tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68868319292002023532024-03-12T23:04:31.407-04:00Nobody Listens To The GirlBethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.comBlogger293125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-5183151068315513282011-10-11T21:13:00.000-04:002011-10-11T21:13:24.985-04:00My Annual PostSo you might have noticed that a little bit of time has past since we spoke last. You may have also noticed by reading my first sentence that I've used that time to work on my rhyming skills. As for how I'll sum up the remaining 10 months of my time since my last post, I've chosen to use pictures. I made this choice since a picture is worth a thousand words and yet they take up such little space.<br />
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Let the summing up begin:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1clsztkjuo8/TpTeOYIK2jI/AAAAAAAAAyk/_arw-JZpXjY/s1600/IMG_2717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1clsztkjuo8/TpTeOYIK2jI/AAAAAAAAAyk/_arw-JZpXjY/s320/IMG_2717.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
In March, roughly 3.5 weeks before my due date, I developed a bit of a blood pressure problem. Like 200/125 problem. The doctors gently recommended that I C-section it up so as to avoid things like stroke, still birth and death.<br />
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I felt this was wise as well. At some point during the day Evangeline was born I also developed HELLP.<br />
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As crazy as it got, we both lived to tell the tale. Though to be fair I typically tell the story since my speech patterns are better. Plus shes not much of a typer yet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kudSDaKGkJc/TpTe2UdNTYI/AAAAAAAAAys/4Agruqs1zeE/s1600/IMG_2613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kudSDaKGkJc/TpTe2UdNTYI/AAAAAAAAAys/4Agruqs1zeE/s320/IMG_2613.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a week of recovering at the hospital, we took our 4 pound 10 ounce baby home. Everyone was excited. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2u59yyrEMcs/TpThasll0PI/AAAAAAAAAzE/a3mRHzDu_nE/s1600/IMG_2736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2u59yyrEMcs/TpThasll0PI/AAAAAAAAAzE/a3mRHzDu_nE/s320/IMG_2736.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sleep is scarce so we get it anyway we can. I still don't sleep through the night. Might be because of the baby or it could be because this image haunts my dreams. It's anyone's guess, really.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-oc9a98Jqc/TpTgcXaZIGI/AAAAAAAAAy8/ncrqvgkZNoc/s1600/IMG_2681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-oc9a98Jqc/TpTgcXaZIGI/AAAAAAAAAy8/ncrqvgkZNoc/s320/IMG_2681.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We celebrated everyone's birthday's. We are now older, tireder, and no wiser then when we started.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cqT05lrL-Bw/TpTiEOZslWI/AAAAAAAAAzM/PRsQibLlRfk/s1600/IMG_2771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cqT05lrL-Bw/TpTiEOZslWI/AAAAAAAAAzM/PRsQibLlRfk/s320/IMG_2771.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"> We didn't leave our country out. We celebrated her birthday too. Like the rest of America we celebrated our freedom by eating fried food and blowing stuff up. Ah, good times.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DQ680fooG0Y/TpTiwxM0cII/AAAAAAAAAzU/ujGTkOEkb3s/s1600/IMG_2792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DQ680fooG0Y/TpTiwxM0cII/AAAAAAAAAzU/ujGTkOEkb3s/s320/IMG_2792.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We adopted a monkey. Hey, wait, what?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WpQ8DO28IhI/TpTjXciUexI/AAAAAAAAAzc/x5qpfeCQ2cU/s1600/IMG_2798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WpQ8DO28IhI/TpTjXciUexI/AAAAAAAAAzc/x5qpfeCQ2cU/s320/IMG_2798.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Homemade corndogs were consumed.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3vZd3hgWM3A/TpTf1rwxW3I/AAAAAAAAAy0/SNpMwTIigWA/s1600/IMG_2916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3vZd3hgWM3A/TpTf1rwxW3I/AAAAAAAAAy0/SNpMwTIigWA/s320/IMG_2916.JPG" width="320" /></a></div> We apple picked in the rain and then celebrated that event like only Rocky Balboa could.<br />
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The truth is a lot more has happened, but it's too much to recap. I don't see myself keeping up with this blog anytime soon. I just don't have the time with the baby and homeschooling and other menial tasks like laundry and cooking/cleaning that inconsiderately take up so much of my time. I did want to stop in, say "Hi" and let you know that I started a blog with Mallory at <a href="http://homeschoolingstarters.wordpress.com/">http://homeschoolingstarters.wordpress.com/</a><br />
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So if you miss me like I miss you, stop by and say hi. I promise I'll update it more then once a year.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-26523754384577206522010-12-12T23:21:00.000-05:002010-12-12T23:21:30.334-05:00Sometimes I LieSo I started writing a Christmas post tonight, but I've decided to procrastinate posting it. I was concerned about not posting anything at since the last time I procrastinated blogging it lasted three months. So I was thinking about a quick picture post. Everyone loves pictures.<br />
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Naturally I couldn't decide on a picture myself, so I asked Jessica if I should post an Ultrasound picture or something weird. Honestly who doesn't love a good Darth Vader in a football helmet picture? Then it occurred to me: ultrasound pictures are kind of weird. What's weirder than a person with another person inside of them? If you think about it pregnant women are like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matryoshka_doll">Russian nesting doll</a>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://wallbuilder.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/russian-nesting-dolls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://wallbuilder.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/russian-nesting-dolls.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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To further my argument that ultrasound pictures should fall into the weird category, during my first pregnancy I couldn't help but feel like I was in the movie Alien. I half expected Mallory to burst from my abdomen Alien style and begin to terrorize the planet. In my defense I was kind of right, but instead of her ripping through my abdomen someone else cut me open and pulled her out.<br />
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Let's try to put that last paragraph behind us and gaze at the life form currently controlling my life and body.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TQWcjIRDlmI/AAAAAAAAAyY/2JYA5q9smzo/s1600/IMG_2493a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TQWcjIRDlmI/AAAAAAAAAyY/2JYA5q9smzo/s320/IMG_2493a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I think she has my coloring.</div><br />
For those of you that aren't into ultrasound pictures I was trying to think of something you might enjoy. Then I realized that belly pictures are all the rage. Everyone seems to love to see other women's bellies grotesquely distended. While it's not really my cup-of-tea I thought I should throw you guys a bone so here it is: My almost six month belly shot.<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://stylefrizz.com/img/gisele-bundchen-showing-baby-bump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://stylefrizz.com/img/gisele-bundchen-showing-baby-bump.jpg" width="138" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Or that might be Gisele Bundchen. I keep getting us mixed up.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-70587833072909455122010-12-06T06:00:00.005-05:002010-12-06T06:00:05.006-05:00The Poor Man's Millionaire MatchmakerSome people are addicted to The Bachelor or I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant, Pregnant at 16, The Jersey Shore, The Real Housewives of (Insert name of American city that has a plethora of women who wear stilettos to watch their maids do laundry)... you get that idea. I've never been able to get into these shows really. But Patty from the Millionaire Matchmaker speaks my language. Maybe it's because I understand her plight. She is burdened to find love for the financially affluent American. She knows what it is to comb through beautiful women and men in search of the perfect abs for her clients' money. If you recall I have been on a quest to marry CeCe off to one affluent NFL hottie for a few years now.<br />
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Here's where I <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-mom-and-i-both-think-you-are-lunatic.html">hatched this plan to marry her off to him</a>.<br />
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It failed.<br />
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Not one to be easily discouraged, I created a new, more detailed plan that got us <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-i-found-love-in-public-restroom.html">within yelling distance</a>. I'm pretty sure he was into her. At least he would have been had he ever looked our way.<br />
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We figured we'd have next year to continue our quest but then the worst thing that has ever happened <strike>to me</strike> to CeCe happened.<br />
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Trent got cut.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://por-img.cimcontent.net/api/assets/bin-201011/7a7b30c8fef63a963c7c43d61bac88a5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="304" src="http://por-img.cimcontent.net/api/assets/bin-201011/7a7b30c8fef63a963c7c43d61bac88a5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Just so you aren't confused, I'm not talking about his hair. He, the player, was let go from the team.<br />
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The turnaround was a quick one. One day after he was fired from the Bills, he was on his way to his new team in Florida.<br />
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I tried to remain upbeat and positive when I gave CeCe the news. "These aren't insurmountable odds," I told he. "Next year, we'll just have to book a flight to Florida in the preseason to catch Trent playing for the Jaguars." CeCe was less enthused. She's really looking for someone more local. You would think this would be easier than hooking her up with an NFL player that I've never met, but you'd be wrong. Our local singles scene is, well, let's just say it would be easier to find dignity on the Jersey Shore than a decent single guy around here.<br />
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That's when Matt said those magic words that proved how very close minded I was being.<br />
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<blockquote><i>"There are a lot of single inmates at the prison."</i></blockquote><br />
How could I have been so foolish? Inmates are good people. So they're just a little misunderstood by the judicial system. No big deal. Did you know that most inmates are gang members? Hello, family oriented and loyal. They'd even kill for you. No seriously, they'd kill for you. Also a good portion of them are Muslims so: very religious. According to Matt, most of them go for women with a little bit of junk in the trunk, so you if you wanted to have that second piece of cake after your fifth piece of chicken. GO. FOR. IT. Finally, they don't live with you. You don't have to pick up their dirty clothes or make them dinner. I mean, you should probably feed the illegitimate children you have with them and visit them once and while, but other than that, Scott free.<br />
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The truth is, even as cute as Trent is, inmates hold their own kind of charm.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-images/Arts/Arts_/Pictures/2007/08/03/prison460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="http://image.guardian.co.uk/sys-images/Arts/Arts_/Pictures/2007/08/03/prison460.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I think the one in the middle front has got something. That 'stache is muy sexy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://westwood.fortunecity.com/baker/324/cards/veggies/mrlunt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://westwood.fortunecity.com/baker/324/cards/veggies/mrlunt.jpg" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He reminds me a little of Mr. Lunt from Veggies Tales, and who doesn't love Veggie Tales?</div><br />
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I presented the new plan to CeCe, and she LOVED it! She's ready to start corresponding with an inmate ASAP. Maybe that desperation comes from her recent birthday in which she turned an age that I also am but am too nice of a friend to admit to on her behalf or maybe she's secretly hot for Mr. Lunt. Either way, I see a nice prison chapel wedding in our future.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cache4.asset-cache.net/xc/664615.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=77BFBA49EF878921F7C3FC3F69D929FDCED80A733303320C098BD902104AEF667099E3D87A216E62" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="http://cache4.asset-cache.net/xc/664615.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=77BFBA49EF878921F7C3FC3F69D929FDCED80A733303320C098BD902104AEF667099E3D87A216E62" width="320" /></a></div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-91461761471596518862010-11-29T08:43:00.001-05:002010-11-29T08:51:24.658-05:00It's Been Awhile...BTW I Had a BabyAll right, fine. It hasn't been <i>that</i> long since I blogged. But I hadn't realized how long it's been, and I felt like I couldn't just show up after 3 months without bringing some big news. Especially since big news is the new black it seems. Seriously, in the last few weeks Prince William, Chad Ocho Cinco, Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson announced engagements, Eva Longoria filed for divorce, a slew of B list celebrities (whose names aren't important enough to Google) announced new babies and now Pink is expecting a new baby.<br />
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So if you haven't deduced yet, my blog title is misleading (read: A Big Fat Lie). I did not have a baby. In order for the title to be true I would have had to wait until April to post again.<br />
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See what I did there? <br />
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So how you doing? How has the fall treated you? Yeah, who are we kidding? I'm way too ego-centric to care about anyone but me so let's talk about that. The past three months have been a time of growth for me. Instead of spending the fall writing about myself, I have spent them getting to know me better. I have learned that I was exceptionally anti-social in my first trimester even to the point that I allegedly blew Jessica off on the phone one day. I repeat, allegedly; I have no recollection of this incident.<br />
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I will shamefully admit that I did blow off this blog. If you are upset with me, take comfort in knowing that I got what was coming to me. I'm only half-way through my pregnancy and my MIL already referred to me as "huge". Apparently that time of growth I was referring to was literal.<br />
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Finally, I have discovered that I am a name snob. I shoot down every name that other people suggest for one reason or another. So not only is my future child nameless, she's not even close to getting a name. If you think you can come up with a name better than "Baby" for my unborn daughter that'd be super.<br />
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For anyone who feels like they couldn't possibly name a child that they don't know, I'll recap for you: Since becoming pregnant with her I have exhibited anti-social behaviors. I have become thoughtless to the feelings of others, and I will most likely make fun of any name that you suggest. Essentially I am gestating a Mean Girl.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://content9.flixster.com/question/52/03/27/5203271_std.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://content9.flixster.com/question/52/03/27/5203271_std.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">She might be a jerk, but at least she'll have great legs and a good taste in shoes.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-81298854803813648352010-09-06T06:00:00.001-04:002010-09-06T06:00:06.017-04:00How I Found Love In A Public RestroomLast weekend, Matt and I loaded up my mother's eight passenger van with warm bodies and drove them five hours, one lunch at the BK Lounge and roughly 67 bathroom trips out to Buffalo. We did this in honor of the Buffalo Bills annual "Kids' Day Celebration." <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRZfuO442I/AAAAAAAAAxA/e0vZM8vawUY/s1600/IMG_2379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRZfuO442I/AAAAAAAAAxA/e0vZM8vawUY/s320/IMG_2379.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> So we brought kids. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We didn't bring the crazy half-naked man or the man with the boa. Just the kids.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRYqTDYfnI/AAAAAAAAAw4/Q2sgexqGik0/s1600/IMG_2378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRYqTDYfnI/AAAAAAAAAw4/Q2sgexqGik0/s320/IMG_2378.JPG" /></a></div>And because no five hour trip is complete with only two kids, we brought two more. I have no idea how to explain the pose my son made here... Would you believe he gets that from his father?<br />
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At least he kept his shirt on.<br />
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CeCe came too. We are continuing our quest to wed her off to Trent. Last year I managed to get them into the same city, but I failed to introduce them. I believe that this was a direct result of my lack of a clear cut plan. So this year, I made a plan. It was an excellent plan. It even comes with a visual aid.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRckCmQzVI/AAAAAAAAAxg/bZvYFaRhfvM/s1600/IMG_2383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRckCmQzVI/AAAAAAAAAxg/bZvYFaRhfvM/s320/IMG_2383.JPG" /></a></div>It's clear because Trent is not the focal point of any of the player pictures, proof that I didn't have the camera at this point in the day. So work with me here. See 99? Then 96? And then 4 way off in the distance? Trent is the player walking toward 4. Sadly this is the best picture that Ryan took of Trent. You disappoint me, Ryan. Disappoint.<br />
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Anyway back to my plan to hook my friend up with a hottie QB! You might have noticed from the pictures of the kids that we were really close to the field. Mallory and Thor actually got to high-five 99 at one point. It would have been no big deal at all for CeCe to "fall" onto the field while Trent was tossing balls to his wide receivers to warm up. Getting onto the field was the easy part. Getting past all the men between CeCe and Trent was trickier. So the plan was for her to run as fast as she could and then at the precise moment, intercept a pass from Trent. Then he would know: she completes him. The rest would be history.<br />
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It's a beautiful and romantic plan, isn't it? One I spent a whole year coming up with (or I might have just come up with it on the spot, thus not giving CeCe enough time to properly train for such a plan). <br />
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CeCe wasn't the only one that (almost) made a love connection.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRbv3w7LRI/AAAAAAAAAxY/lMtz-anbzv8/s1600/IMG_2375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRbv3w7LRI/AAAAAAAAAxY/lMtz-anbzv8/s320/IMG_2375.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Yep, that's Thor and Loki with the Jills. The boys were refusing to pose with them, but I might have asked one of the girls to help me embarrass my brother and she was so down. Then, of course, Ryan told them to man up and take a picture with the girls. (Notice Ryan's not in the picture.) Ryan did, however, give each of the boys a little money to donate to the cheerleaders' cause. So Best Wingman of the Trip goes to Ryan.<br />
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Now you've suffered through a whole post, and I've only mention public restrooms once and have failed to tell any exciting stories about using one. So here it is, the story of how I found love next to a toilet stall.<br />
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I took Mallory to the bathroom for the 32nd time. I was waiting outside her stall for her since I didn't need to pee on account of having already been to the bathroom 31 previous times. I was doing my best to not make eye contact with other restroom patrons, but there was a small gaggle of girls hanging out in the middle of the bathroom. Their hair was way overdone, and they were each wearing enough make-up to join a circus. Since clearly their physical appearance wasn't attention grabbing enough, they spoke to each other as loudly as possible. I suspected that perhaps one or all of them were hard of hearing, but a quick check revealed no hearing aids for this group of twenty-somethings. Here is how their conversation went (it helps to get the true feel for the event if you imagine them yelling at each other):<br />
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"Oh my God, we totally <b><i>have</i></b> to get a picture of all of us together."<br />
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"Here?"<br />
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"I just need to find someone who can take it."<br />
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(me frantically trying not to make eye contact)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRaLQrHlHI/AAAAAAAAAxI/IsYG-ShCFHE/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRaLQrHlHI/AAAAAAAAAxI/IsYG-ShCFHE/s320/IMG_2395.JPG" /></a></div>Then the girl with the camera looked at me kind of crazy (see above).<br />
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"Would <i>you</i> take our picture?"<br />
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I agree, secretly wondering why anyone could possibly want a picture of themselves and all of their besties in a bathroom.<br />
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Then as she handed me the camera, she said the words that set my heart a flutter and changed my life:<br />
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"Oh my God, I love you <i>forever</i>!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRa98g1dFI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/pNO2LSBvSQU/s1600/IMG_2398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TIRa98g1dFI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/pNO2LSBvSQU/s320/IMG_2398.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Really? Do you mean it?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And then as quickly as she fell in love with me, my life-long bathroom love disappeared in the throngs of sports fans while screaming something to her friends about posting that picture on her facebook.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I never saw her again.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">CeCe and I wept all the way home for our lost loves. Although in all fairness, with a year of solid training, CeCe could totally win Trent over next year.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-50615883615032801942010-08-31T06:00:00.000-04:002010-08-31T06:00:02.156-04:00Fine Art and the Homeschooling MotherArt is a tricky thing to teach. Most likely this is because I am by no means artistic. In spite of my short comings, it is still necessary to include an art program in our homeschooling. Since my kids are only in Kindergarten and 2nd grade, it is not necessary that I teach them about fine Italian art or even bad Italian art for that matter, which is a huge relief since I don't know anything about art history. People always tell you that majoring in Art History in college is a waste of time. If only I had known then what I know now.<br />
<br />
Burdened with this degree in social sciences, I pressed on.Then I had a moment of creative genius. Instead of buying cute color coded binders for my kids for school, I bought them plain white ones.Then I gave them each a white piece of paper and a few crayons (few crayons: 476) and said, "Draw whatever you want." I'm not the kind of parent that wants to inhibit their child's creativity with things like actual artistic structure. Pft.<br />
<br />
What happens when you give a child free creative reign? Be prepared to be awed and amazed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxXZCOhesI/AAAAAAAAAwg/1JOz7QGWWKM/s1600/IMG_2402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxXZCOhesI/AAAAAAAAAwg/1JOz7QGWWKM/s320/IMG_2402.JPG" /></a></div>Look at the curve of the rainbow, the wave of the ocean and the graininess of the sand. Feels a little like you're there, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxYRFTU2XI/AAAAAAAAAwo/9z1YnQ6epVk/s1600/IMG_2403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxYRFTU2XI/AAAAAAAAAwo/9z1YnQ6epVk/s320/IMG_2403.JPG" /></a></div>Adding a splash of color to his beach front property, Anthony is joined by Nemo. Very realistic.<br />
<br />
Of course, once their binders were decorated, they noticed how bland my plain white binder was. I had not anticipated that they would want me to draw something. Mallory was ruthless, asking at every turn when I would decorate my binder. I tried to distract her. I cried, faked injury and joined the circus briefly. But then I realized that it was my binder, and I am a grown woman and can do whatever I want to it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxZELn-nNI/AAAAAAAAAww/9PWiCIOvOu4/s1600/IMG_2404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/THxZELn-nNI/AAAAAAAAAww/9PWiCIOvOu4/s320/IMG_2404.JPG" /></a></div>My kids call him, "Creepy Trent." Mallory insists his eyes follow her everywhere she goes, and I'm O.K. with that. Actually I'm thinking this might be the best decision I've made all year.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-45149719150080274272010-08-26T06:00:00.001-04:002010-08-26T06:00:05.332-04:00The Worst Birthday in the History of Twelfth Birthdays Ever...Except For, You Know, Kids In Third World Countries and StuffYesterday was my sister Malibu Barbie's twelfth birthday. So, even though today was our first official day of homeschooling and the whole family had dentist appointments today, we made it a point to drive over to my mom's for the big celebration. There wasn't really a big celebration. It was just our family of four and the 47 people that currently reside at my parents' house. So just a small get-together. With cake. Glorious sweet carbs.<br />
<br />
I didn't really go for Malibu Barbie though. I didn't even go for the extra calories. I went because deep down I have a soft spot for 12th birthdays. Why? Because my own 12th was so...what's the best way to put this...angsty.<br />
<br />
I was sure that my birthday was going to be amazing, no, not just amazing, <i>AMAZING</i> that year. At 12 years old I was certain that all people of the universe, near and far would stop on this glorious day and celebrate the awesomeness that is me. Now that I think of it, I haven't really matured that much since then. Um, yeah, back to the epic story of my twelfth birthday.<br />
<br />
The day was doomed from the start. My parents left around breakfast, some mumbo jumbo about legal proceedings. Yeah right, Mom and Dad, everyone knows that they don't practice any kind of legal stuff on birthdays. So there I was: abandoned and all alone on my birthday (except Jessica and Jay were there).<br />
<br />
My parents guilt eventually brought them home (aka their legal woes cleared themselves up). Then they took me to the roller skating rink because it was my birthday. Also my birthday happened to fall on the same day of the week that we usually went roller skating. The skating rink was full of my friends. (Friends: people my age whose names I knew.) Even the guy I was crushing on was there. This birthday had transformed from a gray, dreary day of neglect into a magic wonderland of sparkly that only a twelve year old could imagine.<br />
<br />
Then they announced "Ladies Choice," and I worked up my courage and asked my crush to skate. I'm sure you have images flashing through your mind of two awkward preteens holding hands as they skate under the sparkles of the disco ball. That would have been a nice memory I'm sure, but instead he said, "No." I went to my mom's car and cried like I had just learned that I was dying. I was not being melodramatic; I was being twelve.<br />
<br />
The moral of this long-winded exceptionally dull and embarrassing story is that if you are turning twelve, I will roller skate with you because only a jerk would shoot a girl down on her birthday.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-73058604268421515862010-08-09T06:00:00.002-04:002010-08-09T06:00:08.499-04:00The I Heart Trent Edwards Club<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Last Friday before Matt and I left for training camp, I received a call that Ryan was in great distress.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-FRMfJOZI/AAAAAAAAAwI/N7WSskTSiRs/s1600/IMG_2103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-FRMfJOZI/AAAAAAAAAwI/N7WSskTSiRs/s320/IMG_2103.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I offered to send Matt over to hold him, but he said it was only a flat tire and as much as he appreciated Matt, could I just pick him up.<br />
<br />
Once I had him in the car with me, he told me a deep dark secret which I then decided to share with the Internet. He has a bucket list for my life. Not his own life, mind you, but <i>mine</i>. From what I can gather, there is only one thing on the list: Get a picture of myself with my arm around Trent Edward's neck, possibly with Trent and myself flashing a thumbs-up at the camera. Ryan has big dreams. Who am I to not achieve them?<br />
<br />
I wasn't 100% sure how I was going to achieve Ryan's goal, but I took my camera anyway. When you first arrive at St. John Fisher's College for training camp, you are ushered into a tent full of sponsor tables. At the second table Matt and I arrived at, a middle-aged women offered me a bag that said VERIZON/BUFFALO BILLS, and I accepted. Honestly how could I not? I'm fairly certain that I saw a picture of Lindsey Lohan carrying the same exact bag when they released her from jail last week. Fashion scores aside, the women with the bag says to me, " I really hope Trent plays well this year."<br />
<br />
Me too, lady.<br />
<br />
Then, with no prompting whatsoever she launched into the following conversation <strike>to</strike> with me: "I really worry about him. I hope he doesn't get another concussion. He's such a good guy. He's such a good role model and a good person. I would be so worried if he got another concussion. He's such a good Christian man. He such a wonderful person..."<br />
<br />
I couldn't figure out why she was gushing about Trent to me, but I do have a few ideas.<br />
<br />
One: she's his mother, and he got her a job handing out bags at the Verizon booth. He's a self-proclaimed "mama's boy," so this is a viable option.<br />
<br />
Two: The Verizon woman could feel that she and I were kindred spirits. Eternally linked by our love of all things Trent Edwards. Or,<br />
<br />
Three: God sent me the Verizon woman to aid in my quest for a picture of myself with Trent. Even though I'm confident that God cares about Ryan's bucket list for my life, Verizon lady failed to get me close to Trent. This is why I use AT&T.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">I did manage to get a picture of Trent. We were so close together. He was totally into me.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF9_rq3rfqI/AAAAAAAAAvw/TVZxVHKuPLQ/s1600/IMG_2341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF9_rq3rfqI/AAAAAAAAAvw/TVZxVHKuPLQ/s320/IMG_2341.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here he's walking between the other red shirted QBs asking them for advice about ways to impress me. He's got it bad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-AfcSipgI/AAAAAAAAAv4/USAvil6TeXE/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-AfcSipgI/AAAAAAAAAv4/USAvil6TeXE/s320/IMG_2342.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He decided to play it cool and try to impress me with his NFL caliber QBing skills.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know you are disappointed that I didn't meet Trent and also that I failed to take a picture with him, but don't worry, all hope is not lost. If you recall, last year at the Hall of Fame game, I only got pictures of the <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-you-doin-mr-qb.html">back of Trent's head</a>. This year, I got a picture of his side instead. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps. Next year: Face. You heard me right. I'm totally getting a picture of his face next year. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the meantime, I'll have to settle with this picture of the sidelines I took by accident when Trent was close enough for a good picture.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-RMxybZlI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/w6NkrJ8KWCo/s1600/IMG_2343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TF-RMxybZlI/AAAAAAAAAwQ/w6NkrJ8KWCo/s320/IMG_2343.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I think I can see his shadow in there somewhere.</span></div></div></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-32317202425710868382010-08-06T06:00:00.002-04:002010-08-06T06:00:00.228-04:00A Romantic Getaway With My Husband To Visit The "Other Man"Every year for the past few years whenever Matt has asked me where I wanted to go on vacation, I've answered the same thing: Rochester, N.Y. in August. Finally, after years of begging and crying and suffering, Matt has relented and is taking me to Rochester. It's only a day trip but I am unreasonably excited. Why would someone be so excited to go to a hot, humid, beach-free city for vacation, you ask?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cache4.asset-cache.net/xc/82066997.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=77BFBA49EF8789215ABF3343C02EA548CF724F02E8089DA41F07546147828A0D13E7ED60B2E594C3E30A760B0D811297" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="http://cache4.asset-cache.net/xc/82066997.jpg?v=1&c=IWSAsset&k=2&d=77BFBA49EF8789215ABF3343C02EA548CF724F02E8089DA41F07546147828A0D13E7ED60B2E594C3E30A760B0D811297" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Because that's where my Buffalo Bills are right now. In case you are wondering what they are doing there, it's training camp time. Training camp is when they start to implement what the team will use in the coming season and practice that as a team. They let the fans come and watch. For free.* <br />
<br />
I know you are already in your car, GPSing directions to St. John Fishers College so you to can experience men practicing football. All those repetitive drills and whistles blowing. Oh my gosh, I want to sniff the inside of a sweaty helmet. It's almost more than I can handle.<br />
<br />
Just as my <strike>obsession</strike> excitement hits fever pitch, I talk myself down by reminding myself of a story my brother stopped by to tell me this week. It's amazing how people just show up when you don't expect them and say just what you need to hear when you need to hear it. <br />
<br />
Justin recently went to Nashville for a Christian Music Conference of some kind that I'm not totally familiar with, but he informed me that he was the chaperone for twelve teens. When they met up for the first time, Justin sat them all down and looked them each in the eye and said to them, "I cannot guarantee that you will meet anyone famous this week. I cannot guarantee that you will make contacts in the music business that will further your career. But what I can guarantee is that tonight while you are asleep, I will pee in every single one of your mouths."<br />
<br />
Such rational and calming words of wisdom. While I didn't need the part about further my career as I have no immediate plans to pursue a career in the NFL, the rest speaks to me. Actually, I'm so afraid that some stranger that I've just met will attempt to pee in my mouth while I'm away, Matt and I have decided to drive home after the practice rather than stay in a <strike>dive-y</strike> high-end hotel. Finally, even though it's not a guarantee, I'm bringing my camera should I get the opportunity to get a picture with a sweaty, hairy QB at any point.<br />
<br />
Fingers crossed.<br />
<br />
*I realize that going to observe training camp is the equivalent of coming to your office and sitting next to you while observing how you accomplish your daily tasks and that being this excited about it makes me a dork of tragic proportions. In spite of this, I don't care. I'm excited to watch grown men work. It's kind of like a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpizkWEmg1g&NR=1">Diet Coke break</a> really.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-18197096698017911732010-08-04T06:00:00.016-04:002010-08-04T06:00:01.348-04:00Celebrities Are LiarsSomeone in my house who is not me, of course, may or may not have spilled roughly ten ounces of ice water on my computer desk. The result of this alleged incident that was, as I've already stated, clearly not my doing is that only about half of the letters in my keyboard still work. I'm going to be honest with you: it was tempting to still blog with that keyboard as if it were still functioning properly and then post the unintelligible post that resulted. I decided to blog from my Touch instead. My sincerest apologies to all of you that are disappointed to not be "reading" the letterless post.<br />
<br />
Blogging on the Touch can be tricky due to the automatic Spellcheck that changes words to completely different words that I personally have never heard of. Also, it's nearly impossible to proofread which should make reading this post that much more enjoyable for you. Anyway, I figured with all of these things working against me, I would keep this post short and just give you the bulletpoints of my day.<br />
<br />
1. I followed a twitter link that promised to let me in on true secrets of how celebrity moms have such toned arms. Would you care to know the big secret? They carry their babies/children around and -- voilà -- perfect arms. Yeah, I have two kids of my own, and I've carried them around, and my arms still jiggle. I'm going to go ahead and call this out as a falsehood. Kind of like the time Gwen Stefani claimed that she lost all her baby-weight by breast-feeding. Mmhmm. I breast-fed my kids too. J.I.G.G.L.E. In their defense, perhaps the trick to great arms is in handing your baby to your nanny when your trainer shows up for your private <br />
session.<br />
<br />
Have you ever noticed that after you read something like that, you feel dumber? I decided to take yet another online IQ test to see if I was, in fact, dumber for having allowed a celebrity's thoughts and opinions in my head. The answer: Yes, I am dumber than the last time I took a fake IQ test. I declare these findings to be as accurate as those produced by Sports Science. <br />
<br />
I ended my day with a fat lady run.(FWIW my Touch just tried to change the word lady to party. Do what you will with that.) Generally, I can't run, not because I'm out of shape but because I get shin splints, and they hurt, and I'm a whiny baby. So I heard in a few places that running barefoot, you won't get shin splints. I walked to the high school track and gave it a shot. I enjoyed myself immensely. The jury is still out on whether or not it will solve the pain issue. I did discover, however, that running barefoot on a track will earn you blisters, and furthermore, if said track is blue, the bottom of your feet will turn that color too. Just a little wisdom I picked up today to replace the brain cells I lost earlier in the day.<br />
<br />
I feel that it would be best if I quit while I'm ahead and call it a night.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-7809399480225265842010-08-02T06:00:00.001-04:002010-08-02T06:00:06.602-04:00The Productivity of ProcrastinationIt is my hope to have our downstairs completed in time for the start of the school year. Since that time is quickly approaching, I began to <strike>nag</strike> patiently pressure my darling husband to help me with this task. He, of course, agreed to help, but before we could get started he made me agree to watch LOST with him.<br />
<br />
All. Six. Seasons.<br />
<br />
And then July was over. Not that the month was a complete waste. It was a month full of intrigue, mystery, suspense and Jack face.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFZC1R0ijvI/AAAAAAAAAvo/dZPYDYCyaE0/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFZC1R0ijvI/AAAAAAAAAvo/dZPYDYCyaE0/s320/images.jpg" /></a></div>We learned about the mystical Jackface and it's many purposes. It is appropriate to use when you are angry, shocked, happy, confused and dead. <br />
<br />
We also learned that fat people love chicken.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.losthatch.com/images%5Cscreen_captures%5CS1E18_Hurley_Chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.losthatch.com/images%5Cscreen_captures%5CS1E18_Hurley_Chicken.jpg" width="278" /></a></div>This insight answered a lot of questions I had. Not about the show's story line, but about my waist line. Thank you, writers of LOST, I feel such clarity now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Once Jack Shepard had successfully saved and killed the appropriate people, I said to Matt, "So we are going to work on the basement tomorrow, right? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"Sure," he said, "We'll get started on that tomorrow after I drop the neighbor's dog's great-aunt's owner off at the bus station."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFY82L6nNWI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/gXka-faL1ZI/s320/IMG_2338.JPG" /></div> By the time he got back, Mallory had informed him that today was the first of August. Apparently this means we need to go for a hike. Since we let the six year old call the shots around here, we went for a hike at a local preservation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFY_PRIouOI/AAAAAAAAAvg/4r03CiIsyS0/s1600/IMG_2339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFY_PRIouOI/AAAAAAAAAvg/4r03CiIsyS0/s320/IMG_2339.JPG" /></a></div>We walked the nature trail singing about the first day of August. I gazed off the edge of the rocks into the water and reminisced about that time that Sawyer and the bullet ridden Kate cliff jumped so that they could catch their flight. Oh and remember that time that Jack made his Jack face while Kung Fo Pandaing (yes I made that a verb) Locke? Oh this cliff brings back so many memories.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFY-FMV5quI/AAAAAAAAAvY/-AwjeqbR8TI/s1600/IMG_2335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFY-FMV5quI/AAAAAAAAAvY/-AwjeqbR8TI/s320/IMG_2335.JPG" /></a></div>The point of all of this is: my basement is not done. Shoot, it's not even started, but I've experienced LOST, hiked with my kids, written this incredibly life-altering post and made big plans with Matt for Friday. I suspect said plans are just another of his procrastination ploys to distract me from the unfinished basement, but I don't care because Matt is taking me away to a place I've wanted to go for years. I'll tell you all about it. But first I'm going to get some sleep.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-78129142875259707202010-07-29T06:00:00.001-04:002010-07-30T01:28:53.519-04:00That There Is Some Bad HairSo I'm totally back from my philanthropic expedition to India. I feel good about my time there. I adopted all the orphans they had and then fed them using only a banana and a kids healthy eating cookbook. I'm like the MacGyver of good deeds. I realize that about now you are thinking to yourself that I'm amazing and you wish you could be as awesome as me, but here's the truth. My trip to India was totally selfish. I needed a distraction. What did I need to be distracted from you ask? (Yes, I do realize that I'm conversing with myself. If you'll excuse me I'm going to answer myself now.)<br />
<br />
Football. Or rather the lack thereof. You see even though they only play games in the fall, there is really something going on in the NFL all year. After the season is the postseason, then the Super Bowl, the draft and finally OTA's and minicamps. After minicamps the teams "break" for five weeks. It's like a deafening silence falls over the NFL. It's so inconsiderate of them to vacation. To add insult to injury <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/because-even-flat-chested-mothers-of.html">Coach Hackman</a> decided to not name a starting QB until Training Camp starts. So now not only am I left writhing in agony over what <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/what-do-vampires-football-and-trent.html">kind of hairstyle Trent will bring to camp</a>, but also will he even be playing?<br />
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After five weeks of suffering, I finally got all my answers today. Yes, Trent will be starter through training camp. As for his hair:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFJTCNi8qxI/AAAAAAAAAu4/IRqMijhm484/s320/Trent.31.png" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> You cut me deep there, Trent. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Where to start? The borderline mullet? The sideburns? Or...or..the<a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2009/11/be-careful-little-fingers-what-you-type.html"> goatee</a>? Part of me wants to believe that his face looks like that because they ran out of razors in Western N.Y. and he had no choice, but that two inch patch of skin between his sideburns and goatee give him away. He did this to himself on purpose.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Obviously I couldn't just let this slide. I had to set him straight.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFJTHIyXllI/AAAAAAAAAvA/OV9TMAV_NeU/s1600/Trent+1.05.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFJTHIyXllI/AAAAAAAAAvA/OV9TMAV_NeU/s320/Trent+1.05.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">You can see it in his eyes, Trent was a little hurt by my honesty at first. But then we talked it out and it turns out the "hairstyle" is a good thing. If you remember, last year I told him to keep growing his hair because his hair is the key to winning a Super Bowl. I might have forgotten but Trent is still holding the faith in his hair. Since I started this I have to respect that, but Trent, the goatee and burns? My best guess is he must have lost a bet or something.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">For those of you that are worried that my feelings on Trent's hair caused a rift between us, you can rest easy. Once we straightened out the whole hair fiasco, I made sure to mention to him that he had a nice tan. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFJTMXorhqI/AAAAAAAAAvI/tdynJndxw-0/s1600/Trent+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TFJTMXorhqI/AAAAAAAAAvI/tdynJndxw-0/s320/Trent+3.png" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">And it made him happy. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now if he could just get some of that hair off his face, I'd be happy too.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-82825262237554531962010-07-26T06:00:00.001-04:002010-07-26T06:00:13.652-04:00They Don't Cover Sex on the SAT's AnywayI've been taking the saying, Lazy Days of Summer, quite literally lately. I've found that there are a lot of wonderful ways I can spend my time that don't serve any good or fruitful purpose. For example, the other day I googled PSAT tests. Why? So I could test how smart I am, of course. I realize that the PSAT is an aptitude test for 16 and 17 year olds trying to enter college and I'm 30 and well, not headed to college. It's just that I was curious how I would do and quite frankly I couldn't think of anything better to do with my time. For what it's worth, according to the PSAT questions I answered, my reading comprehension and writing skills are<i> AWESOME</i>. My math skills on the other hand, well, um, they were... less awesome. <br />
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Fortunately for my kids my math skills don't have to be SAT good to follow a recipe. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TEzuQXGBf2I/AAAAAAAAAuY/In5vAaRjKY4/s1600/IMG_2326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TEzuQXGBf2I/AAAAAAAAAuY/In5vAaRjKY4/s320/IMG_2326.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's right, the kids and I totally made our own ice cream. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">One of <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/some-mumbo-jumbo-about-educating-kids.html">New York's many requirements</a> for what I teach my six year old is Health. Since I was feeling kind of clueless as to what a six year old should be taught in health I did a search for 2nd grade Health Ed at an online homeschool bookstore. They suggested "What's the Big Deal? Why God Cares About Sex." Did you just recoil at the idea of teaching a six year old about sex too? We are going to learn about eating nutritiously instead. I realize that good eating habits aren't as much fun as sex, but since I've decided not to let my kids know sex exists until they are capable of doing SAT caliber math, nutrition it is. I did a little more research and found "Kids Fun and Healthy Cookbook." </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now you may recall that I've attempted to cook with my kids once before. You may also recall that that recipe was<a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2010/03/proof-that-ill-eat-anything.html"> barflicious.</a> Because of this I was understandably cautious, but this book is wonderful. The recipes are easy and quick to make and as an added bonus, my kids have eaten every healthy recipe we've made from the book without crying or vomiting.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Actually the recipes are so good I've taken to making them without the kids. It can be a little difficult to get Mallory out of the kitchen. She likes to help. So I've taken to distracting them by letting them go outside barefoot and climb trees. The higher the better.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TEzvJopNWGI/AAAAAAAAAug/up8MTAUyxyA/s1600/IMG_2329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TEzvJopNWGI/AAAAAAAAAug/up8MTAUyxyA/s320/IMG_2329.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">I wonder how well those branches will hold. Well let's just do the math and see: y = (x + 3)2, then (-2x - 6)2<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Right, I'm too lazy to do that math. I'm sure she'll be fine. That's what ER's are for anyway.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-65118023531460623482010-07-13T06:00:00.000-04:002010-07-13T06:00:02.018-04:00We'll Totally Have World Hunger Solved In No TimeSo I've been thinking. I know, it's terrifying, but stick with me here. A few years ago I started walking regularly. Well, as regularly as the northeast's mood swingy weather will allow. I did this because I remember when I was a kid my<a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2009/07/days-with-aunt-margie-part-1.html"> Aunt Margie</a> used to walk every evening, and it was just the thing she did. It was her habit. However, the objective of my walking was not to build my own habit but to create one for my kids. My hope is that when they are grown, going for walks will just be the thing they do.<br />
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Since we are a few years into building that habit, I thought it might be a good time to start building another. (I believe in pacing myself.) I briefly considered teaching my kids ways to waste their time using only the Internet but decided instead to go with volunteer work. (I didn't want to have to share my computer with those pip squeaks.) Since my kids are only 4 and 6, I'm struggling to figure out a good way to get all of us involved in helping others. I want the kids to be able to participate, and it's stumped me a bit. Then I had a genius idea: why not ask the kids themselves how they'd like to help others. (Told you it was genius.)<br />
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Our first brainstorming session went something like this:<br />
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Anthony: We can let them watch T.V.<br />
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Me: Good idea, buddy, but how does that help people exactly?<br />
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Mallory: Well, maybe they don't have a T.V., and they could come to our house, and we could let them watch the news?<br />
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It was at this time I felt it might be wise to discuss what kind of situations that people might find themselves in that they would need help. We talked about the homeless, the hungry, the elderly, and when we were all done, the kids sat over their breakfast bowls deep in thought about ways to help others. Actually, I'm pretty sure Anthony was thinking about toys, but Mallory was still trying to figure out how to help. I know this because a minute later, she looked up at me and said, "We should go to India. Lots of people in India need help."<br />
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"Right, right. You're right," I said to her. "But there are people here in the U.S. that need help too." (It's not that I don't care about the people of India; it's just that Mallory's passport is expired, so I'm thinking we are going to have to do something a little closer to home.) She seemed to grasp the concept of helping locally because later she looked out our kitchen window and saw a women sitting in her car by the mailboxes. The woman was just sitting there, and Mallory put two and two together and said, "We should go help her. I don't think she can get her key to work in her mailbox." I peeked out the window and sure enough there was a woman in her car by the mailboxes, but she wasn't struggling with her key. Nope, she was reading her mail in her car.<br />
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At least her heart is in the right place.<br />
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So to review my options: We could invite strangers over to watch T.V. at our house. We could go to India, or we could read mail to people (or check their mail for them).<br />
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It's kind of starting to look like I should renew Mallory's passport.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-45496497451463714042010-07-09T06:00:00.000-04:002010-07-09T06:00:04.620-04:00Some Mumbo Jumbo About Educating KidsI'm in the throes of preparing for the upcoming school year. "WHAT?!" you say. "It's July. School's supposed to be out for summer. You know: No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks." It would seem that those dirty looks were not intended for you (although you no doubt deserved them), but were actually directed at the law-makers that require that each child have a paper trail so long that said child is personally responsible for killing his or her own tree. <br />
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Let me back up a bit and explain what I mean. As a homeschooling parent, I am responsible for answering to my local school district regarding my child's education. How much information that a parent is required to provide varies from state to state and in some cases from district to district. For example, in Jessica's home state, she is required to send a letter to her district stating that she intends to homeschool her children for the coming school year (also known as a letter of intent) and then administer a standardized test to her homeschooled child and keep those records should the school ever need to see them. New York is a little more...involved. Here is what is required of a homeschooling parent in the state of New York:<br />
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Step One: Write a letter of intent. Asking a parent to account for how their child will be receiving their education seems perfectly reasonable and may I say, responsible.<br />
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Step Two: Create an IHIP (Individualized Home Education Plan) An IHIP is a document that outlines your entire curriculum for the coming year including all texts books, reading books, manipulatives used and how much of all these materials you'll be using. Our schools give us specifics of subjects that must be covered and even tells us how often throughout the child's education we must cover any one topic. Once an IHIP is completed it is sent back to the district to be looked over and approved. If it is not approved, they contact you, and you must amend your curriculum to their liking.<br />
While this starts to feel a little big brother, I can understand the desire to see that a homeschooling family is covering all the bases and that all children are receiving an adequate education.<br />
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Step Three: File Quarterly reports with the district letting them know how much of the curriculum they already have a full copy of, you have covered with your children. This step seems a bit unnecessary to me because,<br />
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Step Four: Administer standardize testing to your homeschooled child. You may choose any of the standardized tests from the approved list, and you must administer the test at the required intervals (every year or every other year depending on grade level).<br />
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Once a student completes the twelfth grade state approved curriculum, New York will graciously and happily provide a homeschooled student with a diploma. Oh wait, no, scratch that. Homeschooled students are ineligible to receive a New York State diploma. I have absolutely no idea why this is. It boggles my mind.<br />
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Yeah, I have nothing more to add to that. I just needed to rant a minute. Maybe you'll have a different perspective on it that I haven't thought of.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-91519421272721686202010-07-07T06:00:00.000-04:002010-07-07T06:00:04.747-04:00Katy Perry: Tupac ReincarnatedYou might have noticed that I took a bit of a last minute, unannounced bloggycation, and by "you," I mean my mom. Not to worry, I've spent the past few weeks wisely. I started beefing with Katy Perry. I know it's hard to believe because she seems so sweet with her pop hits and wholesome former sex addict fiance, but I think once you've heard the whole story you'll be on my side.<br />
So I was hanging out in an L.A. nightclub -- like I do -- when Jay-Z's "Empire State of Mind" starts playing. Katy got all whiny and was like, "Tupac would never approve of a song about the East Coast being played in L.A." Understandably, I was outraged and called her out by singing a classic Biggie Smalls hit right there in the club. Naturally, all this led to a slap fight and some hair pulling. I know you are thinking that our fight wasn't nearly hardcore enough for an East Coast/West Coast feud since there were no guns involved, but I assure you that this is how it started out between Biggie and Tupac. Why do you think Tupac had no hair? It was his best plan of defense.<br />
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Back to the fight,: I was totally dominating her (everyone knows East Coast girls are tougher). However, we were on her turf, and before I knew it, Paris Hilton was pulling my hair, and Lindsey Lohan was clawing at my eyes (she's going to be just fine in prison), and I had to run for it. <br />
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By the time I had landed back in New York, Katy had a hit pop song about California Girls, and she and Snoop Dog had put out a not-so-appropriate for children candy themed video for it.<br />
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I realize that at this point you are waiting for my rebuttal song/video about how much better East Coast Girls are. But I didn't write a rebuttal because I felt this song is its own rebuttal. Honestly, let's just start with the title, "California Gurls." Um, Katy, it's GIRLS with an I. This settles the age old debate of whether East Coast or West Coast girls are better spellers. At the very least, we are smart enough to value and respect spellcheck. Score one, East Coast Girls.<br />
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Speaking of girls, I'd like to point out that all of Katy's friends in this video are pulled out of things like plastic wrap and jello. This reeks of psychology. Clearly this represents how California girls are all made out of plastic and other congealed products. Whereas, here on the East Coast, when things start to sag or droop we just roll with it. We're authentic.<br />
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Point number two: in the Candyland style game showcased in the video, Snoop is clearly seen rolling dice. Any father worth his child support check knows that there are no dice in Candyland. This proves that East Coast men make better fathers. Fact. <br />
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Oh, and, Katy, maybe you think you look cute prancing around in public in those sparkly shorts and your cupcake bra top but I don't know a single self-respecting East Coast Girl that would be caught outside of their bedroom in their cupcake bra. Also, just because we don't go to church in Daisy Dukes and bikini tops doesn't mean we don't know how to show a little skin. Hello, fingerless gloves anyone? <br />
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In all fairness, I can relate to some parts of this video. Like the part where Katy is surrounded by candy snakes and climbs up a straw and ends up naked on the top of a cotton candy cloud singing. I've totally had that nightmare too. <br />
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Nightmares aside, Katy, you have not only failed to convince me that being from the West Coast is better, but I suspect that you secretly wish you were an East Coast girl. We have all the good sweaters and snow sports.<br />
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East Coast Represent.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-8742544105275707882010-06-23T06:00:00.000-04:002010-06-23T06:00:06.509-04:00The Celtic Warrior: Vampires Beware<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://kittridge.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/sheamus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://kittridge.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/sheamus.jpg" /></a></div>Some little boys dream of becoming police officers. Some want to be firemen. Others aspire to be like their own fathers. My son, however, idolizes a pasty white, mostly hairless, spandex wearing Irishman with a lisp. Based on that cross around his neck I'd say it's safe to assume that he's a Vampire Hunter as well as a WWE Wrestler. Now that I think of it the Vampire Hunter aspect of his job explains his pasty complexion. Because of this I'm not going to mock him and mention his lack of tan. Honestly, I prefer not to speculate where society would be if we didn't have quality Vampire Hunters.<br />
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Before we move on I'd like to share a little more about the man my son hopes to become one day. Shaemus comes from a long line of Celtic Warriors and he's here to set straight some of the misconceptions that many of us have about Irish tradition. As many of you have probably already realized, the Irish have suffered greatly due to the misconceptions about their culture. Many are under the impression that Ireland is all about politics and war and drinking, but really it's about respect and honor. Which explains Shaemus choice of work and attire. Shaemus is also deeply religious. He eats a cross a day. Sort of a spiritual vitamin if you would.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://image3.examiner.com/images/blog/EXID1734/images/1047692656_l-756572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://image3.examiner.com/images/blog/EXID1734/images/1047692656_l-756572.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>As a mother, I couldn't be prouder of my son's decision to model his life after Shaemus. Really how many people can say that they overcame being a 6'6" redhead with an Irish accent and a lisp to beat up other people? It's the American dream and every time Anthony rips his shirt off and beats his own chest in an attempt to emulate him a tear falls from my eye <strike>and a piece of my soul dies</strike>.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TCGKtsfl27I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/gIURmYgLdKo/s1600/IMG_2313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TCGKtsfl27I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/gIURmYgLdKo/s320/IMG_2313.JPG" /></a></div>Keep striving little buddy. Before you know it your hair will be long enough to style like <strike>Kid N Play</strike> Shaemus' and that chocolate your covered in will be another man's blood.<br />
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God help me. I think I might need to eat a cross to get through this one.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-30280595406955221532010-06-21T06:00:00.000-04:002010-06-21T06:00:03.958-04:00The Dress Code For My Current Hobby Is PajamasI've recently decided I'd like to learn how to play golf. It's so mellow. It looks like a vacation more than a sport. For example, Matt and I were catching a little bit of the U.S. Open and at one point the announcers pointed out that you could see the ocean in the distance beyond where the golfer was preparing to hit the little ball toward the hole. It landed in a sand trap or something like that. Maybe that was his strategy. Like I said, I don't play golf.<br />
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Seriously though, how many other sports have ocean views? Or require you to wear dress pants to participate? Honestly you can go straight from the golf course to church.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.commercialappeal.com/media/img/photos/2009/06/03/4open1_t300.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://media.commercialappeal.com/media/img/photos/2009/06/03/4open1_t300.jpeg" width="193" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Come to think of it, he's better dressed than most of the people at church. </div><br />
As I see it, the polo and dress pant are for the casual golfer. If you intend to be taken seriously as a professional golfer, you should wear a cardigan or at the very least a sweater vest.<br />
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Believe it or not this is why I haven't started golfing yet. I'm wrought with feelings of inadequacy when it comes to the dress code. I haven't worn a visor since high school. Is it a look I can still pull off? Then there is the whole plaid pants issue. I might have been able to work with that, but now I see the leading golfers are doing stripes.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGuTx-bvyk0/SphbmS3DZKI/AAAAAAAACU0/zGoIIa0qdtc/s1600/90131183%282%29.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hGuTx-bvyk0/SphbmS3DZKI/AAAAAAAACU0/zGoIIa0qdtc/s320/90131183%282%29.jpg" /></a></div>For the record, I find these pants ugly. I suppose the silver lining is that vertical stripes are thinning. I'm a firm believer that ugly is a small price to pay for looking thinner.<br />
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I guess it's decided then. I'll begin golfing shortly after I raise the eighty dollars it costs to purchase those pants. Oh and I should probably get some clubs too. I might not be able to afford the pants and the clubs. Obviously, in that situation I'll have to get the pants. Unless of course there are a kind of golf clubs that will make me look skinny.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-37686159917921729062010-06-18T06:00:00.000-04:002010-06-18T06:00:04.156-04:00World Peace Could Be Achieved If We'd All Just Listen To Alan ThickeThe day after <a href="http://nobodylistenstothegirl.blogspot.com/2010/06/remember-that-time-i-threw-birthday.html">Harvey's big bash</a> I noticed he was looking a bit disheveled. I chalked it up to hard partying and staying up all night playing with his new yarn mouse that I had spent 3.5 minutes creating. However it quickly became apparent that his hard partying ways were spiraling out of control and we planned an intervention. Out of respect for Harvey no pictures of his intervention were taken. The intervention did not go as we had hoped. We discovered that Harvey's symptoms were not, in fact, the result of all the hard drugs he's on, but from an tumor under his tongue. It is inoperable and at nine this morning I will be taking steps to ensure that Harvey doesn't have to struggle through any more symptoms before this tumor gets the best of him.<br />
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I explained to the kids that Harvey was going to heaven and Mallory was pretty broken up about it, but seems to have made a nice recovery. She and her brother have already decided that our next pet will be a dolphin. No doubt Mallory will want to name it Selena Gomez and Anthony will cry until we name it Michelangelo. Personally I'm not convinced that a dolphin will be able to fill Harvey's shoes. Especially since dolphins don't have any feet. <br />
<br />
Part of me is hoping that I'll get to the vet and they look at him and be all, "Oops, we were wrong about that whole tumor thing." But I know they won't.<br />
<br />
This post is a total downer.<br />
<br />
How's this for a pick me up: My mom's cancer is killing itself. You may read that sentence again if it didn't make any sense. Without the use of any medications my mom's cancer appears to be dying off. Her doctor was so amazed that she sent my mom's medical reports to Beth Israel Hospital in NYC for review. There's no final word on it yet, but so far all the latest test results have supported this finding. This kind of news is so awesome that I believe that doctors should deliver it with jazz hands. And maybe they should sing a little too.<br />
<br />
Perhaps a nice rock ballad or TV theme show. At times like this I always think of Alan Thicke and a little tune he penned for a show called The Facts of Life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.tvrage.com/shows/6/5759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.tvrage.com/shows/6/5759.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>You take the good. You take the bad. You take them both and there you have: The Facts of Life.</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/threadcount/alan%20thicke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/threadcount/alan%20thicke.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Alan Thicke, your wisdom is unparalleled. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Except for that time you decided posing for the cover of PlayGirl was a good idea.</div><div style="text-align: center;">That decision was questionable at best.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-49714129511052443702010-06-16T06:00:00.000-04:002010-06-16T06:00:05.133-04:00Lawn Pride Is So Thug LifeI mentioned last week or the week before...or maybe it was the Thursday after last Wednesday...that Matt and I have had a lot of visitors since we bought the new house. We were discussing with our Visitor de jour how the neighbors here mow their lawns pretty much every other day. To prove my point to her I mentioned that I had mowed like five days prior and our grass was noticeably longer than all of our surrounding neighbors. She took a quick look around and said, "Yeah, there seems to be a lot of <i>lawn pride</i> around here."<br />
<br />
Lawn Pride was not a concept we encountered at the trailer park. At the old house I mowed the yard like every week to ten days and the result of this was that we had one of the better kept yards in the neighborhood. Our old next door neighbor used to let her grass grow so long that the park owners left her notices to cut it and also I might have spotted a wild boar on her property. I feel confident that wild boar will not be an issue here. Which, as you can imagine, is a huge relief to a mother of small children.<br />
<br />
I pondered what it meant to be a part of a neighborhood bonded together by pride of grass. By purchasing this home we joined an elite society of people whose history is cemented in a belief of neat and tidy grass, sculpted bushes and massive amounts of cedar chips. I can't help but wonder: Does this make us part of a Gang or a Cult? The only way I can see this turning out to be a cult is if we are all keeping our lawns immaculate for the return of Christ. I'll have to look into it further to know for sure, but it seems like a long shot. With the cult option on the back burner for the time being, I'm going to go with gang on this. I have to be honest, I feel pretty good about the gang option. Think about it, gang life seems surprisingly less fatal when compared to cult life. It seems to me that as long as I mow my lawn every other day and keep my weed wacker in good working order, I'll be able to avoid having any "accidents" with hedge trimmers. It's small price to pay if you ask me. Also in my opinion gangs are way cooler than cults. We'll get to have a gang color (green obviously), a gang sign (green thumbs, holla) and I'll get to carry a weapon (hedge clippers can be very dangerous).<br />
<br />
I might even get a prison tat out of the deal. Something classy like a beautiful landscape covering my entire back. No one will question how much pride I have in Lawn Pride then.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-47888441090521730602010-06-14T06:00:00.001-04:002010-06-14T06:00:02.915-04:00Remember That Time I Threw A Birthday Party For My Cat?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23028035@N02/4698273737/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Cat and Mouse by bellabraden, on Flickr"><img alt="Cat and Mouse" height="300" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4014/4698273737_eb5fc01e2c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
This child informed me that "tomorrow is Harvey's birthday." Now I'm fairly certain that "tomorrow" was not Harvey's actual birthday, but since I have no idea when such date is I figured that "tomorrow" was as good a day as any to celebrate. I realize that some of you are appalled that a mother wouldn't know her own child's birthday. But here it is, the secret I've kept for 13 years. I'm not Harvey's birth mother.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TBWx7tx2crI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ZiLdE8LRtYg/s1600/IMG_2305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TBWx7tx2crI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ZiLdE8LRtYg/s320/IMG_2305.JPG" /></a></div>I pulled my best Brangelina before Brangelina even knew each other and adopted Harvey from the wilds of the African jungle. The circumstances surrounding his birth were exceptionally dramatic. There were gorillas involved. I know you're dying to correct my spelling and tell me it's guerrillas but no, there were actual gorillas at his birth. He almost died. So I'm sure you understand now why there was no birth certificate issued and thus I do not know his actual birthday.<br />
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Since this was Harvey's 13th birthday (that's 92 in cat years I believe), we wanted to do his birthday up right. The kids and I took it very seriously and held an emergency meeting the morning of the party to plan it. We made an extensive list.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TBW9AgBG15I/AAAAAAAAAuI/S_lzyPD8VK4/s1600/IMG_2302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TBW9AgBG15I/AAAAAAAAAuI/S_lzyPD8VK4/s320/IMG_2302.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This list included making a "Happy Meowday" banner and a cake out of cat food. No expense was spared. We briefly toyed with the idea of inviting other cats to party but none were able to make it on such short notice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Ryan made it. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23028035@N02/4698899882/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Grown Men in Kitty-Cat Ears by bellabraden, on Flickr"> <img alt="Grown Men in Kitty-Cat Ears" height="300" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4015/4698899882_a035a9011b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> This is a great picture. Just three of the guys sitting on the couch, eating some pizza and sausage, wearing some kitty ears and talking fantasy baseball.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23028035@N02/4698258727/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Happy Meow-day (yes, I threw a b-day party for my cat. It was for the kids. ;) by bellabraden, on Flickr"><img alt="Happy Meow-day (yes, I threw a b-day party for my cat. It was for the kids. ;)" height="300" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/4698258727_637f88a8e4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>The party was awesome. Notice the killer banner in the background and the amazing turnout. Also there were incredible games like MouseTrap and everyone did a shot of milk. Things got so crazy that at one point Ryan ate a mouse whole while I snapped this picture.<br />
<br />
As we all know, no party is complete without cake and even though Harvey cannot partake in the sugary goodness of frosting, that doesn't mean we shouldn't.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23028035@N02/4698918292/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title=""Never go full retard." by bellabraden, on Flickr"><img alt=""Never go full retard."" height="300" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4040/4698918292_19425a28d3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Everytime I look at one of these kitty cupcakes (yes, they are supposed to be kitty faces) I think of this scene in the movie Tropic Thunder.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0zvvpxWVEhk&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0zvvpxWVEhk&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></div><br />
As successful as the party was, there is no denying that those kitty cupcakes went full retard. I suppose it's just as well since eating cupcakes with cat faces on them at a party where the guest of honor is a cat is just creepy. My sincerest apologies, Harvey.<br />
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Oh who are we kidding, you're a cat and can't read that apology. Plus, as scary as those cupcakes looked, they were delicious. DE-LISH. I'd eat them again. Even in front of an audience of cats.<br />
<br />
<br />
I may have had too much sugar at the party. That's my excuse and I'm clinging to it.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-44100827172860681042010-06-08T23:00:00.001-04:002010-06-08T23:00:00.194-04:00At Least My Kids Will Be CulturedMe: Anthony why don't you talk about dinosaurs anymore?<br />
<br />
Anthony: I do sometimes. Who do you like better: CM Punk or Rey Mysterio? (Two WWE wrestlers. Yes, he knows their names, birth dates and social security numbers.)<br />
<br />
Matt: I was explaining to the kids how wrestling has gone in eras. First was Hulk Hogan, then...(blah blah blah. I was listening, Matt, really I was.)...then Ric Flair, Stone Cold...(yeah you get the point already b/c this goes on for awhile.)<br />
<br />
Mallory: Who is Ric Flair?<br />
<br />
Matt: (looks at Mallory in pained disbelief) I have so much to teach you kids.<br />
<br />
I thought I had a heavy responsibility to teach our kids reading, writing, math, history and science, but I never once considered what a burden Matt carried having to teach these kids about Ric Flair and all things WWE. My prayers are with you, Matt.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-41659838975830815042010-06-07T00:42:00.000-04:002010-06-07T00:42:28.539-04:00Girl Scouts: Are They Giving Away Pole Dancing Badges Now?<div style="text-align: left;">In an attempt to over stimulate my child and help her forget that she has a family, Matt and I have been busy signing Mallory up for every extracurricular activity the summer has to offer. She's all signed up for swimming lessons, summer rec and a boccie ball league for some added culture. After we hired a personal assistant to keep track of Mallory's summer itinerary, we realized that there was something missing from her agenda. What could it possibly be? I mean she's going to get to ride a bus in a bathing suit and participate in unnamed activities under the watchful eye of an unidentified stranger. It would seem that the only thing missing from this summer vacation is running with scissors and, you know, actual vacation, but it's not. </div><br />
By now I'm sure you are all, "C'mon just spit it out already, Bethany. What is missing?" You might have even drawn the attention of your coworkers by yelling at me through the computer for this necessarily long intro so I'll just say it.<br />
<br />
Cookies. There are no cookies on Mallory's summer agenda.<br />
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Naturally this means she has to be a Girl Scout. I sat down in my computer stool (the back fell off this beauty with wheels). I rubbed my computer screen and it asked me what I wanted and I said, "I wish to find a local Girl Scout troop." Google has never let me down and today was no different. The first link was to the website for the local Girl Scout chapter. I clapped twice and the link opened.<br />
<br />
Only it didn't open properly.<br />
<br />
So I clapped again.<br />
<br />
Same message.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.glam.com/glampress/family/topics/girl_scout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://images.glam.com/glampress/family/topics/girl_scout.jpg" width="160" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"The parental controls on this computer have blocked this site due to <span style="color: red;">MATURE CONTENT</span>."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now that my parental controls have pointed it out she does look pretty sketchy. I bet she's packing heat or at the very least a nose picker. So instead of Girl Scouts, Matt and I have decided to let Mallory volunteer at the local maximum security prison. She'll learn valuable skills like how to turn a toothbrush into a shiv and how to survive in a gang culture. We figured that after about a year of volunteering there she should assimilate nicely in the Girl Scouts. Cookie pushing isn't for the faint of heart.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-15302480540740712422010-06-02T00:39:00.000-04:002010-06-02T00:39:58.438-04:00Because Even Flat-Chested Mothers of Four Deserve to Enjoy Bikini SeasonI have big news. It's the second week of the Buffalo Bills Organized Team Activities (OTAs). Cue the fangirl screaming.<br />
<br />
I knew you'd be excited.<br />
<br />
So a lot has happened since last season. We have a new head coach. Which is super exciting since he bears a striking resemblance to Gene Hackman, don't you think?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.dawgsports.com/images/admin/Chan_Gailey_at_press_conference.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.dawgsports.com/images/admin/Chan_Gailey_at_press_conference.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our New Head Coach: His name doesn't matter. We'll just refer to him as Gene Hackman's 3rd cousin 6 times removed or simply Coach Hackman.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Coach Hackman has implemented some new workouts for the players. The natural query here is: Why do NFL players need new workouts? Honestly, they already have muscles on top of their muscles. Not that I'm complaining. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So NOT complaining over here.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh, sorry about that, back on point. Why do NFL players need new workouts? I pondered this question. I searched my soul, took a short pilgrimage to my kitchen and even went so far as to consult a priest. At least I'm pretty sure he was a priest...might have just been a homeless man in black. Either way it wasn't until I asked Google that I found my answers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm sure it's common knowledge in your home that the Bills are a small market team. They are always looking for new and creative ways to make a buck and keep afloat. While some might argue that winning a game or two might increase their revenue, I suspect that Coach Hackman is moving the team in a different direction. I believe he intends on having the team make workout DVDs to encourage us <strike>fat </strike>size 6 challenged woman to be more active.<br />
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You may be wondering why women would want to do an exercise DVD put together by NFL players. How can we possibly relate to these athletes? Well besides the obvious eye-candy aspect, there are also players that look like flat-chested mothers of four.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTi38lY8I/AAAAAAAAAto/Bait2OhNHIM/s1600/wood_mccoy.standalone.prod_affiliate.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTi38lY8I/AAAAAAAAAto/Bait2OhNHIM/s320/wood_mccoy.standalone.prod_affiliate.50.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Now who can't relate to that?</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Also I'm sure that elite athletes know a lot of things about exercise that we don't and there is so much we could learn. Just take a look at some of the promotional shots for the DVD and you'll understand what I mean.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXUdR8FXhI/AAAAAAAAAtw/G98nPqLAo1s/s1600/Ballerina+QBs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXUdR8FXhI/AAAAAAAAAtw/G98nPqLAo1s/s320/Ballerina+QBs.jpg" /></a></div>I realize that at first glance this looks like four men practicing their next water ballet routine, but it's actually a new twist on a basic stretch. Some of the key elements that you'll learn from this segment? How to coordinate outfits with your fellow gym goers. (or if you should chose to do this routine alone then you can coordinate outfits with your cat.) Additionally they will teach you the importance of never stretching without your helmet and face mask. Also there is a really interesting tidbit in there about which stretches you should be wearing your mouth guard for.<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTiTgZ-aI/AAAAAAAAAtg/_bFTgcBOyIo/s1600/Organized_Team_Activity-CM1_6843--nfl_large_580_1000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTiTgZ-aI/AAAAAAAAAtg/_bFTgcBOyIo/s320/Organized_Team_Activity-CM1_6843--nfl_large_580_1000.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>After you are good and limber, it's time for the "Karate Kid". This is a particularly difficult move which requires the use of three of your legs and all four of your arms. You might have to try a modified version of this at first. Or your could skip it all together and just do the TO.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTdnI8i4I/AAAAAAAAAtY/BOyWTKXohAo/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTdnI8i4I/AAAAAAAAAtY/BOyWTKXohAo/s320/0.jpg" /></a></div>Now technically TO isn't a part of the team anymore, but giving back to size 6 challenged women is a cause he's passionate about, so he agreed to participate in the DVD. In this segment TO shows us the importance of spending a little time at the gym. Studies have shown that spending a few hours a week at the gym can be very beneficial. As TO is demonstrating here, that doesn't necessarily mean you have to workout. Simply sit among the weights and the muscles will show up on their own. This particular exercise can be costly as it requires gym membership, but it boasts the perk of no helmet hair.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTcxtZ_QI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/V8ZPl2lvjJw/s1600/340x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/TAXTcxtZ_QI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/V8ZPl2lvjJw/s320/340x.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">Finally, back to the stretching. Obviously this is a very relaxed portion of the DVD. You are free to pin your shirt up to show off your smoking hot abs (as demonstrated by 65). After such an amazing workout you might be feeling pretty good about how you look and want to strike a sexy pose. Simply cross your legs and place one hand on your hip. To add a bit of mystery to your pose you should look disinterested in what is going on as demonstrated by number 82. From the looks of the jaw dropping in this picture that pose really impresses. Work it, Number 82, work it. Snap circle to you.</div>Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6886831929200202353.post-7576337913582793522010-05-28T00:05:00.000-04:002010-05-28T00:05:05.665-04:00I Can Do Anything I Want. Represent.Last week I went to Target. (Your on the edge of your seat already aren't you?) I waited in line to pay for my Raspberry Iced Tea Mix. I know what you are thinking, a new house <i>and</i> Iced Tea Mix. I'm with you there. I was pretty sure that once we started paying our mortgage I'd have to grind up my own tea leaves and raspberries, but turns out Lipton powder is cheaper than that.<br />
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The woman in front of me in line was maybe 60ish and she told the cashier that she spent her winters in the Caribbean. <strike>Because I lack class</strike> I interjected jokingly that I might be a little jealous of her. She mentioned that they had only recently gotten electricity at her house on the island and as she talked it became more and more apparent that she and her husband were not vacationing on the island but <i>living</i> there. Much like you and I live in our houses here. They took care of their yard, fixed their house up how they wanted. As she left she looked back over her shoulder at me and said, "You can do anything you want."<br />
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I thought it was a nice reminder that we can do anything we want. For example, Saturday is Jessica's birthday and I feel confident that you want to swing by <a href="http://www.theshortstorylong.blogspot.com/">her blog</a> and leave her some comment love. Everyone should get comment love on their birthday. (it's cheaper than actual birthday cards) If you feel that comments lack the personal feel of a card might I suggest that you add something personal of your own like a picture.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/S_8_i0iTlwI/AAAAAAAAAtI/yaaqPwbDNEw/s1600/IMG_1404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WZDuSKEe9jQ/S_8_i0iTlwI/AAAAAAAAAtI/yaaqPwbDNEw/s320/IMG_1404.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Jessica, you may hate me for posting this, but you should be thanking me. Jay looks so much worse then you in this picture that your disgusting "see food" picture almost looks cute. Oh yeah and HAPPY BIRTHDAY. May your day be filled with people who fall over themselves to make you feel like a fairy princess or at the very least may no one make you mad.Bethanyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12317127422366741703noreply@blogger.com7