The meaning behind

We would stay to the left while walking up the stairwell, afraid they would fall on us. When the warmer weather, came they would gather in corners. Hundreds upon hundreds.

There are many things I learned while at my first college, but the meaning behind my first tattoo is one I will never forget.

Sophomore year. My roommate, she was a rebel. A rebel with tattoos. Wanting to add to her collection, she convinced a mutual friend and I we needed one, too. I scrounged up sixty dollars. A lot for a poor college girl. We drove to a shop in the middle of nowhere. All I could afford was a small tattoo. Flipping through the artist's portfolio, I saw a ladybug and it took me back to that stairwell, where hundreds gathered in the corners.





My ladybug has since faded, but the memories are strong. I have added to my collection. The ladybug wasn't alone in that stairwell, and it won't be alone on me.

My green dragon flying free. Somewhere I'd like to think that they do exist.



My flowers for my children, who continue to grow like weeds. Each flower represents the month of their birth.




Finally my flowers. A safe place for my ladybug to land. A reminder that I must continue to grow as I age.



My body is a temple. A temple to worship, protect, and decorate. I often wonder what will be next and what meaning it will hold.




Write a piece in which a tattoo figures prominently. Word count - 300. I have 246.
My apologies for the poor picture quality. It's not easy to take pictures of your own body!

Concrit welcome. As well as tattoo ideas!

Led Zeppelin, alive and touring?

Led Zeppelin - that's the band I went to see the other night. At least according to the Subway employee.

It has become a tradition to stop at a particular Subway for dinner when we head out to see a favorite band at our favorite concert venue. While waiting in line, a customer not from my party asked an employee if there was a concert that night. He was probably suspicious due to the higher than normal amount of traffic driving through Middle of Nowhere Town. The employee ever so nicely answered this man's question. There was a concert on this night in question and the band playing was Led Zeppelin.

Luckily me and my crew weren't quite as clueless and were able to avoid the disappointment at the ticket window once we arrived at the concert venue. Although we all like Led Zeppelin, the four of us were really looking forward to...




The husband and I went to watch Def Leppard last year and it's quite possible that it was one of the best shows I have ever seen. Not only do I love their music, but their stage show was fucking awesome!

A few months ago, when I heard the announcement that they were coming back, I begged and pleaded for the husband to buy tickets. When I mentioned the concert to my brother and sister-from-another-mister, drool spilled from their mouths as they asked to join us.

It would have been an awesome show without them, but those three people made the whole night that much better. I haven't laughed like that in a long time and my throat still hurts from all the talking, singing, and screaming.

I also need to thank my brother, again, for being so prompt in paying us back for his ticket. Because of him, I was able to purchase the t-shirt in the picture above. I also made another purchase, but it's only for the eyes of my husband. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*


So if you ever want to go see one of the best concerts ever, I highly suggest Led Zeppelin, er Def Leppard!

Are they better next door?

Flip flops.

Black, brown, and navy. Cloth straps. The plastic ones hurt my toes.

From the first warm day of Spring all the way into Fall, those are what can be seen on my feet. They are my favorite shoes. The evidence can be seen in the white stripes that cross one of the few parts of my body that tans.


The soft grass tickles my toes. I am care free.

The sun beating down warms my feet and my heart.

The rain and the puddles make me slide and feel like a child.



When the skies turn gray and the air becomes cool, my flip flops are pushed to the back of the closet. I say farewell as I dig out my boots, buried under shoes I no longer wear but can't bear to part with. My boots, tight on my legs, make me feel safe and secure.


The beige ones glide over my feet and slide up my calves. I turn down the tops to show the world the soft fur. The tan ones hurt when I first put them on. I always forget to wear thinner socks. I rest my foot on the table that holds a tv while I pull the laces tight. I double knot them just to be safe and watch as the balls at the ends of those laces bob when I walk.

My black ones are a newer addition. They are meant for the snow, but are oh so sleek and shiny. I tuck my jeans in and lace them up tight. Are they "in" in the fashion world? I'm not sure, but I like to pretend. I'm one of the cool kids now.


I love all of my shoes in their own special way, but sometimes I'd like to toss them away. When my heart hurts and my temper boils, I wonder what it would be like in someone else's shoes.

Would they make me feel safe and secure, in a new and better way?

Would they give me the courage to say what needs said?

Would they make me feel happy when all I want to do is crawl under the covers and hide?


I am care free, safe, and secure with what I put on my feet. But sometimes I wonder. Are the shoes better from the closet next door?

It is what it is and it's always there

Because I feel like something should go here before I jump right into what was a difficult post for me to write.....

From Shell - just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments. ;)



Anxiety is a state of uneasiness or tension caused by apprehension of possible future misfortune, danger, etc; worry (via dictionary.com)


Anxiety is using a new recipe for dinner. Will they eat it? Is the recipe a keeper?


Anxiety is going out in public wearing clothes that fit, not baggy clothes you can hide in.


Anxiety is sending your accident prone son outside to play. It's only a matter of time before his bumps and bruises become true emergencies.


Anxiety is laying in bed listening to your daughter cough well into the night. Most illnesses trigger her asthma. It has been a long time since she has been admitted to the hospital. Will that other shoe finally drop?


Anxiety is getting in the car after the first big snow and hoping you can make it back home.


Anxiety is getting in the car to pick my husband up from work, knowing there will be traffic along the way. Will the cars behind me see that I am stopped or will I get hit again?


Anxiety is wondering where another child will fit. The husband has stated our two children are enough, yet he makes no effort to prevent a third from entering our lives. I am also partly to blame.


Anxiety is the lump in my throat, the rocks in my stomach, and the lack of words to express what I feel deep down inside.


Anxiety is thinking about what tomorrow will bring.


Anxiety is clicking publish.

Beauty comes with a price

I'm not exactly sure who set the standards for us women. Maybe it was a man. Maybe it was the media. Probably a little of both. Whoever it was, sometimes I want to punch them in their face.

Instead of being accepted for who we are, we must subject ourselves to torture. Sometimes we dress to impress only to make ourselves feel good, and we should feel good about ourselves. Other times it's to impress someone else.

I've been doing some thinking about the things us women do to make ourselves beautiful. Almost everything on my list comes with a price. That price is pain.


Let's start with shaving our legs. Don't tell me it's not painful. Have you ever had razor burn? Just as you turn in the shower to rinse the remaining shaving cream from your legs, you are met with the fires of hell from your toes to your hips. And don't tell me lotion makes it all better because it doesn't! And even if you are lucky enough to avoid the burn, the hot water will hit that one spot behind your knee where you cut yourself. Every. Single. Time. That also burns like hell!






Speaking of hair, let's move to our eyebrows. Tweezers were invented by the devil himself. Don't try to tell me that after plucking on a regular basis it doesn't hurt as much because that's lie. And have you ever plucked a chunk of skin instead of that one stray hair? You might as well just poke your eye out at that point!



And while we're on the subject of hair, who in the hell invented wax and thought it was a good thing to use on any part of a woman's body?! If you have never waxed, now is not the time to start. Recently I thought I would experiment with this whole waxing thing. Quite frankly, plucking and shaving is time consuming and I am not a patient girl. I didn't really process the fact that any part of a woman's body that can be waxed contains some pretty sensitive skin. After I pulled that stupid waxed piece of plastic off, I made the connection pretty fast. It hurt like a bitch! I'm really surprised the paramedics weren't knocking on my door because my neighbors heard me screaming.


Now these annoyances are typically things that we do every day, or at the very least a few times a week. Shaving our legs in the winter is optional (right?). Any kind of facial hair? It's gotta go!

Other annoyances aren't every day occurrences. At least not for me. Things such as dressing up. If you work outside of the home and have to dress up everyday, god bless you. I don't think I could do it. I've yet to find a dressy outfit that's comfortable.


Pantyhose would be one of those things. I try to avoid them like the plague. That little red dress that you love so much? I don't care if you're big or little, tall or short, it never feels quite right. Even though you look like a MILF!



Last but not least, we can't forget about those awesome black, strappy shoes with the 4-inch, could poke someone's eye out heel.


Within an hour of putting those sexy things on, your toes will be begging for mercy. Assuming you don't fall on your ass before that!


We are all beautiful and sexy ladies. I have no problems with doing things to enhance that beauty, but sometimes I wonder if pajama pants and unibrows are the way to go.

Proof that jokers are wild

A while back I won a gift card. Gift cards are my BFF! I love shopping and when someone else pays for it, that makes it even better!

The gift card I won was for an adult site called Pink Cherry. I had never heard of this site so I wasn't sure what to expect.

I browsed through the site trying to decide what they hell to buy for myself. I admit I looked through the toys, but nothing really jumped out at me. I already own a few and believe me, I am quite satisfied with them. So I moved onto lingerie, a growing obsession of mine.

I found this cute little black number that I knew the husband would absolutely love so I added it to my cart. I had a little money left but I wasn't sure what I could get with a few bucks. So I hopped over to the novelties. Maybe I could find some little gag gift that would make the husband laugh. What I found was even better than that! A deck of cards.

I knew my sister-from-another-mister had to have these!

I wasn't there when she opened her package, but believe me, I heard all about those men over the phone. Some good, some really hairy not so much.

When I went to her house a few nights later I was informed that we were breaking in those men. At first they were stiff, which I suppose is better than having them stick together. I will admit that we did have a hard time grasping onto them and a few ended up on the floor. But all in all, it was a good night!

If you're daring and want to see the other side
click away

Things like this remind me to grow old without ever growing up!

What list are you on?

Twitter is an interesting thing. I'm addicted and I know that I'm not the only one. Most people know that Twitter has this thing called "Lists". I personally don't do lists. My reasoning? I'm lazy. Perhaps if I started listing people from the beginning it wouldn't be a big deal. To be honest, I don't feel like taking the time to go through all of my followers and figuring out which list to put them in. I have a hard enough time figuring out screen names and passwords for myself. List titles is just another thing I don't want to get involved with. But I have noticed that people who do use lists have some pretty interesting ones.




Last night as I was getting ready for bed my phone buzzed and beeped. I knew no one would text me that time of night so I assumed it was an email. My assumption was correct. I was pleasantly surprised to see a new Twitter follower. A follower that is not a company that has nothing to do with what I tweet about. Not to stray too far off track, but some recent followers include someone who wants to help me raise business savvy kids. My midgets are 5 and 9. The only business they care about is negotiating to get their own way. Another interesting one is for a Somali discussion forum. Um... what the fuck is that about?!

Getting back to my newest follower... We have 1 follower in common and that would be my husband. Maybe it was a mutual friend from our past or something so I did what I always do. Snoop. Her most recent tweets involved apologizing for not listing my husband and no offense to me (her words) but she would list me if she knew my twitter account. Of course he tells her which leads to the follow. According to their conversation, I'm hot. Um, thanks?

So if I'm hot and she wants to list us both, exactly what kind of list are we on? I haven't figured out if or where I'm listed for this chick, but the husband is in her PILFS list. Maybe I'm naive and that acronym has a different meaning in the technology world, but I know what it means to me. Going that naive route, I Googled pilfs and the "P" could mean a few things-

• People - that makes sense
• Presidents - they're usually old, but if that's your cup o' tea, whatever
• Professors - I've had some I would put on that list!
  
• Pie - um, I think you've seen American Pie 1 too many times!
• Puppets - I don't want to know!

But for each of those results, the word behind the "F" remained the same. Fuck. Whoever she wants to put on that list is her business. I personally find it rather amusing! Wonder if the husband realizes this?

It felt so good I wanted to scream

I was beginning to have my doubts. The husband ordered my new toy 2 weeks ago. The website said delivery would take 3-7 days. I was starting to go through withdrawal. I was antsy, getting the shakes, the whole 9 yards.

He was afraid the purchase wasn't processed and we would have to wait until after Christmas to try the order again. I was starting to think Mr. Online shopper's packages would arrive first. But alas, I opened the mailbox this morning and there it was!

I have never been more excited to get new parts for my vacuum in the mail!

Could socks and underwear turn me into a sexy mom?

Yes the lights are pretty and the holiday spirit can be rather uplifting, but sometimes I really feel that the holidays suck. I mean really, some of this shit drives me bat shit crazy! You know what makes it worse? Holidays suck when you're single and don't have a pretty face. Maybe that's why I turn to Jules Out Loud to get everything out. I'm not quite daring enough to take a picture so you can look at my gray hair. Maybe if I pulled out a loud prom dress, I could look somewhat prettied up. Talk about sexy conundrums!

Another things that drives me bat shit crazy this time of year are the pathetic Hanukkah end-caps. Why can't there be more of those racks than just Chanukkah socks and underwear? Seriously people, get with the program!

You know what I think I need to pull me out of this funk? Some sort of take 2 prom extravaganza. Now that will surely make me feel like the sexy mom that I am!

This post is brought to you by me, with the help of Google Analytics. Everything in blue are what people were searching for that landed them on my lovely blog. I don't know how I ended up in the single result, because I'm not. But what really confuses me is how I ended up in the results for not having a pretty face and being a sexy mom. One or the other please! Preferably sexy mom!

But one thing I know for sure, I feel bad for the person who is getting Chanukkah socks and underwear this year!

I need it and I can't have it

Why is it that you never truly want something until you can't have it. Even better than want, you need it! Right now!


This weekend is going to be one of those weekends.

What I want, what I truly need, won't even be in this state. My lover will be 467.77 miles away.

There will be no strutting around in a gorgeous pair of sleek, knee-high black boots. The kind that have just enough of a heel to make your ass look nothing short of perfect. No parading around in that cute little tee. Music? Movies? Won't need them. Ice cream and hot fudge? I may get them, even if I'm not in the mood for them.

4 days. That's what I have to wait before I can get what I want. I am not a patient person! When I want something, I want it now. I am really not happy that I can't travel 467.77 miles to get what I need. In fact I'm downright pissed off about it!

The husband is in Chicago and won't return until Monday night. This is going to be a long, long weekend!



You do realize I'm talking about shopping, right?



Maybe

A Mom Sexy Conundrum

Lately I've been at a crossroads.

I used to have a love-hate relationship with my hair. More times than not, it was hate. When I got it cut a few weeks, I feel back in love with my hair. Straight, curly? It didn't matter. I loved either way. An added bonus of my haircut was the color. It seemed that cutting off a few inches really brought out the blond highlights the sun gave me over the summer.

I loved my hair.

But the more I played with my hair, the more I saw things I didn't love. And that would be the color gray. I ran straight to the box of hair color I have stashed in the bathroom, but then I stopped. I really loved the blond and wanted to hold onto it as long as I could. And the few strands of gray? They were part of who I am.

To accept who I am,
flaws and all,
is how to embrace my inner Mom Sexy.

I am no longer hanging out by the pool, nor am I outside as much as I was during the summer. This cold weather just sucks. Because of those facts, I've noticed the blond tint in my hair is fading. The mousy, boring brown is slowly making a come back.

Brown is boring! As much as I would love to continue to embrace my Mom Sexy, gray hair and all, I am beginning to cave to the voice. The voice coming from my bathroom. The voice whispering to remind me that red heads are fun.

As much as I would love to be happy with who I am and how I look, I really think this brown has to go.

Watch out red, here I come!

I have a pretty face

And sometimes that's all I have.








If looks could have gotten me through the end of last week, I would have been gold.

Or maybe it's kick ass hair that gets me by.
Of course, sometimes I'm just
up shit creek without a paddle!

Let's start with my dumbass moment #1, shall we?

I met a few friends for breakfast last Wednesday. Since I had no where to be after, I decided to walk around the mall. A little voice told me to check my phone. So I did. 1 missed call. I look to see who called. It was the PTA president. I should have known better than to call her back, but my dumbass did.

There was a seminar for the teachers Thursday and Friday about a new bully prevention program. They wanted a parent representative there. I guess I was first on the list of suckers to call because I don't work and I don't have little ones at home. Makes me wish I did. Have a little one, that is!

I agreed to go. So Thursday and Friday I had to pleasure of sitting in the art room from 8:30-3. At first everything was extremely repetitive, and then someone decided to shut the lights off so we could watch a movie. I would like to call dumbass on whoever thought that was a good idea!

There's a lot of work that needs to go into implementing this program, but after that's done, this program should kick ass. Hmm... not sure if "kick ass" is a good term to use for an anti-bully program, but whatever!


And now for dumbass moment #2.

My midgets are in 3rd grade and Kindergarten. I only started getting involved in the school within the past year or so. That means that there are still a lot of staff that I haven't put a name to the face yet. And I'm horrible at names to begin with! If I had to guess, I would say it was a good 4 hours into the first day before I realized who the hell Bob was.

All the teachers kept talking about Bob - he said this or we have to ask him about that. Who the hell is Bob! Suddenly my dumbass self turned around to face the principal. That's when the light bulb got a little brighter. His name was Bob!

This is the kind of person they want on a committee? Oh Lord, help me! Or help them.

Now let's just hope I don't take the kids to school tomorrow and start calling all the teachers by their first names!


*Because of the length of this seminar, I have been really busy playing catch up around my house. I also haven't had time to read some of my favorite blogs. If you have a post that needs some love, feel free to leave me the link. I refuse to add anything to my schedule for the first half of the week. I pinky swear to read any links that are left here!*

I Love Guilt Trips, TYVM

I don't normally participate in Kmama's TYVM, which is odd because I always have some sarcastic thank you to throw out to someone!


Since Kmama is on vacay this week, TYVM is being hosted by...

A serious thank you goes out here for 2 reasons.
1. I really have people to "thank"
2. A new blog to check out - yay!


Now onward to TYVM!


First off, thank you very much, Kmama for going on vacation. I thank you for rubbing it in reminding those of us who stalk visit your blog. I hope you're enjoying your trip while I'm stuck here with this 70 degree weather. I can't go swimming when it's in the 70s!!!

I'm going to stop with the weather stuff now. Like I said yesterday, if I keep complaining Mother Nature will give me much more than I ask for.

Seriously Kmama, enjoy your trip!



Girl Scout service area manager, thank you very much for the guilt trip. I truly, truly appreciate it! I respectfully declined to participate in the parade, but you keep emailing me. I don't want to be the mean leader because you're kind of like my boss, but I'm ready to go there. There's not much Irish in me, but for the teeny bit there is, it's feisty!


I guess I should explain what the hell I'm talking about, huh?

Our community has a parade every year for the 4th - one of the biggest in the area. The Service area manager for my town asked all of us leaders to march with our troops. Leader R was in charge of organizing for the parade and we should contact her with RSVPs and what not.

I talked to the other leader of our troop to find out if any of the girls would be marching. She hadn't heard from anyone. She also sent an email around for our parents to contact me since she was going out of town. I haven't heard from anyone either.

I finally caved and sent the head honcho-ess and Leader R an email saying I didn't think anyone from our troop would be able to make it. Leader R emailed me back saying not to worry about it. They usually have girls show at the last minute anyway. Head honcho-ess emails me and brings on the guilt trip.

It would be really nice if you could march and bring a few girls with you. Remind them that they will get a patch and be recognized at the luncheon

Yes, it would be nice, but what does she want me to do, drag each girl to the meeting place by their ears?! NO thank you very much!

As for me, I have my mom and a family friend with her daughter who come every year to watch the parade with us. I really don't think it's fair for them to come here only for me to hit them up with babysitting duty for my son while I walk down the road with my daughter. I just love how the husband conveniently schedules a tennis game during the parade. Every year!

For now, I'm going to ignore that last email and just see what happens from here. There's a good chance when they come marching towards me on Saturday, it will just happen to coincide with me needing to run down the hill to my house for a pee break!

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

Who do you have to thank this week? Go write a post and link up with Kmama Oswalk Cuties!


One more thing, voting for the Mommyologist's Mom Sexy Prom Queen is still going on. Would you be so kind as to visit her and place a vote for me? Thanks!

Sparkling and Nominations

Well I'll be damned! I'm all a-glow!

I am one of the 5 nominees for the Mommyologist's Mom Sexy Prom!!! I never get nominated for this kind of shit! Probably because I never cared about it before. But I do now. I love this whole Mom sexy thing. And dammit, I am Mom sexy. Even if I'm the only one who thinks it (husband excluded), I will shout it from the rooftops!

If you missed me getting all dolled up, you can check out this post. Go ahead, I'll wait. Just don't oogle too much.


So what does it mean now that I'm a nominee? It means I have to beg and plead and kiss some major ass to get you to vote for me.

Do you take bribes?

Do I need to stand on my head and perform circus tricks?

I'll do whatever it takes for you to vote for me.

Maybe... a girl has to have standards, you know!


Voting starts today and goes until Friday, July 2. You can vote once a day.


Please and thank you!

Prom - Take 2

I have a confession to make.


I didn't go to my Senior Prom
long story

I remember hearing that it wasn't all that fun anyway. I'd like to think that was because I wasn't there, but I know that's not true. In high school, I was just there. I wasn't voted most popular or most beautiful. Hell, the only pictures of me in the yearbooks are the school pictures where you're forced to sit in the gym while a creepy photographer snaps away. There might be a few stage crew pictures with me in them. Assuming we showed up! The good girl image is a front at times.

But I am making up for that right here and now. I decided to attend the Mommyologists Mom Sexy Prom.



The prom doesn't start until Friday night, but I am cutting it a little close. That's the story of my life - way too early or just barely making it!


I had this whole outfit picked out and ready to go. And then I hit a road block. A major one! My key accessory is no where near ready yet! I so badly wanted to wear my long black and slinky dress with the spaghetti straps. My own pair of "do me" shoes compliment it nicely. And I was going to throw a shawl on just in case it gets chilly. But, you see, I am making this shawl. Topaz in color with gold flecks. It's not ready to go yet. But that's ok. I'm wearing that outfit when I go see the Phantom of the Opera in a few months. I better be done by then.

So you see my dilemma - nothing to wear!!! I started tearing apart my closet, noticing a boatload of crap that needs pitched, when there it was. One of my favorite dresses I forgot I had! We had a winner! And it goes with my "do me" shoes. Bonus!!!

Need a close up of my rockin shoes? Here ya go!!!

I would like to take a minute to point out that I did in fact do some chores while rockin my dress. I vacuumed upstairs and put away yet another load of laundry. But I couldn't do it in my shoes. I love them to death, but I'll be damned if I can walk in them without tripping!


Now that I have my outfit picked out, my make-up on and a relatively clean house, I can turn my focus to finding a date.

On second thought, I think stag is the way to go. Less stress. I'll have more fun if I just mingle with the other ladies while I grab a few drinks, because those are legal at this prom!

Maybe some of the other ladies know of an awesome after-prom party. Preferably one with a pool. I am quite proud to say I bought a new bathing suit that I am in love with. A low cut, brown and flowery tankini. Low cut and flowers - definitely not something I would even have considered a year ago!

After the conversation I had with the husband last weekend, I will admit I did try on a little bikini. If it wasn't so damn hard to tie, I would have bought it, too!!


So who has a pool?!