My treadmill keeps looking at me.

I am back on the exercise wagon.

I've been a giant tree sloth since April, but it's not because I wanted to.

Really.... I have issues.

If you're a regular reader of my blog, you may have surmised that I am a bit of an anal retentive, OCD type freak of nature. You wouldn't be completely wrong.

I'm working on it, but there are still some things that leave me more high strung than a crack addicted chihuahua. I can't always tell what those things are until I am about to lose it. (Blow a gasket. Go ballistic. Whatever.) And I often do those things on the inside where other people can't see it.

Men can compartmentalize their stress waaaaaaaaay better than women.
Work stress? They can most likely leave it at work.
Stress at home? Not between the hours of 8:00 and 5:00 they don't.

Women have what I call The Bucket O'Stress.
Someone didn't rinse his breakfast dishes? Drop in the bucket.
Someone suddenly remembers he needs to turn in a science project today, but hasn't done a science project? Drop, drop, drop, drop, big splash.
Someone cuts me off in traffic? Add another drop.
The dry cleaners lost a pair of my pants? Drop, drop.

You get the idea. It all goes in the same stress bucket. The proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back is the same thing as the last drop in the bucket. Because I am a control freak who plays by the rules and gets crazy when other people don't do what they're supposed to (keep agreements, do their share, do the ethical thing, etc...) I end up with a lot of drops in my bucket.

In April I went to the ER with some minor heart attack symptoms. No heart attack, but I have developed a condition called vaso vagal syncope. People who faint at the sight of blood have the same thing. They see blood, and in an instant they can freak out, their blood pressure quickly drops, blood doesn't circulate where it needs to be, and they faint. Their trigger is the sight of blood, mine is the last drop in the stress bucket.

If I get too stressed (even over little, stupid things that have all added up) I start to get dizzy and feel light headed. I have heart palpitations. Sometimes I start sweating and feel nauseated. Lovely, right?

I started to get hyper-focused on the symptoms where my heart was feeling so weird.
Worrying about the symptoms was causing me more stress. I went and got a full cardiac work-up, just to be safe. I wore a heart monitor for 24 hours, had to push a button whenever I felt a symptom and keep a diary of what I was doing.

I only felt symptoms when I was stressed.

Big, obvious stress: Devin did something really lame and then was kind of disrespectful... it made me lightheaded and gave me some big ole' heart palpitations.

Little, not so obvious stress: I was in bed early in the morning, half asleep and heard Handsome Hubby in the shower. I dozed off and on, but as he turned off the water, I suddenly remembered I had changed all the towels and hadn't put new ones out for him.
I felt the heart palpitations.
It happened in a split second, and I moved from "uh-oh!" to "He can get his own towels" at the speed of sound.... but I still had a flash of guilt, of stress, that I wasn't perfect. That I screwed something up, even though no one viewed it that way. (Except for me, for a split second.)

Here's the thing. I told HH that this happened. He and I both know he doesn't expect me to do every little thing and he didn't think twice about grabbing a new towel. These ridiculous expectations are largely my own doing.

So after the cardiac work up, everything looks OK. It brings us back to... stress.

Stress is the obstacle that has been getting in the way of my workouts. Whether it is physiological manifestations of stress, too much on my calendar or simply forgetting to make myself a priority, the bottom line is that I am neglecting my health.

I was nervous about running on my treadmill, at home alone, and falling off of it or having some sort of physical episode. Once the cardiac reports came back OK, I realized it's time to ease back into it.

Today is day 3 of getting back into my routine. It feels pretty good. It will feel better once I hit the place where I crave my run-time.

I do have a love/hate relationship with my treadmill. But even though we've been apart for several months, I've never stopped thinking about it.

And I never, ever hung clothes on it while we were apart.

To read about other blogger's obstacles and what they're doing to keep working on their weight loss/healthy living goals, go to {aefilkins} and read this week's Extreme Makeover: Me Edition.

Candle light has a nicer glow when it's free.

I am a big fan of candles. Candles are good. I buy them compulsively and I burn them regularly.... especially during the fall and winter months.

However, I am totally bugged when I buy a yummy, scented candle (which often is synonymous with expensive) and it burns down the middle and I have a tube of empty wax and no wick.

I am sure you already know this, but I've got nuthin' today as far as post ideas... so here ya go: recycle your candles.

I pop the leftover candle wax into a ziploc bag and toss it in with my candles until I feel like making new one.

Toss the leftover wax pieces in a microwave safe bowl and heat it 30 seconds to 1 minute at a time, stirring in between. Treat it as you would if you were melting chocolate chips in the microwave.

When the wax is melted, take one of these little votive wicks (you can get them at any craft store)

Dip the bottom of it in the hot wax...

...then press it into the bottom of a glass votive cup. This will "anchor" the wick into place.

Pour the hot wax into the votive.

Let it sit and cool.

Burn your new (recycled) candles.

Enjoy the scent and the fact that you didn't have to buy it.

Chicken breasts.

I went to a charity fundraiser with my friend Jodi last night.

We got dressed up...   we put on make-up...   I spent more than an hour actually drying and styling my 45 pounds of hair...   We were lookin' good.

Upon arrival, we headed (immediately) to the bar and each got a glass of wine.   We sipped our wine, perused the items up for silent auction, and wondered where waiters with the passed appetizers were.

I have always believed that one of the more difficult things to do in life is to look comfortable in 4 inch heels,  hold your clutch purse,  your drink,  a little bite of food,  and to make sure your right hand is readily available (and crumb free) when needed in order to shake somebody's hand.     All at the same time.   I consciously work at juggling all of that.

I have also always believed that passed appetizers should be one bite.    Not two bites.    One bite.

Otherwise, this happens:

As I took my first little appetizer from the tray (2 bites worth of a chopped Asian chicken mixture in a little crunchy, flaky edible cup), I noticed David Arquette had arrived.    (He and Courteney Cox are big supporters of this organization.)

My first bite of this appetizer caused the remaining second bite to crumble apart.
An avalanche of chicken and green onions dropped right down the front of my dress and got caught in the cleavage that I had brought out just for this special occasion.    As I concentrated on picking chunks of chicken out of my bra, I realized it would be less obvious to push it further in than to try to fish it out.

As I tried to surreptitiously wipe off my chest and tuck chicken further into my cleavage, David Arquette had reached our group and was talking to Jodi.    With all eyes on him, I took advantage of the distraction to adjust my clothing and make sure there was no more food visible on my face, chest or dress.

During this adjustment process, I felt the chicken slip further down, fall out of my bra, slide down my stomach and fall out of the bottom of my dress and land on my very cute, open toed python slingbacks.

So now instead of chicken all over my boobs, there is chicken all over my toes.    I shook it onto the floor and moved away from the scene of the crime.   I let out a big sigh.   Crisis averted, no one seemed to be the wiser.

I didn't get to meet David Arquette, but really? Would you want to be "that girl who needed a bib" when you meet someone?   Me either.

So I counted myself fortunate and mingled a little more, meeting and talking with other friends and attendees.

Then I looked at my glass of chardonnay.

It looked like a snow globe.   I had been so concerned with the chicken wedged between my boobs, that I never bothered to see if it fell anywhere else.   My wine had chunks of diced chicken and something else unidentifiable floating in it.

How many people saw that and wondered what it was?
How many people saw that and thought it was backwash!?
Agggh!! Almost 24 hours later and I am still mortified!!

Clearly, you can dress me up, but you should never take me out. (Or I should eat a little something before I get there....)

I don't care who you are... as time goes by, your butt gets bigger.

My kids are all smart.

They frequently make dumb choices, but technically they are all very intelligent.

That's why things like this just crack me up:

Me: "Mitch, it is supposed to be very hot today... are you sure you want to wear jeans to school?"

Mitch: "I have to. I don't have any shorts."

Me: "I'm pretty sure you have about 8 pairs...."

Mitch: "Yes, but they don't match yellow or they aren't clean (I'm paraphrasing a bit here) and all that's left is that pair I got last Christmas and you told me they're too big, even with a belt."

Me: "When did you last try them on?"

Mitch: "December"

Me: "What month is it now?"

Mitch: "September"

Me: "How many months have gone by?"

Mitch: "Nine.... oh. (proverbial crickets chirp...) I'll wear those shorts today."

The normal outcome in this situation would be that the shorts are now too small, but today is a good day.

CSI: Kitchen

THE FACTS:
I had some bananas that were getting too ripe.
I had a banana-nut muffin mix.
I combined the two items and baked 1 dozen muffins last night.
I set them on the counter to cool and went to bed.

This morning we awoke to a Muffin Mystery.

Nine of the muffins were gone.

So was Handsome Hubby. The boys frequently accuse HH of taking more than his fair share of cookies, and they named him as an initial suspect. I called HH at work and quickly ruled him out. He didn't have an alibi, but I consider him to be a credible source and there is a lack of motive.

There were a few shreds of the foil muffin cups on the floor (which, excuse me, could have been left by 5 of the 6 people who live in this house) but no crumbs or any other evidence of the 9 missing muffins.

The dog was allowed in last night, and the cat has been getting on the counter to look at the fish. (We're actually rather worried about Bob) Everyone was considered a suspect. (Well, not Bob.)

The evidence (or lack thereof) started to point to the dog. The cat had better access, but the dog had more motive.

Forensic evidence shows us that the muffin pan has signs of blunt trauma... scratches on the top of the pan could only have come from thicker, rather dulled claws and were made by someone with little to no manual dexterity.

Then there was this:

Along with the visible scratches on the pan, we recovered a hair at the scene. It matches dog hair samples taken from all over the rest of the house.

DNA results (kinda) should be in during the next 24 hours. Devin is the tech assigned to crime scene clean-up and dog poop management. We're pretty sure we'll see the remainders of those foil muffin cups again.
She may look all cute and innocent, but there is enough evidence to charge her with the Muffin Massacre. Freeze! Put your hands above your head.
Book 'em, Danno!

6 Yellowjackets and 1 Squirrel....

Ahhh. Soccer season. Fall weather (um... not in So Cal), cheering on your kids, enjoying the company of other parents (usually....)

Unless you are Grant's mom.

If you are Grant's mom, for every photo of him in the pack'o'players running after the ball....
(he's #4)

....there is one like this.

...or this....
(Who knew a drawstring on one's shorts could be so fun!?)

....or this.
The ball is on the other end of the field. He is just going through the motions of what he would do if he were near the ball.

Or he thought he'd throw himself on the ground and roll.


Or, since they're the Yellowjackets, he thought he'd be a yellowjacket as he ran.

When done "flying" I guess yellowjackets shoot their stingers...
This finger motion was accompanied by shooting/missile sounds.

This is what happened when I asked him to please stop being so silly and go get the ball and try to score a goal.
Not exactly what I meant by "get in the goal."

Touchdown? What the...?


The best part of the soccer game?
Watermelon and orange slices at half-time....


And the "tunnel" at the end of the game. (Which means snack time is here again!)



One down, 10 games to go.

Well, I did suggest that you hurry up....

Scene 1: Getting ready for school...

Mom:
"Grant, get out of bed."
"Grant, eat your toast."
"Grant, please put down the Legos."
"Grant, please hurry or you won't have time to play on the playground before school."

Scene 2: Walking Grant to school....

Mom:
"Grant, you better hurry up or you won't have time to play."
"Grant, you do not need to take each newspaper you see on the sidewalk and throw it on that house's drive way."
"Grant, I don't want to get on my hands and knees and smell that flowering ground cover."
"No, I didn't see the kitty, but I will trust you that you saw one."
"Buddy! Come on! If you don't walk like a normal person, you will not have time to play on the playground before school starts!"

Scene 3: The kindergarten playground.
Grant is there about 3 minutes when the bell rings.

Grant: (loudly, eliciting laughs from parents and teachers alike)
"What!!?? I didn't even have time to get my hands dirty!!"

Stupid on parade (2) Friend Makin' Monday.

I haven't participated in a Friend Makin' Monday for a little while, and I guess this still isn't quite participating because I'm republishing posts that are from June. Amber at {aefilkins} has asked us to write about whether or not we like craigslist, if we've gotten good deals, etc.

I do like craigslist and would much rather post an ad and have people come to me to take away my unwanted items, than sit on my driveway and admit that I bought this crap in the first place. I have actually made decent money buying something on craigslist, revamping it a little bit and turning right back around and selling it for a profit. I think that is my favorite thing to do... take my frugal personality and creative talents and work the craigslist system.

My next favorite thing? Laughing at the idiots.

You know that "spring cleaning" thing that people do in, well... spring? I'm doing it right now. Going through closets, making piles for Donate, Yard Sale and craigslist.

Handsome Hubby and I have spent the last week posting furniture to sell on craigslist. I love craigslist for finding some great deals, and I know how to price things so that they are sold fairly quickly. In other words: I price things fairly.

Which is why it bugs the crap out of me if something is priced fairly at say, $100 and then I get an email from someone who asks if I'll take $20 for it, because they really need it and they don't have a lot of money.

Really?

You don't have a lot of money?

Oh that's sad. I have tons of money. I have money coming out of several different orifices all at once. I have money up to my eyeballs. I burn money in the fireplace when it's cold and I wipe my butt with $100 dollar bills when I'm out of toilet paper. I have plenty of money! Come on over and just take whatever you need! I have food in the cupboards too. Help yourself.

Will I take $300 for the brand new bed and mattress set that is worth $2,500, but I've listed for $650? Um, no.

Will I sell you the $150 chair for $50? No.

My dining table is the same kind you had when you were a little girl? That's sweet. No, I do not offer a discount for sentimental value. (If anything, I may jack up the price.) Kidding. (actually... no. NOT kidding.)

Will I donate the furniture to your "Mission Charity"....? No.
(And if you're going to pretend to be a charity, you should get new email address, because cooldude3000@dickwad.com was a giveaway....)

(Incidentally, we donated a Suburban totally packed with stuff for a single mom who had been homeless and was moving into her first apartment! Please check out my favorite organization to see what amazing things they do for homeless kids...)

In addition to ridiculous money questions, there were just plain old ridiculous.

I have a puzzle problem when we're at our cabin. As part of my puzzle 12 step program, I posted an ad for 25 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzles. (I told you... a puzzle problem...) I had a woman respond to the posting. As we were talking she said she wanted to get them this past Friday afternoon.

Me: "Sorry, that won't work for me, we will be attending a funeral."
Stupid Thoughtless Woman (STW): "Where is the funeral?"
Me: "Corona"
STW: "Perfect! I'm on your way! Maybe you could swing by and let me see them on your way to Corona!"
...crickets chirp in the silence for a few moments....
Me: "Did you really just ask me to bring you 25 puzzles while on my way to a funeral?"

Am I the only one whose Mama raised me right?

What is it with people who think I should bring my items to them? I had a guy tell me I was too far away and would I consider driving a $75 item up to Los Angeles (a 30 minute drive... if you're traveling at 3:00 in the morning, otherwise almost an hour and a half one way....) um. No.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More craigslist hilarity....

call me i am interesting in your bed 555 946 1673

~~~~ Updated~~~~
Even more funny? I called this gentleman back. I gave him directions from his place (an hour away), confirmed the price we are selling the bed for... everything seemed like a go. Then? Right before we hung up, he said, "And you do have a truck or something and you can follow me back to my house, yes?"

No.

sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OK..... I must have a freakin' sign over my head that says, "Calling all craigslist idiots!!!! Please contact ME."

I was all excited just now because I thought someone was responding to a posting for some bedside tables I am selling.... I open the email, only to read this:

"can you please tell me how to download pictures onto my craigslist ad...i can't find anyone to help me!!"
(Copied directly from my email and pasted into this post.)

Really?

The worst part?

I am going to email her back and tell her how to do it, because in addition to the aforementioned "craigslist idiot" sign, I have "sucker" written on my forehead and "kick me" taped on my back.
~~~~~~~
I've decided that craigslist is very much like people-watching, except that you end up having to communicate with people that you really would rather just mock from a distance.

Spiderous Kindergartenous

Scene: Walking Grant to school this morning. I notice a huge spider.

Mom: "Hey Grant! Look at that big spider up there in that web!"

Grant: "Wow! He is big and is poisonous."

Mom: "No, he's not poisonous. He's a nice spider... just a big ole' Garden Spider."

Grant: (after thinking a moment).... "What's he guarding?"

Spiderman.... Yer doin' it wrong.
Seriously. What. The. Hell?

The heart wants what the heart wants...

Scene: Kitchen, lunch time. Mom has just offered Grant a sandwich....

Grant: "My heart is telling me to have ice cream."

Mom: "After you have a sandwich, you may have a little ice cream."

Grant: "If I don't have it, my heart will stop talking to me."

How do you respond to that?

Damn these lines.

The older I get, the longer the lines from the pillow stay on my face.
I can throw on a baseball cap to cover up bad morning hair.... but what am I supposed to do with creases so big and deep that it looks like I was in a knife fight....?

Seriously. Please tell me.

8 years and 1 day.

8 years and 1 day ago, we stared in horror at images on our TV screens (or worse, as it happened around us at the scene.)

8 years and 1 day ago, our fear and anger led us to firm resolve.

8 years and 1 day ago, we came together as a nation and as neighbors and communities.

8 years and 1 day ago, we were quick to remember what is truly important for our families and for our country.

8 years and 1 day ago, there was a renewed sense of patriotism.

8 years and 1 day ago, if you didn't have an American flag, you were S.O.L. because all the stores were sold out.

Yesterday, I made sure to put out our flag.

Yesterday, I saw fewer than a dozen flags outside of homes.

Yesterday, I watched documentary footage and visually relived that terrible day.
(photo credit: http://steelturman.typepad.com/thesteeldeal/2006/05/with_friends_li.html)

Yesterday, my pulse still quickened, my eyes still shed tears and my heart broke all over again.

Yesterday, I made myself angry on purpose.

Yesterday, I remembered that health care, the economy, and partisan politics do not trump national security.

Yesterday, I reminded myself that my number one priority is the safety and well-being of my family.

Yesterday, I realized that "Never Forget" may have, in fact, become every bit as rote as "how are you" or "have a nice day."

Yesterday, I realized that I don't want to heal. I want to stay mad. I want to remember.

The great restaurant sale goes on!

I found out that the $1 Gift Certificate sale at restaurant.com I posted about yesterday will run through September 12th. Hurry, hurry!!!
(Remember to use the promo code NINETY to get your 90% discount.)

Shawn's Birthday Swap

My swap package arrived! How fun to celebrate someone else's birthday (the fabulous Shawn at Seriously!) and YOU get presents!?



Hilary at Hi, Lane's Newlywed Scandals put together some great things for me.

• A great little notebook to write my lists/keep organized with
• Marking Pens for when I fall off the Color-Coders Anonymous wagon
• Cah-ute turquoise earrings (LOVE turquoise!)
• A true red nailpolish
• Gum, which I chomp away on almost 24/7
• My very favorite "Bad" candy ever. So bad for you.... soooooo good.

Thanks Hilary! Go here to see the goodies that other swap participants received!