I've been tagged. Now I'm hungry.

The ever hilarious Brenda at one of my fave-o-rite morning blog reading stops tagged lil ol' me.

The first tag was for a list of  10 things that make me happy.
The second was for a list of things that I just don't have the guts to do.

With no further ado we will commence with the 10 things that make me happy:

1. This child  who I thought I would never have but there he is. He's smart and kind and sensitive and insightful and funny.  This is the face he makes when I ask him to be serious. 
2. When my husband does something unexpected-like sends me flowers on a day that is NOT my birthday or Mother's day. Or brings home my favorite magazine. Ah, the little things.
3. Chocolate covered potato chips and pumpkin pie. Even though the indulgence in  these very foods are the reasons I have to buy parachute undies. 
4. When traveling- seeing animals that aren't native to Northern Michigan. I have seen more deer and elk  and bear than I can shake a stick at. Boring.  I loved seeing dolphins in Florida,  and buffalo in South Dakota,  I would love to see parrots free flying or giraffes that are not in a zoo. Oh, and Moose. I want to see a moose in the wild.  That would make he super happy!
5. Compliments on my son's behavior.
6. My grandparents still loving and romantic 60 year marriage.
7. Summertime weather. All three days we get of it.
8. Baby animals. I am such a sucker for little furry faces!
9. When my teenage nieces think they have 'found' some type of music that they are going to "introduce me to" (such as Michael Mackson) and I can show them proof (photo's of me as a kid in my MJ shirt,  glittery glove, and red zipper jacket) that I loved him before they were even born. Score one for Aunt Katie. It's good to know I'm not a total square.
10.  Getting comments on my posts and followers for my blog.  There is no better feeling than recognition for something you care so much about. I have always dreamed of being an author with scads of adoring fans- but even if this never happens, it's a big boost to the ego to know that my words are being read. 

This is where I was going to start my list of things I don't have the guts to do. Instead I am going to get some chocolate covered potato chips. The shop that sells these is just 223 steps away.  Yes, I've counted.

(446 steps and an 8 oz. bag of chocolate 'tato chips later)

Things I do not have the guts to do.  (I will not get wordy, I promise)

1. Sing Karaoke. (You can thank me later)
2. Hold a mouse. Or a rat. Or a Snake. Even baby ones.
3. Get a shot. I am a total baby. They know me at the local hospital. My nickname is 'total baby'. Not a lie.
4. Watch gory movies. I can not stand watching people have their (gag) skin...(retch)....cut....(blech). I am totally dry heavin' just thinking about it!
5. Get a tattoo. I have made poor decisions in my life. Thankfully they weren't permanently stamped on my body like this one would be. Also- needles. No.
6. Get on an airplane. My last flight home from Las Vegas has totally killed flying for me. Can't bring myself to do it again.
7. Let my son ride the public school bus.
8. Tell my neighbor I am tired of having to hear her have sex with her newest flavor of the day. (Although it needs to be done. I dont need my six year old hearing that crap)
9. Go to my 15 year class reunion without losing at least 10 lbs.
10. Curb my handbag shopping. Can't do it. Don't want to do it. Not going to try.

If you are reading this- consider yourself tagged. (Don't worry mom. I will explain it all later.)

Even Miss Manners couldn't refrain from Ninja kicking you for this.

While doing my regular blog reading, I came across something that inspired me to write a little about peoples manners-or lack of.  (Thank you, Rhonda!)  Read it here.

I am aggrivated that people don't know how to behave anymore. Here are just 2 examples to prove my point:

*A customer burped while I was checking her out at the counter of the store that I work. She BURPED. Granted, the burp was bad but add to it that she didn't ask to be excused. She didn't even have the common decency to look even a little bit embarassed or sorry either. She should have. That was completely trashy. 
(I am aware that a burp is a compliment in some areas of the world. This is not one of those areas.)

*As Rhonda mentioned in her blog entry- People do not know the appropriate time or place to have personal cell phone conversations.

 Firstly, just because you can talk to someone when you are in a stall in a public bathroom doesn't mean you should.  If you are my friend and call me (or answer a call from me) while you are doing your potty business, I am going to rethink our friendship. Yes- we share things. Bowel/bladder elimination is NOT one of them.
Secondly, if you are not sure if you should be having a conversation in public ask yourself this: Would I be comfortable saying these things with the aid of a bullhorn in a crowded church or during an assembly at an elementary school?  If the answer is no, then your conversation is not suitable for public comsumption.

Do I need to start putting people under citizen's arrest?  'Cuz I will.

What the heck Twinkies? I thought we were friends!

So I went to my local super-mega-cheapie store to purchase myself some new undies (long over due). Anywho- the last time I bought unmentionables for myself, I believe I was in my second trimester of pregnancy with my now 6 year old (like I said, much over due). 

I am not sure what size to buy because they all have seemingly random sizes on them such as:

• Large
• Extra Large
• Size 2
• Comfy Fit 7
• 8
• OSFA (realy? one size fits ALL? My ass. No pun intended)
• Medium/Large
• Boy Cut Jr. 3 (what?)

  So, you can see my confusion right?  I mean really. Can we just do  all numbers or all letters or all stick people in various sizes??  Whatever. I just need there to be some sort of consistency...

So, I pick up a pair marked  "size 8" and hold it up at arms legnth, close one eye and squint at it trying to estimate the size of these panties (although being the size they are -huge- they probably DO NOT qualify as panties) vs. the size of my bottom.

No way!  My bottom-while it is sizable- is not THAT big.  These would just hang right off  me and gather in an unsightly pool near the back pocket of my jeans causing horrifying ass wrinkles. I put them back on the rack with a very loud snort of disgust.

Having scientifically eliminating the need for a size 8, I grab the 'prettiest' (term used very loosely) package of size 6, and head happily to the check out. I am also glowing with the newly acquired knowledge that I'm not some total fatty that needs a size 8.  Thank Gosh.

This morning I woke up excited to wear my new delicates ( I know. I don't get out much).

Humming a happy tune I open the plastic packaging and pull out today's pair. 
Yep. Perfect. Almost cute.
I am excited now. No more undies with holes SO huge I mistake them for leg holes!
I step in. Oh the rapture!

Except-
I can't get them past my thighs.

Thankfully when I returned them this morning to the store I didn't have to buy a size 8!!
The 9's fit me better.
ouch.
New undies 1/ My Pride 0

It all started when I got out of bed

A short Tragedy/Comedy based on a true story:

Me: (making a very dramatic exit from the bathroom)  Gray. HAIR. Four of them. Can you BELIEVE IT???

Husband: (rolling eyes) Gee dear. (quite sarcastically) I am sorry to hear that. There were only four. That's a positive huh?

Me: (Processing the total cost of a divorce from this man)  Are you KIDDING ME?  ONLY four? What is wrong with you? I'm 30! I wasn't planning on getting gray hair until I had at least 7 grandchildren!

Husband: (rolling eyes as he leaves room) I just remembered I have to call that guy about that thing...

6 year old son :  Let me see your gray hairs mommy.  Where are they?

Me: On the bathroom counter. You can't miss them. They're not just gray. They're NEON gray!

6 year old son: (hollering from the bathroom) Mommy don't be sad!  These hairs aren't gray....They're white!

Awesome. Even better.

Now I know why your kids are always in detention.

Ok folks, I am gonna drop something pretty heavy here. Are you ready?

How children listen and how parents follow directions are in direct correlation with each other. (Gasp)

 How do I know this?  I know because I have had to deal with rogue A-holes parents for the last 4 months when dropping my child off and picking him up from school.

Here are the instructions (pretty much word for word-since I was actually listening) given by the School Wishful thinker Principal:

When dropping off or picking up your kids, please do not enter the drive clearly marked FOR BUS USE ONLY. This clogs up the flow for the bus drivers and sends them off schedule. A seperate drive has been reserved for all car pick-ups. Enter this driveway where a single line of cars will form. Here you can drop off or pick up your child when you get to the marked area near the building. Please do not park and get out of your car to enter the school to retrieve your child as a special lot has also been reserved for this. I know if we all work together this will work very smoothly...

Seems simple. No?

Well, this is what rogue A-HOLE parents heard:

Blah blah dropping off or picking up your kids,
please enter the drive marked  FOR BUS USE ONLY.
 These signs declaring otherwise are only a suggestion and you may do whatever you need to do in order to make sure that you get home in time to catch the tail end of Oprah.
Blah blah Don't send hats or coats with your kids to school either, this IS Northern MICHIGAN and all -but really, if your kids get sick they will just build immunities for whatever they may catch the next time they are not appropriately dressed  for the weather.  Or the next time they lick their teacher. ( Yeah you - Bryson Miller.) You are actually doing them a favor.  Kudos on your fantastic parenting! Blah blah

Also, Even if there is a single file line of cars waiting please feel free honk your horn alot then to park your car right in the middle of it. While you are at it, why dont you : enter the school,visit your child's classroom, use the facilities, argue with the secretary about your truant son's latest unexcused absence, and basically stop traffic for everyone else. Those other parents time is not nearly as valuable as yours, so by all means, do as you wish. Blah blah if we all do this, you will be helping out not only your precious children but the entire school system. Blah.

I may have to hurt some people.

Katie- by the numbers

This is for my husband who makes fun of my lack of math skills. Here's counting. Take that!

3- times a day I actually check Facebook to see what life shattering status updates I am missing.

541+ - times a day I think about checking Facebook to see what life shattering status updates I am missing. (I refrain, but just barely.)

7-days per week that I say to myself first thing in the morning, "Today I start my diet" but know in my heart that today will NOT be the day.

7- days per week that I drink Coke and/or eat somthing made by Little Debbie for breakfast. (see previous list item- its a  delicious vicious circle)

7- times per week I tell my son to please, please, please stop leaving his dirty underwear on the living room floor after he gets dressed in the morning.

1- time a day that I have an amazing topic idea for this very blog.

1- time a day that I forget what my amazing blog topic was going to be and settle for something that probably puts people to sleep. Oh, and screams NOVICE BLOGGER! NOVICE BLOGGER!

1- time per week that I pick something off the floor, brush it off and eat it. (I know, I know.)

17- times per week that I tell my son not to eat things off the floor. (I know, I know.)

21- Times per day that I think I should audition for American Idol.

5- minimun days of vacation that I wish I could go on. All. By. Myself.

100 - times a day  I am almost positive that winning the lottery would make me happier.

1- time a day that I know deep down that I already AM happy without winning the lottery. (But I would be willing the test that theory.)

1 - Time 'the Man' my boss has told me to get back to work while writing this entry. (fine- but she'll be sorry when I win the lottery.)

And what were YOU doing in April 1978?? Hmmm?

As half of you know- (and I can officially say half of you, because I only have 2 readers and one of them is my mom)-I have never met my father. I use the term 'father' here pretty loosely and actually consider this man more my mothers CO-PROCREATOR than my father.

This situation (not having met my MC-P) has never been a big issue with me until I had a child of my own. I never really cared to meet him or to know anything about him. I do now. Badly.

Call it a search for who I am. Call it Morbid curiousity. Call it My wishfull thinking that I am heir to a vast fortune of some sort. The truth remains that the time to find him is now.

 I didn't know I was going to officially start looking for him until I found myself typing his name into Facebooks friend locator. (Oh, and by the way Facebook management-may I suggest a M.I.A. PARENT application?? I swear other people would use it. Not just me. Ok. Maybe just me, but still.)

So-I pop in this guys name and hit enter. My search results end with one exact name match. At this point I am pretty excited becaus finding your long lost father 30 years later is usually a pretty labor intensive matter involving rigorously interviewing your mother about her personal life during the Carter administration, hiring private investigators, pouring over boxes of public records in musty basements of government buildings and drinking gallons of coffee. (or maybe I just watch too much t.v.).

Of course my next step is to visit this guys page right? Wrong. Flippin' privacy settings! My name-match-dad had thoroughly secured his profile so I didnt get to see what he looked like. I did however discover that  name-match-dad  does have what looked to be a small yellow puppy that is a good swimmer. At least thats what I surmised from his profile picture.

Deep breath. What to do?  I opted on sending a private message which went something like:
  Dear Guy,
   Did you live in the Detroit area around 1978-1979?

   Are you currently between 55 and 65 years of age?

   Did you knock up a nice Catholic girl and then hit the road around this time?
 (hah. just kidding mom. I remembered my manners. I used the word impregnate not the phrase knock up. I'm not an animal)

I mentioned that I was looking for a 'family friend" (ok, itty bitty lie-sue me.) that my family had lost touch with, assured this person that I was not a stalker and asked nicely  for a reply. I'm not holding my breath.

Oh, and just a word of advice. I do not recommend typing the words "Finding your daddy" into googles search engine.  Eww.

Cocker Spaniels and the Nudists Next door

I did some reminiscing over my  lunchtime patty melt apple, salad, and the recommended 8 oz. of water  about when I lived in Detroit.

(Which was a LIFETIME ago)

My friends Tara and Michael lived across the street.  Tara and Michael had a pool although I only recall swimming in it once and that very time I did something (I can't remember what)- to which Tara replied "Shape up or ship out!" Was I banned after that? I don't know.

Right next door to us, a couple lived with a brownish cocker spaniel named Napoleon. He was a beautiful dog and probably the reason why I would love a cocker spaniel to this day.

Dave and Orla owned Napoleon and for a reason I wasn't aware of then, my mom didn't let me go outside when Dave and Orla were out. Especially when Dave was in his garden. I always knew there was something different about them, but as a child I was just too innocent to put my finger on it. Orla did wear some bathing suits that looked like strategically placed rubber bands and eye patches, but I didnt find anything strange about it at the time. I just thought, "Wow! That's a small bathing suit."

One night, coming home from Tara and Michael's house I saw into Dave and Orla's living room window. It was dark outside but their room was very brightly lit. I saw that they were both walking around completely naked.  NAYKID!! For some reason, seeing Dave in all his nude glory didn't really phase me. (Which, it should have, because at the time I attended a Catholic school and that would have been awesome playground convo with my friends. I would have been the coolest. "Did you hear? Katie saw a weinie??"  "NO!"  "Yes!")  I was more worried about Orla. For some reason she was the one I was staring at, mouth gaping. I felt bad for her. Like maybe she just forgot to put her clothes on. Like maybe I should phone her and just remind her. To which she would reply,

 "Oh, thanks for the call Katie!  I was so busy this morning grooming Napoleon, getting dressed must have completely slipped my mind."

I hurried across the street and into the house.I wondered if they forgot to close their drapes. I wondered if they HAD drapes.

Later I learned they were nudists.

I wonder what that crazy couple is up to now. They would be well into their 60's. Napoleon has long since gone to doggy heaven. Maybe they have a new dog they call Caesar or Achilles or some other historical name.

Orla probably still wears those rubber band-eye patch contraptions - maybe just a little lower- and a whole new group of parents are keeping their kids inside when Dave is doing the gardening in his tight and tiny speedo.

I would venture a guess that they never did invest in those drapes, either.

T'ween parenting fashion tips

The following is a bit of an actual conversation I heard between a couple of teenage (I am guessing 13) girls at my local shopping mall:

Clueless girl 1: When I have a baby, I totally want it to be chubby.

Clueless girl 2: Oh my gosh! Me too.

Clueless girl 1: But when it gets older, like 2 or something, I totally want it to be skinny.

Clueless girl 2: Oh definitely. I would not buy plus sized clothes for my baby. That would be embarassing!

(sigh)

Conversations on horses

My 6 year old and I recently had this conversation while driving in the car:

6 year old: Mom, look at that girl riding that horse!

Me:  I see it. Cool huh?

6 year old: How does the horse know where to go so that it doesn't get lost?

Me:  The girl riding it tells it where to go.

6 year old:  So...Horses speak English, then?

 He is the funniest person I know.

NMO

Ok, so- No missed opportunities. Right.

The reason I wanted to start this blog is because recently, my outlook on life has changed.  I realized that I have spent wasted most of my life being scared.

When I was little, I was scared to do things with my cousins because I didn't want to get in trouble. I was always the voice of  'reason' and had a million excuses why we shouldn't do whatever fun thing my much braver cousins wanted to do.

When I was a teenager, I didn't play sports (I wanted to play basketball.), join any clubs, or wander too far from my comfort zone because I was scared that  I would make a fool of myself, not fit in, or do something wrong.

In my adult life, I married the wrong person (but have since married the RIGHT person). I let people take advantage of me and make me feel guilty(you know who you are). I didn't stand up for myself when I should have. I have made decisions about  my life based on what others wanted and ignored my own desires.  I did all of these things because at my center, I am a frightened 5 year old girl.

I realized that I have been waiting for my personality to miraculously change and for my new, fun, brave life to start.  As it turns out what I needed was a looming 31st birthday, the untimely and shocking death of a family member and a Hollywood motion picture to open my eyes.

Even though I can never get back the time I have pissed away, I am thanking my lucky stars that I have finally found my way at 30 (while I still have time) and not on my deathbed (when I don't. duh).

 This is the way I have decided to love my life. 3 things. Basic. Simple.
1. Do not miss an opportunity to LIVE because you are afraid to look silly, fail, make people talk, etc.
2. Step outside your comfort zone as much as you can. Every. Day.
3. Never miss another opportunity to tell someone you love them, or you like them, or you appreciate something they have done or that they inspire you- because you may not get another chance to do so.

It obviously has occured to me that HELLOOOOOO!  Of course this is the way you should live life, but, some of us are a bit slow on the uptake.

That said, following these 3 life guidelines may not work for everyone but I have found that I am a much better wife, mother, daughter and HUMAN now that I am.

This is the year I get my crap together. 'bout time!

2 previous blogs. Deleted.  This year, I am going to direct my free time and energy to this blog. Ok, and facebook. I need my facebook. I decided to write this blog because this is the year I turn 31. Actually, I will be celebrating my 2nd annual 30th birthday thank you very much. ( I refuse to acknowledge my real age again until I am 40) That being said, I realized-being the ever so wise 30 year old that my life has just been pooing away and I will never be getting any of that back. Teens. Gone. 20's. GONE. 30's - 1/10th Gone. Time sure does fly while you are waiting for "real life" to begin!  I have decided to STOP being scared (which I am. A LOT) And start LIVING. My new motto is NO MISSED OPPORTUNITES (good blog title too). I have done a lot in these 30 years but I want more. More. MORE. So, I have decided to go get it. And blog at the same time.  Also, I saw Julie & Julia which has gotten me excited about many things: Cooking, Julia Child, Amy Adams, blogging, and finding  the secrets of good marriages.  So thank you Julia and Amy for kicking my lazy butt and giving me some motivation to change up and air out the ol' life a bit.