Friday, July 29, 2005


I'm not happy today.

I am hyper-sensitive. Moody. Easily prone to sniffles.

To contrast the sun is shining brilliantly outside my window.

I've shut the blinds to keep him out.

Not happy. No reason.

Perhaps the reason I have craved salt this past week was to enusure enough for the tears who are awaiting just one carelessly expressed word in my direction.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Musings of a Pixel

Sometimes it is just nice to know that a friend is truly a friend, and not just a lurker in your life. I have this blog, to which many of the people I hold dear read. But I wonder if sometimes they forget that I would like to know about how they are doing as well. Nothing can take the place of hearing a good friends voice, seeing them smile at something you've said, or better yet-- giving [and receiving] a much needed hug.

I understand that everyone is busy. Probably 100% busier than I am. However, it is still nice to know that some friendships are comprised of more than neatly arranged pixels on a computer screen.

It makes me realize how eternally grateful I am for those who actually remember that friendship is a two way street. Give, take, time. Time well spent in my opinion. My story is much more interesting if it intermingles with theirs from time to time.

Wednesday Rampage

After composing my "To-Do" list yesterday I proceded to go on a cleaning rampage, which consisted of making three or four tasks out of one. For instance; "washing the dishes" turned to "washing the dishes, counters, oven, dishwasher, and kitchen floor".

So cleaning took longer than I had hoped. Which left no time for homework. However it was once again affirmed that Lysol is my best friend.

With guests coming over at 7:00, I was antsy throughout the night. It was an enjoyable evening, but overshadowed by my self inflicted stress knowing that homework was not done. I am such a child sometimes.

So I finished my homework just a half an hour ago. After procrastinating about it all day really. And then when it came time to post my work, the discussion thread kept rejecting my post. So, I thought well this is just ironic. I get it done, albeit late, and I can't post it anyway.

Seems my answers were too long-winded. THAT is par for the course.

Bus Riding Lessons

I used to ride the bus to work. I worked at the mall. Put those two things together could easily make one assume that life was miserable. However, put them together with the fact that I was 19 years old and living in Hawai'i at the time...and all of a sudden you aren't feeling sorry for me at all. I don't feel sorry for me either. However that didn't mean that the bus ride was not without its ups and downs.
[Or working at a mall for that matter]

This one night in particular, I had left work late, for whatever reason, and I was going to have to catch the last bus out. I was a little bit worried, deviating from the normal routine, but it was just a matter of going from Pearl City to Waipahu. Having just arrived on the island a month or two prior, I didn't have anyone to call and pick me up. Our car hadn't arrived yet, so bussing was the way around.

So, I boarded the bus at a different time than I normally would. Just slightly off schedule. This really made little difference except for the fact that public transportation is highly unpredictable in whom you will be sharing the ride with.

It being late, and I not wanting to be bothered, sat down by myself and stared out the window to watch the scenery go by. A short 20 minute bus ride free of bother was all I wanted. It had been a long day afterall.

So, when a group of passengers began getting rather loud and obnoxious I decided to ignore them. I wasn't trying to be mean, I just didn't want to be bothered, and to be honest, I was still very green to the island and somewhat nervous. [And it was written all over my haule face]

That is when I realized that the very large man sitting across from me was trying to get my attention. A very large man accompanied by several women who weren't wearing much and what they were wearing was made of spandex and sparkles.

"Hey You...hey...hello."

*turning towards him after a moment or two and then pointing to myself as if to say 'who me?'*

" what's your name why? you ignoring me sweetheart?"

*Thinking to myself: dang, he caught that I was ignoring him...okay think fast...make a hand signal*


*make another hand signal, indicating that I can't hear-brilliant*

"OH", his face cracks into a big smile. "You are deaf..Okay..."

*I turn away...thank goodness he'll leave me alone now...only 15 more minutes I'll be home and not have to deal with Tiny and his gaggle of 'ladies of the night'*

Then I feel a tapping on my knee and then he waves in my face two inches from my nose. I turn to him and he starts signing to me, while talking about the fact that his cousin is deaf and he knows sign language very well.

Unfortunately, I don't know sign language.

And I spend the next 14 agonizing minutes writing out how I lost my hearing about a month ago and I am still learning how to sign, but I am good at reading lips. And the sad thing is that all of the scantily clad women sitting around him are watching me as though they have just found the city transit retard as he points to my eyes and says "Look she is reading our lips" and I smile and nod like an idiot, pretending along with the lie that I wove.

After this I avoided staying late at work, and not too long after our car arrived. Thankfully I never saw the guy again...and even more importantly I never lied about having a challenge that I don't really have. Quite honestly, I have enough challenges without taking someone elses. But the most important lesson learned was coming to a conclusion on how I would treat someone who did have a genuine disability.

And that was definitely to not stare at them, or treat them as though they offer less.

Have Camera Will Snap

Every once in a while I find surprise shots on my camera. Had it not been for the fact that the suspect clearly gives themself away in this set of prints, I would be inclined to think we have a ghost...

Unfortunately the news is much worse. We have a goblin.

Happiness Is

Knowing that which will motivate the child to use the toilet. This is one of those rare instances in life when bribery is appropriate. For Kimi, the proverbial carrot is a pair of "princess earrings". She is determined to have princess earrings. I am determined she use the toilet. So far the incentive has been working in my favor. I am so glad that she doesn't realize that getting her ears pierced isn't going to be that much fun.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

On a Side Note

I think that it is totally great that the weather is cool enough for me to turn on the fireplace and wear jeans!! I love my jeans.

To-Do List

My to-do list for today isn't very illustrious, but maybe if I post it I will come close to getting most of it completed:

1. Finish reading chapters 10-11-12 in Small Business Management
2. Post my answers to the Discussion Questions
3. Start my business plan outline
4. Fold laundry
5. Clean the bathrooms
6. Wash the dishes
7. Put the Coca Cola glasses away
8. Vacuum the floors
9. Move the dresser from the girls room to my room
10. Mail out the birthday and anniversary cards
11. Dust the living room and dining room
12. Buy dog food
13. Walk Roxy

1. Book 2 classes for August
2. Call prospective models for my portfolio
3. Follow-up with customers
4. Fill out product return request
5. Place order
6. Call 5 businesses for promotional offer
7. Fill out Chamber of Commerce paperwork

I think that in order for me to accomplish all of this I will have Caleb hide Memoirs of a Geisha. Then, I will at least have a chance.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Beautiful Thought

Last year at this time I was still heavily embroiled in the planning of our wedding. I have kept all the emails that passed between myself and my bridesmaids. This is one that caught my eye for the month of July:

From: Kassandra
To: Erin H., Ginny, Nif, Emily, Rochelle, Erin M., Allison
Subject: Hi
Date: Thu, 22 Jul 2004 19:21:33 -0700 (PDT)

Caleb and I have decided that the wait is too long and we are just
going to run away. We will call you from wherever we end up.


Isn't that a beautiful thought?

How are all of you doing these days?


Shopping Solves Depression Of Weight Gain

Lately, as by my posts, I have been deliriously obsessed with my weight. Maybe because the prospect of getting into a bathing suit is looming ahead of me like...oh I don't know...something that looms.

Anyway, I'm trying to get grip on it. Because today I melted into tears, and my poor husband, no matter how much he tried to console me, had to leave for work feeling helpless.

I know that I am scarred, and most definitely unfortunate. I happen to have fat genes in my family. I also have fire hydrant genes, as well as unknown genes [due to not knowing my father's side of the family tree]. Who knows what sort of tricks of heredity are awaiting me as I get older. I betcha that is where I got this fat German mole...

At any rate, I've thought of all of my dieting tricks in the past that I have used for the fast slim down [i.e. starvation], and I am coming to the conclusion that my body won't let me employ these tactics because I am getting older.

So not only am I doomed to look like a squat fire hydrant [not that fire hydrants are particularly tall], but I am getting old at the same time. I may as well buy a muu muu. I know where to get an authentic one, and I already have slippers that will coordinate with it.

I know it doesn't help that I am snacking on fat sandwiches at 1:30 in the morning. But this is precisely my point. My body is telling me to eat eat eat. And unless I do, I am tired tired tired. I feel more like a bear getting ready for hibernation than anything else these days.

No, I'm not exactly fat. Or overweight. But I definitely look better with clothes than without. And since I don't intend to find employment that would require me to be nude, or move to a place where it would be acceptable, I shouldn't really worry. But it is still depressing me that up until this year I could wear the same clothes I had when I was 27.

Which makes me all the more aware of the fact that I am not 27 anymore, which makes me even more sad. I don't want to be sad about my age and my weight at the same time. That is almost too much to bear.

So I need a viable reason to be happy with my age, and my round butt. OR maybe I just need to go shopping for more clothes...

On a Side Note

I've been absolutely useless since I've started reading Memoirs of a Geisha. I recommend reading this if you have absolutely nothing to do but devote the next few days of your life to immersing yourself in the world of Geisha.


Fat Sandwich

It would figure that during the time that I am genuinely trying to slim down a bit and exercise more, that I would be having cravings for the worst types of food.

I have actually "chocolated" myself out. The motherload that Brian bestowed upon us has done me in. We still have more chocolate than should be allowed a person in their lifetime.

No, not chocolate...but bologna, potato chips, pickles [though pickles aren't really bad], hot dogs, and of course coca cola.

Last night while reading my book Memoirs of a Geisha [of which in a few days I'll provide a glowing review], I had the most terrible case of stomach growling. And to make it worse, I had the image of a bologna sandwich in my head, with a side of potato chips. Well, it was 1:30 AM. I can't eat that late at night, but my stomach wouldn't let up.

So instead of drinking a glass of water and going to bed [like I should have], I made myself a bologna and mustard sandwich. And standing there looking at it, I knew something was missing--so I put the potato chips right on the sandwich. Even as I was making it I named it "Fat Sandwich"...but it didn't stop me from devouring and totally enjoying it.

I swear I am not pregnant.

Monday, July 25, 2005

PB & J

"All By Myself!", her smiling eyes proclaimed. How can you possibly be upset at such independence? Besides it was my fault for leaving the ingredients out and unattended...

Let's take a closer look at her handy work...

Hey, at least she ate it.

Sweet Morning

I didn't actually wake up that early. Probably 7:30, which is actually late by many standards. And I didn't get out of bet until count me as the lazy lot.

However I did get up before anyone else in my house so that must count for something.

I wanted to get a jump on the day. Okay...not really. I wanted to come downstairs and make some tea, let out the dog, do my stretches, burn a cone of incense, and check the site meter before anyone made the house noisy.

That time has passed though. It was noticed that I was missing. Next time I'll be up earlier. 20 minutes of quiet in the morning just isn't enough.

But at least I was the first one to open up the package of Billington's Demerara Sugar. The package claims it is perfect for sweetening coffee and tea. You'll hear no argument from me.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

Savoring Summer

I sit here now at the computer screen...the computer whirring softly. Caleb announces that he has fixed the vacuum [again]. I'm just happy that the floors are clean once more. We are waiting for our friend to arrive, and who knows what craziness the evening will bring. But for now I am happily enjoying the coolness air conditioned house. It is hard to believe that an 2 hours ago we were dripping with sweat wondering if we would actually make to Dairy King for our soft serve ice cream treat.

After church we scraped together our change. Neither of us deposited our paychecks on Friday in time for them to clear, so we have been miserably broke all weekend. We gathered a total of $4.70 between the two of us. Enough for 3 ice cream cones. And if you are 11, or if you are Caleb and Kassi that is incentive enough to endure a 5 mile bike ride under the scorching hot sun, and scathing wind in order to have some frozen goodness.

We made it to our destination, however before reaching the famed Dairy King keeper of icey treates, we side tracked to Kellogg Park. In the center of Kellogg Park, as could be seen from about 1/2 mile away is a fountain. Caleb and I didn't really have to say a word, we both just headed towards it and the relief that it was sure to bring. I'm surprised we didn't dive in despite the unnatural blueness of the water.

At first it was nice because the breeze forced the water to spray gently in our direction. Misting us lightly. It was heaven. okay, it wasn't heaven but it was really dang close considering just moments ago we were baking in our own juices.

We lingered a bit long at the fountain enjoying the break. And then the wind picked up...and the water with it. It was reminiscent of a fire hydrant springing a leak, and we both were doused with refreshing chemically treated fountain water. It was awesome.

Afterwards, the Dairy King was a mere 5 minutes away...and we partook of our ice cream cones. Kimi of course had conquered hers by squishing the cone before she was actually through eating the ice cream out of it. But I suppose everyone enjoys their ice cream in their own way.

Because we had depleted our drinking water on the way to Dairy King, we stopped at a gas station to buy a Propel, which we shared between the three of us. I'm not sure if any of you are familiar with Propel, but for Caleb and I it is the elixer of life. And in this instance it was the best tasting drink in the world--and sustained us until we arrived home.

Of course, we arrived home...haggard, bedraggled, sun beaten, and winded. But this is how we arrive home every time that we have gone riding [except the time we got caught in the thunder storm]. However, this has not stopped us from taking these excursions. In fact, with each ride we anticipate the next one even more.

Maybe it is the fact that we are actually experiencing life. Or maybe it is the fact that no matter how hot it is, it is just good to be outside, making an effort to enjoy the weather. Or maybe it is because after arriving home taking a shower never felt so good. And quite honestly, I am looking forward to our next ride.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

Please Remove Your Shoes

I grew up in a a very old farmhouse on Silver Bell road. When we first moved there, I was 4 or 5 and the house was on a dirt road. By the time we moved out of the dilapidated house I was 16 and the road had turned to a four lane monster that I could no longer cross or ride my bike on.

I really hated that house. Nothing you did to it could ever make it look nice. It was always dark and dingey inside due to poor lighting. And no matter what color paint we put on the walls, or the type of carpeting on the floors it never seemed to be clean.

However that didn't stop us from trying. Every Saturday seemed to be cleaning day. Whether it was some task outside like "policing" the yard [i.e. picking up fallen sticks and branches from the very numerous trees], or all day dusting, cleaning the woodwork, and washing windows. We cleaned and scrubbed.

I suppose that in some way, it did make a difference. It elevated us from our surroundings, and at least my parents cared.

However, there was one rule in that particular house I never understood...which was to remove your shoes at the door. Anyone coming in may ask the same question given the state of our carpeting...but remove the shoes was an unbudgeable rule.

For the rest of my step father's family it was completely understandable. They lived in very nice homes that had rooms "just for show" that held "collections". If you walked into the house with shoes on you were literally yelled, pointed, and stared at until said offense was corrected...and this was even in rooms that were not carpeted.

Regardless, it is a training that has been ingrained into me, and so now I actually feel strange wearing shoes inside. I suppose that this served me well when living in Japan, as I had to take my shoes off to go into the restaurants and the dressing rooms.

But I have begun to realize that not very many people employ this rule in the U.S. At least no one I know personally, and not to the extent of beheading as it was in my family growing up. And so, unfortunately they have heard me say on several occassions "please remove your shoes at the door"...

I am sure that they are annoyed. Perhaps they think I am being pushy...because when it comes down to it, there is real no polite way to ask. And I personally cringe inside whenever I have to say something about removing the shoes before coming too far inside the house. And believe me, I HAVE to say something. Why? Because something inside me becomes very uncomfortable watching people walk across the carpet with shoes on. And if I do it I feel I am breaking a law or something.

It is funny, because immediately after I ask a guest to remove their shoes, my husband is right behind me saying that it isn't really a big deal we just have the dog and well, he goes on to make some strange and incomprehensible excuse for my anal retentiveness.

All in all, I suppose it really isn't a big deal. And probably would be less of a deal if our townhouse wasn't outfitted with cream colored carpeting which is nearly impossible to clean.

But I think that it is something that will not change. Perhaps it is the thought that goo [or worse] is on the bottom of those shoes just waiting to be carried across my floor and ground into my carpet.

I guess I am a freak because I find joy in seeing the neat row of shoes that our friends make when they come to visit. I have such satisfaction that they respect that request. Now if I could just get my husband to do the same.

Book Baton

Compliments of Nathan

Number of Books on the Shelves:
300 +
Ask me how many I've owned over the years...1,000's

Last Book Purchased:
Cloud Atlas [I have tried several times to read this, and I just can't get into it yet]

Currently Reading:
Memoirs of a Geisha [very good, highly recommended]
Small Business Management [Read it only if you like academic torture]
Bible [It's hard for me to pick up and read, but I need to]

Last 5 Books Read:
Purpose Driven Life [Very good, insightful]
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince [pure entertainment]
Miracles Happen by Mary Kay Ash [Her story is good, but she wasn't a writer. I read this mostly for inspiration]
The Namesake [Very good read]
Project Management [again...academic torture]

Meaningful Books:
The Bible
A Violent Grace [I think that this was the book that brought it home]
The Purpose Driven Life [still useful after I've finished reading]
Mere Christianity [I haven't finished this one, but I love the logic]
The Dictionary [Hey...well it IS]

Those Next in Line:


Friday, July 22, 2005

Harry Potter Spoiler and Update

Please do not read this post if you do not want to know information about the Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

There I warned you...

So here's the scoop:

1. It took me 9 hours to read this book. That is approximately 1.25 pages per minute.

2. J.K. Rowling needs to use the thesaurus a little more. Especially when describing stealth, or sneakiness. She used the word surreptitious at least 3 times.

3. The end was not too disappointing except that I find [the character] H.P. terribly cliche.

This post proves the point that I only write what I want to share, but if it is any indication...I spent 9 hours reading a book and avoiding everything else. Now, without my distraction I am left facing some of the hardest memories I have ever had. I realized this morning after re reading last night's post that I have indeed not emotionally dealt with events from the past [as I had led myself to believe]. I suppose I have been too busy. And quite honestly, I had detached myself from those though they happened to someone else. But reading it brought it home. So, I was a real joy at work today.

Anyway, enjoy the fluff of H.P. it is a decent 9 hour distraction...or however fast or slow you read.


Thursday, July 21, 2005

The Secret Life of Silence

I look at my youngest daughter and fear grips me each time I think of her paternal father. No, not for myself, but for her.

I have not yet started the adoption process. And each passing month is another month of worry that I will receive the phone call and hear the words..."It is my right to see her".

Yes, in black and white it is his right.

But the intricacies of such a matter are not so clear. What would I tell the court? What is my explanation for only vaguely informing my child's paternal father of her whereabouts? And then I turn to myself and realize that it is my own fault that I have this fear. I know I am in contempt. Both of the decree and of myself.

I should have spoken up. Spoken out. But I didn't. I should have called the police the second time. But because I didn't the first time...I felt I had no ground to stand on...I stayed. It was my choice...and now how would I explain?

Wrapping my clothes around me, I walk upstairs. I have but one thought "my fault" chanting in my head, absolving him of all charges. If I were prettier, younger, he would love me. I am unloveable..used trash. Pain is coursing through my legs and abdomen. I take a shower. slumping down in the bathtub as hot hot water pours over me. I throw up. I wash it away. It's over. Wash it away. The sting of soap in my eyes. I wash it away. The smell of Ivory soap permeating my senses. I wish I could go down the drain with the rest of the filth. A quiet drowning. For the second time in my life I pray that I am not pregnant. This time my prayer was answered...this time he can't hold me with false promies...this time I am free. But I am quiet as a mouse...because maybe if I am quiet, he will leave me alone. Maybe his freedom for Kimi. Maybe.

I convince myself of all these things and I remain silent. Who would believe me anyway? We are living together. I deserve it, I deserve it, I deserve it. My choice, my bed.

Clean now...I am dressed. I tell the kids it is time to go. We are packing this time. It is real this time. Two months later he will ask for another chance. But it is too late. I am saved.

Each month I worry that my rapist will call and ask to see his daughter.

Each month that goes by without that call...I am thankful.

However, today I was gripped by a new and horrifying thought. What if someone else will hurt at his hands and own self hatred?

Will he be charming again? Will he call her his best friend? Will he make her laugh, and lure her into believing that his poor broken soul is healed by her touch, her smile, her embrace? Will he promise her the moon? Will he bring down the stars with the stroke of a pen?

His glamour only lasts so long, and then bits of reality start to come through like rust on a once perfect car, until you realize your are no longer in a dream ride, but a junked out death trap without a seatbelt. And when she stays long enough to try to fix the irrepairable...or becomes too needy, or tries to get too close...will her story be like my story? Will she crash? Or will she find a way to open the door before it plunges her full tilt into hell?

I wish I had talked. Now it is much too late...because what if the tattered strands of that chapter of my life has woven their way into someone else's nightmare...what if? I know that someone elses chapter had woven it's way into mine--if only I had listened. I thought I knew it all.

Today I realized I am still a hostage of that chapter. I'll be one tomorrow as well...and the day after...until I am able to finally release Kimi and myself from the legal connection keeping us from true freedom. Until then, I have not really accomplished anything. Worse still, I know that whatever hurt is befallen another woman at his hands is because of my silence.

Pray. Please.

Conversations from the Cage

Scientist Notes:

The subjects are two lab rats; one male, the other female. The conversations that you are about to read have been extracted from a variety of stimuli that the rats have been introduced to over the course of a year. The findings are fascinating…

Stimuli reaction 1

Female: It makes me feel uncomfortable when you hang out with those other rats and Jitters is there…

Male: But I am not there because of Jitters.

Female: But I would like to be a part of it, and they have made it abundantly clear that they don’t want me to be there.

Him: But I want to do this.

Female: I won’t stop you. I just wish that I could be there too. I feel left out…

Stimuli reaction 2

Female: I don’t want to invite Jitters to the wedding…

Male: Why not?

Female: Because we aren’t that close with Jitters, and it’s my day too…and I just don’t want Jitters there.

Male: But I want Jitters there, and I think that we should invite Jitters because Jitters will wonder why we didn’t.

Female: But we aren’t that close with Jitters.

Male: It doesn’t matter. I want to invite Jitters.

Female: Okay

Stimuli reaction 3

Female: I know that you don’t understand why Skippy isn’t hanging out with us, but frankly it is because Skippy cares about Turbo’s feelings…and that is important enough to her to stay away for a little while.

Male: But that’s so stupid and so high school. Turbo shouldn’t be jealous. Turbo should get over it. Skippy shouldn’t give up Skippy’s friends because of Turbo.

Female: Skippy isn’t giving up friends. Skippy is just taking time to ensure that the current relationship is going well--these things take time. How would you feel if I hung out with Mr. Cheesefarts?

Male: Frankly I wouldn’t care. If things hadn’t gone down the way that they did I would hang out with Mr. Cheesefarts no problem.

Female: Well, sometimes feelings are complicated. It’s like how I felt about you inviting Jitters to the wedding without considering my feelings. It didn’t have to make sense, it just was.

Male: It’s ridiculous.

Female: I don’t think it is your call to say whether or not someone’s feelings are ridiculous or not.

Male: It’s my opinion though.

Female: Yeah, opinions are like butt holes, everyone has one.

Stimuli reaction 4

Female: I called Jitters and asked if she would help me out.

Male: Why did you do that?

Female: Because I should call everyone I know…it doesn’t hurt to ask.

Male: After how much you have stated that you don’t like Jitters…you call Jitters up to help you out?

Female: Well, that was a while ago…and me not liking Jitters was more a matter of you didn’t take into consideration my feelings.

Male: No, that wasn’t the issue at all. I don’t think you should call Jitters.

Female: I don’t think that it is your place to tell me who to call and who not to call.

Male: Yes it is.

Scientists Notes:

Essentially, the female lab rat cannot move forward or allow for change, even though that is exactly what the male lab rat demanded of someone else in order to suit his own needs.
A. She cannot make efforts to mature and move on
B. However Turbo must mature and move on.
You can see how the female test subject may be in a state of confusion. The female lab rat has been showing signs of internalizing extreme agitation. Hence there has been a two week isolation period employed in order to secure the safety of the male lab rat. We are sure that with ample amounts of chocolate…err…diazepam, everything will be just fine.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

The Posts I Don't Post

The posts I don't post are really good. They are writhing with emotion. Raw. Gritty. Shocking.

But I can't post them.

Something holds me back every time.

Perhaps it is the fact that I don't know how many eyes are staring back at me into my life. Catching a glimpse of who I am. Even then it is highly,unfortunately filtered.

Or maybe it is self inflicted guilt.

Or maybe I've grown up.

I know that if I were 10 years younger, I'd be spewing forth everything I had onto the canvas not caring who or what saw what I wrote. Conscience be damned.

What would the 3 people who read my blog do with the real me? The inner me? The me that holds nothing back?

Would they come back for another shocking episode of what happened in my life? Or would they suddenly be turned off by the magnitude of what I feel at times?

I'm not always boring. I just hold back.

I'm not willing to share it all. And I am not sure that the internet wants for me to share it all anyway. For now...know that the posts that I don't post...are really good. Unfortunately it is always the good ones that can do the most harm.

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

The Mosquito Who Didn't Eat Chinese

Yesterday was a particularly eventful day. Well...not really. We spent most of the day inside, because it was too hot to live.

However, when it started to cool down, say around 4:30 PM, we decided to go for a bike ride. Just to tool around the neighborhoods that are near where we live. Nothing major. We found a few nice places during our ride, a neighborhood situated around a pond, and a little park that had some walking trails.

Well, walking trails are no match for mountain bikes, so we decided to go ahead and try it out.

All was going fairly well, until the walking trail became obscured by the wild brush that was growing over the path. And Caleb, taking the lead plowed face first into a blackberry bush that had overcome the trail. If you aren't familiar with blackberry bushes...they have THORNS. So...Caleb proceeded to be mangled by a blackberry bush, while I tried in desperation to not be eaten alive.

See, the blackberry bush was really a 'stupid trap'. Meaning...anyone who got caught in it was to be sacrificed to the mosquitos who set the trap in the first place.

We were lunch.

I suppose that I should have known that the mosquitos were going to be particularly viscious. They ususally are right before a good storm.

And guess what? It started to thunder and lightening.

We made it to a picnic shelter just before the down pour. However, since we know how Michigan is, we decided that the next cloud break we would make a go for it to try to get home.

Home was about 3 winding miles away, and Michigan weather had other plans. Meaning, it had no intention of letting us get home dry.

And we didn't. You may have seen us...we were the loons riding our bikes, soaked to the bone with big huge grins on our faces.

The rain and the wind were warm, so it was fun, not miserable...and at the very least it saved us from the mosquitos. And by far we ate better than they did...we celebrated our survival by ordering Chinese.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Pooping is the Most Fun in the World!

This is the attitude one takes when trying to potty train a very stubborn three year old.

The challenge is that after extoling jubilantly over every time the child goes to the bathroom in the toilet, it becomes difficult to show sincerity. At some point you just want them to quietly go to the bathroom without sending invitations and receiving gifts.

I suppose that if this were just between Kimi and I, it would be okay however,our friends who are over often have also taken to applauding and praising her whenever my daughter goes potty where she should.

Perhaps this is because I have forced them to be a part of this process because her potty chair is in the hall [in plain view], where she won't forget about it rather than the bathroom, where she will forget about it.

No doubt, I am appreciative that our friends have been so understanding...I am sure that many people would have opted to decline our invites after the first few times of Kimi-style show and tell, both nude and clothed. Our friends are a special group, without question.

The dilemma I have with all of this cheering is that I wonder if she will progress past the need to announce [as well as show] her bowel movements to everyone. And even more disturbing...will she only go if she has an audience who will cheer her on...

1,000 Words

Sunday, July 17, 2005

All This Time

I have the lyrics to an old "Tiffany" song running through my head. Over and over. It's like a bad 80's movie. Only worse, because it is so applicable to how I am feeling. No, I haven't broken up with anyone, but sometimes song lyrics can take on new meaning depending on what the listener is going through. It doesn't always have to mean what the artist wants.

And hence, "All This Time" is playing in my head. I wish it would stop. But I know that it won't.

My mom is moving, and not just down the street, or to another city within my state. She is moving 2047.9 miles away. Or more specifically, 31 hours, and 30 minutes by car. She has found home and it has nothing to do with walls and windows.

The last time we were parted by such a distance I was running away. Granted I had plans to elope, but still...I was running. I spent most of my childhood waiting for the opportunity to live in a happy home, and when the house arrived, the people inside were still lost.

The 8 years I spent away were not easy by any means, and when I finally returned it was with children of my own and the intent to start new. Including renewing a relationship with my mother that had always been fractured.

I returned to Michigan 8 years ago. The first scent I recognized was the smell of skunk. Because it just isn't Michigan if you aren't smelling skunk.

I was full of hope of a new life, a new beginning. Little did I realize how much self inflicted chaos was waiting to erupt around me, and during all of it I had still had this belief that my mom was suppose to be there for me no matter what.

However, I learned that her life had gone on, just as mine had, in my absence. I did not realize until too late that my absence in this family had shaped the course of things yet to come, and when I returned nothing was as I had expected. My brothers and sister were all in their teens. When I had left they were no older than Abi is now.

My warzone had become theirs. What I had ran away from was still thier reality. Bonds were formed, broken, and repaired with or without me. I was now the outsider.

I'm not exactly sure what I expected upon my return, but I know that it was wholly unrealistic. I wanted to come home. But I found that home didn't exist. The disappointment of my own perspective was too much for a single mom to deal with, so I did what I knew, and I ran again. Only this time I didn't have anyone waiting miles away. So I ran to silence.

But with silence harbors a great bitterness because the silence doesn't make you forget, and it doesn't fill your time with the distractions of life. The more you ignore it, the bigger it gets for yourself and the others that it affects. By the time I was ready to break it, my silence had grown horns and teeth.

That is the result of a complicated relationship with a very complex history.

My writing has been published in the newspapers quite a few times. I used to freelance for The Flint Journal. However my first article in my writing career was a letter I entered in a contest for the Mother-of-the-Year award. I was 6 years old.

I do not have a copy of the letter, but I remember one line of it:

"I like when we go to the laundr-o-mat."

Washing clothes is something that we did together at the laundry mat. We went once a week, and it took 3-4 hours to wash and fold the clothes. I used to press my face to the warm dryer doors, almost burning my cheek listening for the coins to fall out of the pockets. I got to keep those and buy candy from the vending machine. Dollars belonged to my mom, but a found dollar or more often meant a stop at the store for some pop or other treat anyway.

I won that Mother's Day contest for my mom. I guess it was the simple things that we had experienced as mother and daughter that touched someone else's heart. A man came to the house and took our photo and it was featured in the Oakland Press along with my letter.

I think about these things and I sometimes have moments of clarity, that though I did experience very hurtful things in my childhood, there were times that life wasn't complicated and joy came in small doses like tiny laundry soap boxes for .25 cents. Or finding change in the pockets.

My mom was just as much a victim as I was. And now that I consider myself a survivor of those times, I should consider her one as well.

I don't know if it is possible to expect the past to completely heal. In fact, I hope that it doesn't because I want to remember so that I am diligent with my own children. So far, it has served me well, and I have not faltered when it comes to their safety. I will not compromise them. My own safety is another story.

The relationship that I have with my's still complicated. But I am able to see now that life is moves on regardless of hurting or healing. And I don't want to lose the next 8 years holding on to something that was broken in the past.

I'll take the scar for remembrance, but the wound can close.

As for finding home. Houses are just structures. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes not. This house looks different than when I lived there. But the walls are the same, and they hold secrets just as well as any other house. I'll miss the long walk from the driveway to the road; memories of such moonlit walks have served my storytelling very well, but the people that lived inside...I'll miss them more.

All this time
All in all I’ve no regrets
The sun still shines the sun still sets
The heart forgives the heart forgets
But what will I do now with all this time?


Saturday, July 16, 2005

Wonka Day

Last Wednesday our friend Brian announced that he would be bringing chocolate for our Friday evening game. He informed that a shipment of chocolate had to be disposed of due to poor shipping techniques, and while some of it was melted, the rest was okay, but had to be discarded 'just in case'.

At the time I thought to myself what a waste of chocolate. I also asked Brian several times to not forget the chocolate on Friday night, he assured me that he wouldn't.

I hadn't thought about it again until 6:00 on Friday evening and I returned home from shopping.

Caleb was waiting for me at the door...and he excitedly ushered me into the house.

"You have to see this" he informs...and he opens up the fridge to show me the chocolate that Brian has bestowed to us. There were a few bars, and a couple of boxes. Lindt chocolate to be exact.

The first words out of my mouth were "Do we have to share?"

Then Caleb says..."wait...there is more..."

"More?" I say.

"Yes...follow me..."

Now my heart is starting to pick up pace...more chocolate?!

My head wasn't actually prepared to fathom the magnitude of chocolate I was about to see, so I will only describe my reaction to seeing three large boxes of Lindt chocolate sitting in my office space as pure joy.

Nevermind Brian's announcement of TAKE AS MUCH AS YOU WOULD LIKE....

Do my ears decieve me? Did he say what I thought he said?

Suffice it to say that the next 1/2 hour or so was spent in giddy elation as I sorted through the boxes of chocolate to see what was there...

And when Tom arrived the mania escalated...because quite frankly the giddiness was contagious, and when you have more than one chocolate enthusiest in the room there can quite possibly be no end to the madness. Suffice it to say there was much rejoicing...

In the midst of all this hilarity, we decided that July 15 should forevermore be dubbed Wonka Day. Fitting because seeing the mound of prettily wrapped chocolate reminded me of having visited Willy's factory.

There were even gold appropriate is that?

At any rate, Brian was this years 'Willy Wonka' [or more specifically King of Chocolate, Mayor of Wonka Day, Ruler of Chocolate Land], and to be sure, we will endeavor to keep the tradition going...however next year we will be hard pressed to recreate the presentation of over $1000 worth of chocolate to be distributed amongst our friends.

Apparently, the whole truckload that had to be destroyed, or conveniently 'disposed' of was worth $30,000.

We have all decided to try and ration ourselves, but if I do not write for a very long time, it is because I am enjoying my portion of the $1000 chocolate coma.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Etiquette [or lack thereof]

Etiquette, it seems is a dying practice in our society. At least overall. I'm not talking about saying "please" and "thank-you", those are certainly pleasantries that should still be acknowledged...I am referring to the more deeper levels of etiquette that so many people seem to be painfully oblivious.

While I clean I generally start thinking about things. How I could have handled situations better, and what not. And today while I was cleaning I was thinking about my wedding day, or more specifically the planning of my wedding.

There will be other posts in regards to this topic, because it was such a traumatic process for me to go through, and whenever I think about it I get upset. I am just so thankful that I will never have to do it again.

Well, one portion of the wedding planning was the dreaded guest list. Caleb and I went around and around about the stupid guest list. He wanted a big event, I wanted a more intimate event. Money was extremely tight, having dealt with a flood, and a move, and the fact that his job didn't pay anything for weeks at a time...I didn't want to peg us in for a big event and then have to cancel. Makes sense to me.

Well...I tried cutting down the guest list several times. I tried rationalizing, I tried screaming, I tried everything. However, whenever I approached my fiance on this, he became upset at the thought of cutting anyone from the list. Afraid that they would be insulted, or hurt for not being invited...nevermind about how stressed I was in regards to the thought of inviting everyone and thier cousin.

And to be honest, he wanted to invite EVERYONE. Even people that he hadn't seen in years, or people that he rarely ever talked to. For me, it was ridiculous. Because my thought was that if you didn't hang out with them, or talk to them, and they weren't relatives...then they had no place being at the most important event of your adult life. Sorry.

Anyway, Caleb saw otherwise. And so we ended up inviting many many people. Some of who I do not particularly like. But what the heck it wasn't MY wedding day was it? [already I am getting angered by thinking about this]

So...onward. To compromise, I told Caleb that if he wanted to invite all these people we would have to make certain stipulations. One of them being that all of our single friends would not be able to bring a date, and there would be no children under 16 allowed to the reception.

He agreed. However he did not support me in enforcing this AT ALL.

Here's where the etiquette part comes to play...

If you receive an invitation that is addressed to YOU and YOU not assume that you are welcome to bring a date. You should ASK first to ensure that it is OKAY. The following examples should help you to determine if you should ask or not:

Example 1:

Mr. J. Taylor
86 Washington Lane
Monroe, MI 48157

[ask if you can bring a date]

Example 2:

Mr. J. Taylor and Guest
86 Washington Lane
Monroe, MI 48157

[bring a date, no need to ask]

I don't think that the majority of American people know that there are rules regarding weddings...and especially invitations to weddings.

Everyone is under the assumption that it is going to be a back yard BBQ and it's okay to bring 5 extra people with you, because the more the merrier...For weddings..."The more the merrier" is NEVER a slogan unless the bride puts it on the me.

Okay, moving on. So I sent out invites to specific single friends. And I received RSVP's that informed me that they would be bringing dates.
None of these invites stated "...and guest" on the invitation.

Hmmm...problem. I do not have the budget to allow this. Trust me. So Kassi starts freaking out. Because 1. our guests [who are Caleb's friends specifically] do not know wedding invitation etiquette, and are now starting to stretch my budget. I I now nix having a wedding cake so that Cindy won't feel lonely at the reception? Hell no.

So I call Cindy, and I email Cindy...and I leave messages for Cindy to apologetically inform her that I am sorry, we are asking that our single friends not bring dates to the reception due to budgetary restraints.

So...I never receive a return call from Cindy. I even leave a message with Cindy's best I think everything is good.

Trust me, there were more scenarios just like this....some were even escalated to the point of disownment by family members. I kid you not.

Everyone, for some screwed up reason, feels that it is their right to impose thier point of view on your wedding regardless of how much strain it will put you through. My thought is that if you aren't helping to fund the shin dig, then shut the heck up.
Caleb's dad was the only one who offered up any type of financial assistance for the wedding, though I did receive a generous donation for my wedding dress

So...guess what? Cindy brings her date anyway.

To top it off Cindy gives us a card [after she and her date eat their free $60 meal] in the card it states "Your gift is on the way". With the signature of her, her best friend [who also attended], and her fiance. Okay so three people to a that is $90 worth of food they've consumed, and to compensate...I get a $2 card!
Side Note: Just to dispell any thoughts of greediness on my is proper etiquette to buy a gift for the couple that is close to equal in value to the meal that they are providing you. That is how it works...bride and groom feed you and show you a good time, you present a gift to acknowledge and honor the couple's new life together. Everyone goes home happy.

Your gift is on the way...are you frikkin kidding me? Are you mad? I know I and your inconsiderate date just ate well [our dinner menu rocked by the way]...I want a gift. Not a promise. Ante up sweetheart!

Well...fine...settle down Kassi the gift is on the way. So I wait. And I wait.

And we do not receive a present in the mail...however we do receive an invitation to Cindy and her fiance's wedding.


I was honestly half tempted [okay more than half] to RSVP that we were attending with my three children. And then not show up. Just to compensate for their dinners and the lack of gift at our wedding...

All I can say is that it is July 15, 2005.

We were married on October 8, 2004.

We have not received said promised gift.

I do not have to like those people...but I must do unto others. So I sent our regrets, and on the night of their wedding we went to the movie theatre and watched War of the Worlds.

The End.
Disclaimer: alternatively, had Cindy contacted me and asked if her boyfriend/ fiance could attend...I would have said yes...because it would have been the proper thing to do.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Open Mouth Insert SOMETHING please...!!

Prejudice...that is what may be perceived of me, considering my sense of humor. I am not PC. I don't think that I ever want to be PC.

Not that I wish to cause harm to others for the sake of my own amusement...but because I know that I am not perfect, and my idiosyncrasies are the butt of someone else's jokes...and. that. is. okay. Because I am far from perfect...and I hope that someone finds me amusing.

Of course, I often push my humor to the border of tasteless, and this is something that I DO need to work on. Because in all liklihood I will end up stepping on someone else's sensibilities, and I genuinely won't mean to.

Sometimes my mouth has a tendency of getting away from me before my brain can disengage my vocal chords. And more often than not, I laugh at inappropriate topics. And on more than one occasion I have shocked the pants off of one friend or another. Because pushing the envelope seems to be my trademark.


Scenario: Coworkers, boss, and I talking about the sport of bicycling in the workplace cafeteria.

Boss: Yes, I love to bike ride, it's very zen.

Co-worker: Really? You bike ride? That's so cool!

Boss: Yes, it's great. I just took part in a rally.

Kassi: Gosh I haven't been on a bike rally in a long time...[reminiscing]

Co-worker: What's a bike rally?

Boss: Where you travel a long predetermined distance with other cyclists.

Co-worker: Cool.

Boss: Yes, I have to invest in some better sportswear though.

Co-worker:, do you wear those speed-o things?

Boss: Yes, the ones with the padded butt, they are great, but they wear out.

Kassi: If they wear out well enough, at least you'd have a pair of buttless chaps afterwards.

Boss: *silence*

Co-worker: *snicker*

This is why it is abundantly fortunate that I married Caleb. Because he is even less PC than I am. Of course, this has only managed to fuel my wonky sense of humor...but at least the person who loves me most will be laughing along with me.


I have a friend whose name starts with the letter "K" and they will remain anonymous for my blog purposes, and as respect to them since they don't know I am writing about them...yet.

K is one of the nicest [and coolest] people that I have ever met. And it is no secret that when we first met I developed a mad crush for them.

It was just their personality and charming good looks that won me over. I can honestly say that the attraction was instantaneous. However K is way out of my league, and I am happy to just be in K's presence as a friend and admirer of their wit and honest charm.

At any rate, 6 years later, I have the good fortune of calling K not only a good friend, but also a co-worker. It is strange how life works itself out...and had you told me that I would be friends with, or working with K in the future, I would have giggled ecstatically. So, you can tell that I am very happy that God still blesses my life with these types of surprises.

One of K's philosophy's is "If you can't do, help those who can". It is one of my favorite K'ism's to date. However today K imparted another 'ism' for me to enjoy.

I had noticed that K wasn't at all their usual witty self and in fact, even after a compliment of a nice haircut, K seemed rather down in spirits. So, later I asked what was wrong...why was my friend K in such a dour state.

Without skipping a beat, and very seriously, K replied: "It is too hot to live".

And I of course responded by giggling. Because that is what a fan does when their idol extols some sort of wisdom to which there can be no other response.

Yes, we are experiencing wicked hot weather here in Michigan. And K is right. It is too hot to live. However, K is one of the many reasons why I am so glad that I am.


For as much as I complain and drag to get myself out of bed at 6:30 AM to get to work on time. After my shower I feel good. And when I am sitting at my computer accompanied by a cup of hot tea, and some toast with jam in a house that is completely quiet...I am thankful for these few moments that I can collect my thoughts, or have no thoughts. Sometimes I wish morning could last forever.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005


Him: Weren't you curious why I was laughing in the bathroom a minute ago?

Her: Yes, but I wasn't prepared to ask a question I didn't want the answer to...

Him: Well I was trying to go pee and I couldn't find the hole in my underwear...

Her: Uh huh

Him: ...and I kept trying to find it when it dawned on me...

Her: Uh huh

Him: I felt around in the back, and lo and behold I had my underwear on backwards all day!

Her: Uh...

Him: Isn't that funny?

Her: How many sales did you make today?

Him: 4

Her: Maybe you should wear your underwear backwards every day!

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

I love you so much, please write back...

Happiness is receiving a letter from your eight-year old daughter. It makes you realize that the sins of the past truly ARE forgiven, and there is actually something worthwhile left to work with...and a whole lotta good to look forward to.

Of course I'll write back.



Taylor Daze

Last Friday was an extremely busy, yet highly successful day--except for getting 'lost' in Taylor.

My husband is directionally challenged. Which poses a problem, because he insists on doing all the driving but none of the listening.

I'll start from the beginning...

My plans on Friday included picking up my sister-in-law, Elizabeth, so that we could have an excursion to my favorite salon for a haircut and some highlights. It went very well...up until Kimi decided to poop through all three of her pull ups. This would not have been a problem except that I only packed 2 pull-ups for our 2 hour salon stint. I learned of this while I was still under the dryer with highlighting gunk on my head. I realized this because my daughter was doing one of those dances that indicated she was in extreme discomfort...probably because she had poop stuck to her butt. Ya think?

Anyway...I did the best I could in the situation [No you really don't want me to explain]...because I couldn't exactly leave right then...and we both endured another 1/2 hour at the salon without any screaming [hers or mine]. Thank goodness.

After the salon, and after coming home and giving Kimi a bath we decided that we would like to go to the Taylor Days festival. Caleb's dad was volunteering as an auxillary police officer, directing traffic, and he had some free passes for us. Cool.

So, we waited for Caleb to get home from work...and then headed out. This is where we insert the part when we get lost driving around in circles...and trying to just get Caleb to stay in one lane instead of darting back and forth...and my comments of knowing which way is North, and being able to find my way out of a paper bag unlike some people I know...[Insert Elizabeth laughing quietly here]
We honestly drove around the same 2 mile block 3 times before parking.

Eventually his dad [who is busy directing traffic] shouts at us to just park behind a shopping strip mall, and then comes the part where I have to move a police barricade by myself, and it falls apart...and people are pointing and laughing...Oh yeah, I'm having fun.

So, we finally make it to the festival. Yeah! We were there primarily to watch the fire works. Unfortunately having never been there before...we didn't know where the fireworks display would be taking place. Certainly in the sky...but which direction?

In the meantime we partook of festival food. Cotton candy and caramel apples of course!

Kimi then decided that she wanted to ride some of the rides. Like I WANT to put my youngest daughter on a spinning device ran by people with no teeth. Not that I had much choice...the child was having a coronary.

So, we squeezed our way through the crowds until I came to the 'safest looking' ride there was. So I set the child in the seat, and realized that she would be backwards throughout the ride...but there weren't any other seats left. And truly, do you think I would have tried to take her out of the contraption at this point? Heck no.

So the ride begins and all is well...and then it goes faster. And faster. And faster. At this point I am watching my daughter being whipped around in a circle, the only thing that is holding her in is a flimsly piece of rope that isn't really secured tight into the substandard latch.

She must have seen the look on my face...because it is at this point that the heavens cracked wide open and a torrent of rain and thunder bombarded the earth. [Translation: the child began to wail inconsolably]

I think that the carny actually enjoyed the fact that my child was crying because he ignored my several loud requests to stop the ride. But the ride did stop...and Kimi scrambled into my arms like a monkey escaped from a tiger's paw.

So I thought...great...we are done with rides, we can commence with the fireworks. No luck. Kimi saw the Kreepy Castle. She decided that she wanted to go in.

I think that she failed to see the animatronic skeleton dude that was playing the fake organ right outside the door. I think this because she quite literally flipped out when she was merely 1 foot away from it and it's glaring eye was staring back at her.

So Kreepy Castle was out. But the Fun Zone was in. She and Caleb commenced to walk through the brightly colored metal maze without altercation. I on the other hand Elizabeth and I had to endure loud country music while waiting for them. I think my ears are still bleeding.

Finally...came the fireworks. And thankfully we lucked out and found a good spot. Kimi was in awe of the display, and being that Caleb and I missed fireworks last year and for the Fourth of July, we were finally sated in being able to see a pyrotechnics display that was actually pretty decent.

I had a really good time spending the day with Elizabeth, though I think that next time we will take our chances and just stick with hanging out in Plymouth for the concert in the park.

Less Carny, more Show.

Bathing Suit Inept

I am supposed to go to Cedar Point [again] in three weeks. However this time I will be staying an extra day in which to enjoy the fun and sun of Soak City as well. This poses a problem for me. This means that I will have to be seen publicly in a bathing suit. I don’t do bathing suits.

Somehow squishing my misshapen body into a small bit of cloth doesn’t appeal to me in the least. And the more cloth that you attach, the more obvious it is that you are trying to hide your wiggly parts. I have a lot of wiggly parts.

My solution is that I should exercise between now and then…maybe tone up a little bit. Drink more water, eat more fruit…take my vitamins. A lot can be done in 3 weeks. I know because I listen to those commercials.

Of course, I am disillusioning myself. I won’t exercise, nor will I eat healthier.

In fact I think I have just consumed 2 Hershey bars without even knowing. My mind says “no” my mouth has other ideas. I am certain that my body parts work and think independently and my brain has given up on the whole thing.

I honestly wish that they [whoever they are] would make a bathing suit that is actually flattering to a real human woman. Unlike the ones that they have out made for lollipop headed models [who to me, resemble the typical 1950’s depiction of men from Mars].

I’ve never had much luck with bathing suits…not even when I was skinny. If the bottoms fit, the top doesn’t and vice versa. And back when I was interested in wearing a bikini you weren’t allowed to mix and match the bottom and top to ensure a good fit, so that meant buying two suits. With the price of suits, why bother…then with a one piece, there is just never enough support…so after swimming for a while your top parts start to creep down, and underneath a bathing suit, it makes you look as though your top and bottom have somehow started to merge into one large gelatinous lump.

So yeah, I hate bathing suits. Making matters worse is that we will be going with friends who know me. Who I see on more than one occasion, therefore I am not looking forward to scarring their eyes with the image of me bouncing and jiggling as I frolic in the water like a walrus in a scuba suit.

You may think I am being too hard on myself however, I have a account of some of my bathing suit experiences to prove that it should be illegal for me to wear one:

Michigan 1988: Top fits perfectly, bottoms too big. Forgot to sit like a lady. The boys at the beach got quite a show.

Hawaii 1991: Running across beach to meet up with friends. Boobs bouncing up and down…not together, but s.e.p.a.r.a.t.e.l.y. When one was up the other was down. I think that they were running their own marathon. Trust me, people noticed.

Hawaii 1992: The wave rolled in. I rolled in. My bathing suit did not.

Okinawa 1996: My boobs decided to creep out the bottom of my bikini top in a mad attempt to escape their confines and make a statement of liberation.

My husband wonders why I wear a bra to bed...quite honestly it is because they have minds of their own, so I must keep them restrained at all times...even one taste of freedom and I am doomed.

I am sure that there are more wonderful moments of bathing suit fiascos; however I believe that my brain [working independently of course] has blocked them out. Thank goodness.

Perhaps I’ll just wear my dry suit to Soak City…of course; there is the problem of getting it on and off. Did I tell you about the time when I was training to be a boatman for white water rafting, and I put my dry suit on, but couldn’t get it back off again…

Monday, July 11, 2005

Confessions of a Dip

I started this blog 5 months ago. I wasn't sure where I would go with it. Or what would become of it. 5 months isn't that long. However, in my writing I have discovered some thing about myself that had I gone unchecked I may have overlooked.

For instance, I am not as good a writer as I thought I was.
It's okay. I am still learning. And I like it that way. Perfection has no place in my life...except for on the other side of the spectrum where I can gaze at it admirably.

I was named Kassandra Anne Vitales. My nickname was "Sandy" until the 8th grade, and then I changed it to "Kassi". Some of my family still call me "Sandy". I used to get upset and correct them...but those people changed my diapers so, I guess they have that right.

I still do not know what I want to be when I grow up. However, I do think that I am going to be growing up soon, so I should figure it out.

I definitely am rusty at being a good friend. I get too caught up in my own crap that I forget that there are other people out there who have it a lot worse than I do. Everything I experience is really small in comparison to how other people in the world live, and in fact I am pretty spoiled. [blah blah blah me me me]

I need to lighten up. My childhood wasn't as bad as it could have been...and thankfully those who mistreated me back then are no longer in my life now. In fact, I would venture a guess that they are in their own hell. God has a way of taking care of His own, in his own time.

As for my adulthood...I'm not a victim. I'm a survivor. And that takes on a whole different set of responsibilities. Survivors don't whine. Yes I was abused, yes I was raped...blah blah blah. So were a ton of other people. Get over it...go help someone who isn't dealing with it as well as you are.

Being a Christian doesn't mean being a prude. It just means that you have to play by the rules, and there are some pretty grave consequences if you choose not to.

I still love trees. I don't think that I will ever reside some place that hasn't any trees.

I'm not as limber as I used to be. Though, more limber than some.

I am generally quite selfish. Though people may say I am not...I am. Everyone is. But that is no excuse. So I try to practice acts of unselfishness...because with kindness there is always a return.

I am still afraid of the dark. My head plays tricks on me...and though I know nothing is under my bed...I still get that wonky feeling that someone is under there ready to grab my feet.

I am picky about housework. I am one of the most anal retentive house cleaners that you will ever meet. But I don't want to lift a I am a lazy dictator--except when I am mad..then I am a cleaning freak. If my house is clean quite likely I was having a tantrum just moments before you walked through the door.

I don't like fart jokes unless I am telling them. I have to be in a certain mood to enjoy them...and quite frankly, there are no indicators to let you know that I am in that mood except when I am already making fart jokes.

I sometimes worry that I am schizophrenic. No joke. It's a sucky thing to know the symptoms, experience some of them...and have them go away. No one should be that cognizant of themselves.

Speaking of self awareness...I sometimes wish I weren't. Life would be so much easier that way. However, I don't I am stuck with self inflicted cognizance.

I need to laugh more--especially at myself...because quite honestly--I'm a goofball. Maybe if I weren't trying to be so grown up cool then I could laugh at someone elses fart jokes.

When it comes down to it...I sell make up. I am not ashamed of this...but I would like to be good at it. I have a long way to go though, because I am not the cheerleader type.

I tried being a cheerleader once...I sucked.

I tried working in an office [several times] and it sucked.

I love animals...except when they crap on my carpet or chew up my pantyhose.

I still stare off into space. Apparently it was something that I have been doing since a very young age. It is like my brain is on pause...and while I am aware of the world around me...I choose to ignore it.

I am anti abortion. Someone gave me a chance...I didn't turn out so bad.

There are plenty of things in my life that I am ashamed of...that is a list for another time.

One of my most vivid memories is of yanking my best friends very long beautiful black hair in order for her to avoid stepping in a puddle of puke that created by a drunk on the Boblo boat...

...she was mad at me for pulling her hair...

...I wanted to push her back into the puddle...

...but I didn't.


Caleb, Brian, Kimi and I went to the Plymouth Art Fair. It is here that I was revisited by a memory of having a bonsai tree. I lived in Japan for a year, and I have always been a bit infatuated with the culture.

When we saw that one of the vendors sold bonsai trees, I momentarily angsted for another one. Caleb picked up on it almost immediately and offered that if I wanted one of these exorbitantly priced miniature trees, he would buy one. An hour later [after having some Cold Stone Creamery ice cream] we went back and I picked out this little gem.

When it was paid for, and placed in my hands the name "Juni" popped in my head, but today I was looking over some Japanese words that would adequately describe the little tree...and "mokurei" meaning "silent bow" jumped off the page at me.

So Juni-Mokurei it is.

I do have to admit that I am terrible with plants. I do not know how to take care of them. The fact that my mother has had a plant for 35 years amazes me. Of course, my mother's living room somewhat resembled a green house...making it apparent her love of plants, and her ability to care for them. Unfortunately, it is a knowledge that was not passed down to me. And usually whatever plant I get, usually is dead within 6 months. I apparently have the dreaded black thumb.

Taking on a bonsai tree seems way out of my league, but I will give it a good try. Mainly because after coming home and checking around, I realized how horribly bamboozled we were on the price of this little tree. In retrospect, I should have bartered...I mean it is a street fair after all.

The nice thing is that she sits nicely on my desk, next to the computer...and the window in the back drop only looks out onto a parking lot. So, now I have a tree in which to day dream. I can almost see me perched on a low branch swinging my feet back and forth.

Saturday, July 09, 2005


What happens when you take a perfectly good dreamer and force them into a life that is laden with responsibility...

...don't answer that question. It was redundant. I already know the answer.

All the lines blur. And everything that you thought you wanted was just a smokescreen, distracting you enough to make you believe that it was the right road.

Unfortunately, smoke doesn't hold.

And you begin to wonder what could have been.

And you angst for what was.

The reality that you created starts to smolder.

Because what turned you away from what you had been dreaming for so long is fear. And when you wake up to that truth, nothing you have is good enough. Nothing you've done is right. And the life that you built is a tangle of webs.

Webs to a flame.

You catch glimpses of that flame, licking at your world. And your reaction is incomprehensible. But certainly it isn't your fault.

Why why why...

What could have been...if you only had chosen differently. But you already know what could have been, it is no mystery. It is in the eyes of a person you never met...all because you were afraid.

Cold comfort is your reality.

Nothing can compare to what could have's all in your head.

Through the looking glass, a dissolved web shatters into a thousand pieces like a mirror to a marble floor, because someone's reality is another's dream.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Undeniably God

I think that I may have mentioned at some point that I had tried to withdraw from a Small Business Management Course in 2002. However, I tried too late, and then received an F in the course. The reasons why I did that are irrelevant...however I am seeing how God has worked it out. Because I remember at the time how undeniably low I felt for having to make that decision. Having to take that blow. It was hard.

But now...

I see why God wanted me to wait.

Here I am taking a course that totally validates my business venture in Mary Kay. To state it clearly...Independent Beauty consultants for Mary Kay were listed as entrepreneurs in the lecture for my class. How cool is that?

I am taking this class at the right time of my life. When it will help me the most. Now THAT is undeniably God.

London Bridge

My prayers to those suffering right now.

For the deaths caused by blind hatred.

For those left behind.

For the fear, the turmoil, the confusion of survival.

For the rest who will never travel again.

For those who will travel, but with thoughts of smoke and broken glass.

For men full of hate.

For minds full of destruction.

God lift them up and show them the way to You.

Let understanding of the truth weed out intolerance.

Use anger to propel righteousness.

Fill them up with love enough to traverse all boundaries.

Tear down walls, build bridges, teach love for humanity.

For all the world to hold.


Last night I went to Hallmark in my big old blue pick up truck to buy some birthday cards. I have been diligent this year about sending everyone in both mine and Caleb's family a birthday card. So, keeping them on hand is important.

I like Hallmark shops. Each one has a variety of interesting "gifty" things to look at. But I never usually buy them. Except if it is a pen. I have a serious pen fetish. I saw some really cool photo frames. But they were $45, and that was just too expensive.

Anyway, I had to adjust my towel a few times. The one that was on my head drying my hair was okay, but the dark blue towel wrapped around me kept shifting.

I decided that if I was going to do more shopping in Ann Arbor that I should pick up some clothes. They had some cute t-shirts at Hallmark, but wearing a t-shirt without a bra is illegal in my world. I'd have to plan my clothes shopping strategically...bra first.

It was at about this time that I spied someone I hadn't seen in a very long time. She is a girl I played with in elementary school. We were pretty good friends back then, so I didn't feel any reservation in asking her if she remembered me. Rhonda didn't look very different. Same blonde hair, same freckles. Only now she has two children...both unmistakably hers.

Rhonda did recognize me, but when she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. She promptly informed me that the reason why no one played with me in elementary school was because I was bossy.

I was bombared with sullen memories of standing on the play ground by myself.

I tried to think back on that time and remember if I WAS bossy. And I couldn't really remember if I had been. I plead my case by saying that maybe she was mixing me up with someone else. Maybe it was Lorie she was thinking of, or Laura. No, she was me. In fact Lorie and Laura agreed with her.

Well, there I was standing in my dark blue bath towel, with a white towel wrapped around my head feeling a bit vulnerable and confused.

Was I really mean and bossy? I couldn't remember. Maybe I have blocked it out of my memory...maybe I have a convenient memory, only remembering what I horrible.

I decided to leave Hallmark. I wasn't in the mood to buy birthday cards any longer. So I got back up in my blue truck and started to maneuver out of the parking lot. The stick shift kept sticking, and I ground the gears a bit, but finally made it on to the road.

Rhonda was leaving as well, and she had to wait for me to move my lumbersome truck so that she could get her tiny Honda out onto the road as well. I could see her in my mirrors and every time I moved into a lane, I was blocking her path, she was giving me dirty looks as a result.

Maybe I was bossy and mean.

Plainly defeated, I decided to make my way to a sweet shop for some Boston Cream Pie.


In Mary Kay we are encouraged to make goal posters, so that we can visualize what we are working so hard to achieve.

A lot of the goal posters I have seen depict material desires. And quite honestly, I have those wants as well. [See my post about Pink Kryptonite]

However, I wanted to make sure that my focus was on what was in my heart. Because the material gain can come as a result of focusing on what really matters to me.

At any rate...I think I freaked my director out because I didn't include a car on my poster. And because I set my poster up like a board room marketing presentation.

My goals are simple. Career without compromise. I don't want to put Kimi in daycare again. I want to be able to spend more time with my kids and husband. I want to be able to help others achieve their goals. And I want to work my business in a way that is pleasing to God.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005


My husband bakes the best brownies in the world.



Feeding the Birds

On Saturday we went for a three hour bike ride. I prepared for it by stuffing a back pack full of water, Propel, grapes and granola bars. However prepared we were, it didn't stop us from buying ice cream.

On the way back home we did eat some of the grapes, and as we got started moving Kimi ended up dropping some of hers on the ground. As we sped away, she started crying because she wanted her grapes back. To console her [and to save myself from listening to her wails over two lost grapes], I told her that the birdies will eat them. And because Kimi is keeper of the birds, it worked, and we were quietly, contently on our way.

Today at the doctor's office, Kimi was sitting on my lap in the doctor's chair. To keep her busy and happy I had given her some of those gummy dinosaur treats. Having the table manners of a three year old, she talks and eats at the same time, and inevitably one of them fell out of her mouth and onto the floor.

I was worried that I would have to argue with her about not getting it back and prepared myself for a scene, when she turned to me with an earnest expression on her face and in her big eyes and matter of factly told me "It's okay mom, the birdies will eat it".

How can I argue with that?

Pink Kryptonite

A little known fact is that Mary Kay equips her beauty consultants with a pink power ring. Contained within the dazzling pink stone is the ability to soothe, persuade, coordinate, and most importantly have a cheerful attitude through all circumstances [like changing diapers and chasing down rude drivers].

Last night one of these powerful rings was bequeathed to ME.

I wonder if I should come up with a super hero name now...hmmm..The Pink Lantern [?] no...something more original...

Actually, I received this ring from my director as a reward for completing a challenge. I also received a bunch of other things, but the pink ring was my goal. Duh.

Now I can be a true SAHM super hero...because there has to be a source for my power. So if you are an obnoxious SUV driver watch your rear view mirror for...THE PINK GLARE!!!

"Be Ware...The Pink Glare"

Dang...I need a T-Shirt made.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Mess Factor

Yesterday I realized once again why my house is messy. Not because my two oldest children are away, because when it comes down to it...while they do help around the house, I am usually too picky for them to meet the standards that I keep.

The reason my house has been a total disaster lately is because for the last month I have not had guests over. I decided at the beginning of June that I shouldn't be doing anything socially because I was quite probably failing my class [which thankfully I did not]. So, in order to make myself focus...I went cold turkey on seeing any friends. It was tough...and I recieved a few emails asking if I was still alive.

Understand that we have people over at least once a week. So it gave me incentive to keep my house clean. Dishes done every day...vacuumed floors, clean bathroom...etc. etc.

With no one coming over, and a very low probability of anyone 'dropping by' I just didn't exert the effort. Not that I don't think my family deserves to have a clean living space, but I am less inclined to clean for them than I am for guests. For me, it's the difference between being a "hostess" and a "maid".

Our place isn't the best. We live in an older town house. Our furniture is a hodge podge of hand me downs and sale items. We don't have any Ethan Allen or Broyhill in our home...maybe some day. The only new thing we have is our bed, which we purchased with our wedding money.

Some day we'll have our permanent furniture...but not until we have our permanent address. However, I usually make exacting efforts to make what we have cozy and clean so that if any one does drop by we wouldn't be embarrassed.

Yesterday was the first friend we had over in a month, and I looked around and realized we had to clean. So we did. And there were no arguments.

For the past month there had been arguments of who should be doing what...

I guess knowing that no one was coming over made it a good excuse to just be lazy. However, we've opened our doors let the socializing [and cleaning] begin...

Friday, July 01, 2005

How to Test My Patience

Delete all the icons on my desktop except a dialogue box that implies that you have activated an uninstall for hardware.

Kimi has started her computer hacking skills rather early. Zero Cool eat your heart out.


Yesterday evening while pulling into our drive I was greeted by the scene of my daughter's babysitter walking around the park with a concerned look on his face. The next thing I immediately noticed was the fact that Kimi was

I pulled up and asked what happened...he informed me that he couldn't find her...and my mind exploded with every conceivable horrid scenario that could happen to a child of three who is missing. I seriously watch too much news.

I quickly parked the car and ran into the house, and started calling her name. Within two seconds I was answered by an enthusiastic little voice "Mamma!"..."hi mamma"...and laughter.

She was hiding.

I knew she was hiding as soon as I saw the babysitter's face...

(The morbid imaginings are the result of years of highly skilled worrying-BECAUSE I HAVE KIDS)

...I knew...because she has done this to me on several heart stopping occasions. One of which was when Caleb and I fell asleep on the living room floor like a couple of cats on a sunny Sunday afternoon and Abi left the front door open when she went outside to play.

We woke up and Kimi was no where to be found. Believing that she had followed Abi outside. We burst out of the house, calling out her name repeatedly, breathlessly, maniacally.

The neighbor kids started taking up the search with us. The more we called out to her, the less she answered. As a result I had my hand on the phone to dial 9-1-1 and that is when I heard the mischevious giggles of a small three year old.

She was hiding under my desk shoving the last pieces of gum from a 12-pack of cinnamon Orbit into her mouth with the biggest smile on her face. As if to say "I win-I ate your gum all gone..."

Quite frankly, the only reason she answered me yesterday was because I was not her babysitter, her unwittingly designated "finder" in her game of impromtu hide-and-seek. (or more specifically her targeted victim of subjection to fright and anxiety)

It sucks when the three year old is outsmarting the adults. We don't even know we are playing a game...pawns...we are all pawns I tell you. It's a good thing they rely on us for transportation.


Three more classes until I graduate.

I just took a gander at my transcript. There are a lot of withdrawals on there, especially Spring/Summer 2002. There is also an F.

However on July 5 I can start the process of redeeming myself of that F, because I am taking the class over.

I recall that by the time I wanted to withdraw, it was past the deadline. So that really sucked. I wonder if I will have the same instructor.

3 more classes. And I'll be done. I don't exactly know what I will do with myself with all that extra time.

Maybe I'll buy a leotard and become a super hero.

Of course, superheroines are never self conscious in their super hero that won't work.

Maybe I'll drive around looking for obnoxious drivers and exact some justice of my own...

Of course, considering the ticket I just received, I'll need a faster car to evade the authorities. Or invisibility shields.

Just think three classes left and then I will be let loose upon the to develop deflector shields and defense systems for the SAHM. SAHM missles. 3...2...1