And Then? My Foot Got Barfed On.

My 20th high school reunion just happend. It was... meh.

No. I take that back. It was AWESOME to see some AWESOME friends that I hadn't seen in far too long. AWESOME to promise each other that we wouldn't wait another ten years before we got together again. But, the try-to-hide-in-a-corner-because-I-hate-chit-chat-and-worry-that-people-will-think-I'm-a-bitch-because-of-it sucked. As usual.

But, overall... so glad I went.

Friday night's event was just my high school's graduates (Monterey High School, Lubbock, Texas - GO PLAINSMEN!) at a cocktail party. Saturday's event was a combo reunion with the other two rival high schools in town, Coronado and Lubbock High. It was at a cool new rooftop bar in town. The reunion started at 7:00, but the bar wasn't closed to the public. So, about 10:00 the college kids started rolling in as college kids are wont to do at that time. (Do you remember when 10:00 made you think of heading to the bar, not jammies and the couch?!)

So. The college kids were there. One of my friends overheard one of them say, "I'm trying to get to the bar, but there are all of these old people in the way." Ouch.

But, I headed to the bathroom with a friend. While I was finishing up in my own personal stall I had the disquieting thought of, "Did my foot just get wet?" I looked down and saw... splatter... from the next stall had made its way into mine. And, then I heard it. The distinct sound of barf splashing down in the toilet next to me.

My foot got barfed on.

I ran out of the bathroom in horror (while stopping to wash my hands - I mean I'm not gross. Just because my foot had been dishonored didn't mean I had to sacrifice my hands as well), mumbling to my friend, "myfootjustgotbarfedonmyfootjustgotbarfedonmyfootjustgotbarfedon."

But, here's a couple of things I would like to say to the nameless college beauty that brought such honor to herself and hers last Saturday night. First of all: hit. the. toilet. Gross. And, secondly: Who barfs at 10:00 at night?! What is this? Amateur hour? At least we "old people" know how to hold our liquor!

So, that's it. That's my best anecdote from the reunion. If you didn't go to high school with me, stop here. If you did, or you're just really interested in watching other people's home movies, keep going for some of the pics.

Some of the AWESOME people who made it AWESOME
Friday Night

Mindy, Kelly and me
I went to school with Mindy from FIFTH grade through twelfth. Wow. That's a lifelong friend!
Kelly and I were pretty much tied at the hip during high school (with our other friend Lenna who rudely chose to have a baby a month ago and, therefore, couldn't make the reunion. Geez. Some people just don't think of ME when they are doing things. Do better next time, Lenna.) At one point Friday night, Kelly and I were sitting on a couch together and another friend walked by. She said, "You two. Sitting there. Together. It's like it's twenty years ago!" I love my BFF.

Jessica and Jennifer

Amy and Kelly. The Broome girls. No relation. (I have no idea why I think that's so funny...)

Mikey (you can't call a grown man Mikey. You have to call him Mike. Or Springer. He looks at you weird if you call him Mikey.) and Kim

Saturday Night

Jennifer, me and Cressinda

Um. This is exactly what it looks like. I wanted to have boobs as big as the other girls. Some things you just never grow out of. Or should I say, never grow...
This picture is the most representative of our behavior during the weekend.

And here we are acting respectable.
Cressinda, me, Jennifer and Jill

Jennifer, Kim, me and +1 (I mean, Ana!)

me, Jacki and Anna

Jessica's husband. He took my nametag from Friday night and wore it throughout Saturday's event. Then, he just waited for people to ask. His most common response: Sex Change.

THE GIRLS

The Lost Husbands Club

Very lost...

First World Problems

So, over the Christmas break, I was hanging out with my sister's sixteen-year-old step-daughter-to-be. (Is that a thing? Well, it's the best description I've got. Let's go with it.) And we started laughing about this website called First World Problems.

Some of our favorites:

• They wouldn't serve from the bar menu in the restaurant area, so I had to eat my turkey avocado wrap without appetizers like some sort of bronze age hunter gatherer.
• The seat heaters don't keep the pizza warm enough for the 10 minute ride home.
• I have no idea how to reheat my leftover omelette, so I guess I’ll just have to drive to the restaurant and order another one.
• 'Family Guy’ is on two different channels at the same time and I can’t figure which one has the most potential.
• I wish I hadn’t used all my pain pills for non-pain-related purposes.
• I have caviar stuck in my braces.
• The guy who cleans my yard barely seemed to be listening when I told him about all the stuff I got for Christmas.
• I’ve run out of obscure ethnic cuisines to impress my friends with.
• I have over 20,000 songs in my iTunes library. Why can I never find the one that exactly matches my mood of wistful melancholy?
• I can't wash my dirty hands because the water is freezing.
• My shoelaces are kinda short.

I mean, you can see why we love this site, right? But, now. When I'm bitching about something in my own head (it happens a lot), I've started following it with the words, "First World Problem!" Because, truth be told, it usually is.

And, then. My friend Kelly Rodgers posted some pictures from Nicaragua. Nicaragua, where she lives with her husband and three kids while they are on a two-year mission trip. Now, the Rodgers have done some amazing things with Teeth Savers International. But, these particular pictures were of Kelly and her girls handing out dresses made by Dress A Girl Around the World women. Little girls getting dresses - some of them, the only dress they may ever own.

And, as the mom to one sassy little dress wearer, well... you know.

Then there was this picture:

As I posted on Kelly's FB page, "That is just... a mother's face. We are all the same no matter the country." And, it crushes me to think that, had I merely been born in another place, I might not be able to give my precious girl a dress.

So, now. When I follow the thoughts in my head with "First World Problem," I'm just a little bit ashamed of myself.

No.

I'm a lot ashamed.

This, That and The Other

Whatcha been dooooooin'....?

Me?

I've been:

a) not blogging.

b) READING. I mean reading like they're about to stop making books.

I've read The Thirteenth Tale (for the third time. I'm telling y'all. It's hard to get into, but the ending. OMG. The ending. It makes it all worth it.)

I've read Guilt By Association (a friend's suggestion). Another one with a great ending, although I felt like I was trudging through parts in the middle.

And, also, because I'm a girl and I thought it was a requirement to read Nicholas Sparks, I read his most recent The Best of Me. Oh, sweet Lord. Those are a couple days of my life I'll never have back. CHEE-SY! I feel like Mr. Sparks might owe me some compensation for the part of my brain his corny story is occupying and won't relinquish.

c) learning Spanish. ¡Ay de mi! Es muy dificil. Posiblemente, porque soy estúpido.* Y'all? This is not an aptitude for me. I have a friend (from Brazil nonetheless) who says she loves learning new languages. This. is. not. something I can comprehend. But, I refuse (REFUSE. Do you hear me?!) to let this thing beat me! So. After a brief lengthy hiatus, I'm back at it. Rosetta Stone made me do about ten reviews before I was back at the lesson where I left off. I think that was it's way of reminding me how long I'd been gone. Tacky, Rosetta Stone. Tacky.

d) traveling. When you think of a chid-friendly, blast of a destination, where do you think? NEW JERSEY! I know! Us too! Long story, short, we were going to go with another couple to visit some friends who had moved to Jersey. But at the last minute the other couple had to cancel. Since our kids have known this family (in Elizabeth's case, literally) their whole lives, we decided to pack them up and take them with us. Best decision we've made in a while. Our kids and their kids had such a blast together, there were even a few damp eyes as our visit neared its end. And, on the drive to the airport, the kids asked why we can't just move to New Jersey. I'd say that's a good time.

e) holding down the fort. Shawn's out of town. Again. But, he gets back tonight. I would like to reiterate my theory that he just leaves town so I will appreciate how much better life is when he's here. That. And, he wants to be sure I know who the favored parent is by letting me hear our children ask, "When is Daddy coming home?" three or four times a day.

So. That's life in a nutshell.

I'm going to work on Spanish. *groan*

* Use Google Translate - you can see what that means.

Operation Mary & Joseph

So. You know when you're rushing through the holidays, and the twelve million things on your to-do list, and then you unexpectedly have seven house guests?

Wait. What? No?

Well, that's what went down around here when my pledge-sister from A&M contacted me on Facebook. She said they were headed this way to see her 86-year-old grandfather and all of their sheltering arrangements had fallen through.

Well, what's a girl to do? In the spirit of the season, I let them stay in the stable out back.

KIDDING.

Shawn and I played the most heinous hosts to them as we zoomed about getting our kids through their last few days of school. But, as we all came and went, passed on the way in and out of the door and bumped into each other in the kitchen, we actually got to have a few fun conversations and (I hope they agree) made some new friends in the deal.

How's that for a unexpected Christmas gift?

It doesn't hurt that they have the most unbelievably well-behaved five children you could ever hope to meet. (I wish my kids took their shoes off every. single. time they walked into the house...)

And, an additional bonus for me, personally, was that I got to meet the one and only miracle two-year-old Luke Whitaker, their youngest son who I have said more prayers over than I could even begin to count. I didn't get to touch him, though. He smiled and ran from me every time he was near, as I believe he sensed my intentions to abduct him and keep him for my own if I ever got him within my clutches.

Kathryn has her own blog over at teamwhitaker.org. Let's blog-stalk her over the next few days and see what she thought of their madcap visit up here (and how close they came to experiencing "The Blizzard of 2011").

Also. They have an elf named Sparkles who followed them all the way from Austin on their visit up here. He must be friends with our elf, Jingles, because they sure did seem glad to see each other the few nights they got to hide together. (I will show you the pictures... Just as soon as I can find the USB cord to download the pictures to my computer... So, maybe next summer sometime...)

In the meantime. Ho Ho Ho! Christmas is coming!!

Whatcha been up to? Well, funny you should ask.

It's been busy around here. What's new, right?

Well, for starters, Spencer had a project due the week before Thanksgiving. It was the student's choice for a subject of Thanksgiving, Indians^★, or Pilgrims. But, it had to include a visual project, a written report, a cover page and an oral report. Parental help was encouraged. Because the teachers hate parents.

Also? I'm pretty sure I didn't do a project with so many components until I was in college.

But, we got it done. We're diorama-making fools around this house.

And, although I didn't get a picture of it (because I was exhausted), Spence's cover page was a Comanche Indian with yarn braids down each side of his head, tied with leather straps and a feather. And the part in his hair was even colored with white "clay." Oh, yeah. We brought it.

But, I think Shawn and I were both most proud of how many times our shy boy practiced his oral presentation until a) he knew it by heart; b) he could speak up; and c) he could look up and make eye-contact occasionally while speaking. Quite an improvement for the boy who hid his face two-inches behind his paper for the entire oral report he presented last year in first grade.

I made a Thanksgiving treat for the kids' classmates. I mean. We all knew I would, didn't we?

That's just a mini Reese's peanut butter cup upside down on a
fudge-striped cookie, stuck down and decorated with frosting.

There was Grandparents' Day at the kids' school. My mom and step-dad drove up. And, Shawn's mom had to jump through hoops to get time away from work. But, she did. So, the kids had two of their three sets of grandparents there. They got to show them around the school, and take them to a reception. And, there was a special chapel service. It was all very sweet and special to the kids.

*We found Lulu's lost splint. In the Barbie basket. Duh. Where else would it be? So now we have a spare (that the darling Occupational Therapist made us for no charge)! This is a good thing. The original splint has been lost again on no less than four other occasions for varying amounts of time on each occurrence.

Speaking of that broken finger and splint: we had a check-up last week on that little ol' bone. It's healing well, the doctor said. But, there is still a missing bit in the center of the bone that needs time to knit itself back together. One more week in the splint. She's such a responsible little trooper about it, though. She's the first one to say, "I don't have my splint on!"

There was Thanksgiving. But, in order to keep this post under a thousand words, that post will have to wait until tomorrow.

And, then there was church yesterday.

Here's what's funny. I can drive myself insane worrying about where we should go to church. We've tried going to a mega-church. But, all of our friends that are members there are a part of a "small group/Bible study" that is "closed." So, we never could figure out how to feel "plugged in" - not that the church doesn't try. They really encourage you to come to a once-a-month "Get Plugged In" meet and greet where they'll match you up with like-minded people so you can start your own "small group." Shawn and I just couldn't do it. It felt like a weird speed-dating session to make church friends. And, Lulu straight-up didn't like Sunday School there. I don't think they did anything wrong. I think it was just huge - four classes for Lulu's grade alone. We never knew who her teacher would be or who would be in her class. She would see some friends she knew... but then they would be assigned to a different room. And she told us she didn't know the songs they sang. But, when Little Miss Congeniality with the most confidence in our family is uncomfortable somewhere... it might not be the right fit for our family. Spence liked it. But, Spence liked it because he had a friend from school who was in his Sunday School class - a security blanket.

And, then my great friend Springer sent me a book by Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies. It was interesting. Clearly Springer thinks I'm a whole lot deeper than the usually fluff I read (Note to self: Send Springer a copy of The Hunger Games). But, it was worth the read for even just this one concept I took away from it. I'm sure I will paraphrase this badly, but Lamott said she was told, when praying to God for the answer to a problem, don't look for the big billboard announcing the final answer. Look at the small spotlight He's shining for you to take to the next step. Then, once there, look for the next spotlight. Just keep stepping from spotlight to spotlight until, the next thing you know, you've arrived at the solution.

So. I took a step into the spotlight yesterday.

We have other friends. (I know. Shocker.) They go to the lost-my-child-church (which we didn't know at the time of the "Lost Child" incident). They were talking about their awesome Adult Sunday school (that's open to new-comers)! They helped us figure out where it was, what time it started and were excited that we were there. And, y'all? The Director of Young Adult Ministry that teaches the class? Amazing. A-maz-ing.

We dropped Lulu off at the playroom - where there is an extensive new check-in procedure complete with sticker identification for each child. Holla! (All of our friends really do say to us, though, "Ummm. So. We hear we have you to thank for this." They don't seem so thankful, though... ;) After Sunday School, we went to ask Lulu if she wanted to leave the playroom to come sing songs with us in Big Church. She did not. She wanted to stay and keep working on crafts.

Spencer has one classmate who goes to church there that he knew of before we arrived. He wasn't there yesterday. But, lo and behold, his very best playmates from down the street go to church there! And, they did go to church yesterday, much to Spence's delight. Then, during the Children's Service portion of Big Church, Spence realized that one of his buddies from flag football goes to church there, too.

The church service was just non-liturgical enough to remind Shawn of the Bible Church in which he grew up, but just traditional enough to feel "like church" to him, too. Shawn does not like "rock bands" in church. I don't mind them. This church has a guitarist with singers. Shawn is okay with that. We both agree that the service really is a perfect mix for us.

As we drove home yesterday, Spence said, "I want this to be our church."

You know what, son? I think I do, too.

^★It seems that we can say Indian again instead of Native American. Who knew?

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

I've been installing the new update* on the iEverythings that belong to any family member that lives in the same town as I do. So, I've spent many hours staring at iTunes and iPhotos. And, I've found a few pictures for you.

That. And, I figure I owe you a few thousand words. So, I'm going to cheat and use some pictures to fill in a little of the deficit. ;)

Remember when I told you that Spencer's greatest football skill was his size?

God bless #14. It looks like Spence could eat him for a snack.

Lulu was sick a few weeks ago. I gave her The Throw-Up Bowl. (Every house has The Throw-Up Bowl, right?)

She wore it like a hat.

On the Halloween Front:

Spencer made this pumpkin at Cub Scouts:

Those are lots of metal things. Nailed into a pumpkin. Little. Boy. Heaven

One of Shawn's co-workers and his wife have had an annual pumpkin carving party for the kids of their friends and family for the past 24 years. It was at their barn. There were 200 pumpkins from which the kids could choose to carve. And donkeys. (The donkeys didn't have anything to with the party. They were just outside in a pen. But, our kids thought they were awesome.)

Such a brilliant idea for a wonderful, memory-filled, fun party.

And, that thing on the left side of Spencer's pumpkin? That's a scar. He's a tough pumpkin.

Shawn and I went back to the Old Hometown for our friends' annual Halloween Party this weekend. We were ghosts. Someone took pictures of us (because I remember wondering if ghosts would smile or not). I'll post them for your viewing pleasure as soon as I get them - that is assuming we show up on the film (because we were ghosts and all...).

Priscilla came up and spent the night with the kids while Shawn and I went down for the Halloween party. She needed a make-up visit. Since Spence is such a big kid now that he just has slumber parties instead of "party parties," she kinda got cheated out of one of her customary visits with the kids. But, they made up for lost time. There was Toys R Us and McDonalds involved in the 24 hours they were together!

Those are the highlights from around here. We're gearing up for a cooooooold front to come through here on Wednesday and Thursday. And, since I just blogged about the weather, I'm going to wrap up this post.

'Til next time.

*The new iPhone/iPad update?! So super cool! All these advances in Smart Phones and Tablets make me feel like a Jetson!

Not in the Mood for "Happy"

I want to tell you about our fun vacation to visit some friends at their lakehouse. I want to tell you about my new car (that I can start from my phone - it's like magic, I tell you)!

But, instead I have horse-playing, summer-crazed kids; my patience is thread-bare; and Shawn is out of town.

Worse. I have friends who are hurting.

There was a courageous mother in Lubbock, Christie Devitt, who battled breast cancer when she was pregnant with her second child, three years ago. She inspired countless lives with her strength and faith. But, her cancer came back this June. And this time, she lost the battle.

And, much closer to home, my good friend (and my smart-ass blogging buddy), Danny, just found out his dad has acute myelogenous leukemia.

So, really. I'm not much in the mood to tell you how awesome my Buick is. Or how I can't say "Buick" without pretending that I'm barfing (Buuuuu-ick).

All I really want to ask you is: please pray.

Please pray for Christie's family; for her 3-year-old and 5-year-old who have to live without their mama now. Pray for all the people who found strength and faith through her journey - the very people that she was so worried would waver because of her defeat. Help them to know that just because we can't understand the plan, it's not any less beautiful.

And, please pray for the Holwerda family. Give them the strength and peace for their new battle.

Because, really.  CANCER SUCKS.

So much going on and so little desire to type...

We went back to the old hometown for a wedding this weekend. While there, we saw some of my friends who were visiting from out of town. When we were together, we may have scared a few... offended most... but we had a great time. (And, FYI, unless, "I'll just have a cheeseburger instead of a Navajo" doesn't make you spit out your drink with laughter, you just might not "get" us.)

The kids spent Friday and Saturday night with Nanny and Pop (my mom and step-dad). Nanny and Pop live on a lake. You might not think a drought is a "good" thing. But, when it makes the lake drop so low that there's a "beach" at Nanny and Pop's backyard... well... my kids are going to vote "drought" every time! Granted, you have to use a ladder to get down to the beach from the dock. Uh huh. That low.

But, the real joy? A Slip and Slide. Laid out on a downhill slope. Hours, people. Lulu and Spence slid on that thing for hours. Do you remember when it was fun to hurl your body at the ground and see how far you would slide? No. Me either. Thank goodness it's clearly marked "For Children Only. Not for Adult Use." Someone (Pop) would have been coerced down that thing for sure. What an embarrassing injury to have to explain to the orthopedic surgeon: "Well. You see. I was on a Slip and Slide..."

We came home and our cousin David is back in town for a visit. (Someone said the last time I talked about "Cousin David" that it reminded her of Cousin Oliver from the Brady Bunch. Now I can't say it anymore without thinking it! Get out of my head, "Sparkling.") I spent four and a half hours with all the kids at the swimming pool today trying to wear them out sufficiently so G'Ma and G'Pa could have them all spend the night at their house while Shawn and I go to an event tonight. I don't know if it worked, but I'm tired and sunburned.

That. And, I'm still waking up at 4:45 to go to 5:30 exercise class.

That. And, the market sucks a little bit right now. Have you heard? Oh. You hadn't? Yeah. Shawn's wondering why he chose this career when there are so many others out there... like post-hole digger... and human test subject.

Small, Small, Teeny, Tiny World

Shawn and I have made friends with a great couple here in the New City. Her brother came to town for a visit. Her parents had a backyard get-together with their friends. (Seven people from the older generation; eight from the younger generation.)

One of the older couples?

Parents-in-law of one of my** closest college friends.

She was one of my bridesmaids.

Funniest part?

We didn't figure it out until the next day.

Best part?

She and I talked on the phone because of it for the first time in... probably... five years!

Awesomely small world.

**That's right, Shawn. I said, "my" not "yours." Mine! (Shawn and I love this particular friend so much we fight over who was friends with her first and who was better friends with her. Answer: Me.)

Walking, Anyone?

You all must be tired of hearing about this. Because I know I'm tired of talking about it.

So, looooong story short(er).

I don't know if I'm a fabulous healer or if you all have been praying. (Well, I know you've been praying because you've told me. Thank you. Truly.) But...

I'm walking!

Shawn and I used all the patience we had with this "wait and see" thing. So, we went back to the old home town (remember how the surgeon in our new town was on vacation for three weeks?), took full advantage of some of our friends, and got in to see the orthopedic surgeon. (This was an even easier decision to make since our kids are on their annual lake trip with their cousins, Shawn's folks and his aunt & uncle this week. Hol-la!)

The surgeon looked at the MRI and examined me. (*ahem* I might be the jumpiest patient that ever existed. He would touch my foot. I would fly three feet in the air. He would say, "Does that hurt?!" And, I would say, "Um... no." Seriously. Even I was embarrassed for myself.) He asked about my reconstruction when I was a twelve-year-old. (Turns out that business was cutting edge twenty-five years ago. Oh. That just made me sad to think I was twelve twenty. five. years. ago.), and said this:

The tendon is where it should be and is healing well. (That was my misunderstanding. The tendon probably *snappped* around the bone when I fell... but popped back. Or who knows what popped in there. I'm not working with a paragon of body parts here. It could have been anything.) I have an unusual amount of bruising (I just like all the pretty purple, blues and greens - and I think more is better!) and I am feeling nerve pain in places where I shouldn't. (Seriously, Ali? Must you always be unique?) So, what I need to do is this-kind-of-therapy and that-kind-of-therapy, wear the air splint (that I loathe), and come back in two weeks.

We left, I confirmed with Shawn that the only precaution/babying that the doctor suggested was the splint. Things might hurt a bit, but I wasn't going to damage it further by trying to use it or put weight on it (which, to add to my own personal brand of anxiety, is exactly what caused the extensive damage when I was a kid). Shawn agreed and I spent the afternoon trying to walk on it.

It's ugly and lurching. I kind of look like Frankenstein. But, it's walking!

Now. How long to you think it will take Shawn before he realizes I've been faking this whole thing just to get out of doing laundry?

I've Seen Who I REALLY Am. And, It's Not Pretty.

Just a little tip: If you don't want to be stalked by every bedridden invalid on Facebook, you should set your privacy settings very high! Be warned.

And, if you have the misfortune of actually being one of my friends on Facebook? The chances are very good that I have stalked you. And, if I haven't, I will soon.

So. To be clear. This is what I do with my confinement:

• I learn Spanish.
• I look through your pictures on Facebook.

Now you know.

My conscience is clear. Confession is good for the soul.

Now. I have to go. Tengo que hacer acosando.

There's a Cake in Your Car

Some of our friends moved on to our street. Their house is still being remodeled even though it was supposed to be finished months ago. But, that's okay. Who doesn't like to look at a porta-potty on their driveway every day?

So, I thought they could use a "Welcome to the Neighborhood/Try Not to Lose Your Minds" cake. And, I a) must really like these people and/or b) must really feel sorry for these people because I decided to share "the" banana cake with them.

Licking the Bowl
I told y'all it was good.

The kids grabbed their scooters, Shawn grabbed the cake and we headed down the street. We got there just in time to discover... they weren't home. *cue sad clown music*

Elizabeth pressed her face to their door and tried to will them to be home. Spencer took the opportunity to practice scooter daredevil tricks on their driveway. And, Shawn and I stood there looking at each other.

Finally, Shawn walked over to their car parked in the drive.

I said, "What are you doing?"

"Seeing if their car's unlocked."

It was.

"What are you going to do?! Call them and say, 'There's a cake in your car'?!"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do."

And, that's exactly what he did.

I saw the dad at school drop-off this morning. He said he was going to keep leaving the car unlocked  just so he could see what else showed up in his backseat.

So, there you have it. That's how the Johnsons roll. Welcome to the neighborhood! There's a cake in your car.

I Just Say What Everyone Else Is Thinking

My friend told me to come to the "Hard Core" class with her at the new gym I joined. Hard Core is an hour of 30 second, 1 minute and 2 minute intervals of exercises that, as far as I could tell, are designed to make you cry. Or puke. Or both.

We were doing Scissor Legs (while holding a dumbbell in the air - because regular scissor legs are for quitters) and the girl next to me called the instructor over. She told him, "My lower back hurts when I do these."

Now, my friend Springer would have warned this man to approach the area near me with extreme caution, kinda like a new dog - you should let it sniff your hand first. Unfortunately for this unsuspecting instructor, Springer wasn't anywhere to be found. He walked in blind. And he answered her with:

"It's because right now your hips are too tight. And what we're working on is opening them up."

I stopped scissor-kicking and said, "Why do you sound so much like my husband right now?"

This poor, poor, unwitting straight-man and his 2% body fat stopped talking while his mouth fell open and all the women within earshot started laughing. He blushed. And he walked away.

Poor guy never saw me coming.

To his credit, he regained his composure (after he tattled on me to the other instructor) and said, "So, is that how it's gonna be, Ali?"

I responded with, "Yes. It's nice to meet you."

God Doesn't Like Vacations

And, here's how I know: If He did, life wouldn't be so chaotic upon return. It's like you have to pay for vacation by returning to a home that has completely fallen apart in your absence.

Case in point: the last load of laundry in the dryer that has been "fluffed" about 17 times since it went in last Wednesday.

To be fair, this could have less to do with God's feelings on vacations and more to do with "getting plugged in" to our new town. (I'm suspicious that this might be the case, since I tried to make a dinner date with some of our new friends and the first available date we could find was a Thursday in three weeks.)

Whatever the reason, this is what last week looked like:

Monday and Tuesday were deceptively calm. I took lunch to Spencer for making a 100 on his spelling test while we were gone. We got Lulu's hair cut in the "bob" she has been requesting. (Shawn has been requesting it, too, to be honest. I don't think he could bare to brush one more tangle out of his precious baby girl's head. :) Shawn had business dinners so I had to get the kids to bed by myself. (I really think he just does that so I'll appreciate him more... Ass.)

Wednesday began that elusive laundry. And, then...

Thursday my mom came to town. The kids had Fine Arts Night at their school. We saw their art displayed; Spence's class sang. (Well done. So proud. Got to bed late.)

Friday I tootled on down the highway a couple of hours for a friend's birthday lunch. I got home; took Lulu for a "girls' date" (that means we went to The Discovery Center and walked around the park) while I waited to pick Spence up from a birthday party. We took the kids for pizza for Family Date Night. (Got to bed late.)

The next day (Saturday) we awoke to hit the road back down the highway for a wedding. Came home the same day. (Got to bed late.)

We woke for church on Sunday, came home for some Sunday naps (hallelujah!), worked on Spencer's Flat Stanley project, and raced out the door - again - to get to my in-laws' church for a gospel quartet concert to which they had invited us (leaving the Flat Stanley supplies exploded around the floor and living room).

Last night, as we put the kids to bed (late again), stepping over piles of their toys, shoes, and clothes that hadn't made it to the laundry hamper, Shawn looked around and said, "Well, at least the upstair and the downstairs match."

Elizabeth was showing signs of wear this morning. But, I just kicked everyone out the door to work and school. Now I'm looking around at this house/mess/dump sight and wondering what it takes to get declared a Disaster Zone - I'm not so much interested in the federal funding as I am in the volunteer labor and National Guard forces.

Oh well, I guess I better get started. I need to go fluff the laundry in the dryer one more time.

I wanted to come up with another song to get stuck in your head for today's post title. But, I couldn't think of one. So I'll just say this: "I Got You Babe." You're Welcome.

My sister called to check on me. Big sisters will never listen. I kicked her in the crotch.

After I got off the phone with her, Shawn said, "What was that?" (Um. Honey? You don't read my blog?! WTH?!)

I told him, "I wrote a 'wah, wah, wah' blog post yesterday."

And, truly. That's what it was. I just needed to feel sorry for myself for a minute, get it out of my system and move on. Pity, Party of One?

Thanks for listening. Thanks for not making me feel like a doofus for "sharing." You guys really are the greatest.

I feel much better today.

Also, after the post the following happened:

• Shawn found us a babysitter* so I could go to the Book Club of which I had counted myself out. (Probably the origin of my whining yesterday, truth be told. Shawn had an event. My in-laws were snowed in**. I was going to miss the first "girl thing" I had been looking forward to for a month.) But, I got to go! And, talk to grown-ups! And, there were cookies!
• Shawn and I got an Evite to a cocktail hour at a church we visited. (Love the churches that throw happy hours!) I'm not even sure we can go. But we got invited!
• I went to Elizabeth's Valentine's Party at school. I was reminded. There will be opportunities to be around other people. (And, sometimes, those opportunities are class parties. With loud children everywhere. And I wonder why I thought solitude was such a bad thing... I jest... Kinda.)

Like I knew all along. It will happen. It just takes time. I have to be patient.

Have I mentioned I'm not very good at "patient"?

But, thanks again for thinking of me. Thanks for not worrying about me (out loud). If you all are examples of the friends that are out there waiting for me, I have amazing things ahead of me, indeed. 

Today is a much brighter day.

*Awesome girl. She came even though I called her at the last minute. She drove in snow and ice**. She got stuck in a snowbank at the edge of our steep driveway when she arrived; she threw open her door and said, "I think I'll park here!" Both kids woke up this morning and told us at separate times how much they liked her and that "she was funny!" (I think she read their bedtime stories with funny voices. A Johnson favorite, evidently.)

**Have I mentioned that there's about six inches of ice covering everything around here? Have I mentioned that Wednesday morning, after this blew in, it felt like NEGATIVE 26 degrees outside? I'm not sure why I'm whining about meeting people. I should probably be more concerned with The End of Times!

Great, Exhausted and No

Everyone keeps asking how we're doing and if we've made any new friends.

Short answers: great, but exhausted; and no.

At the kids' last school, drop-off and pick-up was a very social occasion. You couldn't help but see, visit and get to know other parents. At our new school, drop-off and pick-up is a very exact science. You drive up, you drop off/pick up, you move on. Don't get me wrong. I love the regimen, but it's not conducive to getting to know people.

Oddly enough, this has been... wonderful. It's been so nice to catch our breath; to just focus on each other and just have fun with each other - our kids are really funny people. Couple that with the fact that I'm an introvert at heart (shut up, I am - Introvert (n.): a person who is energized by being alone and whose energy is drained by being around other people*), it's been a really nice break since we've moved.

I've also gotten to obsessively work on getting the house in order. But, I can see the light at the end of the moving-in-tunnel and it's starting to occur to me just how "worn smooth out" I am. Couple that with cleaning the house, cooking dinner and generally maintaining a family and... well... I think I need a Diet Coke.

So, I've been blissfully trudging along, thinking, "It's nice to not have any social schedule; to be able to get things done. I don't need to hurry and find people just to 'hang out' with."

Then I went to the mall yesterday.

I'm so not a chit-chatter. (See: Introvert.) I went up to the Kiehl's counter... and I became best friends with the man working there. He knows we just moved here, where we're from, where we grew up, where we went to school. I know his daughter's name is Ali! We both agree that you just can't beat Kiehl's moisturizer, especially in this cold, dry climate...

Ya'll? I think I need to find some friends.

It's alright, though. I've been invited to a Book Club. And, I have some old college friends I can call for lunch. I might not have to become a Mall Worker groupie just yet...

* See?! I really like being around people; it just wears me out. You people wear me out. ;)

Things I May (or May Not) Have Done While Moving

[Horror! I got kicked off my hijacked internet signal. I've been drifting aimlessly for a day. But, it's back! For how long?! I can't say, so I must make this quick.]

Things I May (or May Not) Have Done While Moving:

...Stolen my neighbor's internet. (Wait. You all already know I did that.)

...Ordered two venti coffees from Starbucks... both for me.

...Bathed with Baby Wash and Baby Shampoo.

..."Improvised" on the underwear situation.

...Parted my daughter's hair with a screwdriver.

...Worn nothing but a scarf in 30 degree weather for three days and counting because I can't figure out which box my coat is in.

...Have found eleven years worth of crumbs in the toaster (just before I threw it away).

...Listened to my husband call my car "a piece of crap." It's like my second home. I could not be more offended.

...Paper cut my cheek on a cardboard box. (Oddly, though, this doesn't bother me so much. I have a friend who told me about paper cutting her boob on a box while she was moving. Ummm. I'll take the cheek. I'm good.)

My internet will be installed on Sunday. Sunday? That seems like a weird date for the poor installation man to have to work. But, I'm not giving him a pass. I don't feel that bad for him. I'll check back in (on a legit wi-fi signal) after his work is done.

Much love to all our friends and family, far and wide, virtual and real; and Merry, Merry Christmas!

Moving Update: HORROR!

The packers are done. (I've had my toothbrush in my possession the entire time. I can guarantee that no one but me has touched it.)

The movers come to load tomorrow. If they get the trucks (I just said, truckS. Remember when we were in college and everything we owned would fit in a couple of cars - a U-Haul, at the most, if we had a few pieces of our parents' furniture in our possession?) loaded by 1:00 tomorrow, they'll head on up and unload us. If it takes longer, they'll take off first thing Wednesday.

Amarillo by Morning...

Anyway, Shawn was giving me the run-down of the services that will be turned on and when*. And, he told me... Ok, people, stop reading. You should sit for this. And, I need you to be strong... internet will be turned on on the... we can get through this together... 29th. *gasp*

I don't care what my parenting-expert friend Jamie says, I don't see anything wrong with leaving the kids alone while I go to Starbucks and use their wi-fi. She's just being overprotective. She has no idea how mature my seven-year-old is.

*He keeps giving me phone numbers in case I need to change the times of the appointments. Ummm, babe? I think I know three people up there. My calendar is pretty open.

Moving Update: Peaceful

So. I must be coming across as such a basket case that people have begun praying for me. (Which is good. Because I am a basket case and I do need you to pray for me.)

But, people, I have felt the prayers. I awoke this morning, so overcome with sadness. Today would be filled with so many "lasts." And, Shawn didn't make that last flight home (although, the mediation was successful - can I have an "HALLELUJAH!"?), so he would miss the kids' last day at school. I was so overwhelmed that it felt like my arms were floating. That's about the time the first person told me they were praying for me.

The kids and I got in the car to drive to school. (Here's the part where I would like to be able to tell you that I lovingly herded them through our morning routine without shouting and snapping their heads off, but that would be a lie. I was stressed out, we were running late and I took it out on the innocents in my path. Parenting Fail. *clink clink - coins in the therapy fund.* I did apologize to them. *taking some coins out for a Starbucks*)

In the car, Elizabeth was holding her stuffed poodle and Spencer was holding his nutcracker. This is the conversation I overheard:

"Nutcracker, do you want to go on a date night?"

"No."

"Ok. Do you want to have a sleepover?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Come on. Let's go to my room."

Ok. That's just funny. I don't care who you are. That poodle is a Good Time Girl!

I smiled.

I got to school and there was a letter labeled "Ali Johnson" in Elizabeth's cubby. It was quite a few pages. I opened it and read:

"Oh! The Places You'll Go!

by the incomparable Dr. Seuss

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away!..."

It was the poem Oh! The Places You'll Go! with a note written at the end. I gulped and crammed it back into the envelope from which it had come. I gulped. I gulped. I blinked. I smiled and blurted out a goodbye to Elizabeth. I walked out and thought, "Who DID that?!" I went to the last page and saw the signature. I sought out my friend, Elizabeth's teacher from last year, Lindl and yelled at her for trying to make me cry on the last day of school.

We both laughed.

It was only moments ago that I finally felt like I would be able to read the note she added at the end of the poem without crying. It was so undeservedly kind. And, she asked me at the end if I needed to go potty (a reference to the little Ali that was in Elizabeth's pre-3 class last year. Every time Lindl asked, "Ali, do you need to go potty?" I thought, "Did she really just ask me that?" It took a good two weeks before I stopped being confused every single morning at drop-off).

I laughed.

The 1st graders had a Going-Away Party for Spence. They each told him something they liked about him or a memory they had of him. One little girl said she liked Spencer "because sometimes he really looked cute."

I smiled.

Then this happened on Twitter:

I laughed.

Our darling, sweet chaplain said a prayer specifically for our family during the Lessons and Carols service. It brought me peace.

Priscilla sat with me at Lessons and Carols. She reminded me that I accidentally groped her the other night and my finger got hung in her bra.

I laughed. hard.

It's so easy to be tough when the kids are around. If they saw me sad about this move, they would think, "Wait. What? You're taking us to a SAD place?!" So, I put on a smile. I say we're off on our new adventure. I tell them to tell the people who love us that we'll be back to visit! And, I ignore the ache in my chest.

But, now I'm sitting here alone. The kids are off playing with friends down the street. Movers are packing all around me. And, you. You are praying for my family and me.

There's still the ache in my chest. But, things keep making me smile and laugh.

I am at peace.

Moving Update: I've Cried All Morning

I dropped the kids off for school and realized they were going to their last "regular" chapel service at their school. Spence asked me if I could sit with them in chapel. I couldn't. I needed to run errands.

I got in the car and I was s.a.d. I was sad that I wouldn't have another opportunity to sit with them in chapel at this school. I was sad that I didn't really want to sit with them, because, even if they haven't wrapped their heads around it, it's their last chance to sit with their classmates at morning chapel.

I called Shawn. He's down at the mediation for my sister's divorce. That made me sad, too. I want this nightmare to be over. For everyone. But, selfishly, I want Shawn to be able to make that 4:15 flight this afternoon that will get him back in time to see the kids perform at their last Lessons and Carols service tomorrow morning.

So, by the time I got to my last Zumba class, all of my emotional cylinders were firing. We laughed a lot in class. But, we cried, too. (Who would have thought one could cry to the song "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston?) I flat-out had to stop looking at my friend in the front corner - she cried more than I did! Have you ever tired to workout hard while crying? There may have been a few moments where I blacked-out.

I got home and the housekeeper and I started crying together. She shouldn't be sad to see us go! She knows what pigs we are!

So, anyway. The house inspector is here. I guess we really are selling our house.

I hear something about movers tomorrow.

I have a weird vein standing out on my temple. Can you have a stroke from too many emotions?

Also? I think I ate all the cake.