Here, let me help you

Two things:

1. crossfit tends to be a bit guy heavy. Being a girl does have it's advantages though. There is strength in the softness. Also, I'm a kung fu master of deflecting macho junk.

It seems guys have a thing about facial hair. Beards are important business. Manly business. Recently, one of the guys shaved off his manly beard and said something like, "All the chicks are after me now." This made me feel uncomfortable. Icky hung in the air. He realized he said something dumb, slighting inappropriate. So I said, "Everybody loves a baby face."

BURN!

Burn to turn it around yo!

2. Foster kids have many family members that come with them. Like birth mothers. Birth mothers who can't quite get the hang of fricking FOLLOWING THE REUNIFICATION PLAN so they can get their kids back. Part of me just wants to go and sit with them. Explain that it really isn't that hard to get your kid back. The reunification plan, designed by the county social worker, has very clear bullet points for them to follow.

It's not dumb that keeps them from following the plan. Oh no. They are smarter then I'll ever be. Masters at the game of getting what they want. Maybe it's the want of stuff that interrupts this process. They want everything, including the stuff that gets them jailed.

Sigh.

A few months ago i renewed my passport in a fit of optimism. COMPLETE BLIND OPTIMISM. I wanna go to niagra falls and have a vacation with the mister.

Guess it's going to have to wait. . . the foster kids will be with us for a while. :)

Happy New year everyone ....

Make it a goal to help someone next year :)

Using the f bomb doesn't make you an artist, it makes you an idiot. OR A TODDLER

 

I got really irritated at yoga the other day. Irony, I know.

I get irritated at crossfit too.

It's the music. Crossfit people like loud, angry, german RAMSTIEN type music. And heavy gansta rap. With n words. It's bothersome but not overly so. If I'm working hard enough, I can't hear anything expect DEAR GOD MAKE THE PAIN STOP . . WAIT . . I CAN DO THIS . . . I HAVE FIVE MORE ROUNDS OF BURPEES AND THEN I'M DONE!!!



But at yoga, this is suppose to be gentle. Maybe some soft Indian music. Maybe the 'soft alt' channel on pandora. Or the teacher's personal mix of "memories". But they need to be gentle songs, not songs that include the f word and sex talk.

GAH.

So I'm doing the downward dog. Enjoying life. Then music kicks up and the f bombs start and I start shaking my head. I'm a child of God and a full grown Christian woman. I put up with a lot in yoga class. I put up with their psuedo hippy dippy talk of chakras and hugs. I'll get over myself with their meaningless namaste chanting. I'll tolerate their eastern (INSERT HUGE ASS AIR QUOTE) "religion" (INSERT HUGE ASS AIR QUOTE) because it seems well meaning. I studied buddhism for years. It's a great philosphy and very kind in nature. It's still hippy crap though. Again,

 

And make no mistake, yoga will always ALWAYS BE PART OF MY LIFE.

But the f bombs bugged me. REALLY bothered me. And I like the teacher. So I didn't say anyhthing. She's a nurse practitioner just like me. I could totally be her friend.

But, the music. Offt. . . the class starts chattering about the f bombs and she explains, "I don't buy the censored version of songs because that's not how the artist intended the song to be heard."

THE FRICK! SERIOUSLY??!!! THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH?

Using the f bomb doesn't make you an artist, it makes you an idiot. OR A TODDLER.

Either way, I'm above all that. sometimes anyway.

old ass tennis shoes

When Mr. Hall was putting on his tennis shoes yesterday, he complained. "I hate these shoes, they don't fit right. Where did I get these things?"

And I said.

"Those where the shoes from Kmart you bought 13 years ago. You agreed to come to aerobics with me. I was all excited. For a week I kept saying, "We've got aerobics next week!" Then, "We've got aerobics on Tuesday!" THEN, "We've got aerobics at 10 am today!

"And you had NO IDEA what I was saying. Like you hadn't heard me say it for a week straight. And it was 9.15 am. You made a mad dash to Kmart and we made it just in time."

"Huh" he says, "sounds about right."

pause.

"Sometimes I forget to turn off my filter when I'm listening to you. So, I'm still filtering what your saying from before and I don't catch the important things. And just like back then, all dates/appts need to go into the calender because I'll never remember."

Which is fair enough I guess. The man can't remember anything no matter how many times I remind him. Maybe I should just start using the dang calendar. And prevent any future ugly shoe purchases. :)

Thoughts of which I am not proud (Christmas edition)

There is a lot of angry and bitterness that people have over the holidays. They see the footage of Walmart brawls and salivating kids. They hear the whine of 'I have not enough.' All this black friday garabage can harden anyone. I'm certainly not immune.

I don't like Christmas shopping. But here I am, at walmart looking for the toy pictured above. It's from an Angel tree card. The card is from a Christmas tree at my church. The cards are like letters to Santa, only I'm Santa. They'll never know it though. In fact, I don't know them. The card says " C145/boy age 9/Air hog assault r/c helicopter".  Those are sold out. Other Air Hogs are available. The kid will have to make due.

I move on to the next angel card. My cackles go up. There are 15 things on this card. All specific and name brand. The next card is vague but demanding. I've got five cards total. It's going to be a long day shopping at walmart. Sigh.

My thinking goes sour. Rumination begins. My foster daughter's mom is like this. All about things and things being important. She spends a lot of money on name brand clothes for her daughter, my foster daughter. She doesn't like us, the mom. She doesn't like how we do her baby's hair or how we dress her. She's loud about it too.

Fundamentally, I disagree with buying stuff for stuff's sake. My kids get maybe one or two presents tops. Birthdays presents are sparse, we do things instead of getting things. And that's what I want to say to my foster daughter's mom. The kid doesn't need a mom who can buy her stuff, she needs her mom. I feel a massive build up of stink eye towards her mom.

Feelings are funny things. They're pretty useless though, at least in these cases.

I'm not buying presents for these angel card kids. I'm not being my foster daughter's second mom. I'm showing God's love. I'm letting them know about being saved and letting the love pour through me.

Because that's what Christmas is all about. And the more I focus on that, the less I succumb to bitter and hatred. I let His love fill me till I'm overflowing. That way, I spill all over those angel cards and foster kids.

:)