A FaceBook Entry

I need sleep and my sweet Juliet has been teething this week, so when she goes to bed, I jump right in behind her because I know we'll be up a few times.

That being said, I am know I am letting down my fans by not having any blogs this week. 

Don't you enjoy how I assume so many people are reading this and actually care about my entries?

Here's a little "cheat" from FB.

25 Things About Me

1.  I am a morning person.  Nothing like enjoying a hot chocolate as the sun rises and dreaming of what the day holds.  If you called me at 6 a.m. you'd get a much different Tracy than 6 p.m.

2.  I adore old people.  There is nothing sweeter to me than a smiling, wrinkled gentleman with a walker.  I have been known to stop and talk for hours to complete strangers.  I steal their wisdom shamelessly, for they have lived.  I try ridiculously hard to help even the crankiest of old people smile for the day.

3.  I am a Democrat.

4.  I am married to a Republican.

5.  I love Marketing.  Especially for small businesses.  The strategy behind launching and continually increasing revenue and exposure for a product doesn't even feel like work to me.  The secret is....you are positioning the person, not the material item or service. A theme that resonates in so many areas of life.

6.  I don't enjoy being thin.  Sadly,the grass is always greener...this is the year I will tone my body and find some curves!

7.  I pay exhorbent amounts of money to have Chicago style pizza shipped to Dallas on dry ice.  The same can now be said of Las Palapas Breakfast Tacos from San Antonio.

8.  I think I am incredibly funny.  If you want to be my friend, laugh with me, laugh at me....I don't care, let's just smile together.

9.  I wish I could play the piano.

10.  I worry that I am not a good enough friend to those I love.

11.  Not by design, most of my significant relationships in life are with people considerably older than me.

12.  I really can't stop talking.

13.  I ask a lot of questions.  I want to learn  more.  I will challenge you on your opinions.  Don't just share them, be prepared to back them up with experiences from you life that you helped you formulate them.

14.  Scents can transport me back in time.  Smelling Sun Ripened Raspberry Victoria Secret lotion will immediately throw me back to junior year of college.

15.  I have no common sense.  You don't want me to list examples, they are painful.  Let me redeem myself, I am book smart.

16.  I wish I could drink coffee.  It might be the marketer in me, but I long to sit in Starbucks with a latte.  A tall hot chocolate doesn't work, I've tried it.

17.  I can people watch all day long.   Airplane delays are my dream (as long as they haven't put me on the aircraft yet!)

18.  Occasionally, I find a food that tastes so good in my mouth that I demand complete silence at the table so I can fully enjoy it.

19.  Call me naive, but I think my girls have a real opportunity to grow up in a world where people's skin colors and religious beliefs are null and void.

20.  I take the hottest showers.  So much so that I often have to sit down afterwards.

21.  I have secretly been designing my Kentucky Derby hat for years.  2010 is the year of my attendance!

22.  I pray everyday that Jason and I are good examples to our children.  I pray hard.  Gosh, I want so much for them in terms of a life full of compassion, self respect and dignity.

23.   Thinking back to my childhood gives me a happy, peaceful feeling.

24.  I've recently started a blog and discovered I love writing!  Run on sentences and all!

25.  After 5 years, I love Texas, but am not entirely used to it.  The dead animals garnishing furniture and mantels, sweet Bambi being served with a smile at dinner parties and having to ask where the key to the gun case is at every new friend's house is exhausting.

and my favorite.

26.  I love pregnancy pics.  I have a 16 x 20 of myself on canvas.

I can't stop editing this.

27.  I had platinum blond hair in college.

28.  Everytime Jason travels overnight I have a friend call me at 7:30 a.m. to confirm that I did not die in my sleep.  In preparation,  before I go to bed I move water, juice and dry goods to a low shelf in the pantry so that Sophia can reach them and nourish herself in case I died.

If any of my therapist friends want to offer me a complimentary consultation, obviously I will accept.

29.  I am the stiffest dancer you will ever be in the presence of.  My wedding was the first time I was really feeling good about my "skill."  I felt the beat in my arms, legs and even a tiny bit in my hips!  OMG was I loose!  I had never been so loose in my life.....and the range of movement I had found!  Surely Jason was proud as I entered the center of the big circle and moved so freely during my solo.

Weeks later, the wedding video proved otherwise.

My Previously Unrecorded Biggest Regret

In a rare moment this morning our ipod silenced itself from The Sound of Music Soundtrack and Simon and Garfunkel filled the room with the sweet sounds of The Boxer.  Sophia, slightly infatuated with Julie Andrews stopped in the middle of a delicate spin and tried to switch genres.

Tuesday, July 5, 2004

Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel were making a scheduled stop in Austin, Texas on their final world tour.  I was 5 months pregnant with Sophia and vehemently told Jason I would be too fatigued after "working" all day to drive 1 hour to Austin, sing as loud as I could to each song, return home and then go to "work" the next day.  

The office..... somewhere over the rainbow where I could enjoy my morning hot chocolate and breakfast taco in silence, use the facilities in peace as nature intended, have adult conversations and most astonishingly, be rewarded handsomely from a financial perspective for my contributions.  

To recap, seeing a concert, pregnant on a "work" night was just too much. 

December 24, 2007

I am presented with tickets to see Mr. Art Garfunkel LIVE at the Magestic Theatre in San Antonio on January 12, 2008.  The Magestic is a breathtakingly quaint venue of historical significance to the city.  I was 3 months pregnant and by this time had acquired a realistic understanding of the word fatigue and nothing was going to stop me from being in attendance. 

 Now remember,  I am a marketer, so advertising a tour as your "last" tour in 2004 does not throw me into a panic.  I was certain Mr. Paul Simon would be accompanying Art as a surprise specifically for me.

Similar to my anticipation surrounding Sophia's piano lesson, we were so early for the concert that we decided to enjoy a non alcoholic beverage at a corner cafe.  I was astonished at all the elderly people walking past.  I could barely keep up my end of a conversation with Jason because of all the glorious distractions in my peripheral line of site.  Silver haired, smiling, dressed up in nylons and heels and full of wisdom from a life well lived, they crowded into the Majestic.

I suppose it didn't occur to me that Paul and Art had captured the heart of any generation other than my own....until we were seated and began to take it all in.  Most of the patrons, we would guess, were in their late fifties, early sixties with a nice scattering of those gems in their 70's and 80's.   In my opinion, a larger city, such as Chicago or Austin would've had a better than average representation of my age bracket.  

Jason gave a chuckle and quietly speculated the potential partying these folks had done if they were Simon and Garfunkel fans back in the day. 

Unintentionally, he had gotten us 3rd row seats, right of center.  Unnecessarily, but filled with the zest of a loyal fan, Jason was on ticketmaster.com the moment they went up for sale.  We ended up being seated next to a couple about our parents age.  As we scanned the venue, we gave a knowing wave to few couples born in the seventies... acknowledging our shared appreciation of the artist.  It was quite refreshing to be amongst such a diverse group of people all sharing a common interest.  Reminds me of the warm, peaceful feeling I had yesterday watching the cameras capture the sea of people at the Inaguration.  

Mr. Garfunkel emerged.  My first thought was....Oh dear, the drugs have weathered this poor gentleman, while enjoyable I'm sure, the late 1960's have left their mark in history.  He opened with The Boxer and up on our feet we rose.  Of course, my intention was to begin my somewhat stiff dance moves that time has allowed me to embrace, but I was also wanting to peek back around the stage and get a glimpse of Paul before he joined in.

Not surprising to Jason, Paul Simon never took the stage.

Note to self:  If two talented gentleman over the age of 65 announce a final world tour....take it at face value.

  Shocking to us both....NOBODY ELSE STOOD UP.  

 This is not the Sarah Brightman classical concert, this is Art Garfunkel.  We sheepishly took our seats and I, of course, sang the lyrics too loud.

I can't finish this post without giving this sweet man credit.  The concert was phenomenal.  He wisely took a young bride a few years back and has a 2 year old son.  He mentioned that it was bedtime for his baby in New York and proceeded to sing him a lullaby he had written.  He dedicated a tremendous amount of time to vocally praising Paul for being the brains and talent behind Simon and Garfunkel as the song writer.  During his last song, he danced a little too hard and was clearly winded.  

He never did come out for an encore.

As the concert ended, the couple next to us leaned over and said, "Wow, you two weren't even born when Simon and Garfunkel were popular.  I bet you didn't even know a lot of these songs."

Jason respectively responded, "He's my Uncle."

Out With The Old....In With?

It's the next afternoon and I can still somewhat feel the comfortable silence in the house.  Kids down to sleep, husband sent off on an errand.

I settled into my most inviting chair with a snack and hit DVR.   

Unfairly, but that's always the case around here, Jason was immediately and quite vocally accused of stopping my recording of Dirty Sexy Money for yet another nail biting, edge of the seat, riveting episode of the World Series of Poker.  

I am a Poker Widow, but that's for another post.

I accepted my fate for the evening and  made my way through the warm, dimly lit house.  I shut the office doors and logged onto ABC.com.  My second "settling in" for the evening had me in front of the computer.  The last place I wanted to be seeing as Jason was off returning a camcorder of deleted Parrott family moments, such as Sophia's Christmas Recital, Christmas Morning, The Naked Dallas Botanical Gardens in the middle of December and countless commentaries by none other than myself.  After 2 weeks of researching blogs, pestering friends and countless appointments at the Apple store, I accepted that my spunky red JVC was indeed, not compatible with a Mac. 

 It's a tragic loss, I was fond of her.  

I repeatedly clicked "Dirty Sexy Money......." and repeatedly was taken back to ABC's homepage.  I was wasting precious free time and sadly, yes, even I get frustrated sometimes.  I scrutinized the evening lineup for the week and didn't see DSM listed.  It didn't take me long to figure this one out.  

This is not the first time that the American Broadcasting Company has cancelled a show with no apparent regard for its viewers or sponsors.  I silently suffered the loss of Jack and Jill years ago and most recently What About Brian.  They simply take it off the air, with no communication.  I'd like to get my hands on the advertising figures for DSM.  If the new Cover Girl EyeLights Mascara is advertised 3 times that hour, what are the online and in-store sales figures in the following 3 days?  I know my eyes are greener since I started wearing it.

These actors are paid a substantial amount of money to take me out of my reality and gently place me into theirs for a hour.  Similar to Brothers and Sisters, I turn the TV off and sit in awe of the creative writers and the weekly scripts.  It is my sincere hope that the writers are recycled at ABC, they are second to none.

While watching Karen spend her evenings with Simon outfitted in delicate, feminine and sometimes inviting lingerie, I, for a split second firmly believe that this is how all the women in my life spend their evenings.  Dear friends, maybe family members, certainly the neighbors all feeling great about themselves in a flattering ensemble.

For a moment in time, I am temporarily motivated to "slip into something less comfortable."

A commercial usually jets me back to the here and now,  but I still think I'll ring a few close friends in the morning and inquire on their evening attire.

Last time I talked to Kim she had 2 of 3 kids confirmed with strep throat and a Father-in-Law resting comfortably on her sofa.

If the creative writers had done their jobs right.....

shouldn't Kim be in lingerie right now?

Guilty as Charged?

I was enjoying Mr. Martin have his way with the piano this morning during a rendition of "Clocks."  

Anytime I am in the presence of a graced pianist it is not unusual for me to share my life long dream of playing the piano with anyone who will listen.  I begin to list the various reasons why I've always believed I could be accomplished at it and it's about this time that they "tune" me out-no pun intended.  

Have you seen how long and skinny my fingers are?  They could create and reach melodies previously undiscovered!

My thoughts turned to my sweet Sophia who just a month ago told Jason and I that she wanted to take piano lessons.

That morning I was on the Internet researching the best pianist in town for children under 5.  During our conversation I proudly told him that it was not my husband and I pushing lessons and that we had not even suggested it, Sophia had approached us.  

Similar to Christmas morning, I was as excited, if not more, than Sophia to watch her talent take shape.  10:00 could not come fast enough and we found ourselves in the car passing time because the studio wasn't open yet.  Every teacher that walked in while we waited for them to unlock the door was permanently etched in my memory for accurate recording when I would tell her story to Julliard.  The idea of my sweet girl potentially  being gifted in the arts consumed me.

I admire creative people.  I've since realized that I am a Marketer just to expose myself to them.  I cannot make anything,  I cannot sew, I cannot make a flower arrangement, my attempts at scrapbooks are comedic and all of this stems from an incurable lack of patience.  Each New Year finding patience makes the top of my resolution list and each New Year I do find a bit more.  I can strategize the positioning for the sale and long term profits of anyone's product like no other, but I simply cannot physically create items.

Back to the studio and my dreams (I mean Sophia's).

Mr. Martin and his band members showed me the writing on the wall this morning.  

Am I living out my dreams through my precious offspring?

Am I "Guilty As Charged?"

Even the casual observer at the studio would confirm the above allegation.  From the moment we entered the room, I had stars in my eyes.  The 24 year old skilled pianist walked us through his educational and professional training while I paced the small room in anticipation of his demonstration.  I put myself back on track and asked all the questions from my list.  Of course I made a list.  I am often paralyzed by my expectations of perfectionism that again stem from being the first born child.

He played a 5 minute classical piece that had Sophia, Juliet and myself just lost.  All ages and across generations, he filled that small room with such harmony.   His music gave life to a tranquil moment.

I was high.  As high as the evening that Jason and I won the 50/50 raffle at the Bulls Game and my smiling face was displayed on every single TV in the United Center.  And, I looked good that night, dare I compliment myself.

At this point,  he asked Sophia if she would like to sit down and he would show her the keys.  

Sophia confidently responded, "No thank you, I just want to play by myself, I already know how to do it all."

We closed that chapter, packed up and got into the car where she told me that she just wanted to play on the piano and didn't want someone to show her.  

Not surprisingly it also occurred to me that her ballet lessons last year could've been an unconscious attempt to make that dream come to fruition.  Sadly, I had been thinking about this for sometime.  

Each year, at the nutcracker, anyone who will listen to me will hear the plethora of reasons why I could've been a classical ballerina.  Surely my tall, somewhat lanky body would be a perfect fit.  Further fueling the legitimacy of my claim is that every single time I get a massage, the masseuse asks me if I am dancer.

The body that I see as lanky and untoned is momentarily transformed into one of great purpose-- a creative outlet in the arts!  A dancer!        

Please don't gift me with a massage certificate.  I end up spending just as much on the tip after compliments like that.

Perhaps my slender body would look graceful gliding across the ice with thin arms outreached and one long leg raised high.  Perfect symmetry.

Hmmm.....think I'll take Sophia ice skating this weekend.

And Then She Sang

I enjoy January 12th.  

That might be an understatement because there is a skip in my step today (and no, it's not the new Adidas running shoes, that yes have that brand new bounce in them that a runner or not.....puts a smile on your face).  It's one of those calendar days similar to your birthday.  You log onto the computer or turn on your phone and when you see the date pop up, it's just that indescribable butterflies in the stomach feeling.  

Similar to the warmth a sweet old man gave to me so unknowingly that I will carry with me throughout my days.   

I was 8 months pregnant with Sophia and waddling into the grocery store at a snail's pace.  

The oldest, 

wrinkliest, 

grayest, 

knee high wearing socks,

old gentleman

 most likely 87 years old was keeping pace with me, and of course, I only had eyes for him.  If one placed a newborn baby and this particular man in my direct line of sight, I venture to say that he would have my full attention.  Even though I had the obvious authority to park in the "parking for expectant mothers" front spot, we arrived at the entry door at the same time.  He unhunched himself from his walker long enough to make direct eye contact with me and say, "Ladies first, that's what my Mom always taught me."

Remarkable.  And a great message for a budding brand new mother to get.

I told you I always get my messages....no matter what the delivery.

I've been skipping through the day and humming the various timeless hits by Sir Elton John for hours now.   8 years ago tonight my sweet Jason and I were closing down our 3 week vacation to the Hawaiian Islands with an intimate Elton John concert on Oahu.  It was the eve of his loving, somewhat gentle and full of such innocence marriage proposal.

I relish January 12th.

  

I am one who always looks forward and the anticipation of an event for me is almost as sweet as the experience.

This, my husband who just this weekend looked at our naked 30 foot floor to ceiling stone fireplace mantel that I am paralyzed in decorating and suggested that perhaps my 1983 2nd place rolling skating trophy would be appropriate.  

Sure Jason and be reminded on a daily basis of the summer that Laura Blazer's legs grew 1/4 of inch longer than mine and she narrowly passed the finish line ahead of me, securing the victory. 

I let down every single St. George Dragon that afternoon.

What about his 140x160 1992 fraternity composite?  This that denotes the year of his Presidency?

Yes, we are in receipt of such an "heirloom" and how it came to be is best described in another post.

Yes, this my sweet husband, who when we meet a new couple still tells them our love story with an obviously detectable twinkle in his eye.

Not surprisingly,  I enjoy January 12th.

The Wind of Change

p.s.  Ran a little farther then my designated mile last night.  You find me someone who can stop when The Wind of Change by the Scorpions comes on their ipod.

Moving Day

The night I met my sweet Jason at a fine drinking establishment in downtown Chicago, he mentioned that he would someday be moving to corporate headquarters for AT&T so that he could continue to progress in his career.  Corporate headquarters was San Antonio, TX.  Little did I know we'd be closing the door on Chicago just 1 year after we were married.

I suppose it all started with the rattlesnake family that was found while the workers dug a hole for our swimming pool ...or was it the perfectly toned, peppy and beautiful red head neighbor who greeted me as we drove up to our house after 22 hours of driving....reminding me of what I heard so many times before we came---  All Texas woman are stunning---inside and out.

Ahhh.  You like that one Wendy, don't you?  I don't bite the hand that feeds.  I know your iphone reminder is going to beep loud and clear Tuesday morning gently reminding you to head off to Las Palapas, purchase 30 bean and cheese tacos with an appropriate amount of brown salsa to match and then overnight that little piece of heaven to me!

Watch out, Patricia.  You're next.

I see a theme emerging in my blog.  There appears to be an abundance of "package delivery" references.  Perhaps I should more appropriately name my blog---Me and My Daily Dose of The Brown Suited Stranger. 

 I enjoy that.

Back to Texas, a nation of its own.  If it wasn't the rattlesnakes being beaten to death with shovels in neighbor's garages each morning or the scorpions lining my baseboards....then it had to be the neighborhood tarantulas that I grew so fond of.  I could often be found in the long line outside Courtney's garage with my spiders clinging for life in an air tight container.  She houses the state's largest collection of frozen deceased spiders.  Including all venomous breeds.  You can quickly identify which spider is threatening your family  and leave armed with all the information you need to treat a bite and/or reaction.  Even my best friend, Jesse, from HomeTeam Pest Defense couldn't do this and I paid him handsomely each quarter to suit up and inject those carcinogens into my walls that 10 days later left a large number of scorpions clinging to their lives on my baseboards.  Yes, homes in Texas have tubes in the walls so that Jesse can visit and fill them up good with murderer juice.

I don't think I've mentioned that I don't forget a date.

July 26, 2004, I was 4 months pregnant with Sophia and I decided that I better start getting more comfortable here in South Texas.  As shocking as this may sound, I decided to check the mailbox.....barefoot.   I was halfway there when Courtney started screaming, "Tarantula!"  And, in Texas there is no crying wolf.  The human race must protect its own from God's animal creatures.  I froze.  Was anyone going to save me?  Surely I had stepped on it and was going to die a painful and untimely death.  My emotional display amused the neighborhood whose screams for the tarantula were in excitement.  Didn't I know tarantula's aren't poisonous, didn't I know they are harmless....did I know they jump.....far?!!!  I saw this one extended up on his hind legs and ready to pounce.  It literally took the breath out of me.

You can say I become somewhat numb to the species after awhile.  Skimming up Mamma Tarantula and her 5 drowned babies from the bottom of my pool every morning isn't psychologically damaging at all.

The day I had prayed for finally came.  In the winter of 2005 I knew my sweet baby girl and dear pug would be safe.  They were forecasting a freeze!  Instead of emerging victorious and considerably larger in the spring.....this year those suckers and their offspring would be frozen dead!

What a spectacle.  The city shut down for 48 hours.  Gas stations and grocery stores were closed.  All main expressways into and out of San Antonio were down and truckers had to sit on the side of the road and wait it out.  Rescue workers brought nourishment to "stranded" cars.  And, my personal favorite.  The ANCHORMAN of the San Antonio news held up an ICICLE on my TV screen and actually said, "Look at this everyone!  This is an icicle!"

I know.  Please take a moment to digest that.

The majority of our dear friends kill innocent animals and then garnish their trappings on furniture or showcase the reindeer's beautiful antlers high on their mantels.  I do have one sweet friend Joe, who after he catches a fish....he throws it back.

He's an anomaly in The Land of Texas.

All that being said, there are days that my heart aches for the 80 degree temperatures in November-February or the hundreds of peaches that would drop from our backyard tree for my birthday every year that provided the neighborhood with peach margaritas like no other and in general, the city where I delivered both my baby girls.

Dallas is much different.  Not nearly as different as the move from Chicago to San Antonio by any stretch of the imagination.

As of January 1st I removed San Antonio's daily weather forecast from my kitchen display.  A small, yet extremely significant move in my quest to plant our roots here.  

I can do this.  I can do anything.

When the Doorbell Rang

So right before noon the doorbell rang.  The usual routine of hoisting up the 30 lb. untrained pug and putting her into the laundry room began.  If not, she'll be out the door and I'll get my mile in for the day waving a box of Cheerios in my hand to coax her home.

It was the UPS man in his neatly pressed uniform holding what appeared to be a Giordano's Chicago Style Stuffed Pizza box.  I immediately thought, " Who would send a late Christmas present in a Giordano's box?  What a cruel and unusual sentiment."

I have grown so accustomed to the plethora of college quality pizza establishments in the greater Dallas area including, but not limited to:  Domino's, Papa John's and Pizza Hut.

I bypassed the pleasantries with the brown suited stranger when I discovered that this box needed to be brought into my kitchen and placed into the freezer immediately....and trust me, I befriend everybody.

To clarify:  I do not believe that the monetary denomination of a gift is directly correlated to the amount of love one has in their heart for me.

That being said I do, however; unanimously believe that anyone who sends me a $50 Chicago Style Pizza on dry ice must like me more than others claim to.

The Package Arrived!

Up and at 'em at 5:27 this morning!  Don't think I mentioned that I am a morning person through and through so it's usually ok that my kids start off strong with me.  By 7:30 both kids were fed and dressed, 2 loads of laundry done (but not folded, of course), beef stew in the crock pot and half the house vacuumed.  This is usually the time we head out to grab some happiness in a cup--- and you should've seen what was accomplished "in the good ole days."

A bit later I went upstairs to put Juliet down for a morning nap.  I was upstairs for about 10 minutes and when I came back down Sophia opened the pantry and proudly showed me what she had accomplished (you can tell she's my child).  She showed me the bottom shelf lined with cans and said, "Look, Mommy, I know how much you like things organized!"

All 36 cans removed from the case and put in order.  

I smiled with pride.  

I personally would've left the beer in the box from an organizational perspective with a select few in the fridge for the unexpected guest, but there's certainly time to review this with her---I kid, of course.   The poor, sweet, sweet offspring of 2 first-born children.

Off to the bathroom I went to get myself ready for the day.  I grabbed my contact case and proceeded to spend the next 10 minutes trying hopelessly to get the contacts out of my eyes.  They rip so often and get stuck that digging my finger on my actual eye for extended periods of time doesn't bother me in the least.  I gave up and realized a call to the opthamologist was in order.  We needed to discuss at length the subservient quality of his product.

As I left the bathroom I realized it was still daytime and that, DAMN, Tracy, you are starting your day, not concluding it.  The contacts have not yet been put into your harassed eyeballs and are waiting in the case for you.

Nice. 

 I believe I was thrown by the soft, warm wash cloth on my face....coaxing me into a false sense of relaxation.

The energy was quickly restored by the UPS delivery truck with my Semi Annual Victoria Secret Sale purchases that are made every January!  I tried on my spring/summer 2009 bikini and was shocked to find that the miracle bra bathing suit does not address the needs of a mother who has nursed 2 babies.  I studied the packaging, that in my marketing opinion, was unworthy.  If you are not going to use recyclable packaging, then go the full distance and impress me with all the contaminated plastic, don't just give me a plain vanilla baggie.  Anyhow, I spent quite awhile ensuring that when I read the code MB, that the company indeed meant, Miracle Bra.  

They did.

To be continued....seeing as we head off to Disney World in a few short weeks and I will be needing beach attire.

From One Mother...To Another.

So Jason's parents came down to celebrate Juliet's first Christmas with us.  They walked in the door and I politely informed them that Jason and I would be enjoying each other's company on a date that evening.  Of course, they were thrilled to spend the evening alone with Sophia and Juliet, which they so rarely get.

My dreams were big.  I was texting back and forth with a dear friend all day to get recommendations on a fancy dining establishment where I could sip fine wine and stare into my husband's eyes.  (Ok, yeah right.  We've been married almost 7 years there would be no staring, but certainly fun conversation!)  I saw Jason excitedly pacing the house with his entertainment coupon book for awhile and realized we would most likely be dining at a "buy one meal get one free" facility.  Still....I said, "surprise me!"  

Well his iphone decided to start not feeling so well that afternoon and apparently the only available appt. at the Apple store for a week was a cancellation that evening at 6:30.  

Who am I to complain about the location of a few hours with my husband?  If I was going to the Apple store, everyone there would know how excited I was to be there.  The sound docks and MacBooks may have impressed me too much.  I have a feeling that people were laughing at me and not with me, but if I put a smile on someone's face does it really matter that it came at my expense?

We hurriedly drank some wine and a family style pasta at a chain restaurant (Maggiano's) because it was close to the movie theatre where we were going to see Four Christmases, which I highly recommend.

After the movie was over, a lady stood up and quite boisterously started yelling about loud laughers in the movie, laughing at things that weren't even funny and shouting all about her terrible luck.  That this always happens to her at the movies and why don't these people get out more often?  This is ridiculous, the movie wasn't that funny and seriously she has terrible luck and hates these kind of people.  She walked out behind Jason and I and made me so uncomfortable with her shouting and particularly with the terrible example of selfishness she was displaying to her pre-teen children.  I tried my hardest to get some courage and turn around and provide her with some scenarios.  What if the laughing movie patron was someone who was out for the first time after surviving cancer treatment?  What if the laughing movie patron was someone who just got home from Iraq?  Can't see she that an evening she is taking for granted, someone might be treasuring with every once of their being?  Can't she see that?  Does she want her children to see her this way?

The ironic thing is that as I walked in front of her, she temporarily stole my evening from me.  And I let her, temporarily.  I had a good feeling that was talking about me.  I didn't realize it at the time, but once I heard her yelling I realized that gosh....I was laughing a bit too loud.  I felt embarrassed that she could be so right about "someone not getting out enough."  It bothered me on the car ride home and Jason was nice enough to not suggest she was talking about me, but I knew in my heart she was.  I was down for a bit and then I realized that if my biggest fault is laughing out loud and living in the moment, then so be it.  Later that night I also took great pride in the lesson that I was presented.  When I decided to stay home after Sophia was born and not go back to work for a bit---I promised myself that I would enjoy every minute of this journey with my kids and that the grass would never be greener.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't know how blessed I am in this world.  I will continue to laugh out loud, I will continue to live in each moment and I will always get the message no matter how it comes to me.  That woman provided me with the reassurance that I am embracing my place in this world.

Starbucks and I......an affair gone bad.

My most recent experience with coffee is almost fully responsible for the start of this blog (that and a lot of arm twisting by friends for the past year to share my stories.) It took me quite awhile to join facebook where a couple of tagged photos easily dismantled my and/or my family's political aspirations.

 I am the first to admit that I have a problem with filters....we'll see if that makes for good blogging!  You'll quickly see that I love my sweet girls so much, that if I could fit them in my mouth and eat them, I would----why do we always want to eat cute things?  I love the inspiration and wisdom of old people---there isn't a sweet wrinkly old man out there that doesn't turn my head.  They have lived.  I love Texas breakfast tacos, learning new things, hats, chandeliers, pregnant bellies and all that is marketing (yes, I watch commercials!)  And, of course, what would life be like without my husband?  He's incredibly intelligent, witty, articulate and dare I say ridiculously attractive.   I did after all accept his request to spend our lives together.

As I write this first blog.....I am still wondering about blogging and keep saying to myself-Does anyone really care?  This should be a fun journey and I'd certainly love to hear from other bloggers out there about your experiences!

About 6 weeks ago I discovered the tall cafe mocha at Starbucks, well, I suppose you could say I found coffee in general.  The birth of a second child had me exploring options for energy that I may have left unturned in the past.  It was love at first sip and energy beyond my wildest dreams. If you think I talk fast, you should've heard me now.  I also spent quite a few mornings experimenting with "happiness in a cup" (the peppermint cafe mocha.)

A month ago I, who never, ever gets sick, came down with the flu.  While simultaneously firing up 2 humidifiers and cursing the medical community who once again got the flu vaccine strain wrong, I stripped my children (who must be sweating as much as I was) down to summer pajamas and I tried and tried to throw up the terrible feeling with no success.  Heart palpitations, sweating and light headed I was up all night.

Well, this happened again Friday.  The flu hit me again.  Body aches, sweat, palpitations.  Everything.  I handed the kids off to Jason for the night, filled the humidifiers and took my position by the toilet.  I knew something had to be wrong here.  I have kids, which means I have hands on medical training and of the 190 cold and flu viruses out there...once you get one, you typically don't get the same one again.  This situation reminded me of when I had Sophia 4 years ago.  Boy was I thrown off!  Filled will love for this sweet infant, but certainly thrown off.  I remember sitting on the couch and telling myself, " You have an MBA, why in the world can't you figure out how to clean your body?"  I pondered this for awhile and finally put Sophia in her stroller, walked her around the house to sleep, wheeled her into the bathroom and had my first shower in days.  I digressed.  Anyhow, I thought long and hard crouched by that toilet seat and it finally came to me.  

This was an anxiety attack.  A caffeine induced anxiety attack.

The magnitude of the loss set in.  No more liquid cocaine.  No more morning meaningless conversations with the peppy Starbucks man.  

I pondered how to maintain my newfound energy level.

I decided to incorporate the "natural" approach and run.  Since Saturday, I have run 1 mile and only 1 mile every single day.  This is someone who in the past only ran if someone was chasing me. (thnks Lis).

So far...so good...just a couple days of withdrawal headaches.

I'll keep you posted, of course!