Feisty and Fashionable

20 Apr

Princessenpointe was born with an independent streak so fierce that when she was a toddler it sometimes drove me to tears, literally.  After the word “Mama,” her first words were “I do it!” (exclamation point included).  This girl has never encountered something that seems bigger than her determination.  This is both awe inspiring and mind boggling at the same time.

Recently, she applied for the Fashion Board at Nordstrom, including getting two letters of recommendation, writing three essays and completing an extensive project.  She did this all on her  own and even with the deadlines, she was steadfast.  She passed the first stage and has an interview on Monday…

Today, I dropped her off at a fashion conference for high school students held at our local community college.  She was the only junior high student attending and did not know a soul.  After she checked in, I lingered, nervous for her.  We all know how it feels to be a teenager  (or a person of any age, really) entering a huge room with no recognizable faces.  I thought she might hesitate. But, even at 14, she said, “OK, mom.  Bye.”  She turned and walked down the center aisle toward the front of the room to take a seat.  At that age, I would have quietly snuck into the back row without a group of friends with me for support.  But, this chica of mine knows what she wants and knows she can have it.  She walks into a room like she owns it.  Someday she probably will.  What I think of as courageous, she does not even bat an eyelash at…Why would she?  She can handle it.  The world better watch out because this little lady is going to make her mark and have a say about it.  I know her interview will go marvelously, but if you aren’t doing anything at 5:00 on Monday, send her some positive vibrations.

 

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Consistency

18 Apr

One of the hardest things in life is consistency.  Can you even think of one aspect of life where this does not hold true?  I can’t.  With health, diet, exercise, parenting, setting goals, maintaining friendships, keeping up your house or yourself…or your blog…consistency is the key to success.  And…I’ve been slacking.

While I was debilitated by my peg leg, I was darn consistent and it was fun and easy to write every day.  I have been distracted by all the wonderful activities I can now participate in and I have neglected this fun blog.  I have thought of great topics most days and then by 10 or 11 p.m. been too tired and figured I’d post the next day, but then the next day became the next day and…I am middle aged, so I forgot about said, cool topic and the post was never written.

This resonates for most things in life as well.  Wait to long and you miss the best part.  Fail to be consistent and fall short of important life goals. Focus too much on what needs to be done and the special, important moments will pass you by.   My blog moments may not be the most important, but they are fun.  The documenting of the insanities of my life and the loves of my life make them seem all the more worthwhile.

In what part of your life do you need to be more consistent?  I’m fascinated to know.  I’m going to be more consistent starting tonight.  My posts might not be fabulous and life altering, but they will be there.  I’ll start with every other day for now…just be consistent, right?

Smoking

10 Apr

Not to brag, but around these parts, and parts of Central California where I spent many years, I’m known for my cookies.  Yes, in the scheme of things, I realize this is a sad, pathetic talent to be known for.  I have a husband who is an accomplished artist, a son and daughter who are incredibly creative and talented.  I cook.  Specifically, I bake.  This is not impressive.  But if you are hungry, I can provide you with tasty treats. I bake most days of the week and have since I was a teen.  So, I am pretty committed to my gigantic KitchenAid mixer.  In fact, as ridiculous as this sounds to those of you who don’t enjoy time in the kitchen…If my family was safe and I had five minutes to grab stuff out of the house before it collapsed, it would probably be the photo albums, hard drive with photos, kid art and KitchenAid.

Until the event I am about to disclose, I didn’t even know just how radical my KitchenAid mixer was… I knew it was heavy, beastly even.  No joke, this bad daddy weighs over thirty pounds.  Now you know why I do 100 push-ups/day…I need to be strong enough to hoist this baby onto the kitchen counter and back into the cupboard.  Princessenpointe didn’t weigh 3o pounds until she was over two years old!  I received my KitchenAid mixer as a gift for Mother’s Day about a decade ago, so I did no research, information gathering, etc.  I only knew it could mix a quadruple batch of Snickerdoodles and  whip just about anything else into smithereens in seconds.  But, now I know it is a Professional 6.  This is one of the bad daddy models.

I know this because I was mixing whole wheat pizza dough the other day and the KitchenAid started smoking…smoking as in big plumes of smoke spewing from the back and from the front.  I was out back watering the plants while it mashed my dough for six minutes and when I came inside,  the kitchen was smokey.  Does this make the pizza “electrically fired?”  It’s a new take on “coal fired”…only instead of firing the dough in a coal fired oven, you fire the raw dow in a broken down KitchenAid.  EEEEK.  I was afraid to unplug the cord from the electrical socket.  Mind you, both Princessenpointe and Princelightningbolt were nearby and neither noticed the smell or the smoke.  So, if you invite them over to your house, be sure your smoke detector has new batteries because they probably won’t notice that your house is burning down.

Long story short, my KitchenAid is at the repair shop getting new motor parts.  I lasted one day without it and had to borrow Mrscooksalot’s extra.  This extra mixer is a bitty, bitty baby compared to my bad boy, but it will do until I get mine back.  I’ve made some macaroons in it and they are delicious, but I still feel like something major is missing from my life.

Look closely…there is a little plume coming out of the front of the mixer..this is all the smoke that was left after I freaked out for a few minutes, unplugged and thought to go get my phone for a picture…Next time I will be quicker to get the shot.

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Getting it Done in an Hour on the Trails

9 Apr

Peg Leg LOVES to run.  You all know that by now.  But for me, it means a lot to reiterate it nowadays.  In the past week or so,  I have run one hour plus with both my running pals on different trails and different days.  I am content…kind of.  To catch up with my weekly trail pal was awesome…slow…but awesome.  We covered everything from sweet (ahem, annoying) husbands to seven year old birthday parties to college tours for Juniors in high school to varicose veins…all in one hour and ten minutes.  Did I mention we were warned by another runner about a bobcat?  I had a blast.  My foot was sore and tired and not happy afterward, but a few days later my other run pal was in town from Nor Cal and we hit the trails.  We hashed out work, kids, vacation, MAJOR extended family troubles and eyelashes…all in an hour.

Runners are efficient.  We cut to the chase.  When running, you don’t have to face the person next to you, so probing questions, amidst heaving breathing and high heart rates, are easier, they flow, we don’t concern ourselves with edicate and proper manners.  Put your head down, push the pace and ask, “Who the hell does your husband think he is dealing with?”  This is par for the course on the trails.

These conversations refresh and renew the spirit.  The spirit of the runner and the spirit of the woman.  I am sad these refreshing, renewing runs will be only one hour now, but I am grateful for how much we can cram in.  I am bossy and I can get it done.  Run Happy.

In Absentia

5 Apr

When we get married, we know at some point we will have to step up.  We have to hold down the fort when our spouse is sick or out of town, we have to fill the shoes when one has a project that takes over.  Tonight I attended one of Sirskatesalot’s art openings at a gallery nearby…without him.  Princessenpointe was my date.  The four artists’ works looked great.  The gallery was packed, art was selling, music was playing…and one of the artists was on the other side of the country.  Work pays bills, so sometimes it trumps art openings.

Artists, the gallery owners and others we know noted the absence.  I was greeted like I usually am when I see these people.  Hug, smile, handshake.  But, instead of, “I’m so glad you could come” or “It’s great to see you guys.”  I heard, “We are so bummed Sirskatesalot couldn’t be here, but at least you could come in his place” or “I told Sirskatesalot you would be his stand in.”  Ahem.  It is enough work to be his wife and the mother of his teens.  Am I now also his stand in?  In addition to the fact that I am neither talented nor famous, I don’t really want that job.  Can’t I just be the boring wife taking pictures of the show he can’t attend?

I guess stand in is part of the job.  New jobs seem to crop up frequently after a couple decades of marriage…keep that in mind if you haven’t said your vows yet.  What you see is definitely not what you get…it is much, much more.  It’s not rough and I’m proud to do it.  However, I hardly fill the shoes.

Clogging

1 Apr

Sirskatesalot hit snooze or off on the alarm today.  Our day started with running, screaming and general chaos.  Princelightningbolt had a whopping five minutes to get dressed and out the door..he had forms that had to be signed and gear to be packed, so you can imagine how much adrenaline was surging through our household at 635 a.m.  Starting the day like the start of a race is a hideous way to begin a new day.  In fact, I think it takes a whole day to recover.  I feel like today was in overdrive all day long.

My new clogs kept me going, though.  Did I tell you about my clogs?  When I pleaded with my podiatrist for another type of shoes I can wear besides  These are the most fashionable, sexy clogs you can imagine.  And at $130/pair, they better be.  Ha!  They are hideous and go with absolutely nothing in my closet.  But,  I can wear them without my orthotics and they are not athletic shoes, which is a HUGE improvement from the past few weeks post-das boot.

My daughter is calling me “Clogging Molly” after Sirskatesalot’s friend’s band Flogging Molly.  I find this annoying, but she is quite witty.  She said if she had a blog about me, she’d call it “Clogging Molly.”  Sigh.

Are You Gonna Be OK?

25 Mar

When I first started on this Peg Leg journey, my biggest fear was that I would never run again.  This was a visceral fear that I literally felt in my core.  Terrifying.  Running has been my rock and my constant since I was fourteen years old.  I depended on running when I felt happy, sad, scared, stressed, you name it.  I wanted to run.  Long hours on the dirt, away from complications, niceties and falsities, left me feeling refreshed and renewed no matter how badly I had felt when I headed out to the door.  Nothing else has ever made me feel so clean, safe, confident.  Just the thought of losing this companion brought tears to my eyes (dramatic, I know, but true…and I am not much of a crier).

In fact, running is what I have thought about most before and after surgery.  However, just as I was surprised by how I kind of luxuriated in being a nuisance (see past post), I have been surprised by how I have learned that I will be OK no matter what happens with my foot.  Shocking, even.  I do feel this, though. And I am sure some of these thoughts have been preemptory to prepare my psyche in case that is what the doc says.  Train the brain and the truth will be less painful.  I have done this now for months, so today, I felt ready.

I picked up my new orthotics and all seems good with my foot.  I have run a couple days each week for about 30-45 minutes and only been sore.  I have come to enjoy the gym more and all the cardio equipment has to offer.  I am even doing a daily 100 push ups (yes, big boy style) and weights.  After a few minutes I asked the doc about hills and running.  He tried to be encouraging, but basically, running is the worst thing I can do for my foot.  Running highly increases the chances for a joint replacement in the near future.  F**K!

But, I pulled up my big girl pants and felt OK.  I know I will be OK.  I can do things.  I may not be able to rely on my runs for all the things I once did, but I can do baby runs without hills and I can do many other activities.  It is empowering to know I will be OK.  I might even be stronger than I thought…I’ll keep you posted on that one…

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