The new skill of shushing on shrinkage wednesday

Ironically enough, I am not a big fan of Bjork. Well, maybe I haven't heard the right music.

I am not sure how Jeff figured it out, but he did. After all, he is quite handsome and gainfully employed. Plus, he is very charming and self assured. And so nice. He had his pick of thousand girls. Yet, he choose me with singular purpose. He figured out who I was before I did.

When he met me, I wore my hair like Bjork, was about 165 pounds and required a lot of care. Let me tell you the level of care I once required. Lord help me, here goes.

When we were dating I would visit his house on the weekend. I would bring my dishes. My dishes people.

So he could put them in his dishwasher.

Despite the fact that I had a communal kitchen across from my dorm room.

It boggles the mind, this event. It boggles my mind because it made perfect sense to me at the time. And he saw this, that it made sense to me. And he didn't run for the hills. He saw that I was capable of much more than I was. And for the most part, he didn't say much about who I was or how I operated. Well, except for the hair.

Babe, he said, the tail pipes gotta go, they are not attractive.

He also suggested there just might be a better way to eat. Exercise might be something I could do once in a while. He was gentle about it. Never pushy, never mean. Just gentle suggestions once in a while. Suggestions that we could be different, we didn't have to get fat like everyone else in this state. And I fought it like a cat trapped in a cardboard box.

But, that was ten years ago. My overall healthiness has waxed and waned. I have better getting better all along, with a few set backs here and there. A few weeks ago, I figured out what has been holding me back from permanent change.

My thinking. My inner voice. My own talk.

Again, I can over think things to the point where I can't move. Paralyzed by my own voice.

So, on Sunday, I learned how to shut the hell up.

When I had the chance I bolted for the gym. I worked it like no other. All that yoga has prepped me for pushing beyond my comfort zone. I was prepared to ignore and extinguish the tiny doubting voices, the murmurs of self consciousness and the blathering on of freight.

I can honestly say, don't believe everything you think or feel.

The tailpipes, I must agree, were not attractive :)

Me and the wee pancake :)

New things about me, all week

I have decided to completely turn over a new leaf.

Odd expression, turning over a new leaf. I mean, what the hell does that mean?

Well, for me, it means no longer dipping my toe into the pool of self pity. No longer wading in the ocean of my discontent. No longer swimming in a sea of spiraling negativity.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

I am just bursting with crazy right now. grrrrr . . . . . .

Ok, so obviously a lot is behind this post, this crazy. And yes, a lot is tied to a lot in my life (as it stands right now) and it you are new to the blog well, sorry I just can't get into it right now.

Feel free to look around though, if you are new. Or no. The posts labeled Mr. Hall are nice. There is sometimes sexy bits. The Salyma Hayek posts have helped keep a marriage together (ok maybe that was an exaggeration :)

Wait, what was I talking about?

OK

SO

I am done being negative. Done feeling morose and laden with sadness. Well, the degree of this type of thinking and behaving was never that prominent. But still.

I see a life long pattern of absolute soul sucking self pity and spiraling negativity playing out before me every single day.

And yes, this is my parents' life. The well from which I sprang. They are fat, sad, and angry people and they irritating the fuck out of me.

So, this is what I am leaving. If not physically, then mentally.

I am outta here, GOING GOING GONE!!!

Yet another in a series this week of permanent changes.

Oh-you'll see . . . . .

Childhood Milestones not listed in the guidebooks

This image is what came up when I googled "breastfeeding tattoo"

So cool no?

"Childhood or Developmental Milestones" are what health care providers look at when determining the health of a child. They are somewhat predictable and age dependent. They include such things as rolling over, walking, potty training or sleeping through the night.

We are very blessed that each of our children have hit the milestones right on target. They are both very smart and emotional reactive. They exude all the magic of being a kid, all smiles and chubby cheeks and ferociousness climbing on monkey bars. We are so grateful for this.

Yet, when I was reading over this post, over at Slydesblog, I couldn't help but think that there are milestones that are not listed in the guidebooks. And here is a small list

Miraculous Milestones not listed in the guidebooks:

By Mrs. Holly Hall, mother of two kids (ages 6 and 2)

1. The first time the child sits through a DVD

Once my daughter began to crawl about, pull to standing, and toddle around, it was then my life became a game of "chase me-chase me."

"Chase me-chase me" are what children are all about. Again, having children means constantly engaging and directing their energy. Which takes a lot of energy.

But when they can sit down, and sit still for at least 45 minutes while watching a movie, HOLY LORD, HALLELUJAH!!

Manna from heaven!!!

Speaking of which, my daughter achieved this milestone at age 13 months, the movie--Nemo. The line 'manna from heaven' is from that movie.

Our son, well, he achieved this goal only recently at about 20 months. He is very energetic, our boy. Kind of like a pinball :) The movie--Wall-E. He has a crush on Eva



2. Making it into the bucket

The body of a child can be quite the fluid dispenser. Part of a child's learning process, as they develop, is learning how control the outgoing fluids and well, more solid things. This is what potty training is all about.

However, there is another miraculous milestone directly related to this.

About a year ago, when my daughter indicated she had "jelly in her tummy that needs to come out", I sprang into action like one of those tennis ball fetchers that hover and wait during the tennis matches. I fetched a bucket, towel and rain poncho.

I kid, I kid.

Well, not really. but, moving on . . . . .

However, to my ABSOLUTE DELIGHT, the girl made it into the bucket.On her own volition. AND THEN GLORY BE!!! She rose up, went to the bathroom, CALMLY BRUSHED HER HAIR BACK, and made it into the commode. My jaw hit the floor! Eyes welled up!

To this day I am all misty about it. I mean, what can I say? I am still filled with pride over this.

3. Getting the idea of a time out

For the most part, kids understand much more than they can verbalize. At first anyway. This leads parent's to make comments like, "Oh, he's too young to understand". Also, kids also have the ability to switch on what I like to call, "the dumb face". It looks like this. But, if you scan the face, you can note a subtle smile in the eyes, an impish turn of the mouth. Thus, the dumb face can disguise the naughty face.

If you don't catch it, instructions such as, "Sweety, stop pulling the cat's tail" or "Honey, stop ripping pages from that book" or "Sweetheart, stop climbing into the refrigerator" are repeated over and over and over. I cannot tell you how batty it makes me, repeating things. BATTY! BATTY! BATTY!!! ABSOLUTELY BONKERS!!!

Ok, then, moving on . . . . .

It stops the day a parent says "Either stop or time out". And when the child twitches at the words 'time out', well, GLORY DAY!!!

And while the task of putting a very feisty two year old on a time out is taxing, and very hard at first, eventually it becomes route. Eventually . . .


When I think of who much energy I pour into these children, how much I give to them, I find myself so grateful. So grateful they are here, so happy I am their mom. I love you Mac and Pancake. I could not ask for better kids. :)

Holly has left the building

This month's Playboy acknowledges the changes that have occurred with Mr. Hefner and his trio of girlfriends. It is an unmistakable goodbye to Ms. Holly Madison.

I saw a recent piece on Ms. Christie Hefner, Hef's daughter on CBS Sunday morning. She is an interesting woman. Whenever I see or read about her I am impressed with the Playboy organization and how vast it is. I am impressed of how she is continuing her father's vision. In Las Vegas, there is a giant hotel/ casino that carries the Playboy name. There is all manner of merchandise too. And while the depth and breadth of the Playboy enterprise is not as it once was, it still appears mighty. All of this sprouted from one very creative and clever man who started out as a cartoonist. He built the magazine from nothing.

It is now fifty five years old, the magazine. As such, the editors decided to change the format a bit. The layout is a bit more modern, more color, less structure. It is by and large a very heady magazine. There are impressive essays about all manner of things including politics, the current war in Iraq, and sex in our modern society. There was a recent essay on the use of the word 'fag' and what that means in today's society. Any in-depth discussion of language is something that appeals to me.

None of this would be noticed, at least not these days, without the girls. The girls are central to the purpose and meaning of the magazine. It is rather simple yet brilliant idea, photographing women without their clothes. Yet, like most things, it is only as powerful as the people involved. There is great care put into the girls and the photographer's art.

Mr. Hall and I have discussions about the girls photographed, about the lighting, the poses, the make up and set designs. I have always found the pictures to be soft yet potent. I have always found the women to be posed in an evocative yet natural way. Some of the celebrity layouts are lacking, but then again, it takes a certain amount of talent to be a nude model. Comfort in one's skin and the ability to let her own sparkle shine through.

Of all of the things I read, the magazine is something I look forward to each month. It is a relaxing exercise to review the photos and puts me in a sensual headspace. The essays and articles get me all fired up, sending my thinking into overdrive. A good read indeed.

That being said, this month's photos of Ms. Holly Madison just about destroyed me. She is photographed this month like she has never been photographed. They are truly amazing. I can say that in one of the photos, she laying on her back, heaps of platinum blond curls, ruby slippers, a blue checkered dress resting under the slippers, her skin milky stark. This photo stopped my breath and made my heart ache. She really did love Hef and her life at the mansion. She wanted to be his wife, have his babies. This was her home for seven years, that was house, and that was her man, her world.

However, it must have been a bit like Kansas, a small world onto itself. In the end though, she needed to leave, to seek her own way, to follow the yellow brick road and see where it goes.

This post is about Lost and/or

If you have NOT watched this week's Lost, git out of here--RIGHT NOW!!!!

The central issues I blogged about, whilst drunk, still stand. Each one of the Losties is on my short list. I find it hard to root for anybody except Desmond, Hugo, Locke and maybe JUST MAYBE Sawyer.

But, this is the problem with a long narrative type show, like Lost. In order to keep things interesting, the writers must move the plot along. This is usually done one of two ways, 1. character development 2. plot development. Lost is a blend of both. Which is great. Except every time a character develops, well, it is a result of some moral failing. They can be a bunch a dickweeds sometimes.

The plot advances are centered around a magical land of yore, AKA the island. Which in all honesty, I have a hard time following. But, I don't really care. I mean, doesn't Hawaii look so beautiful? We went to that island, Maui. Some of the places the characters have been, Mr. Hall and I have been. That trip was awesome, filled with all sorts of hotel sex.

Wait, no, I was talking about the show.

I think last season the show became very bloated with characters. I am glad to see a bunch of them developing nosebleeds. Weeds out the weak ones. I have never from DAY one enjoyed the man who sees the ghosts.





The red head (look up, she is right there) was cute but, must all the women be all science-y and tight and emotionally thin? It seems to be an archetype now a days in most movies/tv shows. When the character is a doctor/scientist/lawyer or what have you, she usually has incredible smarts but the huge emotional baggage that is evidenced by her display of being all badass and stand offish. GRRR!!!

YES KATE I AM LOOKING AT YOU!!!!


Again Kate, noone was there when you got off the plane because you have not made yourself available to anyone. Please fix this before you die an old lonely woman.

Wait, where was I going with this?

Well, I can't remember. Jebus. So, let's end with my personal connection with one of character's on lost.

For about ten years I had a best friend. Let's call her Sarah because that was her name. We bonded my first year in college and stayed together off and on for the next ten years. It was a bad relationship. She was downright mean and would rip me a new one every 6 months or so. She would accuse me of all sorts of selfish and ugly things. Some of them I actually did.

We were both daughters of emotionally unstable moms and didn't quite know how to forge a healthy adult female friendship. We were kind of like tiny carnivorous dinosaurs in that way. I did love her though. Not in the lesbian way. But the, she was my maid of honor at my wedding, but now I have no idea where she lives and this is kind of bittersweet and a relief at the same time kind of way. Chicks are so complicated, jeez!

Anyway, she was a woman of science and art, just like me.

She was in a band once, a band that booked gigs. She's a doctor now.

The band name . . . . . .


Faraday


Named after the same scientist that this character is named for. She was in this band a full 10 years before this show came out



Man he looks like a weasal huh? I do not trust the Faraday.

well, any thoughts on last's night episode can be left in the comments

HB2ME BTW! I am now 33 :)

Wednesday's Shrinkage and Word Association: Elevate

"Chocolate Moose"-get it? (hee hee)

This week, it's a twofer.


Update on the health efforts and word association. (if you would like to leave a word to be associated with, please leave one in the comments :)

(Apologies for the length.)

Word associated: Elevate
Suggested by: James

The word elevate is a nice one. It makes me think of lifting or raising up. Which leads me to the word 'ambition'. Which I never thought applied to me.

Yet, there is evidence to the contrary.

When I decided to become a nurse, I knew I would become one. Yet still, I was a lazy student. I worked hard, learned what I needed to learn. And somewhere along the line, "nurse" was cemented into my DNA.

As such, when I went back to become a nurse practitioner, I found myself in the same pattern of learning because it was required to learn. There was passion for nursing, but not for most aspects of learning.

Until . . . . . .


I steered my attention to psychiatric nursing. I was lit up with such fervor I could have powered Las Vegas. And it was hard, switching to psychiatric care. Psychiatric nursing is like no other type of nursing. Completely foreign to me. I struggled and stumbled at first. A lot of struggle and stumbling. But dammit.

Failure was not even remotely possible. I absolutely knew I had the chops to thrive and grow in this field of nursing. I worked very, very hard. And then, I worked even harder. And here I am, a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner. Not too shabby.

This was my first brush with ambition, seeking to elevate myself.

Before this, I think of how it came about that I met Mr. Hall. I remember wanting to become a wife and a mother. I opened 'yahoo' personal ad. I scanned the other ads like job applicants. This is one of keys to the successful marriage before me. Picking the absolutely right guy.

And then my kids. I know the exact hour they were conceived. When I was given the green light, I tracked my ovulation in all the ways one can. It has been the only time in my marriage when I've had to wake my husband up, rouse him from a dead sleep even, to get the job done. Twice a day at times. Honestly, I overpowered his libido. This was unheard of before or since. But, once the green light apears again, well, it's on.

And now, I seek to elevate my health. My next goal is to tap into my ambition. I have already used some to learn how to cook. Really cook. With spices and everything. I am learning how to chop, sauté, mix vegetables and sauces. I am learning how to use spices to give my dishes flavor that lingers and loves.

During all of this, my mom is being a shithead. Well, sometimes. She rolls her eyes, makes comments and generally displays her disdain for the way I cook. She feels it is a rejection of her. Which it is really. Well, not her, but the fact that she was 253 lbs at my wedding. My kids will not know how that feels.

Now, let me pull back. The goal of working out. I must use my passion to get there. I can visualize the results, know they are completely achievable. And fucking get out of here and kick some ass.

The blogless BadgerDaddy, he speaks!

This is not the profile image of BadgerDaddy. He does not have one, yet.

(PSST-Before we begin, at the end of this post is a question for everyone who reads this blog)

Ok-so-Ya'll know about the interview experiment right?

If no, it goes like this: one blogger interveiws another, the questions/answers are posted on the appopriate blog, readers of that interview request to be interviewed in the comments, they are interviewed, they post their answers on the appropriate blog, etc etc . . . on and on. And again, if you would like to be interviewed, please indicate that in the comments. :)

BadgerDaddy was interested in being interveiwed, but alas, he has no blog. But does that stop Mrs. Hall??!! HECK NO!! I still interviewed him and here are his answers. They are quite interesting. He uses the word 'titwank', which I promptly added to my vocabulary!

The interview of the Blogless BadgerDaddy

By: Mrs. Holly Hall

1. What is your favorite piece of clothing and why?

There are so many answers to this. Exercise kinda clothing, I have a pair of Skins compression tights which I love, and they look ridiculous on me. I like wearing them when running, people don't know what to make of it. I have some lovely football shirts too, some of which were gifts that I'm very fond of. Oh, I have a great pair of socks too, made by brasher... They're amazing.

To be honest though, I don't pay much attention to my clothes, to my wife's chagrin - she thinks I should be showing my arse and thighs off more. I could always go trouserless, I guess.

Actually, writing about her has helped me realise what my favourite article of clothing is. It's two, actually; we did the Vegas half marathon the day we got married, and the souvenir shirt from that is pretty special. And we had t-shirts made for the wedding itself, as a souvenir, and my 'The Groom' t-shirt holds joint first place.


2. How many push ups can you do?

A few. With someone on my back, I can only do maybe three or four, depending on how heavy they are. In one go, I can comfortably do 30 to 40; if I get to take a break between sets, I can do absolutely loads!

3. What did you think of Prince Harry's scandalous tape released recently?
He's young, but that's no excuse for being an absolute titwank.

4. How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Would that I knew what a woodchuck was. This, then, is guesswork. My guess is, very little. The woodchuck in my imagination is very self-aware, and after chucking just a small amount of wood, he begins to wonder 'why?'

5. Why did you stop blogging and erase the archives?

My first blog was exceptionally candid, and was for the wider world, not the narrow one around me. When that was 'discovered', I actually moved house; being pointed out once in the street is quite enough. The second blog, the last one, was never as much fun. I worried about it being found, as I had moved back to my home town, and in the interim I had got married and taken on a stepdaughter. I didn't want her or my lovely wife getting any shit because of me and my sense of humour.

I do miss blogging, but I wouldn't do it again while I live in this town. Fresh eyes and new experiences make blogging fun, and my life here is affected very strongly by history, and it's just not the same. I couldn't have written about the last six months without mentioning my in-laws, for example, and if that had been read about, it could have caused even more trouble than I caused on my own.

As for deleting the archives, the temptation to start again would have been too great if I'd been able to look back at times when I had mildly amused someone, once. Ah, those glory days. Well, glory day.

Also, and this is a major part of it, I found that most of my energies were going in to work and blogging. I'd like to get a few novels started and see where they go; there's no way I'd do that if there were a blog running as well. It seems, internally, to be an either/or scenario. So the blog had to go, and I still haven't started because I've got too much work on... Ho hum. But by the end of February,

I'll have something rolling and we'll see what happens.

Enough of my burble. Thanks for the questions.

x

BONUS QUESTION (AND EVERYONE WHO READS THIS, FEEL FREE TO ANSWER TOO-IN THE COMMENTS):

How often do you read my blog, what do you like/dislike? (I've stopped keeping track of visitors so I am just curious :)

I stop by your blog reasonably frequently - you're on a live bookmark, so I see new posts. When I have time, I even read them! There's no right, wrong, good or bad with blogs, because they're so personal. The ones I dislike are the impersonal ones - what's the point?