12 Books Out Of 52

Happy New Year Everyone! Oh wait... it's almost Valentine's Day? What the... Where did January go? I've just barely gotten my 2012 sea legs. That said, I did have the wherewithal to set my 2012 Reading Challenge Goal on Goodreads.com. Never been to Goodreads? I *sparkly heart sticker* LOVE Goodreads. (I've been spending a lot of time with preteen girls... does it show?) If you only read a little or you read a lot, it is a great place for keeping track of what you have read, what you want to read, and what your friends are reading. So get over there and friend me up! I am always looking for great books to read!

*Goodreads did NOT pay me to say any of that.... but they have sent me a free book or two through their giveaways section.

Free Books = Love

My reading challenge goal is to read 52 books this year. Last year I read 50 books, so this year I thought I would up the ante a bit. At this point Goodreads tells me I am 9% behind. Time to start reading! My fancy friend Amanda lit a fire under me with a simple note on my Facebook wall (or is it "timeline" now?) asking if I had set a 12 book challenge. Hmm... a challenge within a challenge? Yes. I accept.

Here is what she did and that I blatantly copied. My "to read" list on Goodreads is 121 books long. I googled "random number generator" and had it generate 12 random numbers out of 121. (see how that works?) I then chose the books from my "to read" list that corresponded with those random numbers. What resulted is an interesting collection of books for me include in the 52 books I need to read this year.....

Eclectic? Yes... but I'm looking forward to finally getting to some of these books that have been collecting virtual dust on my virtual bookshelf. Have you read any of these books? Any of them look interesting to you? Do you have a 2012 reading challenge goal? I challenge you to set a goal, pick some books off of your "to read" list (mental, on goodreads, scribbled on a notepad, or wherever you keep it) and get reading this year! Let me know how it goes!

Navigating Precarious Waters

Watching my little girl rapidly grow into a teen is making me feel... well... helpless. She isn't a problem child, she isn't boy crazy, she isn't disrespectful. She IS smart, trustworthy and mature.

"Worried Mom" from Google Images. Also offered, images of Bradley Cooper. (?)

Mature. That is where I'm stuck. She is mature enough to kid-sit her little brother, mature enough to handle lots of household chores, mature enough to balance good grades, sports, and a pre-teen social life. BUT... (there is always a but, isn't there?) I try, very hard, to remember her age and that her maturity level doesn't mean she is ready for everything. For the first time, as a parent, I'm riddled with insecurity. How much holding back is too much?

I remember (oh, how I remember) middle school and the balancing act it could be. Learning to "be myself" yet still learning who that "self" was. Trusting that other kids would like and be friends with that person I was becoming. Being labeled as the weird kid who doesn't dress right, read the right things, like the right music, etc. was a fate I didn't want. Looking back, it was mostly in my head. My friends were a great bunch of kids who liked me for me. At 12 years old, I wish I would have seen that.

Today, at the bookstore, it came up again. My daughter came up to me with book after book and waited (often with embarrassment) as I looked it up on my phone to see if I could figure out if the content was appropriate for 6th grade. I know she has the reading ability, but will the characters in the book do things (drugs, sex, etc...) that I'm not ready for her to read about? Am I being overprotective? Is she ready to read about some of those things?

In the end, she came away with two books. My cursory google search made them seem OK for 6th grade, though one of the covers made me nervous.

When Ginny receives thirteen little blue envelopes and instructions to buy a plane ticket to London, she knows something exciting is going to happen.
What Ginny doesn’t know is that she will have the adventure of her life and it will change her in more ways than one.
Life and love are waiting for her across the Atlantic, and the thirteen little blue envelopes are the key to finding them in this funny, romantic, heartbreaking novel.

Romantic novel? What do they mean by that? When I was her age, I was reading Sweet Valley High and any other teen romance I could get my hands on. I have a problem... I'm having trouble letting my little girl grow up.

Note: As I was writing this, my daughter and her BFF were downstairs. They yelled up to me, asking if they could watch the movie "You Again" on Netflix. Much to her chagrin, I made them wait until I looked it up on commonsensemedia.com before I gave them an answer. In case you are wondering, it passed with flying colors.

I'm Not Buying What You're Selling

I'm having a day at home. A laundry doing, pile sorting, toy gathering kind of day. (...and, yes, OK, I also watched my DVR'ed episode of Desperate Housewives. It's a Monday morning thing I do... I am unapologetic. *hanging head in shame*) The TV has been on all morning, set on the Travel Channel so that I don't get too sucked in and forget what I'm supposed to be doing. My friends, this morning, I have stopped in my tracks no less than 3 times... Who the heck is buying the stuff that they are hawking on daytime television commercials?

I have admitted, publicly, that I tend to get sucked in when watching late night infomercials. I've never purchased, but I have been close (*cough* pajama jeans *cough*).

OK... I own a Magic Bullet. It was a gift! (It doesn't work... surprised?)

The commercials I witnessed today make those products look even more enticing. One minute, I'm cleaning out the water receptacle of my Keurig Coffee Maker while watching Anthony Bourdain eat a Chinese Long Noodle (sorry, that sounded dirty... just me? Moving on....) and the next minute, I'm hit with this....

Stop reading and watch the Sauna Pants Commercial (click here)... I'll wait.

Sauna Pants! My jaw dropped. I'm sure this is how the most fit people in America maintain their svelte figures. You just velcro a pair of Sauna Pants around your butt and thighs and sweat your... your... girl parts? (or boy parts... whatever the case may be....) Thank God. I can drop my Weight Watchers membership, quit sweating my buns off on my treadmill, and just watch TV while baking my middle region in my own perspiration.

If Sauna Pants aren't really part of your life plan, have no fear! You can go the other way. Daytime television also offered up this gem....

Ladies and Gentlemen... Forever Lazy. (Watch it here)...I'm waiting for you.

This isn't a parody. The folks at Forever Lazy are serious. Adult size, full body, "I give up" clothing. See that odd zippered area around the backside of the man in the photo above? That is a trap door. A. Trap. Door. Because in the event you need to use the loo and are wearing this one piece blanket sleeper, they wanted to make it easy for you. If you took the time to click the link and watch the commercial you also know that this is the perfect outfit for tailgating at your favorite sporting events. (I can't expound on that idea... to much to say and yet no words....)

Now, this last one has me on edge... I can't really figure out why it is necessary. This is the one that pushed my away from my chores and up to my computer to write to you....

I know... this looks so horribly wrong. Watch the commercial, it isn't what you think! (See it here)

"A natural rest, for the breast." Is this a problem for the well endowed? I fall into that category and I can attest to the fact that I have never lost a night's sleep due to the fact that I didn't have a phallic looking piece of plastic nestled between my girls. (full disclosure -  I think that is the first time I've ever typed the word phallic. I had to google it to see how to spell it correctly.) Rest assured ladies, it comes in a pink silk bag that you can keep on your bedside table. I'm sure that won't raise any eyebrows.


All I have to say in conclusion is... God Bless My DVR.  Hooray for commercial free T.V.!

10 Years Later

Slamming the door of the car, my 15 month old daughter tucked safely in her car seat, I set out on the short drive from Ballard to Greenlake. My mind wandered to my list of after work errands... Groceries, return a movie rental, stop by the post office. The radio DJ droned on in the fringes of my attention until something about his tone caught my ear. As I focused on the story I struggled to comprehend what he was telling us. An airplane hit the World Trade Center in New York? How is that possible? What a terrible tragedy! I don't believe that at the time it was clear that it was a terrorist act. It just all seemed... inconceivable.
My baby and I arrived at my nanny job and were met at the door by my friend/employer. She pressed me toward the TV, shaking her head in a slow motion of disbelief. "You must see this." she said and together we stood, our babies playing at our feet, watching the footage. Burning towers, Pentagon wreckage, and that deep scar in that Pennsylvania field. We were frozen, stammering to put words to what we were seeing. Instinctively, we both picked up our little ones. She found her voice, turned to me, and said "I'm not going to work today". She and her husband both worked in tall buildings in the downtown Seattle area. We were both thinking the same thing... Are there more planes? Could it happen here?
On the way home more details began to come in... stories of survival, bravery, and tragedy. We would hear these stories and many more in the weeks, months, and years to come - each one brought me near tears and made me grateful for the safety of those I loved. I felt the need to reach out to my family, so I called my mom - at home 200 miles east of Seattle. She hadn't been awake or aware of all that had happened, and like me, struggled to understand what was being told to her. It wasn't until later, after seeing the television footage, that she called me back in tears, beginning to fully grasp the events of the morning. Looking back, I now realize how ill she was already, and that she was slipping away. She would be gone in less that 3 months. I realize that the two events were not linked, but my conversations with her that day, and her confusion, will forever be linked to her death in my mind.
Yesterday, on the 10th anniversary of that tragic day, there was much time to reflect. After church, we spent the morning with friends, and then on the way home passed a 9/11 Memorial that was being erected in a park. Two twisted girders from the World Trade wreckage spiral up from the ground. It is a moving sight. My daughter, now 11, and I had a chance to talk about that day 10 years ago. I told her how, even though she is too young to remember, she was a huge part of that day for me. I clung to her, felt a fierce need to protect her, and a resolve to bring her up in a world where she is safe. She was my anchor, a reason for me not to get lost in a sea of fear and hysteria. My final memory from that day was in the evening, cuddled on the couch in front of the TV watching even more footage, my husband's strong arm around my shoulder, and our daughter nestled tightly between us, asleep.
Never forget... how could I? How could any of us?

Stories From My Convalescence

Maybe it's because I'm bored. Maybe it's because I'm lonely. Maybe it's because I'm already up, showered, and have a chocolate chip Fiber One bar on board. All I know is, somehow I have found myself at the keyboard attached to my iPad doing something I had planned against doing. I'm blogging on painkillers. Not necessarily about painkillers, mind you, just typing down some thoughts that may or may not sound Percocet-laced when I re-read this next week.
As I sit here considering what to write, I'm starting to giggle a little bit. This is absurd. For the past several days, I have had some difficulty piecing together a coherent thought, so what makes me think I can write a whole blog post? You have been warned, dear reader, all rules are out the window, this will be the most entertaining few minutes of your day OR the most tedious.
As many of you know, I had a same day knee surgery this past Monday (for details, please see the post "Surgery Wigs Me Out".) and I have been taking it easy on my couch for the past several days. When listing my attributes, "Sitting Still" would not be found under "Strengths". (Neither would "asking for help" or "tolerating pain".) Needless to say, this week has given me ample opportunity for deep thought and introspection. My discoveries are as follows....

1. Blowing my mind is not as difficult as one might think. Two things this week have amazed me, but when I share the story, others don't seem as blown away. #1 - I had an entire conversation with my surgeon (post surgery) that I don't remember. My last recollection of conversing with my surgeon was pre-op when she came in to write her initials on the knee she was operating on. (side note - she initialed in purple sharpie marker and her initials are HP. I got a huge and not unpleasant Harry Potter vibe from the whole thing. If only I had Madame Pomfrey to come fix me up!) I'm amazed that I could be visibly conscious yet still "knocked out". #2 - Sometime between 2007 (when my ACL detached) and 2011 (surgery) my body absorbed my old detached ACL. It just ate it. Chris (who, admittedly, was as amazed as I) googled it and found that this wasn't really that uncommon and normally takes place within a few months after the injury. Whatever you say, internet. I'm still blown away.

2. I have forgotten what boredom is really like. I can't remember the last time I was actually bored. There is always far to much to do in my real life to be bored. I'm guessing that back in 2000 while on bed rest for much of my 3rd trimester I was bored. I recall laying on the couch wishing fervently that I could empty my dishwasher. This is a little like that, only I am able to push myself a bit more, without worry of hurting my child. (my child - who has seen her chore list increase 10 fold this week, would argue that I may be hurting her.) I had a plan to catch up on some movies and read some books while down. I didn't realize that I would fall asleep so easily.(A side affect of those lovely pain pills - I have already taken one nap since beginning this post.) This morning has been the worst by far. I'm feeling a little better, but not well enough to do anything substantial, and everyone else is busy with summer plans. *sniff* Feel sad for me yet? :)

3. Tina Fey is a genius! Despite my narcoleptic attempts at reading, I managed to finish her book "Bossypants" on my new Nook Color. (It took me 3 days - a snails pace for me when reading a book like that). She is smart, funny, and talented. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that I wish I were more like her or that I wish she was my friend (not in a scary stalker way!). Whenever you say you want to be friends with a celebrity it comes off as super creepy. In high school, I had a friend who once said she wanted to be friends with Bobby Brown. She turned out to be a well adjusted, fully functioning member of society. I don't want to follow Tina around and make dolls from clippings of her hair. I just think she is cool. Have you ever read her piece entitled "A Mother's Prayer For Her Child"? If not, google it. I would provide the link for you, but I don't know how to do the fancy blog stuff on my iPad. I highly recommend reading her book as well.

4. It is important to nurture your friendships. I've said this before, I have an amazing group of friends. They have gone above and beyond for me. Some of them have watched my kids, some have cooked us dinner, (this is were blogging on painkillers is different than normal blogging... normally it takes me an hour or so to write a blog post. It is now a full 24 hours after I began to write this one. I took a nap somewhere between the Harry Potter thought and the part about boredom. This morning I found the post abandoned mid-sentence... let's finish this thought about friends, shall we?), friends have come to visit, vacuumed my house, made my kids clean their rooms, and stood by the door of my bathroom to make sure I haven't fallen and cracked my head open in the shower. Friends are amazing. I will take this experience with me and show my friends the same care they have shown me, should they ever need it.

5. Texting can keep you sane. When I first got my iphone I wasn't a texter. It didn't take long for me to get hooked. Chris used it to inform some friends when surgery was over and how it went. I have been organizing childcare, friend visits, and sharing sleepy observations with my girlfriend in Cali via text this week. I'm not always up for a full phone conversation (especially right after a dose of meds) but with texting I can keep up my end of a semi-coherent discussion about the Real Housewives of New York with my girlfriend across town. Just that small amount of adult "conversation" helped me feel connected to the "outside".

I have lots more rambling thoughts to share, but I feel another nap coming on so let's wrap this bad boy up.... to summarize, surgery was not horrible - it did indeed "wig me out" and from here recovery looks like it stretches out for miles ahead. I can move a little more every day and hope that some semblence of normalcy comes soon. My family and friends have been indispensable with their help, love, and phone calls. My electronics (iphone, nook, and iPad) are almost always within arms reach and ready to help me join the world. Painkillers seem to enjoy naps, quotation marks, ellipsis, and parenthesis.If you were able to follow my train of thought through all of this, I commend you.

If, after next week, this post disappears from my feed, it is because I was horrified. We must never speak of it again. Chances are, I will be amused, and it will stay put.

Still (and always...) a child of the 80's.

I remember this...and I wanted it... so, so very much.

On my way to run errands the today, I took stock of what I was wearing. I'm sure most people do that before they enter into public spaces, I don't happen to have that kind of foresight. My point is, it may as well have been 1986 right there in my minivan. See if you can catch my vision... black capris, layered tanks (one of them in "electric lime green), an oversized short sleeved boyfriend sweater, and espadrilles. That girl in the pages of the Esprit catalog circa 1980-something? That was me. This morning.

I spent the years of 1983-1989 in junior high and high school. It was the dawn of my identity, the formative years of my perception of fashion. My musical tastes of the time will help you picture my style back then. I was into Duran Duran, The Cure, Cyndi Lauper, The Pet Shop Boys for much of that time. No, I wasn't a "waver" (for you younger folk, waver = goth = emo, in my limited understanding) I tended more toward the Sixteen Candles Molly Ringwald than the Pretty in Pink Molly Ringwald. I was an adoring fan of Esprit, United Colors of Benetton, and Calvin Klein. I rocked the jelly shoes, espadrilles, huarache sandals, and L.A. Gear Aerobic High Tops. You get the picture. The V-neck Shaker Knit sweater and I had a close personal relationship.

I just wanted to hang with an awesome, happy, sweater-loving, group of multi-cultural friends.

There was a sketch on Saturday Night Live in the early 90's where a group of people attended a bad haircut support group. One lady stood and said that she didn't belong there, her family had made her come and she didn't understand why. "I've had the same haircut since 1963 and it's not hurting anyone!" I can't help but wonder if I maybe in danger of the same issue when it comes to clothing. It is no joke that I felt pretty good in the layered tanks this morning. Just know that if you catch me in those Aerobic High Tops... you have my permission to take me down. By any means necessary.

Surgery Wigs Me Out

Unfortunately, I know my way around a hospital. Chris and I have both seen our parents through some hospital stays and have had to navigate the world of medical terminology and translation. I feel lucky that at this point, at the tender age of 38 (and 11+ months...) I have avoided any major medical issues myself. My only hospital stays involved the births of our two darling offspring.

Though it will involve no hospital stay (knock on wood) I will be having surgery for the first time, and hopefully the last time, in a couple of weeks. In my efforts to "fix myself by 40", I am finally opting to fix my poor right knee, which has been "giving out" on me for a period of years stretching from my 13th year forward. More technically, I have a tear in my left meniscus and a torn ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament). Part of the surgery is arthroscopic, the other part involves and incision above my tibia and a cadaver tendon. Yes... just typing that wigs me out.

How did I end up here? In my 13th year I chose to leap over a picnic bench... and land in a completely weird way. The following winter I had a pretty decent wipe out while skiing. I followed up with years of more skiing and tennis, pushing my already weak knee with two knee-punishing sports. Then... in my 2nd year of teaching, I slipped in a puddle of milk, putting myself on crutches and into weeks of P.T.. Various slips, injuries, and falls landed me on crutches off and on in the following years until, in 2007, I had the grandaddy of all my falls. My daughter was turning 7 and her High School Musical themed birthday party required streamers. I climbed atop the club chair in our living room and it tilted.... and I fell... hard. I heard the *pop* as my ACL tore. It actually made that sound... POP! I can hear you wondering... "But that was 2007??? Isn't it 2011 now???" Yes, good for you for recognizing the date. I went to an orthopedic surgeon in 2007 who told me I "wasn't an athlete" and he hesitated to do surgery until I built up the muscles in my right leg. Oh, I didn't mention that? Years of favoring my knee and protecting it have made my legs different sizes. Not in a freakish way, but I can tell now that it has been pointed out to me. It irritates me.

 

 

 

Beware.....

 

 

 

 

 So, why surgery now? I have stuff I want to do! Sadly, my new surgeon says she recommends against skiing. I had hoped to teach my kids... :( I want to go back to tennis (with a knee brace), hike without pain, play with my kids without fear of my knee giving out, run, exercise, and generally take care of myself.

What am I so wigged out about?

1. Anesthesia. I've never been under before. I am hoping I have the same experience my daughter had when her teeth were extracted... not a clue anything had happened. (except that her mouth was numb...)
2. Recovery. Lots and lots of physical therapy. My doctor says maybe 6 months worth! 
3. Drugs. I hate pills, I hate pain. I'm sure pain will win. 
4. My kids. Happy summer kids! Mommy is out of commission for at least 4 weeks! Enjoy! 

Complaining aside... I can't wait to be on the other side of this. I am so grateful to my friend (you know who you are) for riding me until I made the appointment. I called her my designated "knee nagger". (Not to her face... but now she knows...) She was the only one I let nag me about it. It worked!