Flatline.

It's about time I lowered the standards in this joint and pulled together a disjointed, entirely random post. Lower the curve and all... What? It's already a straight line around here? Huh, how about that?!

**************************************
Once again, I was on the road this weekend bringing derby goodness to a neighboring league. Busy, busy, busy and lots of fun as well. I have to say that I'm not really used to being away from my kiddos this much -- I'm glad that things will settle down shortly, cause it's hard on this Mommy's heart to wipe the tears away from her little guy's eyes the night before she leaves. The logical side of me is all, "He's pulling out the stops, now..." but the softy part of me pretty much was reduced to quivering goo. Which The Kid sensed like a shark within a mile of blood and only made him amp up his assault (sorry, I calls em like I sees em) to record levels of PatheticHeartwrenchingSadness. *sigh*

**************************************
I have been a faithful, workout machine for... ummm... err... two weeks, now. I know, right? This was not a good trend for me. Not the new working out trend -- the sitting on my butt trend that preceeded it. Gosh, that trend felt so GOOD at first. Telling myself it was "off-season" and I could eat cookies. (mmmmm....cookies.) But it kinda ended up kicking me in the teeth and making me hate myself for getting a lil bit plushy. Luckily, it's all good and changeable, so change I will.

I've got one of my girlfriends who is on mat. leave coming over in the mornings and we're working out together in my basement. Let me tell you, I am loving these Insanity workouts. Besides being a terrific workout plan that is whipping me back into shape, the trainer is totally jacked and says the most awesome things. Like, when at the end of the workout everyone is dying and crumpling to the floor in a pukey heap (including him) he says, THIS SH*# IS BANANAS, YO. Best. Workout. Line. Ever.

**************************************
Last night I finally had the chance to observe the Kid at his Hapkido class and I loved every bit of it. He really has taken to this class and the instructor working with him was totally awesome with him. I've never seen the Kid work so hard and be so FOCUSED at something before. He really, really wants this and I have to say, he is pretty awesome at it, thus far. The dojo Master even noticed and commented a week or so ago that he has never seen a kid that age be so persistent and committed to perfecting the work as the Kid has been. You know, I've said and believed all along that every one of those intense qualities the Kid has also has a positive spin. It was really, really, REALLY nice to actually see it, though. And I'm so happy for my boy to have finally found that thing that he ROCKS at!! Gosh, I'm tearing up just typing this and thinking of him doing his thing. :)

**************************************
In related dojo news... I believe I further confirmed the fact that I have the impulse control of a small child when, arriving at the dojo early and finding it entirely deserted, I was rendered brainless upon seeing the array of Muay Thai kick bags hanging from the ceiling. I promptly set up for a killer roundkick. Which promptly almost broke my foot in half. It didn't help that mid-kick I remembered that Muay Thai bags are much more solid than a heavy bag and are supposed to be hit with your SHIN and not the topside of your foot/ankle as you do when doing blocker drills or heavy bag work. Nice work, Poseur. Luckily my foot is OK, if just a bit on the sore side today. I pulled back enough in that split second to not break anything... just not soon enough to not look really, really stupid when I had to take a couple hopping steps and blink back tears after cracking my foot against that bag. Good thing the gym was empty.

**************************************
And yes... I still have the martial arts bug. I wanted to train with the Kid's class. And, when his class ended and the next group of Muay Thai fighters came in... yeesh... I wanted a piece of that action SOOOOOO BAD!!! Nevermind the fact that I like my face in one piece. Nevermind that cauliflower ears don't look so hot on girls. I wanted to be working drills and kicking and hitting stuff again. And you KNOW that I most definitely wanted in on that BOXING SHORT action.




Sweet!

Interweb, I love you.

I love the random bits of Stuff that get passed around the internet. This morning I found somethingin my inbox that just may Change My Life.



See? How awesome is that? Am I the only one who has labored and cursed over peeling boiled eggs whose shells just wants to STICK to the eggs like they were superglued on?

Unreal. I think I'm gonna go make some egg salad. Right now. Just cause I want to try this out. :)

Need You Now.

EDIT: Decided to forego the competition. Funny how putting something in writing kinda reveals your true feelings about it. Not my thing right now, I guess.

But I'll keep Lady Antebellum's song up cause it's pretty and moving and I love the duet harmonies.

This Road Trip Brought to You by the Letter "W" and Orange TicTacs

Yesterday I set out on the open road to bring a Wheel Demo Event to neighboring derby league. Well... "neighbors" who are about 500kms east of me. It really was a whirlwind of a trip. I packed up and loaded the truck down that morning and was on the road by noon: the event went from 9pm to midnight or thereabouts, I caught about 5 hours of sleep and then was back on the road to come home.

But I have to say it. I did have fun.

At first I was a little grumpy about not being able to take my very own Rocket. I love that car. But Rocket did not love all the STUFF I had to take along.


It was a lot of stuff. And Rocket just wasn't meant to haul the payload. I was really feeling kinda crabby about driving Mr F's SUV. Not that it's not nice, but it's weird to park and back up and just didn't feel at all the same as my peppy and familiar as my lil Civic. But, I soon found myself warming up to the old truck... Mostly because of this bit of Saving Grace.



Oh yes... the dance party was kicked up in thurr. I got all low and gangsta with X 20 and then hit the way back tracks on XM 8 and a little bit of 9. And the Hair Band station was a quick stop in between a little bit of Country on XM 16 and the "good" music on XM 32. I am officially a HUGE fan of satellite radio. NO COMMERCIALS!!! How sweet is that? Let me tell you, it's about as sweet as the Sweetness That Saved Radio. Cause commercials make me want to stab myself in the eye with a dull pencil. True dat.

(See, we's got all gangsta for realz, brah...)

Here are some highlights from my trip; in pictures.


This was actually the first picture of my trip. The point where I got so bored that I thought of the camera in my purse and had the trippy little thought that I should document the boredom. Good idea, Flutterby. Let's drive dangerously while smiling for the camera and see if that picks up the excitement level any. I am genius.


And this my dear readers... is why I was bored.


These babies are MINE, now!! Part of my trip involved a quest for decently priced socket/rachets/whatever they're called. Cause I needed 10 1/2" sockets. I scored a sweet deal at Peavey Mart on double sets of 3/8" and 1/4" drive rachets. Problem was... good luck finding 1/2" sockets for a 1/4" drive rachet. Two cities later I found the adapters I needed at a Princess Auto (and I won't even tell you how freakin cool I felt when I figured out what I needed). I know, I amaze even myself.


I may or may not have eaten 100 orange TicTacs on this trip. Yummm... me loves some orange TicTacs


I also may or may not have sorta trashed Mr F's truck. I promise I will clean it up. (Special thanks to Mr. Tim Horton for helping me not eat icky fast food this trip. FYI, I am not counting the Boston Cream donut as fast food cause all the icing stuck to the bag and everyone knows all the bad stuff is in the icing. The inside is pure, healthful goodness... just saying)


More boredom. Sortof. I actually enjoyed the drive. It's nice, kinda curvy highway which makes one feel a bit like a racecar driver. (*SIGH* Rocket, come back to me...) Just could have done with a bit less of it by this point... 10 hours total on the road in less than 24 hours.


Officially have OD'd on the urban vibe. Throwing up hoods and gang signs at passing cars. I think I may have scared an elderly lady. Almost home.

OK... I will admit that things got dicey on the way home. A girl can only take so much open road on her own. I was on the verge of talking to myself.

The Wheel Demo was a huge success, though. Good sales and absolutely awesome PR. I really enjoyed my time with the girls and look forward to doing another one soon. Maybe just a little bit closer to home this time.

You win some, you lose some.

I am a compulsive hair-changer -- lately it seems that a hairstyle doesn't last on me for more than a month or two. But I may have done it this time. **EEK** Flutterby goes Thug Lite and WAY TOO SHORT for her chubby chipmunk cheeks.

Oh well, it's hair, right? I can always change it next time.

Now off to work to see what the grade 3's have to say about Lunch Lady Red. ha!

Hey, Soul Sister

Needed a pick-me-up today. Train's newest single is a little song that's put a smile on my face. Love the catchy melody and rollicking beat. And watching the lead groove to the lyrics is worth a second smile.

And with lyrics like "So gangster, I'm so thug.", how can you not love it? And have it stuck in your head all day...

Heavy Hearts

Sad news today of humanity's condition befalling a man I respect and admire. My heart aches for those touched by this news.

We all fall sometimes. I hope that this man -- a counselor who greatly helped me reach towards healing and reconciliation in my own marriage -- will walk once again. And I hope that somehow, the testimony of God's mercy and grace will win out over the destruction.

A wise man once said that there is good in the worst of us and evil in even the best hearts.

It can be scary to peek inside the dark places, but I think it's needed.

Deep Thoughts on a Friday Afternoon

This school year has gone by so very, very quickly. It seems that the older these kids get, the more time speeds by. I remember my Mom talking like this when I was younger. Those years, coincidentally, felt like they were CRAWLING along to my way of remembering. It seemed to take forever to get around to my next birthday, the next summer's holidays, etc. when I was young.

By and large, things have gone very smoothly. The Princess is truly a star at school. She LOVES her teacher and classmates and puts so much quality effort into her work. It really gives me joy to see her working hard at her projects and homework... cause I'm not so sure that I was like that at her age. I hope that school continues to be a place where she thrives and feels challenged, where she grows in confidence in her abilities and talents. So far, so good and I count my blessings that this is the case.

The Kid, however, is struggling. This has been a cause for concern for a while now. I think I perhaps even posted about things last year. He does very much enjoy his teacher. She is a lovely lady with a gentle disposition and he really wants to please her and do well. He has lots of friends (although I will say that the playground dynamics for little boys are sooooo foreign to me -- they're worse than girls, for sure!!!) and seems to be well-liked by the kids around him.

The Kid has always struggled with aspects of his temperament which nicely place him in the "spirited" category of children. He is persistent, distractible (and yes... those two qualities CAN be found in one child. I am a witness to it every day), emotionally intense, sensitive and physically active.

I have spent the greatest part of these past seven years growing in appreciation for my boy; as well as learning ways to help him master the difficulties of his temperament. It is a constant work in progress and some days we do better than others. He needs routine and sleep and rigid boundaries... all things which are easy enough to plan, but sometimes hard to follow through on.

He's experienced minor difficulty in the classroom since kindergarten, really; trying to get a hold of his predisposition to be distracted, to control his impulses to chat or blurt out whatever intensely interesting point crosses his mind at any given moment. But, as the years have gone on, the expectations of classroom behavior have risen. And his growing awareness of his internal struggles have increased, as well.

He's not a "bad kid" -- at least, I don't think he is, nor have I heard anything to make me question. He generally does not make poor choices nor does he treat other students with disregard or meanness. He is not mischievous or looking to create trouble for the teacher. However, he is one of those kids who is sitting at the front, in easy reach of the teachers eyes and ears -- positioned, with forethought, away from his friends who may bring extra temptation his way. And whenever I touch base with his teacher, she always makes mention (in a kind way) of his difficulty listening and how easily distracted he is... and I can tell that he is the student who challenges her the most in that manner.

Wow, I'm being long-winded.

Bottom line, is I am beginning to question whether or not it would be good to get the Kid some extra help, some diagnostic tools or whatever. It pains me to see him become aware that he is not the student he wants to be, that he has a sense of his inadequacies in the eyes of his teachers.

I fully realize that, outside of perhaps some special -- or "stronger" -- temperament issues, that mostly his biggest problem is just being a BOY in a school system that is designed to work against everything that makes boys the wonderful little boogers they are.

I guess that my question is simply where to draw the line. When does the benefit of striving to grow and change in an area of Challenge become diminished by the back-bowing crush of being disappointed in your best efforts?

I want my son to learn that personal change and growth is important. That people will have expectations of his behavior his whole life through and that he should be and *is* capable of working towards all kinds of improvements in life. I want him to become a productive, contributing member of society who does not make excuses for his lot in life or his behavior in it. But I don't want these lessons to come at the cost of his sense of person, his value or worth in my eyes or in the eyes of others.

We've decided to enroll the Kid in a Hapkido school in our city. I had a hunch it would be right up his alley. A Korean martial art which focuses on ground work and wrestling, joint locks and disarms... it plays right into my little guys' love for tearing around wrestling on the floor. And he has loved it so far. He is by far the youngest student in the class and he made us very proud with his respectful behavior and attention to his sensei. I hope that this can become something that will FEED his sense of self, instead of take away from it as school sometimes can. And, I hope that he doesn't follow in his Daddy's footsteps and become a street brawler... I trust that he will have better guidance in his life and discipline to handle his strength and temper than Mr. F. did.

And if not, his "reformed" Dad will have to teach him a lesson, I guess. ;)

I've started working with him a bit more intensively at home; trying to help him key into those moments of distraction before they hit his chatter-button.

And I've considered taking him for ADD testing, too... but I'm really hesitant to go down that road. I'm sure there's enough reasons to slap some acronym on him. But I have no intention of drugging my boy at this point; and so I'm not sure what good any kind of diagnosis will do.

Any suggestions, my internet friends? I'm all ears.

The Weekend That Wasn't.

Boooooo...

Boo for weekends that don't turn out. At all.

My crew was scheduled to leave for Medicine Hat early Saturday morning. Things were looking iffy on Friday as warm temps, slushy snow and rising winds were creating havoc on the highways. A few carloads of teammates that left on Friday, texted back messages telling us that the highways were in horrible condition and that no one should follow.

All fine and good except that things only got worse. At 7:00a.m. there were lots of stretches of highway which the provincial hotline was advising not be traveled due to icy conditions and the forecasted blizzard that night. Now, I am a good winter driver, I feel confident handling all kinds of snowy/drifty conditions, blowing snow, whatever. But ice scares the crap out of me, and after a quick breakfast meeting with my teammates, we decided to abandon our travel plans and live to derby another day.

Good choice, especially seeing how as of today... all my teammates who did make the trip are now stuck in Medicine Hat. Sections of highway have been outright closed yesterday and today. It's not looking good for them to get home any time soon and I'm glad that's not me.

But I did promise pictures. So, here is what my yard and neighborhood look like after a snow storm.


Winds have been averaging about 60km/hr for the last two days and there are some huge drifts in our back yard. For scale, that section of fence in the back yard is about 7 ft tall.


It's hard to appreciate the depth of this one. And you can clearly see that I left my deck a bit messy for the winter. I have yet to perfect my outdoor winterizing schtick. Somewhere at the side of the house is a garden hose and sprinkler set, as well. I suck. This snowdrift is about 6 ft tall and covers over 8x12 ft. Can anyone say SNOW FORT? Oh yeah.


Drifted up taller than the fence.


On the street in front of our house.


Across the street, our neighbors ended up with drifting in front of their houses. 5 - 6 ft high against the garage doors.


I can only imagine what this looks like from the inside.

Mr. F was out shoveling twice yesterday just to stay on top of the blowing snow... not to mention the SNOWBLOWING done by our neighbors, which neatly cleared their driveways but added inches more to ours. Honestly, people don't even use their brains.

It's ON!!

Another whirlwind weekend in the works. I will be filling my truck with rad derby girls at the arse-crack of dawn on Saturday morning and we will hit the open road for Medicine Hat, AB where we will proceed to lay the HURT down on the track.

All. Day. Long.

Three games. One day. It's gonna be a gooder!

Which means that today is crazy-full of stuff to do. Ack! I'll be sure to take lots of pics and try to throw something together when I get back that more entertaining than THIS. :)

Have a great weekend, everyone!

This and That.

My morning routine usually involves running the kids to school; each to their own entrance if time permits. This morning, after saying goodbye to the Princess and watching her cross the street safely; the Kid shakes his head thoughfully and marvels, "It's hard to believe that next year she'll be 12 and in Grade 7..."

What an old softie.

***************************

I should know by now that minute I brag to the internets that I've been super-duper healthy all winter that I've pretty much jinxed myself.

Last Monday I went and got my H1N1 shot (long story, but let's call it peer pressure and leave it at that) and ended up feeling flu-ey and sickish for a few days. By Thursday, though, things were looking up and I decided to go to derby practice. Two hard-skating hours and a good sweat later, I knew I was in a bit of trouble. Woke up the next morning with a sore throat and things have been downhill since.

My throat is super-killer from all the coughing I'm doing and I'm kinda worried I'm in for a bit of a replay of the HackingCrudIllness of '07 (which I would link to, except it's not there anymore). Tonight I have a date with some hot tea and an early bedtime, for sure.


***************************

Adventures in skate building! Yes... I took on my first challenge and, all things considered? Success!!

My girlfriends skate plates (the metal brace under the sole which supports the suspension) had been installed improperly from the store she purchased them from almost two years ago. A quick inspection and I saw that, not only were they mounted too far back on the boot, but that one of the plates was over 1/4" off centerline. Yeesh.

So, drill and tools in hand I set to dismantling, positioning and re-mounting my first set of skates. I won't even lie to you. With over $400 of someone else's gear in one hand and a drill in the other; I was pretty much feeling shaky and pukey. But I was also grinning like a lil fool cause, well... I was doing it.

Fast forward FOUR HOURS (cause I'm apparently a big fan of the OCD school of "Measure 30 times, drill once" thought) and I was able to present my girlfriend her skates. And if I must say so... I've not seen a sweeter centerline-forward mount. I was some proud, to be honest. And even happier when she skated in them and for the first time in over two years of skating, didn't break stride over her front wheels or fall due to tipping over those wheels.

I learned some stuff along the way. I need some different tools. And I don't think I'll be doing that again until after I start apprenticing with the Doc. But, it was a cool experience that will hopefully be the first of many.

Big Kid.

I just got myself a new toy...

~ Cordless
~ Variable speed
~ Comfortable no-slip grip
~ Powerful battery
~ 1 hour charge

Anyone care to guess??

?
?
?
?
?
?
?
?
?
?
?
?


*wink*

You have not...

...because you ask not.

Or at least that's what I was thinking when I put my fingers to the keyboard to write a most audacious email.

I chose my words carefully as I wrote a man I highly esteem. His over 30 years of experience, mechanical knowledge and innovative style have won him much accolade in the skate world. He is one of the most-sought after custom skate builders in North America.

I pressed SEND and I waited. And I could not believe my eyes when I received my response.

He has agreed to mentor me and this spring I will be crossing two provinces and seven states; about 2000 miles, to work with him. Something which I think will be the highlight of my year -- and, yes, I know the year is young, but some things just glitter with promise -- and set me on a course I am very, very excited about.

So, here's to asking. And receiving.

Just Breathe

I've always love Vedder's voice and artistry. I'm loving one of his latest and adding it to one of my all time favorites -- a sweet, sad hymn of love.

Variations on COOL

Cool.

I just signed up for a burlesque dance class. I'm kinda expecting some kind of belly dance stuff, but I really have no idea... who knows what my girlfriends got me into?!? But I love them for it, I'm sure it will be fun -- if only cause I've got great company during the classes!


Cooler.

Knock on wood, but I just realized that I've gone over half the winter and not gotten sick. At all. I've had some crappy feeling days and a time or two I had to knock some sense into my wonderful sinuses. But seriously? I'm liking this trend. Add to it the fact that the whole flutterfamily hasn't really been sick, either? Sweet sweetness. I'm down with that.

Tied for second place is my new workout plan I'm starting. And, if USPS would make me the happiest girl... I'll have it in my greedy lil hands tomorrow. Crazy combos of plyo and military-based stuff and killer cardio intervals. It's gonna hurt me bad, but I will love it, cause I need it.



Coolest.

I've been working feverishly on getting a lil project off the ground. I'm launching an online skate store, which I'm pretty stoked about. The website goes live by the end of this week (I hope!!)and I cannot BELIEVE how much work I have to do. After launch, I'm doing a league circuit which means I'll be on the road just a bit, meeting girls: doing info sessions with them and letting them try out some really sweet products I've got. I'm really excited about my business plan and I hope it rocks Western Derby's world. That said, I don't need to conquer the world... just want to do a good job with something I love. I've been cramming my head full of info and stuff and within the next few months will be getting cozy with some power tools and doing custom mounts, as well as trying to track down a mini-lathe that won't cost me my arm and a child.

OH, and I can't forget this. This, which made our children screech and holler. This, which will entirely deplete our carefully saved AirMiles account. But, yay, AirMiles!!! Cause, yeah... Yay, Disneyland!! February, baby! Me and the Mouse are chillin like villians and I don't know who will enjoy it more... the kids or the adults.

So far 2010 is off to a wild start, I'd say.

Note To ME.

Stay strong and be true. You have a good heart. Stand.

Killswitch vs. The Skate Park

So, it's been months since summer which means it's been months since I've done any "aggressive" skating.

Tonight, a group of us girls decided to go check out the indoor skateboard park on the exhibition grounds. And, after jazzing around a bit and getting used to the ramps and pipes again, myself and a girlfriend start eyeing up the quarter pipe in the corner. It's about a three-foot drop in -- small according to skateboard standards, but a good place to start learning to drop in on a pipe.

See, up until now, all our approaches have been from the ground-up. Dropping in from the top is a whole 'nother animal altogether.

We are pumped. We are sooooo bad ass. It's ridiculous.

We clamber to the top rail and stand looking downward. The bowl of the pipe looks pretty freakin impossible from this angle. We test footing and angles and scrunch our eyebrows in consternation as to how in the world we will manage to get two feet and eight wheels over the coping and down the pipe. Our first attempts are passable. I manage to land one foot and kinda half-drag my other toestop behind me. Not perfect, but reasonable for a first try. But by my fourth or fifth attempt, I'm getting a bit cheesed at my uncooperative backside foot.

Attempting to amp myself up for a balls to the wall final attempt, I participate in a little bit of inanimate object trash talk.

"Eff you, little quarter pipe. You think you're better than me? You think I can't own you, little quarter pipe? Just watch me."

At the top, now. I snarl and narrow my eyes. I'm doing this. One quick entry hop over the metal coping and... time stands still as I hang for a moment mid-air. This is gonna be good. I can feel it. Pipe is gonna feel it. And...

I eat it hard. Ridiculously so. It's like my skates are magnetic opposites to the wood of the pipe and I am thrown to my backside in a most inglorious manner. Imagine your kitchen table, if you will. Now, imagine jumping off of the tabletop. And landing straightaway flat on your butt. On the floor.

It was that ridiculous. Pipe owned Me. Point for Pipe.

And I will just say that if there ever was a reason for a derby girl to pee herself just a little bit, it could possibly be a bad ass fall like that.

Possibly.

Just saying.

Solving for X

Grouchy, Cold Flutterby + Super Warm Coat = Toasty, Happy Flutterby

Or something like that.

After suffering through a week of temperatures hovering around -30C (plus windchill, of course... this is Saskatchewan, people) whilst wearing her nine-year-old boarding jacket which had long past lost all it's high-tech loft in repeated washings, a certain Flutterby decides that enough is enough. And gathering her chilly self in her freezing car, she sets out for Army Surplus sites unknown.

For there, she has heard, is the Mother of all Warm Winter Coats. A coat so warm and awesome, it was designed to keep bodies warm during Arctic military expeditions.

Searching for the coat in the midst of other, equally bad-ass looking coats, Flutterby quickly spots the MWWC. It is large and techy looking with gnarly zippers and pockets and enough fur on the hood to cover a large cat. One look at the succinct, no-nonsense military label tells her that this is a "Parka: Extreme Cold Weather". It is surprisingly light and she hefts it over her shoulders and proceeds to struggle with the double ended zipper (What is this? Kindergarten again?? Please.) and arrange the extra large, furry hood over her head.

It is indeed, the winter coat to end all coats. Her search has ended.

If only she didn't look like a large marshmallow in it. *sigh* A TOASTY, WARM large marshmallow, though.




***********************************
It is true that I have entirely lost all pretense of being fashionable in this parka. It is huge. Too big for me, really... but they are sized for buff army dudes and not average housewives. Size small was as little as they came and I still swim in it. I probably look rather like the Michelin Man -- all puffy and shapeless and if Stacy and Clinton got a hold of me in it, I'm sure they'd give me an earful.

But seriously, I am so over FREEZING in the wintertime. And if we are indeed going to finish out our lives here in this nasty part of the winter-world, I've decided that I will at least not wish I was dead when the deep freeze hits.

-35... I'm waiting for you. Bring it.

Rudimentary Equations

Extreme Cold Temperatures + Flutterby = GROUCHY ME

Oscar the Grouch ain't got nothin on me. I'll shank that little green goober before he can flip the lid on his trash can.

And my kidneys hurt. Which seems totally unrelated but I assure you is totally, completely related to both the Cold and the Grouch. And maybe even the shanking. Whatever.

I have a feeling that all this could be nicely cured by a week or two sitting on a beach in Cuba or Mexico or something like that. Maybe my own private island with endless sand, grottos and Krav Maga. But I digress. Yes, I think that some sun and sand and swimming could be the ticket to a happier, less stabby, Me.

Anyone care to join?? I promise to leave my knives at home.

Baby, It's Cold Outside.

The Chanukah candles are burning down; their flames turning long and wobbly. I'm enjoying the sounds of guitar strumming I can hear from the Princess' room, it's so nice to have music in the house, again. I can hear the comfy, splashy sounds of the Kid in the bathtub. And if I listen closely I can probably hear the sounds of pup and Mr F. snoring together in the bedroom, adding to the sports channel that's playing in the background.

Myself, I'm going to enjoy the last few minutes staring into the flames and then tidy up a bit. The only thing that could make this better is a hot chai. Hmmm... sounds like a plan.

AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHGHGGGHGGGGHHGHHH.

I just got served a big, steamy pile of Kicked In the Junk compliments of technology.

Last night, the Princess sang at her first open mic. She was fabulous (more on that later) and I managed to capture it on video. I actually did bring our little Flip video camera, but it self-destructed at the venue (no really... when I turned it on, it took about 10 seconds to boot and then got uncomfortably hot in my hands. Almost had an actual meltdown.) and as a last resort, I was able to catch my daughters' song using my crappy cell phone video feature.

So, tonight, I load up my little mini card into the adapter and get set to move the video (along with over a year's worth of assorted pics) onto my computer. Items copied and new folder made. Button clicked and I watch the little bar travel across the screen as my 69 items are copied into said new folder. (thank you, little bar, for LYING TO ME!!!!!)

I decide to also clean up my mini card, now that everything's been uploaded. Click. Delete.

So imagine my surprise when I open my upload folder and find it EMPTY.

No. Surprise is not the word. Disappointment is not the word. I really don't know what the heck the word is, but it involves the pit of my stomach and lurching and feeling awful. And maybe almost crying.

Cause she was so amazing. I know that I'm a proud mama and that proud mamas can be responsible for so many train wrecks and over-estimations of talent.

But this little girl, she really can sing. And she sang her heart out that night. Accompanied by her vocal teacher on guitar, she sang "Don't Laugh At Me" by Mark Wills. The lyrics are touching, but to hear them sung by such a young lady with a clear, sweet voice... It was special. I was so, so very proud of her.

And I really, really wanted to share it, here.

Sigh.

Uncertainties.

Today I sat in church and as the service closed, the band played an older song. One that I remember from years ago. I've sung it many times over the years and not thought much of it, but today something was different.

Today I could almost reach back in time and become that girl who sang. Remember the feeling of that church sanctuary where our youth group met; the smell of old carpet and wood, the acoustics, the close summertime air. It was a neat little moment, a window in time if you will. I enjoyed it for what it was, but was left saddened in some ways.

I am so different from that girl. She sat there years ago, cloistered and protected; trusting and open to receive. She didn't question. It was so simple and it all made sense so much as life had brought her way.

And I felt like crying. I am tired of the questions and the only certainty I feel I have is that nothing will be simple again.

I can live with that, but I looked over at the sweet girl beside me, and thought of my boy across the way in his Kid's Club, and I hoped that somehow they will be allowed a measure of simplicity. And I feel a little bit afraid that my questions, my husband's questions... have stripped that from them.

Our God is an Awesome God,
He Reigns In Heaven Above
With Wisdom, Power and Love,
Our God is an Awesome God.

I hope that can be enough.

Count With Me, Now.

Prophecy in Retrospect:

During tonight's Grey Cup game, in which our province's beloved Roughriders played the Montreal Alouettes, there were frequent screen captures of the RiderNation fans holding signs which read:

The 13th Man Is Your Worst Nightmare!!!!

And apparently... he was.

I'm still reeling in shock. And I'm not even a huge football fan. That was more ridiculousness than one game can handle. And I'm guessing that one Defensive Line Coach will be wearing a RiderNation melon hat on his head for some time. That is, if he still has his job.

Good work, Riders. Sorry that it didn't turn out for y'all. Better luck next time.

Stuff I've Noticed About Having a Puppy.

Just a few things I've noticed lately. Things related to the new little fur-ball in the family and I thought I'd share.

1) There has been significantly more laundry. The odd housetraining accident. A puppy bath, changing the "linens" in the crate. (cause we roll Classy around here, people!) Laundry.

2) I feel the inexplicable need to converse with the puppy when it's just me and her in the house. I'll be doing my thing in the kitchen or whatever and whenever she walks by and looks up at me, I feel like I'd be rude to not, well, SAY SOMETHING. What's that?? It's kinda embarrassing, is what that is.

3) The children have come through with approximately 3.675% of their pre-puppy Promises. 3.125% is due to the Princess. .55% is due to the Kid. This is REAL WORLD MATH, readers. Don't doubt.

4) I have come through with 145% of pre-puppy Promises and 239.75% of all puppy-related obligations. This roughly translates to a rising trend of Alpha Mommy Syndrome. The puppy worships me. When it's not trying to pee on my stuff.

5) Puppy stretches, snurgles and snuffles, and puppy yawns are insanely cute. So cute they could be measured in gigawatts of cuteness.

6) Having a puppy gives you repeated opportunities to walk in the backyard and talk about "taking a whiz" and "going potty". I'm sure the neighbors have never been so entertained.

7) Repeated walks in the backyard at ridiculous hours of the morning, evening and night makes me ever so glad that we don't have much snow at all. I am so loving El Nino at the moment. And so dreading the day when it all hits us like a mack truck of snowglobes.

8) Having a puppy means I am once again stepping over a baby gate and periodically almost killing myself.

9) I cannot leave a garbage bag out of it's receptacle for the afternoon to fill it just that last little bit full before taking it out.

10) I cannot leave anything out.

11) Unless I put it on something higher than she can reach.

12) Thank God in Heaven she is a Chihuahua and not a Great Dane.

13) Puppy feet smell like corn chips.

14) I may have difficulty ever eating corn chips again.

15) I like the *snick snick snick* sound of her nails on the floor. Cute.

16) I have realized that, while I probably am truly a Cat Person, I'm pretty fond of my lil pup. She's pretty precious.

Howling at the Moon.

Tonight I dragged Mr. F. to watch New Moon at the theatre.

For those of you who have had your head under a rock, or simply prefer your fiction to be grounded in reality and substance; it is the sequel to "Twilight".

It's about teenage angst and vampires (and really, now... clearly those two things go hand in hand.) and life-altering LOVE *sigh*. Oh, and werewolves. There may be some other elements involved, some semblance of a plot and really some interesting action sequences. But really? Mostly about vampire love.

Which begs the question. Why did I care to watch?

Which is really something I haven't got around to asking myself, yet. The answer revolves around being bored at my old hotel front desk job and picking up the book to read to pass the time. Which then begged me to fulfill my curious wonderings... "Is the movie better or worse than the book?" Which really could be a toss up. Cause the book wasn't all that hot. Should be easy to improve on. But... I digress.

What is will say is that I was shocked at what passes for a "PG" rating nowadays and just how many children (really... CHILDREN) were at the movie theatre to watch this. Cause it was pretty violent/perilous and there were a few steamy moments that I sure wouldn't want my kids to watch. I know that "kissing" falls under a PG rating, but dude... those were some HOT kisses.

I will also say that I was not adverse to the fact that werewolves are kinda hot. And mostly shirtless, apparently. (I mean, when they're not werewolves... cause, obviously... wolves don't wear shirts when they're wolves. Or whatever.) Heh heh... it appears that the wolves brought out my inner Cougar.

Lame... sorry.

I guess it was entertaining enough. Better than the book in some ways, and not as good in others. The pacing lagged through some of it... I could do with less angst and more action. But all in all, not bad. Some themes are universal, and anyone who's been thrown to the gutter by love can probably relate to these characters. And I think that's why people love the story.

That, and shirtless werewolves.

I Need A Hug.

There, that wasn't so bad to admit.

I'm on the board of directors for a certain... errrr... team. (There, was that anonymous enough???) I love being a part of making this particular sport better in our city. Of working with great girls who, largely, have the same goals and drive as I do. These are my friends and teammates.

But there's one particular relationship on this board that I struggle with. I very much like this person and enjoy her company on certain levels, but I find her management persona to be hard to deal with. She tends to lecture and be very passive-aggressive and easily threatened by other people's drive and initiative. It was one thing to deal with on the board, but after some time, I noticed it was carrying over to how she treated me (and others) on the track and I knew it was time to stand up for myself. To put some boundaries in place.

And this isn't easy for me. She is an intimidating person, both in stature and personality. She is prone to being unpredictable and dramatic and this makes most people simply back off and let her have her way, lest they incur a temper tantrum or worse. And, truthfully, that is my first inclination as well. (**site previous post and self-proclaimed wimp status**)

But it got to the point last month where I felt compelled to do something.

I don't want to get into details, but there have been two occasions on which (in a public forum) I have had the need to firmly but reasonably call "Bullsh$#" on her shenanigans and stand up for my right to be treated as an adult and not a childlike minion under her purvey.

Yesterday was one of them and the fall-out hasn't been pretty.

I want to be this tough chick who can just sit back and laugh at it all. To not care. To say "to hell with her and all who think like her".

But I'm not and I can't.

And today, I just wanted to sit with a Friend. A true friend who knows me inside and out and knows what my heart is in this all. Who could handle my tears of frustration and tell me it will be OK. That it's OK to stand up for me. That I should be understood and respected.

I needed a hug. That's all.

Open Letter to the Three Douches Sitting Behind Me Tonight.

Really, guys? You pay $18.00 each to watch a pro hockey game and can think of nothing better to do than converse loudly during the Whole. Game???? Really?

I mean, normally, I might be slight entertained to overhear about your great sex life since you've been pregnant and all your various and sundry opinions about life and finances and general Stuff That Does Not Pertain To My Life In Any Way Whatsoever. Normally.

But when you insist on dropping the F Bomb with ridiculous intensity and accuracy in the very near vicinity of my 7 year old son, I tend to, hmmmmmm.... NOT APPROVE. Really, people. Is that necessary? Is it some sort of required linguistic compulsion fostered in the trash bin you grew up in?

Cause I really don't see the point. I mean, beyond the sheer ridiculous tally of curse words you managed to fit into your steady stream of annoying conversation -- a number which, alone, boggles my mind -- I am left agog and amazed at the levels of self-absorbtion you all managed to wallow in.

And the irony. My good Lord, the irony of you sitting there blustering with pride over how you have managed to incubate a baby for all of four months and the steadfastness with which you already proclaim to know all about babies and parenting as though you were the Immaculate Incarnation of Parental Perfection, yet remained entirely oblivious to the very cute and very impressionable product of my SEVEN FREAKING YEARS OF PARENTING was an astounding marvel of incomprehensible vapid obtuseness.

If I were a different person, you surely would have merited a solid dress-down of the sternest kind, not to mention a punch in the throat. But, you may count your lucky stars that I really am a pussy and therefore just sat there and fumed and imagined little stabby darts being hurled at you each time my ears blanched with your repeated assault. And called you "Douche-bags" in my head. Repeatedly.

I hope that your child is graced with the most grating, wretched, whiny voice.

I'm sorry. But I do.

Goodbye.

This past week my Grandpa passed away.

It was abrupt and shocking just like that sentence sounds. In any other case, I would say that the massive heart attack was a blessing. Eighty-eight good years spent in health -- still vital and possessing strength and independence. Ending quickly and without suffering. This is what everyone wants.

But he was my Grandpa and I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I assumed I had more time. More time to spend with him, to hear his stories and watch hockey with him. More time to see him delight in my children. More time.

I was wrong. There was no more time.

And so I grieve for my Grandpa. A loving, solid, generous man. A man who would do anything for his family, would give anything. I wish I had more time with him. The things I want to say thunder in my heart and it seems impossible that I can't ever say them to him.

And I wonder why I didn't when I had the time.

I trust that somehow he now knows and sees and understands in fullness. I trust that we will be reunited one day.

Until then, Grandpa.

A Hammy Led Us To Her.

Sometimes it seems that the strangest things happen in the strangest ways.

This past Sunday, we took the kids to the local pet store to look at hammies. We were thinking of checking out the fuzzy rodents and possibly stepping back in the hammy game.

We spent some time wandering the store first, being captivated by kittens and puppies and a particularly friendly parrot, finally making our way to the Rodentia area. The kids were speculating about the personalities of the dozing hammies and there were a few already contending for the coveted spot of being the next Flutterbyhouse Hammy. One of the little ones they had picked out was dozing in the corner and I was just pointing out to the kids that I didn't think we'd want to pick him cause he was very skinny compared to the others, when said little, skinny hammy moved laboriously and I could see that something was Very Wrong with him.

His tiny little head turned and it was immediately apparent that he was badly injured. Grossly injured. My sharp intake of breath and girly squeak immediately alerted the kiddos and before I could stop them, they, too had gotten a full view of the carnage done to the little guys' eyeball. The Princess pleaded with me to find someone to help him and I quickly tracked down an employee who also gasped and paled and took that miserable little hammy out of the cage. We were left feeling sickened and heartbroken for that poor tiny hammy. The Princess looked green and said she felt faint. And, in all our adult wisdom... my mother and I decided to distract the kiddos with some time spent with a little puppy in the "bonding room".

And this is what I get for doing so.



I know, right? It's ridiculous. And very Cute. And named Goldie. Cause my kids rock with the Naming Originality like that.

But she is now ours and it's very possible that I wouldn't have it any other way.

I also may have a hammy habitat for sale.

Doing Stuff.

Just a quick post. I promise.

:)

I'm really excited about a new project I'm working on. I'm starting an online fitness community and it's keeping me awake at night with all the fab ideas and plans running through my head.

No surprises, it's a derby related thing -- I'm gonna keep it small and in the league for now, but just maybe it will end up helping out more people achieve their fitness goals, in time. Regardless of how little or big it may be, it's very cool to have a spot to let your interests fly. I love helping people and building relationships and the whole writing, researching thing is totally exciting to me, too. (I mean, really? Isn't that evident by just how well-written THIS post is?!?!? lol)

Sometimes I feel like a lot of life has passed me by. And then there's times that let me see just how much Life there is to experience, yet. I enjoy those times!

All You Did Was Save My Life

All You Did Was Save My Life

Our Lady Peace | MySpace Videos

Quick and Dirty.

heh heh.

Actually, I'm thinking about the killer workout I did this morning. I'd like to be all bad-ass and make like I do killer workouts everyday. But the truth is that I've been a big slacker in that department for a few months, now. Other than derby practice (of which I've been out on the injured list for the past month,) I've not worked out. At all.

And it's showing. My clothes are getting that Shrunk In the Dryer feeling -- which I'm smart enough to know has NOTHING to do with my dryer! -- and I can tell that my cardio is seriously hurtin' cause running up and down the stairs to grab the cordless phone (And really... does anyone else have that problem where all the phones end up on ONE floor of the house? Or is that just Me?) leaves me a wee bit breathless.

Not a good sign.

It's time to change that stuff up good.

So today, I made good use of a workout DVD I've had in my possession for some time, now, but have been ignoring. It's a skate-specific workout which means it involved a crazy amount of squats, plyometrics, lunges, side lateral movements and other stuff which made me cry like a whiny little girl.

It was so challenging and, frankly, HARD. And I only did the "beginner workout". Sheesh. I'm pretty embarrassed. But, it's inspired me to conquer it. And I will.

I just might need help getting out of bed and Walking tomorrow morning.

100% Real Derby Goodness.

I just got back from a derby road trip last night and I'm feeling the hurt today. I had been registered for this trip since summer and was really looking forward to the chance to play in Medicine Hat, AB. The league there is totally fab -- a bunch of great people and they put on a really terrific event.

About a month ago I injured my knee. Skating. Not playing derby. I wasn't wearing any protective gear cause I didn't want to look like a weenie and I ended up driving my left knee into the concrete floor at a pretty good speed, which isn't pretty any way you look at it. X-rays ruled out any fractures and the end diagnosis was traumatic bursitis -- essentially, all the bursae in that knee are filled with blood and pus at the moment. Beautiful, isn't it?

Anyhow, it wasn't looking good for the game as things weren't healing up any too quick. But last week my doc gave me a double prescription for anti-inflammatories (oral and topical) and within just a few days things had calmed down enough that, with my awesome 187 knee pads on, the pain of impact was bearable.

Happy, happy Killswitch. :)

I won't bore everyone any longer with the play-by-play of the weekend. I'll just go with the ESPN Highlight version:

- Girlfriends. I skate with some of the best girls. They've become really treasured friends and I totally enjoyed the weekend with them, outside of derby.

- Firsts. I signed my first autograph, people!! Three of them, actually, and I about hugged each kid that asked. Cause, really? You want my autograph? I totally get a kick out of playing a sport and being a part of something that people will pay to come any watch and cheer their heads off and yes... where kids will ask you for your autograph. Seriously, just how amazingly COOL is that? Who gets to do that????

- The game. The game was AMAZING!! I was placed in -- and frankly, outclassed by -- the Advanced/Senior game. I was playing with some of Western Canada's hottest players (as well as some hotshot members of my own league!) and I had stars in my eyes the WHOLE. TIME. I was glad to hold my own on the track and be a solid player, but I didn't light it up, for sure. Still... it was the hardest-hitting, fastest paced game I've played in, yet. I got my first major penalty for completing a hit out of bounds (my biggest coup of the game as I took on one of the team's best jammers. But still... a penalty. Boo.) and generally got some great game experience.

- Did I mention how absolutely proud I was of our league's skaters that played in the Rookie game?? I think the warm fuzzies threatened to swallow me at a few points. I love these girls!

- Karaoke? Oh yes. The after-party was terrific. Good food, good people and good song. Me and some girls headbanged through AC/DC's "Dirty Deeds" and our league totally represented at the mic. Lots of talent -- lots of attitude! I managed to take on the stage for a little bit of Eurythmics and then a strangely cathartic rendition of You Oughtta Know. And then the post-game fatigue set in and it was off to bed.

- The knee was fine. A little bit of bruising showed up that night, but it's all good. I've just got some random sore muscles, a little bit of fishnet burn and a couple impact-blister-bruises on one of my hands to show for the night. (I realize that's not a medical term, but you know those things where you crack a vein over a joint on something hard -- concrete floor in this case -- and it gets dark and puffy for a day and really hurts to touch but then is totally better the next day? Yeah, those things.) Oh, and also, a cleavage scratch that I have no recollection of recieving.

All in all, it was a great weekend... I feel very lucky to have Derby in my life and a family that is supportive of this obsession of mine.

Biting My Nails

Tonight was the Princess' first school dance. Well... the first school dance that she was allowed to go to.

This is new territory for me as I was not allowed to attend ANY dances while I was growing up. I like to say I was Sheltered. Which, really? Worked pretty well for me as I'm sure all that Dancing with Friends While Supervised would have totally cut into my Sweaty, Making Out with Boyfriend time.

Sorry... did the irony cut a little too much??

All to say that I'm breaking new ground, here -- sending my daughter to her class dance.

First came the part that I loved. A little bit of shopping and then I got to play hairstylist and make-up artist (just a touch!) and we had a really cool time together for all of it. I love these little moments with the Princess, initiating her into this strange world of feminine ritual and lore. Mr. F was blown away when he saw his little girl all transformed into a little lady. I kinda was, too. Sometimes it's almost ridiculous to think of those first years with Baby Princess, so hard to imagine just how much time has flown by.

Next came the part that I was a bit unsure of. Picking up her friend and dropping them off at the school. Two giggly little girls tripping down the sidewalk. I so wanted to go in with them, to check it all out. To warn all the boys, really. Shake a fist in a face or two and generally stir it up a bit. I watched them be greeted by the swarm of classmates in the foyer and realized I would have to do what every other parent was doing... let them have their supervised fun in a safe place and drive away like the good chauffeur I was.

And the best part, receiving my Princess back home. Her feet sore and a smile on her face. She loved the music. She loved the lights. She had fun with her friends. And yes, she did dance with some boys from her class. The list was actually quite long, which I wasn't totally prepared for... but I survived and she did, too. I don't know that she will always be allowed to attend dances and she knows this. It will depend on the atmosphere that the school provides and the behavior that becomes the norm. It will depend on the trust that I've built with the Princess remaining intact. But at the moment all is well and I'm pretty happy with how things turned out, all said.

West Coast Vacation In Six Easy Points and One Horrifying Picture.

PASS. -- Amazing scenery. Beyond amazing. Scenery which turned me into a Grandmotherly Lady exclaiming "Oh My..." and "How Beautiful..." and "So Lovely" whilst dabbing my eyes with a flowered hanky. It really was that Perfect. And I really was that dweeby. Cause let's be honest, I live on nature's equivalent to a Dinner Plate. F-L-A-T doesn't begin to describe my habitat. This was like Crack for my habitat-o-meter. Rocks, cliffs, mountains, ginormous trees and winding highways. Quaint bridges over picturesque creeks and... yes, I am reduced to a big pile of Dweeb.

FAIL. -- Three flights to get there. Thank you, AirMiles. You rock with the connections. *urrrghh* My ears were not happy with the repeated compression/decompression schtick we were *ahem* enjoying and malfunctioned somewhere around the ascent over the Rockies, leaving my head locked up like Houdini -- ouch -- and disturbing my equilibrium for the duration of the trip. Me and Gravol were a tight pair after that.

PASS. -- Super friendly people wherever we went. Really. I thought Prairie folk were friendly, but I kinda think we could learn a thing or two. We had some really... errr... Lovely (hello, Grandma...) conversations with lots of people and generally enjoyed our time on the Island greatly.

FAIL. -- Camera battery dies just as we enter Qualicum Falls and Cathedral Grove. Perhaps the most magical, breathtaking place I've been in my life. Dead camera. You've got to be kidding me. (and it was a borrowed one which needed a special charger -- not just some AA's. Trust me, I'd have been all over that.) Eff you, Camera. You and the horse you rode in on. Arrrgh.

PASS. -- The ocean. Oh my gosh... the OCEAN, people!!! Wandering the waterfront and marina, beachcombing along some really great stretches of oceanfront. My Inner Geek was in Geek heaven, I swear it. Look! Jellyfish!! Look! Starfish!! Look! Dead Crabs and Disembowelled Ducks!!! (no really, they were there. And I really checked them out, cause, yeah... dead crabs and disembowelled ducks!!) And no end of shells and rocks and driftwood and cool beachy stuff to collect and bring home for the kids. What? It was for the kids, really it was.

FAIL. -- Reggie Griswold. The beast of a spider that had taken up residence directly outside our hotel window. He was ginormous and ghastly and strangely entrancing. He also prevented us from opening up the window as there was no window screen (apparently this is an Island-wide phenomena. They don't mind letting the crawlies indoors.) and there was no way in hell I was willing to wake up eye to manifold-eye with Reggie.

Just in case there are any disbelievers among my readers as to the size and ridiculous horrificableness of Mr. Griswold (seriously, it has me making up new words, such was the sight of him) I will provide you with a picture. Keep in mind that things, once viewed, cannot be removed from your minds-eye. I will not be responsible for scary dreams, bedwetting and bad drug trips that may result from viewing the following picture.

Yeesh.

So, I am now happily back home in the Land of The Dinner Plate. It really is good to be home, good to see our kiddos and get back into some routine. Though I am truthfully mourning the passing of the Holiday Napping Hour. Cause that was pure Gold, people. And apparently one more point to consider as to whether or not Flutterby is really a Grandma in Disguise.

Vive la Vacation!

Golden.

I love my Princess. And this is why.

*********************************

Sitting at the table doing homework tonight after supper, I decide to sit with her a bit and visit about her day while she works away. The Princess is feeling very giggly and plucky and is bringing out my favorite lil play voice -- the one that sounds just like the nasally-challenged socialite "Tracy Van Horn" on Hannah Montana. She cracks me up, this Princess.

(sing-song to the tune of CampTown Races... you know, the one that goes "all the doo dah night, all the doo dah day"...)

"I know something you don't know, do dah, do dah...
I know something you don't know, does that drive you crazy?"

She sits there with a silly grin plastered on her face and I have no choice but to begin the mastermind work of reeling this lil fishy in. Distracting her with suggestions for colors for her project and questions about what she's doing and totally ignoring that "She knows something I don't know, doo dah".

I know. I am a mad genius with the mind-probery. The Jedi ain't got nothin on me.

I can tell I'm getting her good. She works along barely able to stand it. I know her... she will not cave and be more direct. She sings her little ditty a couple times more while I remain steadfast in my placid and obtuse response. The third time I smile and laugh.

I let just a snort of mockery creep into my voice.

"Like there's anything you could say that could shock me." Haha ha ha and on to other work in the kitchen...

(Aside: See that? I am Just. That. Good.)

She grins and her eyes light up. "That's what you think, Mum. Today-"

Her eyes narrow and she bites her lip, looking me over like I'm a criminal -- her head slowly nodding as she takes in the truth.

"I know what you're trying to do, Mum."

I let a little smile peek out and she sings, ala Tracy Van Horn:
"I know something you don't know, do dah, do dah...
I know something you don't know, does that drive you crazy?"

CHECKMATE. I think I have met my match.

Ta-Da!

Just some little bits of news from around here.

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The Princess just spent the weekend at a Junior Youth event. Two nights at a camp for kids Grades 6 - 8. She had the best time, EVAH. Which makes me happy. I was a bit nervous for her all weekend as she went into this not knowing a single person there. Which makes me proud. So, tonight I am enjoying this unique combination of Happy/Proud Mommy Feeling and trying to ignore that tiny bit of Scary knocking on the door. Cause, yeah. Grade Eight boys? Apparently are thinking the Princess is a sweetie.

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My Pops took second place at a working cow horse competition this weekend. I really wanted to make it out to see him -- maybe next time. Congrats, Dad!

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I've come to the conclusion that garage sales are not worth the effort. (something which I may have said to myself after the last time I did one.) Honestly... I did remember my resolution and everything was set to go to charity straightaway when my kiddos decided to Persuade their Mom otherwise. Dumb. Hours of work later and I still have a garage full of STUFF to send to charity anyhow.

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The purging of Stuff was necessary, though. Time to get on with finishing out our basement. Wait. First... finish the yard. Then the basement. 50 metric craploads of rock get delivered tomorrow and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Cause yeah... yard will be done. But that's a LOT of rock and a lot of landscape cloth and I'm really not looking forward to any of it.

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I've actually been feeling kinda in a funk lately. Like no matter how hard I try I can't quite catch that groove. Too much to do and I'm not doing the kind of job I'd like to do on it. I need to get back to the gym cause derby's not quite cutting it, exercise-wise. Found a job that fits with the kid's schedule and then find out that I didn't quite budget myself enough and I have to find something else in addition. (which is not a big deal -- the school thing isn't a lot of hours, for sure... it's just that it's gonna be One More Thing, you know?)

One of my derby sisters told me that she sees that I do things the hard way -- make more work for myself in the end. I was a bit offended at first, to be honest. But I kinda wonder if she wasn't right?

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Went to visit one of my girlfriends in the hospital today. She's bipolar and a med change got out of hand. I love her family's sense of humor about the whole thing. Her husband wore this shirt -- in the psych ward -- that said "I'm on A Day Pass". Love it. She said this is the first time that she's had friends that have come out to visit her when she's ended up in the psych ward -- derby luv!! Why is there such a stigma about mental illness? I know I felt it when I was struggling with depression and it made it really hard to be honest about what I was dealing with.

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*Spongebob singsong voice*

"SKATE PARK!!! lalalalalalalalala!"

Yep. Went to the Skate Park today and made good on my promise to myself. Four-stair has been OWNED. And the two foot ramp as well.

Another hour of tricking out my mind to let me do stuff that really should be easy. For instance, jumping UP no more than eight inches onto a "box". I know I can jump that easily and do so regularly during some of our practices. The only difference is that I'm only clearing AIR and landing. Put eight inches of cement and steel coping in that "air's" place and it starts messing with my head. So I attempt it, but don't commit to it. Which means I end up hooking my toe stop/wheel/etc. and biting it hard. Sick.

I'm sure there's a life lesson in there, somewhere. There always is.

I will say that it felt flippin AWESOME to land the four-stair. It felt pretty amazing to do something that, well, most people wouldn't even try to do, to be honest. I think it was more about conquering fear than doing something skillful -- realizing that your only limits are in your mind. Well, sort of, anyhow. I suppose that there are some very real and painful limits found in the elements of concrete/steel and all... I came up against those a few times, for sure.

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Mr. F and I might be taking a bit of a trip out to the coast, soon. Should know by the end of this week... which will leave me about a week to nail down flights and itinerary. Nothing like waiting til the last minute. :)

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And that's about all I have to write for the moment. There is a Hammy saga to be told -- but I need a bit of time to process before I let that one go.

Hope you all have a great week!

Three Things.

The Kid's had a bad string of luck lately. Last night he cranked his knee into the corner of our steel trailer whilst running by it like a banshee and was sporting a bit of a nasty bruise and a limp this morning. I decided to pick him up after school and save him the walk-limp home, picking him up outside his classroom.

We're driving home, when out of the blue he pipes up;

"Guess what Brody said to me today when he walked by, Mom?"

"What, baby?" (Mentally preparing myself for some sort of fart/belch/potty humor scenario)

"He said, (*deep Kid-voice*) 'Your Mom is SMOKIN'... he's funny."

*smirk*

"And then he whistled, too."

*******************************
I glean a few things from this. One, someone clearly better keep "Brody" away from whatever TV shows he's been watching cause his lil seven-year-old brain should NOT be thinking like that. Two, the Kid needs to adjust his sense of humor. And, Three... if I can just keep my groove for another, say... TEN years, I might be able to rank some MILF points. HA!!!!

This Used To Be My Playground.

Just one of those songs that has been stuck in my head since I heard it a bit ago. Pretty and melancholy all in one. Not the usual Madonna fare. I like it.

How The Formula Goes.

One Kid + One Miscalculated Leap From Playground Apparatus + One Belly Flop on Crushed Rock = One Distressed Mommy

Or something like that.

This past week I started lunchroom supervision duties at my kids' elementary school. (and I'm sure you'll hear all about that Awesomeness in a later post, do not dismay, dear reader) I report to the office each morning, go and do my spectacular job of keeping a lid on things and well... really that's all I do. Lay the smackdown. And then I go home.

Nice, hey?

Well, this morning as I rounded the corner to the main office, I spy my son's lil blond head through the office window. For a split second I wonder if he's gotten himself into a bit of trouble, but then I look closer and see he's doubled over in pain and is trying hard not to cry.

Apparently, when the bell rang to conclude the morning recess, he decided to be all Superkid and leap from the five foot tall floor of the playground apparatus. I'm sure it all looked grand and impressive in his head -- I know this cause I'm afflicted with the same Grandiose Thinking disease -- but the execution went all wrong and he ended up hitting the ground flat out and knocking the wind out of himself something fierce.

Which really isn't that big a deal. We've all had it happen before. But it shouldn't still be hurting over an hour later. At least... I didn't think so.

There were some logistical problems to overcome and, thankfully, Mr. F was able to burn over to the school and take the Kid to the hospital while I took care of my lunch shift. We met up at the hospital and after seeing the long line that was going nowhere fast; made the decision to try our luck getting in with our G.P.

Luckily, things fell into place. Our G.P. checked him over thoroughly and assured us that the Kids' ribs were all fine and his spleen was no worse for wear. He was just gonna need some ice and rest.

Ice and rest and a serious Reality Check about jumping off of high stuff.

The New Adventures of Kitty Killswitch

Yesterday morning I was up bright and early. Well... I was up at 7am.

It's true that there's not many things that can get me up that early on a Sunday, but some of my derby girlfriends and I had planned to take on one of the local skate parks before the onslaught of pubescent dudes and their Boards of Terror took it over. We were pretty certain that no sk8erboi's would be up at that hour.

The morning was fresh and just a bit chilly. I threw on my clothes from the previous night's practice and grabbed my gear and a muffin, hoping to have got my directions straight. We were going to one of the city's newer skate parks... I guess that skate "plaza" is the correct term as such things go. A skate plaza is apparently set up more like a skater-friendly urban terrain. No bowls, but lots of rails and stairs, ramps, jumps, transitions and the like. Oh... and also a quarter pipe. (which is like a one-sided half-pipe; hence the "quarter").

I had switched my indoor wheels out the night before and my skates were sporting their hot pink rubber-y outdoor ones. This was their virgin run. Yup. I had not yet skated outdoors. I had heard that outdoor skating is a whole different ballgame, but honestly? I kinda thought that maybe people didn't really know what they were talking about. Were overreacting.

Not so much Overreacting, it seems.

:)

Now, I had just spent the evening previous at derby practice. It had been a bit of a "free night" -- one of those practices we call a Dance Party practice. After some warm-ups and a bit of endurance drills and basic skill work, our coach will throw on some tunes and we have some fun trying "stuff", working on whatever we want. Truthfully, I was feeling pretty good after that practice. I had mastered some sorta neato stuff, skate-wise. Some two wheel "grinds", some side stance cornering that I had seen some fierce skaters exhibit during warm-ups at our last bout; lots of jumps and back-front transitions. Worked on some wicked cool back-front whip/blocks with some other skaters and was generally feeling good about how far I've come as a skater these past months.

Which only makes me laugh when I think of the next morning.

Gone was my solid, predictable oval track with it's 10 foot safety clearance all around. Gone. Instead I was looking at THIS:

I can not tell you how much that messed with my head.

I have to admit that it took me awhile to get my bearings, so to speak. It was very intimidating to be faced with literal danger at every turn and eight wheels on one's feet. Even skating a pyramid ramp was making my lil heart race. Where had all my ease and confidence gone? Where were my feet that felt so at home in these skates, that could propel me, weave me in and out of a pack of skaters while racing endurance drills with certainty?

Apparently, they were Gone.

And I spent the next hour or so acquainting my backside with concrete. (Yee-ouch!) Getting my mind to let go of it's death grip on Personal Safety and let me jump off stairs and navigate the quarter pipe.

I loved it. Every crazy, dangerous minute.

Now, that's not to say that I was good at it. I fought my body every step of the way. And I'm sure my childlike first attempts at some of this stuff were nothing more than outright laughable. (No. Really. I laughed, myself.) The good, belly-laughing-roll-on-the-ground-until-you-gotta-pee kind of laughable. But by the end of the hour, the highlight reel in my head had a few clips of some sizable jumps off the two-stair, conquering the jump off the one foot vertical box (which was just a bit of a longer way to "fall" than the two-stair), being comfortable on the ramps and making it about half-way up the quarter pipe. (which I'd love to say was high, but really? Not that much.) My two derby sisters dusted my butt at the plaza, taking on the four-stair and a two and a half foot ramp/jump that looked to me like a good way to kill oneself. But, I'm happy with what I attempted... although the four-stair is on my to-do list for my next visit. I know I can do it, I was just too chicken to go for it.

I have to admit that this is highly addictive stuff and I wish I had gone earlier in the summer. There's only a few more months -- if we're lucky -- of outdoor-skateable weather and I'm a bit irked at all the experience I've missed out on.

The girls were talking about bringing a camera one day when we've got some tricks down. So, maybe I'll have some pics to share come fall. And maybe I won't look like a wide-eyed, shaky-kneed kid in them. If I'm lucky.

Already??

After what seemed to be an endless summer (and not really Endless in the good way, thanks to some crazy weeks spent on the road doing renovations), the day finally arrived.

It seems that everyone had been asking "Are you ready for "Back To School"? (like it's some civic holiday or something.). I admit that had I actually BEEN ready, this question may not have grated my nerves as much... but only having arrived back home three days before school started -- I was not ready. At all. And the question was driving me nuts.

Cause there was some Stuff to be done round my house. Important stuff and needful stuff and, whatever. Bottom line is that I found myself skulking around Staples the day before my children's first day of school, buying their school supplies.

I realize that the end result is the same... my kids went to their first day of school with all the right stuff in their backpacks. Just like everyone else. I just was way more stressed about it. Which leads me to mutter those Famous Last Words:

Next year....

Nevertheless, I was pretty proud of my grommets as they posed for their pics at the door, grown taller and tanned and looking ready for the next school years' adventure.

I'm amazed at all the changes the years have brought. It doesn't seem that long ago that each First Day would have me "recharging" Kissy Kitty with love (a cute little pendant that I hung on the Princess' backpack as she wanted to feel like I was there with her. Kissy Kitty's job was to hold all my kisses so that the Princess could go get one whenever she needed.) and talking her through what to expect that day. Now... Kissy Kitty still hangs on her backpack, which makes me smile, but it's just a cherished relic of her childhood; not something that's needed any longer. This year, as the past few have been, she ran off eager to see her friends again, happy to be in a new class and excited for the projects and things she will be learning. She is a very social, easy-going kid who is a natural match for school in many ways. Well-behaved and just "cool" enough to inspire other kids to act the same, the teachers love her to bits and she has grown an amazing amount; confident and self-assured, as a result.

The Kid has grown up so much this last year, but some things never change. The little dude hates school. Granted, proclaiming so much on the very first day is might be a little premature on his part. But it is not an easy match for him. I struggle to know what's right for him. Do I help him to persevere through something that challenges him, that pushes his boundaries by expecting a standard from him? Cause I don't see that as being all that bad. The Kid is going to have to live in a world that will expect those same things from him; and he will have to meet that challenge, or else live an isolated and perhaps unsucessful life. But, there is a part of me that wonders if he wouldn't do well in a homeschool situation. If he wouldn't flourish where he's not constantly found somewhat lacking as a person or feeling a bit out of the loop in terms of "the other kids like this or find it easy to be here, why don't I?". I sort of feel that this year will be a turning point for him -- or at least for me in helping me know what he needs. Either things will level out for him, or it will become clear that school isn't his best environment.

Whatever the case, I think that this year is going to be pretty memorable. And hopefully only in good ways!

Stranger and Stranger.

Does it mean anything important when you realize something kinda weird and strange about yourself?

Cause lately I've noticed that I have this strange compulsion to do stuff while I'm brushing my teeth at night.

I think I've always been like that -- most would probably just call it multi-tasking. I straighten the bathroom, attempt to slip my headband over my head for when I wash my face later, or maybe start the shower or stop to pick at a blemish (and really, I know... Ewwwww...) or do any one of many things which are not, by definition, furthering the cause of cleaning my teeth.

On the positive side, it means that I often end up brushing my teeth for large amounts of time which would probably make my dentist smile and send me a nice, smiley note saying "Keep Up The Good Work, Flutterby". That's good, right?

On the other hand, well... I'm brushing my teeth for a long time. Nuff said.

Any of this would just be a cute little annotation to the list of Things That Make Me Speshhhal, except that I'm finding it a bit worrisome. Cause I've tried to stop it. You know, stop doing the Other Stuff and just Be One With The Brush. Focus. Stay on Task.

And I can't.

Isn't that just a bit effed up?

I sorta thought so.