The Love-Hate Challenge

June 28, 2015 / Wanda / 17 Comments

Hello, world!

Once again, life has been busy and I’m checking in to say hello and tackle the Love/Hate Challenge handed down to me by one of my favorite bloggers, Kimboxin. In this challenge, I have to list ten things I love and ten things I hate, then nominate other bloggers for the challenge.

Initially, it doesn’t seem too complicated. How hard is it to list things you love and hate? So, I spent a few minutes pondering the many nuances of what it means to love or hate something. If you really think about it, love is not the opposite of hate. Indifference is the opposite of love, but I have not been asked to write about things to which I feel indifferent. So, for me, this is not an exercise of opposites, but rather a list of items that either make me feel extremely happy or extremely unhappy. Oh, and I’m leaving out the obvious stuff, like loving my family or hating anchovies. Seriously, who likes anchovies?

Hate, hate, hate….

These are instruments of torture.

1. I hate high-heels. Why, as women, do we choose to wear shoes that after about twenty minutes of wear feel like razor blades are imbedded on the inside? I admit, high-heels make legs and ankles look more attractive. They add that special something to a dress or an outfit that flats just can’t imitate. They are incredibly feminine and just make you feel fancy. I occasionally attempt to wear them. But high-heels make me feel insecure. Insecure in that I know the pain is inevitable, and I know that with one small misstep or slip, I will fall ass over tea kettle in front of anyone watching. Friday night Dan and I celebrated our anniversary. We got dressed up and went to dinner at Beso, in Hollywood. Then we walked to the theatre and saw Phantom of the Opera. The theatre was less than two blocks from the restaurant, and in the seven minutes it took to walk there, I honestly felt as though my toes were being severed from my feet. I then made the classic mistake of taking the shoes off while I was at my seat enjoying the performance, because my toes began to swell, which then made trying to put the shoes back on feel like a fresh new hell. After the show, I put on a brave face, and hobbled out of the theatre, hanging on to Dan’s arm for dear life. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity and not look like a drunk hooker falling down on the street. About half way up the first block, I said fuck it. I took off the shoes and walked down Hollywood Boulevard in my bar feet. I figured, what the hell? It’s the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and it’s probably one of the nicest sidewalks in the country. I did enjoy a laughable moment though when we walked passed a strip club whose marquee read, “1000’s of Beautiful Girls and 3 Ugly Ones!”

2. I hate being the center of attention, or having too many people looking at me at once. It makes me feel very insecure and nervous. Even at my own wedding, knowing that everyone was looking at me filled me with anxiety. I prefer to blend in with the natives. This anxiety does not exist for me in this medium, thankfully. I want people to read my blog. And it doesn’t feel like the same level of scrutiny for some reason.

3. I also hate crowds. Too many people. Too much noise. No parking. And people tend to behave poorly in large crowds. I prefer smaller, more low key environments. Causal, laid back places. Pubs, not clubs.

4. I hate allergies. I am allergic to everything. If I was stranded on a desert island, I’d probably be dead within hours from touching a leaf or a plant, or being stung by an insect. A handful of years ago I saw an allergist and she did that skin test on my back where they scratch your skin with a hundred different allergens and then see what you react too. Within seconds of the nurse applying the allergens, it felt like fire ants were biting me everywhere. The allergist sort of freaked out when she entered the room and it took several doses of antihistamine to calm the reaction and welts on my back. When I looked at the chart she gave me, it said one of the items I was allergic to was cockroaches. WTF? I want to know what part of a fucking cockroach they rubbed on my back to find out if I was allergic to it. Gross.

5. I hate most reality TV. Mostly because it’s not reality and there is very little substance to these shows. I don’t give a fuck about the Kardashians, the Desperate Housewives of any city, or who the Bachelor or Bachelorette is making out with this week. And don’t even get me started on the Duggars. There are a few reality shows my family enjoys, but we’re pretty selective. My family loves MasterChef, American Ninja Warrior, the Amazing Race, and more recently, BattleBots.

6. I hate hypocrisy. If you talk the talk, you better be able to walk the walk.

7. I hate it when people don’t take responsibility for their choices, or try to negate the choices of others. In life, your choices, for good or bad, is truly what defines you. Own them, and use your powers for good, not evil.

8. I hate Jalapenos. Does this need further clarification? I think not.

9. I hate technology when it doesn’t work. My last cell phone sucked. It was an older model Samsung that had the drop down keypad for typing. I preferred that to the touch screen because my fingers always hit the wrong key and it took me forever to do anything on the phone. So, one evening my friend was over for our regular Friday night wine o’clock, and I was bitching about my phone and how long it took to connect a call. And she said, “Can you just give it a second to let the signal come back from space?” LOL!

10. I hate skinny jeans on men. I can’t think of many things more emasculating than seeing men wear skinny jeans. Biggest fashion mistake, ever.

For the love of….

1. I love fresh, clean paper. There’s something about a new notebook or journal that fills me with excitement. It’s a clean slate. You can write or create anything. I would hoard them if I was crazy. But I’m not crazy. As far as you know.

2. I love office supplies. I have no idea why. I have always loved stores like Staples and Office Max. I love buying stuff that makes me feel organized. Shopping for school supplies as a kid felt like Christmas to me.

3. On this same note, I love making lists. I write lists for everything. Again, it helps me feel organized, and my brain needs this in order to feel peace.

4. I love getting flowers, for no special reason. Or for a special reason. That’s fine too.

5. I love giving and receiving compliments, especially when they are unexpected. Admit it. Getting a compliment at an unexpected moment can make you feel on top of the world. Especially because we rarely see ourselves the way others see us. And when you give a compliment, even casually, and you see that person’s face light up, it’s an amazing feeling.

6. I love it when I’m on the treadmill at the gym and one of my favorite Kid Rock songs hits the playlist. When Bawitdaba starts playing, it takes all I have to not start singing out load and head banging in front of everyone. That song, among others, just pumps me up and makes me feel like I could run a hundred miles. I can’t, of course, and about a minute into the song I have to slow down and remind myself that I’m forty and my knees can’t take that shit.

7. I love my husband’s photography. He enjoys photography as a hobby, and I love his pictures.

My kids, walking down the street, holding hands.

8. I love candles that make my house smell good. I specifically love Gold Canyon Candles. They are the best.

9. I love reading. I love being absorbed and transported by a story, and the devastation you feel when the book ends.

10. I love my husband. I know I said I would leave out the obvious stuff, but we just celebrated our anniversary, so it feels important to include him in this list. I love the life we have together, and the balance we share in our relationship. I’m proud of the man he is and I’m proud to be his wife.

Happy Anniversary, Dan!

I nominate the following blogs to participate in this challenge, if they so choose.

1. https://myspokenheart.wordpress.com/

2. https://nosajnawk.wordpress.com/

3. https://lindsaysmiles.wordpress.com/

4. https://brandedexplorer.wordpress.com/

5. https://sweetykannoth.wordpress.com/

6. https://hysterectomy4dysmenorrhea.wordpress.com/

7. http://catsatthebar.org/ (I would love to see the cat’s perspective on this!)

Locked Windows

June 14, 2015June 15, 2015 / Wanda / 17 Comments

That moment, when you’re walking through your house at night, closing the windows so it doesn’t get too cold in the kid’s bedrooms. You reach up to slide the window closed and start to close the blinds. Then you have a sudden flashback to a horror movie you watched in childhood that left you terrified of ever sleeping with unlocked or open windows. Yes, Salem’s Lot flashed through my head. That scene, where the younger brother whose been turned into a vampire is hovering outside his older brother’s window, scratching the glass and asking him to let him inside. That scene flashed through my mind, quickly and unexpected. I paused for a moment, then reached up and flipped the latch to lock the window.

Yeah, you bet your ass I locked the window.

What’s up with Wanda?

June 11, 2015 / Wanda / 15 Comments

Hello, world!

Lately I seem to have difficulty finding time to attend this blog with any regularity. I’m envious of all the amazing bloggers I follow who seem to have the time, energy, and creativity to post weekly, if not multiple times each week. How do you do it? If I can post once every two weeks, I feel accomplished. And in order to do that I have to hide from my family and make them pretend I’m not home. I am so very behind on my blog reading, it’s pitiful. I’m trying to catch up, so if you see me comment or like five of your posts in one day, I’m not really stalking you. Much. As far as you know.

I guess this post is really just a mish-mash of catching up. You know, sort of a ‘What’s up with Wanda?” kind of thing. Not very exciting, but here goes…

Bryn got home from camp! She was tired, happy, and her dirty laundry smelled like Hell farted in her face. I’m not kidding. I gagged as I was loading the washing machine. It was a weird combination of body odor, some outdoorsy kind of smell, and dirt. Aside from that, I was so happy to have her home! You could say I was giddy. I couldn’t stop hugging her and I could tell she wanted to be hugged. She said she had a great time, and they kept the kids so busy she didn’t have time to miss us. They did nature hikes every day, learned some cool outdoor skills, and got to do fun science experiments that included dissecting a squid and building a model structure that was designed to withstand an earthquake. They studied marine biology, engineering and geology. She loved it and we all survived the week. Well, everyone but the squid.

The hubs and I started the My Fit Foods 21 Day Challenge, and we are currently on day 14. No coffee, no alcohol, and no sugar for 21 days. The diet involves eating three meals and two snacks per day, and My Fit Foods provides all the meals and snacks, fully balanced and portion controlled. The diet is completely clean with no processed food, gluten or added preservatives. The food is pretty good. Honestly. The hardest part is denying yourself all the things you would normally eat or drink that become routine and habit forming. Like coffee. And wine. I really miss coffee and wine. I also miss eating out. I love good restaurants, and eating out is a huge part of our social activity as a family and while spending time with friends. That’s been one of the hardest habits to break in the past two weeks. Oh, and you also have to drink what they call the My Fit Cocktail. You mix it up first thing in the morning and down it before breakfast. It’s a combination of unsweetened cranberry juice, apple-cider vinegar, and lemon juice. It’s like a super cleanse, detoxifying punch to the face. I won’t miss that when the 21 days are over. We started this challenge as a way to break some of the bad habits we’d fallen into with ordering out and just over-indulging in our favorite restaurants and meals, far too often. Also, despite my working out with a trainer, my ass seems determined to hang on to its double-bubble, and I needed to shake that up. So far, it’s paid off. Dan has lost eight pounds in 14 days, and I’ve lost five. The plan is expensive, so not something a person or family can sustain over more than a few weeks time. It’s also time consuming in a way. Although the program prepares all the food for you, you still have to deconstruct the meals so that you can eventually re-create the type of meals you need to eat on your own once you finish the challenge. That’s what I hate about dieting in general. It’s the constant awareness of everything you eat, why you eat it, how often you eat, and the combination of foods to maximize the effect on your body. It’s exhausting, and did I mention that I really miss wine?

Amen

My son had his pre-K promotion ceremony last week! The two classes put on a Hawaiian themed performance, singing Beach Boys songs and muddling through some nicely choreographed but poorly executed dance moves. At the end they were all called up by the pre-school director and given little scrolls of paper tied to look like diplomas, but in actuality the papers were blank. (The kids were given real certificates later.) It was adorable, and as usual, most of the parents devolved into the most self-centered, inconsiderate versions of themselves. It’s sad really. It seems every parent is willing to piss off ten others by hogging the good camera angles instead of just getting their picture of their kid and then moving aside so another family can get some decent pictures. We have no useable pictures of Bryce because of the mob of parents who kept standing up to take pictures, or kept raising their cell phones above their heads to video the performance. All we have are pictures of the top of Bryce’s head and the arms and asses of several other parents who refused to sit down, despite the director halting the show to ask parents to be considerate of others in the room. Dan was about to lose his shit because the dad sitting in front of us kept standing up every time Dan tried to get a picture. He started to get mouthy with the guy, so I leaned over and quietly informed him that the asshole in question was the father of the boy whose birthday party Bryce was invited to the next day. He’s actually a really nice guy. So, the bottom line is, don’t be that parent. Don’t be the douche-bag dad or mom who only cares about their own kid at a performance and denies other families the opportunity to enjoy the experience as well. And remember, all the other parents whose experience you ruined, will talk about your douche-baggery for years to come.

My older brother, who is also one of my best friends, had major back surgery yesterday morning. He has a degenerative disc disease that destroyed the cushion between a few of his lower vertebrae, and he was at the end of his options for any type of less invasive medical intervention. He’s only 42 years old and has been living with chronic, debilitating back pain for years. Yesterday morning he had an ALIF (Anterior Lumbar Interbody Fusion) for L5-S1. Let me tell you, it’s some serious shit. The surgeon entered through his abdomen to reach and fuse the lower part of his spine. Think about that for a moment, and let the gravity of what that entails sink in. He made it through surgery like a boss, and I’ll be traveling to Texas next week to help my sister-in-law take care of him while he’s recovering. I’m anxious to be there with him, and the past week building up to the procedure has been stressful.

So, there you have it. That pretty much sums up the past two weeks. Throw in some housework, ten thousand loads of laundry, constant ass-kicking’s from my trainer, some butt-wiping, end of year school activities and there’s my full plate. 🙂 And just to leave you with something funny that made me laugh…..

Have a great weekend!

Wanda Says…Settle down tiger, it’s just camp.

June 1, 2015 / Wanda / 10 Comments

I sent my daughter off to camp today.

Her entire fifth grade class left this morning for science camp. They get to spend five days in the San Bernardino Mountains, doing science experiments, learning about nature and doing a ton of other cool stuff, like archery and zip-lining.

Five days.

And no contact with parents is allowed.

No contact. For five, whole days.

I’m a fucking mess.

She was pretty nervous about going, and the last few days have been hard for both of us. Hard for her because she was suffering from anxiety and nerves. She’s never been away from us for that long. Hell, she only started feeling comfortable doing sleep-overs this year, and she’s ten years old. Outwardly, I’ve been supportive and encouraging. I know this is important. I know she needs to spread her wings and begin to learn to be more independent. She needs to see how capable she really is, and that can only be achieved by working through tough stuff. In this case, it’s working through her separation anxiety and realizing that she will be ok and can have fun, even when she’s missing her family. In this sense I’ve done nothing but tell her how much fun she’ll have and what amazing memories she’ll make.

Inwardly, I want to shout and scream and demand that the school bring my baby home now! I can’t believe I paid for this shit! I can’t believe I agreed to let my daughter go two hours away into the mountains and be supervised by people I’ve never met. Doomsday images keep floating through my head. What if there’s an earthquake? THE earthquake? The big one that will supposedly redefine the west coast? How would I get to her? What if there’s a bus crash? What if she meets up with a bear? What if some asshole ten year old from her class shoots her with a goddamn archery arrow? What if one hair on her beautiful head is damaged in any way? I will go ape shit and rip that camp apart looking for retribution, that’s what!

(I’m taking some deep breaths right now.)

This was probably the wrong week for me to give up wine and coffee, but that’s a post for another day.

The truth is that my heart feels like it has a giant hole in it. The house feels empty. The hallways sound hollow. She’s only been gone for twelve hours and her absence has left its mark on all of us. This morning her little brother cried. He loves her so much, and he couldn’t understand why his Bryn was leaving for so many days. I held it together until the bus pulled away from the school. Then I couldn’t stop the tears. Other parents saw me quietly crying, despite my giant sunglasses covering my face. They offered me sympathetic looks and as a few of them tried to talk to me all I could do was put up my hand to ward them off and march home, crying the entire way. My husband held me and offered to take the day off work so we could spend the day together and take my mind off of Bryn’s absence. While I adore his gesture and love him more than words can say, I decided to just keep busy and get on with my day.

A few of the other parents have been thoughtful and kind enough to text and email me today, checking in to see how I was doing. While I truly appreciate their consideration and thoughtfulness, it makes me feel like a giant candy-ass. For fuck’s sake, it’s just camp! My head knows this, so why does my heart feel like it will be ten thousand years before I see her again?

We’re a close family, and we don’t like to be separated. I’m so thankful for that. I’m so thankful that our family unit is so connected that when one of us is missing, we are all affected. I grew up in a household where that wasn’t the case, so I am doubly appreciative of the bond my husband and I share with our children and with each other. It’s priceless.

And learns how to do her own ponytail!

So, I am now trying to banish the ugly, apocalyptic thoughts racing through my head and find the silver lining. I’m trying to focus on the good things that will come from her week at camp. She will learn how to manage a bit without me. She will learn to be more independent and self-assured. She will learn how to keep track of her own stuff. She will learn how to pack her own damn suitcase when it’s time to come home. And, for the love of God, if one of her friends actually manages to teach her how to do her own hair, then it will be worth every tear shed and every expensive dollar that it cost to send her there.

So, if you feel like contributing, I would love to hear your best camp story. 🙂