Fearless I Am Not

Have I ever mentioned I'm terrified of flying? No? I am. I LOVE to travel. Want to travel to more places than I can count. But I hate planes. When I read about things like this (we won't get into the whole "I don't know how to swim" aspect), my next vacation gets a little further away. I watched the movie Fearless the night before I first stepped onto a plane. I'm sure the memories continue to set me back. I am also incapable of thinking of a plane trip without chanting "twisted metal, naked babies screaming for their mother". It isn't pretty.

The best flight I ever took was the one where I took 1/2 valium instead of a 1/4. I was so darn placid telling everyone who would listen that I was so zen I didn't care if our plane crashed into the Acapulco cliff divers below. I'm sure it was a lovely flight for everyone else...

Because I Have No Shame vol.11 (seriously this time)

I have several scrapbook-y type books. I tried to scrapbook, but never really loved it (therefore was THRILLED when things like snapfish happened and now all I have to do it print & order a book. Yipee!). I have awkward pages that don't really make sense and seemingly random pictures. But sometimes I come across jewels such as this. An entire page dedicated to my nasty little applesauce habit.

There are several different things to discuss about these pictures. First, let's set the stage. This was shortly after I got married the first time, so...fall/winter 1994. This was our first apartment. Our landlord's family owned a mortuary and all of our furniture in our furnished apartment was hand-me-downs from when they redecorated the mortuary. Fun stuff. That gold couch? Easily over 6 feet long (I have no idea how they ever moved it into that apartment to begin with!) and still one of the most comfortable couches in the world. Also, we had lime green shag carpet in the bedroom. It was awesome.

Moving on. The ivory quilt draped on the couch. I LOVED that quilt. It was amazing (probably still is, actually...). My ex's grandma who lived in San Diego made it for us for our wedding. It was lovely and warm and if I had had it in me to fight over anything I wanted when we split, it would have been that. Even if I know it wouldn't have been right, it being made by his grandma and all. Still. Amazing. I think about it every year I pull my stocking she made me out of my Christmas decoration box.

Next, these two pictures are clearly taken on different days even though I AM wearing the same black turtleneck (which...turtleneck?). Moving on with poor clothing choices, we have the fluffy sheer bow in the hair and paisley leggings. I don't know what to say about the bow, but I did love those leggings and in my defense, I can't remember ever wearing them in public, though...I wouldn't swear to that!

Applesauce. I love applesauce. Seriously a perfect food. I have nothing else about that. Oh, wait. I do note that I have a spoon on the floor. That, today, makes me want to gag. Man, I'd love to go back to the days before my OCD reared its ugly head!

Let's talk hair. I had tons of it and these pictures illustrate NICELY why I keep it short. I don't do well with long hair. It just hangs and is stupid. Every time I get my hair cut I get remarks about how much hair I have. It's not thick, but I have a lot and that gives the appearance of thick. I have to have TONS razored off to have any sort of texture. Expect this last girl who cut my hair. She mention how thin it was. I'm guessing she's new.

El Boyo Loco

It's been awhile since I've given a Sammy update since I usually use this blog for more, uh, selfish purposes! But I know some out there who silently chant (**More Sammy**). It's time to appease them!

Sammy is now 2 1/2. Almost exactly. I am constantly asked if he's 4. I often wonder what it would be like to carry around a 2 year old that isn't nearly 3 1/2 feet tall. I bet it's nice. He's talking up a storm and will repeat anything. Unfortunately. He's putting sentences together and says things that constantly amaze me. I asked him the other day if he was done with his milk. He said, "No. Almost.". Almost? Where did that come from?

However, with the good comes the (ever constant) worry. If he doesn't say something correctly that he used to say correctly, I worry. He's not the greatest at answering questions (ever) and will only repeat back what you say, so I worry. He rocks during prayers, so I worry. He's getting pickier and picker with what he'll eat, so I worry. I honestly want the window of when he could develop autism to close completely so I can stop worrying (ha!). It went away for awhile after he really started talking, but lately it's back and I can't find that "normal toddler / when to be concerned" balance I once had.

He loves to dance. LOVES to dance. And read. He's obsessed with the alphabet and will spell out everything he sees. And numbers. He's really good up to eleven, but still can't grasp four. It usually becomes an extra three. He asks to watch Curious George about 54,000 times a day and is sad when the answer is no. We have the soundtrack in the car and I'm often scanning the disc to find "Upside Down" for him. I've never seen such glee on a face as when he hears the opening notes.

He also loves daddy an alarming amount. Well, only alarming to me. If daddy's around, who's mommy? He wants nothing to do with me lately and will often tell me to "go downstairs that way mommy". I'm not sure how I'm liking this new found independence. Speaking of, he LOVES church nursery now. Cries that he can't go sooner and cries when we pick him up to leave. They often remark at how different he is now from when we first moved and he wouldn't talk or interact.

Sammy at 2 1/2 is a lot of fun. I much prefer this stage to the baby stages. Even knowing the worry will become different and more extensive here on out.

Ready, Set...Wait?

Before the move, my sister and I discussed starting a book club once I got here. I'm not a fan of church sanctioned ones, because, well...I'm a heathen where most language or situations in literature don't bother me. I know that and I accept that some are different. It's ok. So I thought having an independent club that reads a variety of topics and feels similar to reading as I would be a good thing.

So now I would like to find a group of women who like to read a variety of things, aren't easily offended (or, if they are offended, know how to broach it as part of a great conversation) and get together to talk and laugh and eat over literature - whether good, bad or indifferent.

Great. Now that I know what I want, how do I go about getting it?

Song of the week:

Mirror Song, Live (This is such a great song. However, I vastly prefer him with a shaved head and a little more grit in his voice...)