Teeter On Tomorrow

Whenever someone tells you to "live in the now," or some (annoying) variation, don't you just want to punch them in the face? Not so much because it's not a good thing to do, as much as it feels like a smug declaration. 

Now that you know that's how I feel, hopefully this post won't seem like that.

I get the sentiment. But I want my motto to be "Carpe What You Can, Whenever You Can." (Sadly, it doesn't quite have the same charming ring.)

I like living now. I like my life. Regretting or aggrandizing the past is a trap. But I think it's fine to look backward and say, "That was amazing. More of that, please." Or, "I'd prefer to forgo that, if you don't mind." Or, "That sucked, but boy howdy, did I learn a lot." And it's OK to say how great or awful something is currently and how great or awful you feel about something to come.

Having said that, I really resonated with this...

“I think a lot of the problems we’ve been experiencing come from the fact that no one embraces the miracle and amazement of the present. So many people—steampunks, fundamentalists, hippies, neocons, anti-immigration advocates—feel like there was a better time to live in. They think the present is degraded, faded, and drab. That our world has lost some sort of “spark” or “basic value system” that, if you so much as skim history, you’ll find was never there. Even during the time of the Greeks, there were masses of people lamenting the passing of some sort of “golden age.” But I’d never go back and live in any other time than teetering on tomorrow; this is the greatest time to be alive.” Patton Oswalt 

I want to look back, look forward, and not forget to look around. I want to teeter on tomorrow. 

The world hasn't ended, but it's highly likely that hell has indeed frozen over.

We got a dog.

Anyone who knows me knows how ridiculous that is. The girl you know and love is unreasonably afraid of dogs and kept having kids to avoid getting her child a pet. I understand the distress this may cause. But this isn't another Harold Camping prediction that people will never take seriously in the first place and then be immortalized into popular culture by an excellent Parks and Recreation episode.

This is real life people. And this is happening.

Dave and I made the decision to get a dog much like we decided to get married and have kids. It can be summed up with the phrase, "That seems awesome. Let's do it!" It's worked out so well for us so far, how can we ever learn our lesson?

Now that's not to say that we didn't try to be reasonable about it. First, we talked about it for a couple weeks. Then, our beloved pet rat Tofu died, and so we thought, "Let's really look seriously at this whole 'dog' thing." We googled dogs for like 27 whole minutes and planned to go to the Austin Animal Center (i.e. the Pound) after the kids went to school.

But then Otto stayed home sick. We couldn't very well wait until the next day. That's for smart people! Those internet dogs were super cute. So we told Otto we had a little errand to run, but that he had to keep it completely secret. (It should be noted that Otto is well known for his excellent memory as well as for his complete inability to keep a secret. In the end, it wouldn't matter.)

We drove to the Pound and took a tour. We (responsibly) spoke with a counselor about several of the small dogs we liked and wanted to get more information on. All of which were too new to interact with, except one. She had been in foster care for about a month, adopted two days ago and returned within 24 hours. Let's take a look, we say!

A nice kid took us back to the the cages and said, "Oh, you want to see that mean one?" Uh...yes? That's the one. Nothing doing. She backed into a corner and growled when he tried to coax her out. He suggested I approach the cage while it was closed. She came up sniffing and wagging. He asked if I wanted to try to take her out. Sure I do! She gave me a little lick. We took her out to a pen to play and she jumped around excitedly, rolling over to get pet, wagging her little tail. All remaining wisps of reason dissipated. We had imprinted.

We said we were interested, and so they gave us the low down on her: She was picked up as a stray on the street, knocked up and running with a pack of chihuahuas who had been menacing neighborhood children.

Perfect! We'll take her!

And that was that. One free leash and 10 minutes of paperwork later, we were walking out the door with Penny. (It's the name she came with, which suits her perfectly and happens to be the fortuitous namesake of one of our favorite Pee-Wee's Playhouse segments.)

She does growl at children; the smaller the better. (We imagine her saying, "I think I can take this one. I got this!") She doesn't like men, although she has been slowly warming to Dave who bribes her with bacon. (Smart boy.) Although she loves and plays with him, she sometimes sees Otto as her competition and doesn't like giving him space beside me on the couch. (Otto wins, incase there was any doubt.) She is house-trained but prefers to poop in the house, if given the choice. (It's nice and cozy in there!)

We all enjoy imagining what her life must have been like before and how wonderful it is now. When she's not begging for a belly rub or being fed an alarming amount of treats, she has long naps in whatever sunny spot she can find.

She perfectly fits our imperfect family. And we love each other!

The Chip Bag Diaper™ PSA

Changing lives, people. One Bag Diaper fold at a time.

You know where to find me.

One of my favorite things to do is read through the google search terms used to lead a googler to my blog. Inevitably, one or two will be good for a laugh. But the current list a pretty fantastic collection.

I think "man portrait wrinkles" is my favorite, but it's a close second to "old woman doing a stretch." What I'd really love to know is what was the searcher actually trying to find? And did they find it here? I sincerely hope so.

I think the main take-home here is that if you're searching for my blog with google, just enter anything about a wrinkles. Specifying man, woman or bitch doesn't really matter; you'll make it here all the same.

Birth of a Fitness Instructor

Boy, if there was one thing I thought I'd never do, it is become a fitness instructor. (That, along with living in Texas.) Firstly, because I was always skinny-fat, meaning I didn't really have to do anything to stay thin. Squishy, but small. Secondly, because those people are cuh-ray-ZEE! However, babies, years and the desire to be healthy turned me first into a runner and then into a gym rat.

About 10 months ago, I started taking a class called BodyPump. I'd taken many classes over the years, but something was different about it. The energy, the challenge, the people. It became an obsession. I was scheduling everything around it, including family members' airport departures (sorry about that, Erin and Trav!).

A couple months ago, I caught wind that they'd just done a training for BodyPump instructors at my gym, and I had a friend who went through it. She told me all about it, and while it sounded mildly insane, with her encouragement, I started looking into it further. She told me to talk to our instructor about it after class. That instructor said she herself was a master trainer and was running a training session starting Friday. She also said I needed to be sponsored (she'd work it out), that I'd need a ride to the location 3.5 hours away (she'd give me one) and that I probably needed a place to stay (I could stay in her hotel room). See what I mean about fitness people and their crazy? (Crazy awesome.)

Off I went with my instructor and a perfect stranger (the perfect part would stick, the stranger part lasted about 5 whole minutes) who would also be driving with us, sleeping with us, and attending the training.

I won't bother you with all the fascinating details Dave so graciously listened to me spill for about three hours straight. But I will say the following...

There was a bit of off-roading (literally). There was fear and anxiety (loads). There was vomit (thankfully, not my own). There were tears (of frustration, of gratitude, of relief). There was laughter (driven primarily by sleep deprivation). And there were lots and lots of unexpected triumphs.

Oh, and did I mention the acupuncture? Yes, there was that too.

It was one of the most physically, mentally and emotionally challenging things I've ever done. And if it wasn't for the following three people, it would have never happened...

• My BodyPump trainer who, for no good reason, had all the faith in the world that I could do it.

• My perfect stranger, who is now a perfect friend. (I heart you, Ingalls.)

• And my sweet husband, who despite nearly 19 years of experience with me, still thinks I can do anything and will do absolutely anything to make it happen. (When will he ever learn?!)

Of course, it's not over. I still have to submit a video to be fully certified. In the meanwhile, and again thanks to my trainer, I have already picked up class to teach.

Sure, I always thought I'd end up being a teacher. I just thought I'd be teaching a forensics class in an anthropology department somewhere.

Maybe next year.

The Post In Which I'm Discovered By Tina Fey

When I said I was going to post a pic a week for a year, we didn't think that would really happen, now did we? Remember that whole thing about me not doing what anyone tells me to? That also applies to myself. I told myself I would do that whole picture thing, and here I am a couple months behind. I knew I was in trouble when I had to backdate the post to show up in the correct week on two different occasions.

Let's reprise an old theme to give a clearer picture of my problem: books and obstinacy. I've been wanting to read Tina Fey's book Bossypants since the day it came out. Then Dave said he was going to buy it for me, when he realized that—duh—he gave me a Kindle. So he told me to just go ahead and buy it.

See how he just told me to do something as well as it having the implication I will read a certain book? Also, Sofie read it while I was avoiding it and told me to read it right away. It's like these people have never met me.

For reference, I am a HUGE Tina Fey fan. I'm talking pre-Sarah-Palin-head-writer-of-SNL Tina. I love what she is doing for women and doing for women in comedy. She proves that you can be sentimental and crass and funny AND a woman, but she isn't defined by her crassness, like so many other female comedians I can think of. I know you all like her now, but did you like 30 Rock since day one? I bet you started warming to it about the same time Tina was doing Sarah? 

It's fine that you like her. I want everyone to like her. I'm just trying to give you context for me avoiding her book. It's completely unreasonable, bordering on insane**.

So I finally read it. It is pure genius. 

Since turnabout is fair play, I told Dave that in order for us to stay married, he's going to have to read that book. He said he doesn't read books and that he already knows Tina Fey is hilarious. No, I said. To understand me, you must read her book. But, I do understand you, he says. And I don't read books. 

I try to relay little nuggets of hilarity to entice him, but if there's one thing about me, it's that I'm really really bad at retelling jokes and anecdotes. If they are my own, fine. But if they are someone else's, it will always be like the last pfttt moment before all the air finally leaves a deflating balloon. Dave never laughs when I retell what was a funny story, except for the occasional strained I-really-don't-want-to-hurt-your-feelings-but-you-buchered-that laugh. 

Just read the damn book, Dave.

As far as my pictures go, since I already busted up that whole thing, I'm going to just go ahead and keep posting, but without a set once-a-week thing.

Trust me, I know I'm literally the only person who cares about this. But along with being a little childish, I'm also full of misplaced integrity.


**What else is insane: As I was reading Bossypants on the elliptical at the gym, and laughing out loud every 3 minutes or so, I found myself subconsciously fantasizing a little about her reading the blog post that I was going to write about reading her book. After she recovered from laughing, she would invite Sofie and me to lunch. Amy Poehler would be meeting us there. We'd all be great friends. I realized at that moment that I have a long standing tradition of fantasizing about famous people recognizing my innate talent and winning personality. In the case of my 10-year-old self, it was about being pulled up on stage with El Debarge to sing a duet of Who's Johnny.

Spring in Thomasville

We've done a lot. The good part is that I have a ton of blog material. The bad part is, I've had no time to blog. But the lazy days of summer are here.

In April we went to Port Aransas with our best friends, Val and Mer. 

The beach had so much seaweed that there were backhoes loading it into dump trucks. Also, there were sea lice. Ever heard of them? They are crazy. Crazy horrible. And they live in seaweed. See where I'm going with this? 

Also, the sand was so fine that it couldn't really be brushed off of anything, and I was nervous to use my camera on the beach. 

So here's one of the few pictures I took during our vacation...

I think it's a fair representation of the trip. I know with the sea lice/seaweed situation, it sounds like it was a disaster. So wrong. Because any trip with Val and Mer is full of pants-peeing laughter. In other words, it doesn't matter where we go together, it's always going to be the best vacation ever.

Shortly after the trip, this happened...

Which compelled me to turn this...

Into this...

That was followed by many hours of wondering how in the world we got here so fast. 

But there wasn't much time before I had to do this...

Which turned into a huge fire hazard, much to Otto's delight...

I wanted to stop and wonder some more. 

But we decided this needed to happen on the last day of school...

Moves were busted...

Groves were gotten on...

And I realized too late that we never taught Sofie you should always be friends with ugly girls.

So you can be the cutest.

 

I realized the teens at my party were the least of my worries...

And even when loads of important, crazy, loud and frantic things are happening...

Important things like this still can...

Life is good.