? I don't buy it.

snap shot of some search keywords

Rudolph's dad a jerk - check. I believe. I BELIEVE. But fault the little guy for being dirty? Can't we just leave that B alone?

#100things

Over on twitter I've been tweeting out the random 100 things about me daily. God bless hootsuite for sending it out for me - on a schedule. Cause lord knows I try to start traditions that I end up forgetting to do. That said, I figured why not start a new one that I hope to not fail miserably at. Hey, that could be 100th thing. I start things that I have a hard time finishing. 


Thursdays will be my thing day, I think. If applicable I'll try to further explain why or what surrounding my 100 things in an attempt to a) have you get to know me better b) give me some subjects to write about c) because I think it's fun and really that's what this whole thing is about for me. 


Yes. That's the plan, and I'm sticking to it. You've been put on notice.

Signora & The Backpack

In high school I had a teacher, we'll call her Signora.  I took her class for years and I can't tell you I retained anything, subject related. To keep myself in the class I had to write the words I had to know over and over again to remember them. We're talking Bart Simpson style.

It wasn't perfect, but it worked out. I took the Italian from 8th grade through 12th even though I could have stopped after 10th, I stayed. I elected to stay because despite never learning an ounce of Italian (though I can understand way more than I can speak or admit to understanding) - I learned more about myself in that one class, with that one teacher, than I learned anywhere else. 

You know those Hallmark movies, where the teacher goes into the inner city and saves a young gangster from a life of crime and incarceration? That was what it was like from me - except we were in the suburbs of Long Island, I was actually a pretty good kid and didn't need saving. 

I was a good kid, for the most part. I made decent decisions for most of high school, but I have always been an older soul.  I had a great group of friends I hung out with and some really good friends, at the time.  That said, when there were dances or events I would often be found on the sidelines chatting with the teachers - chatting with Signora.   I remember once at a school event we were in our usual chat spot and we were talking about my douche of a boyfriend at the time.  She looked at me square in the face, into my eyes, the kind of stare where you look into some one's soul and in a direct and almost unnerving way laid it out for me. I'm better than that, I'm better than this relationship.  I'm a strong person becoming a woman and I didn't 'need' things like I thought I did. Eventually I'd get that - if not that day but it hit a nerve somewhere in there. Did I go through life looking for the 'right' situation, like the way Signora told me about? Absolutely not. Did I at some point in the beginning of my relationship with the ball & chain remember that conversation and agree in silence that things CAN be easy? Absolutely.

The thing that stands out the most, that I still carry with me is a backpack she once talked about.  This, of course, has nothing to do with the Italian. I wrote a speech my senior year of college to be read at commencement.  I was chosen as one of the finalist to read and even bought my first suit for the audition.  I didn't make it, but the experience, like all things through out my life still exist in my backpack. 

(This is the part of the experience I break out my box of photos from high school & college to reference the speech - because I'm a hoarder with out being buried by my hording efforts.  It's also around this time that I realize, in re-reading my speech that it wasn't Signora that gave me the backpack theory but some unnamed professor in college.  To keep the integrity of the post, I'll tell you truth. It wasn't Signora but I'll get back to why I'm keeping it in the story in a moment.)

What's the backpack theory? 

Through out your life you carry with you a backpack,  middle school style.  It holds your memories. It influences who you are.  What you carry in your backpack drives how you interpret things.  It holds your experiences.  As time goes by your backpack can become overstuffed - you subconsciously clean house. New memories become more vivid and on top, while old ones stay in the bottom. 

It's nothing new, but it's stuck to me, as Signora has.  A woman who took her job beyond the Italian language.  For years I have recalled this story in my head wanting to write a post about how she made an impressionable difference in my life. I admire that kind of passing impression.

I keep the backpack theory in because regardless of who shared it with me, she's prominent on my backpack like a broken in patch she comes with me.  As I meet people and continue to journey through life she remains a major influential person I have come across. I wonder if she realizes the time she took to get to know me has helped to shape the woman I am today. 

Once again - big ups to the SITS girls and to the sponsors of the Back to Blogging event, Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen & Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.  Put that in your backpack.

repost - Aruba Bahama Come on Smoking Mama

I've been thinking a lot about writing a post about what brings people to this blog and thanks to the SITS girls I have a specific reason to talk about a title I am particularly proud of.  By accident I titled a post something that would bring the bulk of new readers to the site. Now, how often they come back? That's another story. Just the fact that I am re-posting the title of the dang thing will drive more visitors here, according to statistical probability. 

Side note: I love stats. It's a problem. I love excel. I love percentages. We have a sick twisted love affair with each other. It's one of those black and white truths you can't question, and I love that. I'm a black and white girl.  

Aruba Bahama Come on Smoking Mama is one of the titles that I am most proud of. I think it's fun and it makes me smile. I love all play on words and phrases that people find familiar. That's probably why some runners up included: 

• Bring on the shackles. I am your prisoner.
• How Granny Got Her Groove Back*
• WANTED: Sleep - 4 hours - Name your Price (Boston) 

In addition to being fun, I'm also proud of it because it brings all the girls (and guys) to the yard. As I look at the stats and keywords of how people find me this here post has brought me people searching the following keywords:

• smoking in aruba
• smoking mama aruba
• aruba smoking
• smoking aruba
• smoking aruba mama
• smoking mama
• aruba + smoking
• aruba bahamas
• aruba, bahama come on baby mama
• Personal favorite. Don't know why.
• bahama come on lady mama
• bahama come on little
• bahamas come and bring your mamama
• growing up in aruba
• raising de motocicleta en aruba
• smoke in aruba
• smoking guarras
• smoking in aruba 2010
• smoking.mama.com
• smoking mama pictures

Sure I'm attracting people looking for smoking mothers in Aruba, by in large, but dude I'm happy to have a new reader or two. Beggers can't be choosers.*

Thank you to SITS and to the sponsors of the Back to Blogging event, Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen & Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.

*Disclaimer: I obviously do NOT encourage smoking mothers - or anyone smoking for that matter. It's a joke. 

repost - rehab

Were you here yesterday? If not check it out to get the full scoop. Long story short: The SITS Girls are hosting a blogging event this week with the help of generous sponsors: Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen and Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.  Still haven't heard back on my Kelly question, but with or with out her, it's cool. (Don't know what I am talking about? Check this out - real quick).  The Back to Blogging event is still open! If you want in, check it out here. 

I digress, the assignment today is to re-upload a post you wish more people had read and explain why it was important to you.

My post - as of last night - was all about how as I looked through my old posts I realized the early parts of this space,  was a lot of why I hate being knocked up, how pregnancy can suck it, how nothing goes as planned, a month long stint in the NICU can make momma a crazy cranky human being - not a lot of love and light (yes, I quoted Danielle from NJ Housewives).  I wish more people read a post about me and my Buddha belly and a crazy little show I put on because simply put, it's my life. It's how I roll and just one example of why I write - because the craziest sht happens to me, including the Care Bear stare. 

Then something happened. As I was going through to link to some posts that help to describe and 'show' you what I mean (see links above)  - I found another one that it turns out I need to re-post instead.  Sure I found a loop hole by linking the hell out of the top of this post.  What can I say? I'm sly like a fox.

The post is important to me because days like this one made me who I am today - the mother I am today. It is apart of the foundation of my mommy-self.  It frames most of my posts about L's stay in the NICU and it's one of the moments that I can pin point and have documentation for when my mama lioness instincts came to the surface.  It's a post with equal parts uncertainty and certainty of being a mother.

Without further ado: Rehab - originally posted 10/11/2007


Two days ago was not a good day- having had yesterday now behind us- I realize actually how bad Tuesday was. L was wilding out... stupid morphine. I am sure it carries a nice buzz, but the residual effect of getting her OFF the junk is not nice. She has all these "symptoms" of withdrawal that look like baby symptoms! I mean, I’m no expert, but on Tuesday I was convinced that the nurses didn’t know what they were talking about. That what they were sighting as problems, I was fairly sure non-junkie babies have.

They look at this list of symptoms and score her- to see where she is on the withdrawal scale- a 0-3 is where they want her… closer to 0 of course as she gets to 4-5 they watch her closely because once she goes to 6+ she is in a place where the pain, discomfort and overall danger is. It’s not that she will go and jump off the wagon and try to score some ‘phine at the corner- but with increased agitation and discomfort her stats could change. Her vitals- all those numbers and values we have learned about have been great. We don’t want those to change. She is off all aid of oxygen support now- and what is left to complete before we can take her home is to get her off the drug and eat independent of the feeding tube.

Tuesday, I wasn’t seeing it all as clearly. This whole scoring thing was driving me crazy. It is so subjective- they can mark her as having withdrawal - because she "isn't acting like herself." Now that quote would push me close to the edge.
"UMMM, LADIES, HOW do you know what she is like? She is 11 days old and is only now starting to feel anything because you've had her hopped up on drugs since day 1."

That's what I feel like screaming at the nurses.... but instead I smile and say thank you- and pick up my crying little girl and try to calm her quick enough that she doesn't get a bad 'score.' I do ask a lot of questions, but at a certain point I have to have faith in what they are doing- and trust they know what they are doing- but I do question a lot... I can't tell if they appreciate it or want to hurt me. I figure either way I win.

Appreciate it- they like me. They are good to L.
Want to hurt me? Well then they will want to make L better asap to get rid of me asap.

Some signs of withdrawal are:
- crying
- spitting
- sneezing
- alertness
- diarrhea

The nurse we had Tuesday- literally everything L did- I got “that’s a sign of withdrawal.”

The day went like this-

LAG wakes up and fusses until I pick her up.
Nurse says, “that could be a sign of withdrawal”
I say, “Don’t most babies cry when they wake up and need a change?”

LAG shats her brains out. Literally.
Nurse says, “that could be a sign of withdrawal”
I say, “Don’t babies usually have nasty diapers?”

LAG spits up her food.
Nurse says, “that could be a sign of withdrawal”
I say, “Could it perhaps be the fact that she got too much food in this feeding? She hasn’t eaten this much to date- doesn’t it take time to expand the belly?”

LAG sneezes.
Nurse says, “that could be a sign of withdrawal”
I says, “Don’t kids sneeze or is that generally just an adult behavior?”

I was angry on Tuesday thinking that they were just going to willy nilly give my babe her fix, rather than fixing her- sleep deprivation will do that. I questioned a lot and did more research – and like I said ultimately we had to decide whether or not we were going to have faith in the professionals- because last we checked we didn’t attend any kind of medical school. Tuesday night, as they said they might, they increased her morphine and Wednesday I finally saw what the nurses and doctor was telling me. She was a different baby. IF she didn’t have the same cute mug, I might of thought they switched her out with a different girl.

The amount of morphine she was on while they were making her lungs better, was extremely high- and coming down from that will take time. Patience has never been a virtue that I have had, but everyday she teaches me what it’s all about. Last night, they took her down, back to where she tweaked out on Tuesday, and as they said it would happen she is doing better. She is handling this reduction like a champ.

She is currently 1/2 way there to 0. This is in less than a week from when they started weaning her off- looking at it like that shows what a Rock Star she is. But everyday is a different day- nobody said rehab would be easy.

repost - first comes love

I'm participating in a blogging event this week. I like the idea of being challenged and given some themes and subjects to consider when writing. This one has a few that I hope will help me to reconnect with my blog.  It sounds like we are estranged or something, we're not. Still in love and all that but it's part of  continuing to blog and my hope to be better this year. It's also, as many things in my life are, a bit embarrassing. Going through old posts and critiquing is going to be a pain in the ass embarrassing fun. The event is pretty interesting, if you want in, check it out here. 


The SITS Girls are hosting the event and to sweeten the pot they have a sick giveaway (decoding for you - sick in this case is good and give way is a prize you win for participating and getting the word out). Would I put my nose up at Thelma & Louise? Heck no - these ladies need respect.  That said, I never win anything and I'm doing this for the fun of it. (Decoding for you: the prize being kick ass washer and dryer system from Electrolux that have been lovingly named Thelma & Louise.) 

For that, I would like to applaud the sponsors to this week long event: Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen and Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances.  Pretty great of them to get on board and be able to make dreams come true. My question is: will Kelly Ripa be coming over to teach me how to bake cookies, fold the laundry at superhero speeds and be able to throw clothes into the room that make it into the closet? If that is the case, and I missed that in the fine print.  Let me know, because I pimp the heck out this contest and sponsor information if this is so. 

Now onto the re-post of my first post: 

first comes love - originally posted 5/2/2007

The story is an oldie but a goody- it's a little bit of history.

Picture it University of Hartford circa 1998: J a freshman with a bullhorn and a mission running around campus and C visiting his best friend from high school having no idea that these two star crossed lovers would be walking down the aisle 7 years later.

Timing never a friend to the couple, years pass and a friendship grows. Camping trips, weekends at 67 Chester Street, barbecues, parties- these two nicknamed Mama and Daddy would always be paired to help organize! Food fights, games, mayhem and madness would always ensue- and behind it all a crush that is never talked about.

Fast-forward to New Years Eve 2002- C has moved to Hoboken, NJ and has jumped into the dating game. Over drinks the conversation turns- C needs a lesson on kissing. What’s a friend but someone willing to help another friend out? Minutes later a group has gathered in the kitchen to see J and C kissing in the corner- with lots of work ahead of him- J advises to just keep practicing- it has to get better with practice. She hopes.

A few years later, a wedding brings them together once again. This time things are different- looking back they both felt it but was unsure if the other felt the same way. Something about the air, the environment- you couldn’t have asked for a better day. A weekend full of friends, fun and celebration brings the couple to a wedding. A night of dancing- dropping it like it’s hott and a ride home. C joins J, sharing a seat when there was plenty of room for everyone to have their own seat. Finally timing works for C & J- no one knows who kissed who or why- it was meant to be the kind of situation and kiss you only see in the movies. A romantic comedy of course, look at the characters.

Reality sets in and C returns to his home, at the time, sunny California. It is here he reviews the “Rules” and practically drives J to a nervous breakdown. A call doesn’t come until 3 days later- per the Rules guidelines. Timing once again rears its ugly face- after days of waiting a call comes and J’s cell phone dies. She returns to work to finally have the conversation… nerves set in, and hence comes the most awkward phone conversation ever taken place on this earth. After weeks of phone calls- that get better, of course and many many emails the only thing to do is to plan a visit.

J plans a trip to San Francisco to test the waters- since she was not raised a fool she brings a wing man just in case! My B chaperons J and C for a few days- however it turns out they didn’t need a buffer. They were just fine. Better than fine. They realized this is not just a crush.

The timing curse rears his ugly head- C moves to Boston, MA and J takes a transfer with her job to Long Island, NY. Over a year of long distance, 4-8 hour traffic filled drives, phone connections rattled with “Can you hear me now?” and then a new complication. The addition of Abelle- a puppy that needed attention, love and considered whenever a trip was planned. While the commute terrible- the relationship grew and strengthened.

In October of 2005, as they started to pack J up to make the move back to Boston- so that they would finally be in the same city a hiccup of poor timing might have just been the most perfect way to ask J to be C’s wife.

Living in the same city- the stories continue and the story only develops.

----------------------

Ok now that you've time traveled, you are back in 2010 and I want to tell you what I would change and what I loved.

Change:

• The whole thing! First, I would have probably started with the what or why to blogging and  frame the whole thing, rather than jumping into how I got here. 
• Most importantly - damn this is scattered. I write from a prospective that is my voice but holy hell I jumped all over the place.   To be fair, the blog itself was started as a lazy(wo)man's way out of mass emailing my friends and family about how crappy I felt when I was knocked up.  The people reading at the time knew the characters. 
• I probably wouldn't flood 5/2/2007 with the continuation of the story.  While this is my first post, I sequentially published Then Comes Marriage and Next Comes Baby In a Baby Carriage minutes apart. I would have spread out the love a bit more.
• Finally, and this is something I still need to do something about -  I need to change the name of this damn blog. When I say the name, no one knows how to spell, what it even means, that it is part of my last name, etc. That's still a work in progress that I perpetually keep putting off.  Jumping into the social part of social media - commenting more, joining more of these themed writing events, etc I'm sure isn't going to help matters when I make the shift. Maybe the new name should be "Can't Get It Right" or "Procrastinator Killed the SEO."  See, nothing catchy coming to mind.  

Love:

• The pictures. They really do say it all. 
• Our story, despite not being able to follow it - trust me. I love our love story. 

How it might look today, if I was able to think about it more. First, I would post the following on a cleverly named site and URL TBD. 

Dear Diary, 

I know you know this, but I didn't want to walk away in silence and not provide us with closure.  It's the closure we both deserve. We have had a tumultuous relationship. We go back and forth with commitment, dedication and consistency. I'm with you, I'm with out you, I love you, I lost you - it's really been quite a roller coaster, you and me. I know this is going to sound like a line, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. 

It's me, not you. 

I just can't commit to you on the daily and you deserve more. Frankly, I feel like I've evolved in a world that you have stayed still in. People change.  I need to change fonts, the ability to post pictures, easy search functions and spell check. You know me, you know I need spell check.  You can't deny me that. I need more out of this relationship than you have the ability to support. I've gone through my life trying to change you, but you are who you are.  You deserve to be appreciated and I can't - not today or tomorrow. Most likely any day. 

I know what you are thinking, "You ungrateful little B. You'll be sorry. This experimental time in your life will not provide you with what I have and would have." Maybe you are right.  The heart wants what the heart wants - and I want me a blog. I thought it would only be fitting, since I spent much of my adolescent life re-writing words to songs that I loved at the time that I would leave you with a song that best describes my feelings. 

Good bye sweet, Diary, it's been quite a ride. I hope someday you can find it in your heart lock to forgive me. 


Love, 
Me

P.S. That's another thing that has changed, remember what I had to do to figure out the words to songs? I would have to wait for the song to come on the radio, time the "record" carefully on a tape deck and hope to God that a stupid DJ wouldn't jack up the recording with some kind of announcement as it ended? Now a days, I can buy a song with a click of a button.  I don't have to listen to it incessantly while I feverishly write down the words either.  All I have to do is search on the world wide web for song lyrics and hope I don't download a virus. It's less risky than the DJ interruption which would jack up my recordings 99% of the time. 


Anyway, as I was saying, as a cracked out wise woman once sang:

"I Will Always Love You"

If I
Should stay
I would only be in your way
So I'll go
But I know
I'll think of you every step of
the way

And I...
Will always
Love you, oohh
Will always
Love you
You
My darling you
Mmm-mm

Bittersweet
Memories
That is all I'm taking with me
So good-bye
Please don't cry
We both know I'm not what you
You need

And I...
Will always love you
I...
Will always love you
You, ooh

I hope
life treats you kind
And I hope
you have all you've dreamed of
And I wish you joy
and happiness
But above all this
I wish you love

And I...
Will always love you
I...
Will always love you
[Repeat]

I, I will always love
You....
You
Darling I love you
I'll always
I'll always
Love
You..
Oooh
Ooohhh

Where I Get My Genius On!

Today a learned a lot of things.  I learned what a meme is and how damn cluttered I work.  I heard about a one time meme through Laurin Evans and thought let's do this dance. She asked the question how do you do what you do?

Originally when we moved (I say recently a lot, but it's actually been a year) the plan was to rent while we look for a house and buy something. In the interim we'd be going down from a two family income household to a single income so we found a SMALL place with three bedrooms. One for us, one for the kid and a small office for the ball & chain.  He was going to be working from home. That was the plan.  I was going to stay home with L and I hoped be able to organize our life, myself and maybe even write a bit more, blog a bit more, do a bit more outside the walls of the office I was working in.  Enter a great opportunity to continue to work with the company I have been working with for 7 years.  Work from home, for a company I love and with people who have become more than colleagues, sure - why not? Maybe even having the best of all worlds? I punk'd myself and our plans for an apartment we had already signed for. What to do? Give the kid the smallest room which would have been the ball & chain's office - we figured she's 2 how much room does she need? The "master bedroom" and the largest room in the house became OUR office since we'd both be working from home. That's right, OUR office. 


It actually works, despite our completely different jobs, styles and volumes of voice - it works. 


We are different. Duh. You'll SEE how clear that statement is when you see our work space (you'll see, be warned). He likes to listen to music, I forget if it's on or not unless I'm working on some kind of statistic or report.  If excel is up - I'm usually listening to some kind of Jersey Shore - ish play list.  Fist pumping and beating the beat make formulas, formatting and data work for me.  I pace a lot when I'm on the phone from kitchen to living room (I forgot to take pictures of my path).  If my desk or desktop doesn't clue you in to how I work and/or how I write I don't know what to tell you.  I blog mostly from this cush little spot on the couch (you'll see), writing this bad boy here right now.  That said sometimes if I get an idea or start to think about some things I will draft them from my desk.  Sometimes if I need the quiet I'll go back to my desk and get things done.  My space may give you heart palpitations, but I assure you I know where everything is and there is a method to my madness. Confession: I may or may not have even straighted up a bit before the photos - but ONLY a little!

my go-to spot. me & my mac. my buddy. my girl.

Follow along with my mayhem, inspiration & space!

1. Oh Edward. Half joke. Half favorite decoration. I would have a life size cardboard pop up if I found one out and about. He looks over me and I look at him when on long conference calls. Swoon.
2. My bulletin board is my life line.  It stores all things important like rando bumper stickers, old holiday cards, fun greeting cards, things that make me smile.  Smiling = life life. Also a life line? Important numbers I can't seem to remember, including 4 digit extensions that I've known for years. The board has too many jokes that you'd have to "be there for" to describe but I smile every time I look up!  Cool artwork given to me by a friend that she found on her journey through South Africa. All good things go up on the wall.
3. Books, CDs & etc - I'm some what (totally) obsessed with dummies books, instruction books and how tos. In. Love.  I keep a few close by just in case I need to remember how to do something. Right now blogging ideas & using my damn digital SLR camera which I can't seem to use properly, despite my best efforts.
4. Dress I am due to wear in November that I may or may not be able to fit into today. 
5. Music station that DJ Jazzy Christoph mans and my second book shelf for office supplies, computer / camera wires, battery chargers etc - it may all look like a hott mess but I assure you everything is labeled. You also can't see my overworked label maker, but she's there. 
6. My to do pile, you saw the close up. Not soooo bad? Right?
7. Oh files files everywhere. The ones to my left here are things I need in a quick grab. 
8. Picture of me & my ex-work wife on a trip to Mexico we affectionately referred to as our Honeymoon-Springbreak 2004. Exes only because she moved and worked her ass off to become a nurse.  She's getting married in a few months and I am absolutely honored to stand up beside her in her wedding party. Only issue? See #4.
9. Here (usually) lays my mac & iPhone. Multitasking is at it's best when I need to text, work off my mac because my PC is ticking me off or otherwise occupied. 
10. Here stands dreams of projects or things to do.  Pictures to put in frames, albums, a craft box to do crafty things with (unsure what exactly), and boxes of L's artwork that the ball & chain can't seem to throw away. I can't say I help the matter - see red box full of art. 

Maybe it's because when I worked in an office where I could only have 2 personal items on my desktop, I've clearly gone rogue working from home. Continuing to work full time from home is ultimately a blessing, but it isn't always easy.  Figuring out the balance isn't always possible or easy (see wanting to post this before the end of the day and hoping that no one notices this is actually posting tomorrow), but I'll keep at it. I'll continue to make piles of things to do, sit in my spot, and TRY to make things happen. Oh and I'll also be buying my office buddy the most ridiculous souvenirs I can possibly find when I'm out and about.

Obsession: The SoMe Addition

Maybe I'm just obsessed with linking - but I feel like I have to outline my obsessions.  These right here are my obsessions as it relates to the world wide wild web:

1. Google. I google things, it's what I do. I google random things. Why fight? Why debate? Google it. 
2. Regular reads. I love you internet for so many reasons. I get to keep up with friends and/or people that speak my language. I may not 'know' them - but reading them helps me on the daily in one way or another. And by daily I really mean as often as possible. God please point 3. 
3. I wish I had the patience to link all the feeds in my reader. God I love that thing. Find something interesting? Subscribe. That's how I do. 
4. In related news - Google Alerts that I subscribe to in my feed. Love. It's like a constant Google search for an interest, question, statement, phrase that gets delivered to my door. See number 1.
5. StumbleUpon. Well... that's usually how I find something interesting. 
6. The book. Obvi.

What is the meaning of life (on this blog)?

In high school I was friends with a girl that used to say "I'm a bitch, if you don't like it, then don't be my friend."  Oh hell, that drove me nuts because she was a bitch and I didn't like it - but damn if I could walk away because I like real people, however much they piss me off. She's one of the few kids I still keep in touch with - sure it's mostly through Facebook - but that counts. Real messaging not just inviting me to plant something in her garden or cook something in her kitchen (explanation for my non-Facebookers out there: these are references to stupid games people play on facebook that irritate me. Please tell me you know what facebook is).


Why do I blog? It's a space I can be me and not apologize. It's the naked truth in a place that you can love or leave - though I do hope you stay awhile.  I write how I talk because I like to tell stories and sometimes there is no sentence structure that works for all that I need to get out and spelling, grammar and keeping it clean doesn't cut it (that was on purpose).


Writing makes me smile.


For most of my life crazy things happen to me and as I tell the stories that are my life I have been told  I need to write it down. "You need to write a book!" they would say.  I'm not disillusioned that there is a book somewhere in here.  I'm a editors nightmare. Let's be honest.  I have, however, always wanted to write the stories down.  I journaled (Dear Diary style),  but I'll be damned if I can read my handwriting.  For as long as I can remember I thought, "write that down." Then there was Doogie (yes Doogie Howser, MD) who would dear diary each night - was Doog the first blogger?


I started blogging because I found myself with child and mis-era-ble.  Confession: if you emailed me in 2007, just so you know, your very detailed email reply from me was most likely a result of me cutting and pasting to several people giving them an update. I thought it was more personal than a mass email.  Frankly when I sent mass emails you'd always respond and part of my reply would address why I was mass emailing.  I was being kind to both of us.


I decided to cut out the middle man all together and write it out.  I've never, in my life, felt better. I am a writer, however in progress and process I may be. I am passionate about words and evoking a response.  Even if it comes to me by way of emails, phone messages or texts.  P.S. I want you to comment, in case you haven't heard.


I love the connection and finding those connections, however virtual.  Reading like minded people or those that are different but speak my language.


I read over at Aunt Becky's Mommy Wants Vodka (or Bud Light, if you ask me) who was inspired by Cecily to ask the question - Why do you blog?


I feel at home. I feel saved.  I've talked at length about all this, but having this outlet took me places that I don't think I realized at the time.  I have my memories and my stories to share.  I'm just starting the journey.


I'm not a follower.  I want to be the kind of woman I want my daughter to be.  There is always a little wiggle room, if you ask me.  I'm going to listen up and be real. I'm going to write hard and do it for me.  It's who I am, and if you don't like it - then don't be my friend. Seriously though, dude, I'm pretty cool - stay awhile.


*This post was updated 9/17/2010 to recognize some fantastic women & sponsors - the SITS girls and to the sponsors of the Back to Blogging event.  Go check them out -  Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen & Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances. 

URGENT: ACTION REQUIRED

I send emails with that subject line on occasion. I send long emails (on occasion) and that's the only way I can get the action that is required. My second go to is to put an outrageous subject line to prompt the person to at least open the email. Sometimes I feign my own fertilization.

In other news - I am trying to pull this blog together add some bells & whistles and such. I'm also trying to beef up my 'best of section.'  Have a suggestion - what made you giggle? What made you say, Damn Girl. What evoked some kind of reaction that maybe even... MAYBE had you thinking if ONLY I could get the courage to leave a comment. AH HEM. Comment DAMN IT. Alternatively email me, call me, text me, skype me, FB or in 140 break it down.  Surprise me, won't you?

Crisis of Faith

Transparency is a funny thing. I'm fine being transparent - or so I would like to think so. There are times though, where I come to a cross roads and I'm not entirely sure. Enter in Facebook privacy controls.

Here's the background. I've been blogging for 3 years, on Facebook for at least 2 years? Not sure - but before that I think I was on Friendster and even MySpace. Remember those crazy bastards? Anyway - I didn't put it all out there, but mostly.  I don't know that I censored. If I did, I didn't notice as much as I notice now. 

I feel the censoring, in everything I put out there - for better or worse. Sometimes (most times) I don't filter what I say live - so it's partly surreal.  You have to give me credit, well I guess you don’t have to but I certainly give myself credit.  It’s a better idea to do that then go balls to the wall and run my mouth on the wacky world wide web to live forever.  

My principles are being tested and my opinions on this subject may not be where you are, but I’m here.  There could be a few schools of thought on this – I’m many things; including an extremist we’ll go with two.

• Be authentic – be who you are. Own it. The good, the bad, the ugly. FTW.  If you aren’t at your best, it’s you so be you.
• Be representative – you are who you are associated with. Be mindful. Who you are is connected to those around you – be it family, friends, associations, involvement, organizations you work with or work for, companies, etc. Be your best self.

One might say there is a middle ground, but I don’t want to play in gray here.

My heart says FTW but my head sometimes says to be my best(ish) self.  I usually go with my heart 9 times out of 10 but I think about it more lately.  Speaking from the heart, here it goes.

Take for example Facebook.  It rocks my world. I am probably hidden by most people, I can be an over poster, but I try to check myself (being my best (ish) self) but sometimes my inner tourettes has got to get out. Plus I can be clever sometimes and I need to share. My kid says goofy things and I need to share. My luck sucks wind and I need to share.  I freaking love comments back (ah um, comments on the blog rock much more, ahh UM) and all the back and forth. Frankly, it helps stay in touch and is single-handedly putting the phrase “What’s new?” into retirement. And helps to cut down on unnecessary phone calls or calls you don’t have time for because you know what’s up.  I think this last fact here is the reason why those who hate it, hate it most – but it’s one of my favorite parts.  True story. I’ll defend why on another day.

Side note:  I hate “what’s new?” … and yes I recognize if we do talk I’m a user of what’s new. It’s mostly my filler while I think of a specific question. Busted. Transparent. Balls to wall.

Now due to my over posting tendencies and over sharing addiction I was hesitant to share my account and open the door to people I know through my full time job.  I kept my maiden name as my profile name to avoid being ‘found.'

Side note: I wasn’t really ‘known’ by my married name at this point so that was kind of doofy. 

I didn’t approve friendship requests and when I did there were more privacy restrictions on my account it would have been easier to hack into the mainframe of … well something well protected.  And I would over complicate it so much, then I would protect things in a way I didn't even intend. I can't win.  Finally, I opened the floodgates.  It turns out many of my very best friends I met through work, so why segregate? The need to censor - beyond what I (sometimes) remember to do knowing family is watching - the blurring lines.  It has become clear that this whole facebook and twitter is not a fad and we were starting to incorporate it in our communication, customer service and marketing efforts.  In terms of blogging I mean if you want to know something about me or my life, use the search box. You'll get more than a chit chat session.   This is where the voice in my head starts to talk a little louder. I can't help it though, "the heart wants what the heart wants."

Recently I’ve wholeheartedly adopted my FTW embrace. Maybe the fact that I just quoted a man in love with his daughter should prove something to me, but this is who I am. I could curse less. I could be more half glass full type of girl - but would I be me? I'm struggling. As the lines of professional and personal lives officially blur what's a girl to do?

What do you do?
Is this thing on?

I’ll Show you Mine if You Show me Yours

I've been blogging for three years - well 3 years and 6 days but who is counting.  According to my stats I average 21 visits per day.  21 is a nice number - I mean it's the age to (legally) drink so that's nice? Right? Not really because I'm thinking when you take that number and take out a few given numbers we go into the teens.

We have my mom, who I'm thinking accounts for at least 3 of those hits - like meal time she refreshes through out the day, my in-laws (hey!), I hear C has a friend from college whose mom reads, at least 2 of C's coworker, my co-worker and loyal bloggyfriend and MyMy.  Hey all. Welcome back.

The other 11 people... glad to have you. Truly.  I know there are others that read or come by to see what's going on - maybe not on the regular but you're here. What up. I get emails, texts, or FB messages assuring me you are here. Holla.

Numbers are funny.  Until the other day I had 9 followers, officially. I'm up to 13 and couldn't be more thrilled. Oh wait, I could. How'd I jump?

A friend of mine,  Wombat Ward, blogging 3 days brought you here. Sure. I haven't moved across the world - fair enough.  But for serious what do I need to do to get a comment on this bad boy? Oh wait. I know - my poor dog has to be on a decline to get some life lines out there.

Oh no my reflection is appearing angry when really it's all about happiness right now.  Here's the thing, I've been writing for me - truly only for me.  That said I wouldn't lie that it doesn't make me skip around the house when I get a comment or two. How can I increase that?  How can I write in a way that compels you, the lurker, to delurk?  From Wikipedia, the definition of a lurker:  In Internet culture, a lurker is a person who reads discussions on a message board, newsgroup, chatroom, file sharing or other interactive system, but rarely or never participates actively. Research indicates that “lurkers make up over 90% of online groups” (Nonnecke & Preece 2000).  There is a National Delurker Day - and we'll get there but who am I to move up the holidays?

Instead I'm going to do something about it - first by asking and reminding you to comment every once in awhile.  Let me know you are out there you creepy voyeur. Why not? Aren't my welcoming words helping? Second I'm going to marry my personal and professional passions and I'm going to learn how to make this happen.  I'll be networking, do some hands on learning ... fun and fabulous opportunities I can't even stand it (in a GREAT way).  I got the nod from BlogHer '10.  Holl.ER.  Mozel Tov to ME! Even better? I get to go with a friend who is just as goofy excited as me. And by Goofy I mean Snoopy.

Smoking in Aruba

In my pursuit to blog not only to write but be read, I've been looking into my Google Analytics. I'm fairly sure I should know the ins and out of it - but from what I can tell it's more of a curiosity thing? It certainly brings with it interesting information. For example, this site has been hit more than a few times when someone searches. "Smoking in Aruba" - HA. Runners up?

looking for smoking momma phone numbers and growing up in aruba.

I guess while it was one of the reasons I hated that place, it's one of the reasons I have you. Stranger danger who has googled smoking in Aruba. Listen Stranger Danger, do me and mine a favor. Listen, I'm all about smokin' em if you got 'em - but in the pool? While people are eating? All over everywhere? Is that really necessary? Come on, Stranger Danger - get some prospective. Gah. I'm back to hating Aruba all over again - and I was just thinking of it in fondness.

OH well. Next time.

Flashback Friday

I'm committed to trying to make this whole blogging situation work. I love writing, even if no one is reading. It's cathartic. Sometimes I'm not the worst, either - so that is fun. We'll see where this road goes. Lord knows I've promised this sort of thing before.


Here is my plan - I'm posting more regularly come hell or high water - or as I like to call it neglected family or undone work. I'm going to start scheduling posts out - so I can at least update several times a week and maybe not spend too much time through out the week. What's a week out of 4 through out the month to completely ignore my child, husband and employment responsibilities.


The thing is, with out being knocked up (I'm not knocked up), there seems to be less that is funny enough to write about. I'm told though stories I tell or things that have happened to me are laughable - so I'm going with a throw back theme. So here I thought I made it up/but apparently others do that too. Whatever, let's just pretend. Fridays are for Flashbacks. Stories from the past, perhaps some photos - lord knows there are enough to go around. I'll try out the whole "Wordless Wednesdays" - but in addition to slacking on writing, even with over 2K photos from 2009 and the off spring... I'm slacking on photos too. Good grief... I have a lot to do.


- busy being busy