Brought to You by Milton-Bradley

I don’t play the I-hate-myself game. I much prefer Apples to Apples.
Don’t pretend like you haven’t played the IHM game. You have.
That time you fell in front of a bunch of people?
Remember when you’re best friend got the guy?
How about when your grandma called you pudgy and laughed?

Yup, you’ve played. You’re basically the star quarter back of this game some days.

It started so innocently. Back when you were little and not quite self aware. Then BOOM, you see it. The curly hair. Or the extra adipose tissue. The extra 6 inches of height. Or the slightly wider nose. Being animals who wear pants, we need to assimilate for our own safety or the pack will turn on us.
It takes another few decades at least to realize that people won’t murder you for not looking like a replica. Sometimes, there are people who never realize it.

How did I stop playing? Simple. I have too many reasons to hate myself.

I’m a bi-racial overweight women with psoriasis who’s father doesn’t love her (you think I’m kidding? Because he told me so last year).

See? It’s really hard to pick one reason to be miserable. So I threw down my cards in a huff and went to play somewhere else. Fuck this game.

Chicks, Man.

My family is, for lack of a better term, a gyn-ocracy.  The women outnumber men two to one. It is more than likely to find the men huddled around the TV trying to stay out of our way.

I take something from each woman in my family and plan to try my damnedest to keep parts of them in my life and family for as long as I can.

Aunt Linda- She taught me that someone has to take the reins and pull everthing and everyone together. She has hosted every Christmas and Thanksgiving since my Grandmother stopped being able to. She is also teaching me that as much as I hope and pray for boys when I start procreating, girls fill a special place (she has two boys and I was the first niece. Do you know how much pink she used to buy me?)

Aunt Tracy- Tracy teaches 1 st grade. She taught me grammar and art projects are the cornerstones of childhood. Also, she’s the only genetic link I have to anxiety. Her differnces from the rest of the family are many, but she always plays up her strengths. She taught me its okay to not be the same.

Aunt Phyllis- She made me a ball buster. I don’t take crap if I can help it and she taught me to be vocal about what I want or need.

Grandma Ruth- She’s the reason the name we chose to be our married name is hers. She taught me to make pancakes. She is still teaching me to listen more and give advice less. She lets me cry. She makes me laugh. She’s my friend and the best woman I know.

Joni- She taught me to laugh. Loudly and often. And that no road-trip is the same without Meatloaf and Billy Joel. She’s my mother and she is the centerpiece of my life.

 

With the holidays coming I’m getting ready to submerge myself in hours and hours of time with the women who made me who I am. I hope that when they see me, they think I’m doing them justice.

You know…Stuff.

I have essentially been thinking about a whole lot of nothing for the past week.

What should I get my cousins for Christmas?

Should I make individual paper turkeys for all my co-workers this year?

What happens when I'm bored. Themed turkeys.

Which cookies should I make for training class?

When should Kirby get groomed next?

Should we open a bank CD for each kid after we have them? What about an IRA, should we open that after the wedding or before? Should I stick with my bank or should I use the one I work for?

So, you know, that’s what’s going on over here. I’m just floating on a cloud of contentedness until something shoots me out of the sky (honestly, that could be any day now).  But until then I’m embroidering …

I hand stitched these...

Kirby has claimed them as his own.

and cooking……

Apple cinnamon pancakes? Yes

while dancing around to Glee.

How have you been?

Mmm Mmm Good

At this moment I am listening to the furious bubbling of my Grandmother’s soup on the stove. I have a throw pillow ready to stuff and sew close on my left and a bag of fun new stuff from JoAnn fabrics on my right. The painting on the wall was found next to a dumpster this spring and some how our circa 1996 television is sill working along with our 1998 Camry.

As of Monday Jason and I will have lived in our apartment  for 1 year. It’s the first placed we have lived together and we have no plans to move unless it’s to Colorado.

Let’s take a look some highlights from the last year!

Marla the Camry stumbled onto her last legs

13 ft of snow. An almost record breaking blizzard.

Ya wanna get married? Eh, sure, why not.

Sweet jesus that's cute.

Scrabble rule 1: First person to laugh until they cry losses.

It’s good to be home.

Handy Dandy

I’m no stranger to tools. I can hang pictures, put together furniture, and hook up a VCR because it’s 1995.

But lately my tools of choice is a needle. No, I’m not pulling a “Man with the Golden Arm” on you…

 

I’m crafty now.

Yeah, I made those.

They rock.

Next project; a Santa hat for Kirby.

 

He’s quite the fashionable canine.

 

He also enjoys hats.

 


As does his mommy. Homemade hats for everyone!

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