Blahg

Journal 

Monday, May 25, 2009

11:30 pm

Sudden burst of energy after brushing teeth and washing face. Decide to blog about being a night owl and how much I can get done when everyone else finally falls asleep.

11:35 

I lay down to mentally sketch out a post and fall asleep. Foiled again. 

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

6:00 am 

Read scriptures. Today's topic: warring tribes that never seem to get along for more than two pages. Reminds me of Israel and Palestine, among others. Two thousand soldiers--young and inexperienced--fight an army much larger and more experienced. But they're not afraid, because their mothers taught them to believe in God's protection. Makes me wonder what I'm teaching my children. Mind goes blank. I keep on thinking. Still nothing. I remember what my mother taught me: If you pick it, it won't heal. That's what she said when I was a teenager and performed self-surgery on my zits, emerging from the bathroom with bits of toilet paper stuck to the wounds. I have to say she was right. Again. Darnit. 

8:30 am

Huff and puff to an exercise video that's supposed to get me "ripped." I consider the meaning of this word and decide that this is what will happen to my muscles if I do this video one more time. My muscles will rip into shreds and reduce me to a gelatinous mass of bones, subcutaneous fat, and sweat. My cat will try to rub against me and I'll collapse and crawl through the house like the Blob. My children will shriek and run and my cat will try to lick me to see if I taste like jell-o, strangely addicted to sugar as she is. Somehow these thoughts get me through two more sets of push-ups, which I'm secretly hoping will improve the chest region. "Feel these," I'll tell my husband, flexing my chest muscles. "You can bounce a quarter off these puppies."  As I lift my arms to stretch I notice that my pits smell like a room full of sweaty little kids--kind of stale and meaty, like kitchen trash. I know this smell well, having whiffed it when I dropped off some papers to one of my kids at the elementary just the week before. I opened the classroom door and the stench nearly knocked me over. If I had had a handkerchief, I would have instinctively covered my nose with it. As I did not, I pretended to scratch my nose to protect myself. My eyes watered as I hastily made the hand-off and speed-walked out the door to fresh air. It is very dismaying to me that I smell like this. Also a little pathetic. I wonder if I have a sweating disease. 

This is when the tiny-but-buff instructor Jari Love tells me to "turn my scars into stars." I want to call my mother and tell her this, that my acne scars will turn into beautiful facial constellations one day. Perhaps when I die? Everybody in heaven will be jealous and want some too. "See Mom?" I'll say, flashing my sparkly chin, "all those hours in the bathroom squeezing pimples was really worth it, in the end." But maybe this thought disqualifies me for heaven and I'm going to H-E-Double-Toothpicks for being so vain. (Maybe by not saying it, I won't go to Hell. Oops. Just said it. Darnit.)

Decide to blog later in the day. Somehow, 3:00 comes and the opportunity is lost. Remember that my favorite song is "Where does the time Go?" by Judy something, that folk singer in the '60's. This is my anthem, my motto. This is my life.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

11:30 am

Attend fourth grade recorder recital. When I can't figure out how to work the video camera, I make my way through rows of Chatty Kathies and Talkative Toms to my son. "How do I turn this thing on?" I ask him. He looks away and, without making eye contact says, "I dunno." Yeah, right. Like he didn't just spend the weekend messing around taping his brother's soccer game. This is the kids who knows more about my cell phone than I do. 

I stare at him and assume the I'm-not-leaving pose. He sighs and takes the camera, finds the switch and hands it back to me. I look through the lens and see…nothing. "Battery must be dead," P. says, a conniving grin on his face. I reply, "Humph," and go back to my corner of the room, where I proceed to excavate power cords from the camera bag. I plug everything into the wall outlet and voila! we are in business. Only, when it comes time to sing, P. just stands there frowning while the girls around him sing with vigor, leaning into the lyrics and smiling like they're high on this moment in the spotlight. I get this on film, too, panning the room so I can show P. how he looks when he's in the Stinky Pete mode. After a while, I realize he won't care and turn the camera off. When he gets home later on, P. unzips a slim blue vinyl case and pulls out his recorder. He plays "Yankee Doodle" and "Camptown Races" at an excrutiating forte until I suggest he go outside to play. I wonder why he wasn't taught some nice mellow New Age song that we could all meditate to and that wouldn't cause the cat make a run for the door. I consider the possibility of "losing" the recorder until the last kid needs it in three years, at which point I'll "find" it in an unmarked box in the garage. "Lookey here," I'll say, "I thought we lost this thing. What luck!" 

Saturday, May 30, 2009

11:50 am

Consider blogging about the rest of the stuff I did last week that prevented me from writing. Decide to lay down and sketch out the rest of the blog. Fall asleep immediately. Foiled again.

Comments

[Delfina Schrecongost]

I usually write and read after brushing my teeth because I tend to be more awake at night. :p Anyway, I usually hear that song "Where does the time Go" because my dad loves the artist of that song. Also, my son knows more about gadgets than I do. LOL.

[Home Remedies For Acne]

I am someone who supports using home remedies for acne instead of very chemically (and at the same time unnaturally) harsh acne curing products such as Accutane and other retinoids. Sure, these chemical products work faster, however, their risk of side effects aren't to be trifled with either!

One example is:

Lemon Juice (with rosewater) <- A very famous method is to apply lemon juice with the same amount of rosewater over the pimple or scar to eliminate them. It is natural all right, and ok to use if you don’t overdo it or else your skin will be very irritated from all the acidity and your acne WILL worsen.

[shelby]

you never cease to make me laugh. :)

[jamie]

You gotta love Jari Love (I know I do about twice a week)!

[Hillary]

It's so sad when kids reach the age when it is no longer cool to be seen with your mom. I think it comes faster for boys. We are not quite there yet, but I have seen signs we are getting close.

I like your idea of "misplacing" the recorder. Emily has decided that she needs to teach her brothers how to play it.

[Laura]

I died laughing about the recorder. Lindsey has decided it needs to be practiced daily... every single song. Heaven help me.