Sandy Toes, Salty Kisses, and Butt Support of the American Revolution

I suck.  I suck, I suck, I suck.  I really want to be better at this blogging regularly but blogging occasionally is a hell of a lot better than not blogging at all.  Funny, I feel the same way about exercising as I do about blogging.  I think about it a lot, but don't actually get around to it a lot.  I saw something online today that said "I am fat because a tiny body couldn't hold all this awesomeness."  I feel this way about 50% of the time.  The other 50% of the time I wonder if chairs will hold me and if I will fit through certain places.  This was especially true on our recent vacation to Virginia Beach and Colonial Williamsburg.  The day we arrived I felt tremendously self-conscious and we didn't even put our swim suits on.  Day two I warmed up to the beach and stopped worrying about what I looked like and enjoyed myself.  I'm not very happy that there are pictures to prove this beach vacation but whatever.  When we left the beach and headed to Colonial Williamsburg, I thought I was in the clear - no such luck.  I forgot about one thing - the dreaded Colonial chair.  Not only did many of the Colonial doors into the Colonial buildings open in the middle only giving you half the Colonial doorway to squeeze through, but there were these chairs - Colonial chairs - that are historically accurate to the Colonial time period in material and construction.  Apparently, I am not historically accurate to the Colonial time period because these suckers hurt.  They were about half the size of my butt with knobs that poked in some not-so-comfortable places.  And that was just the design.  The materials used to make said chairs would creak and snap and basically make you feel like its the soundtrack to your ass falling on the Colonial floor.  But I survived and promised myself that I would get back in the gym as soon as the patella femoral tendonitis I had was healed.  That and as soon as the gym we joined was back in business after THE TORNADO!  That's right!  We joined a gym down the street and within a month I had hurt myself and shortly thereafter the gym was hit by an EF1 tornado.  Luckily, we were not there.  Even though it was our usual day and time to go, we didn't.  But I'm thinking there's no way more direct for God to say be happy with who you are first and if you then still want to change yourself - all the better - than with 100mph rotating winds.  So as the gym heals and I heal, I tried to take stock of my self-worth and self-esteem and realize that I am fine.  I like me.  No, I love me.  And I want to slowly but surely improve me - for my health and my family, not for vanity or appearances.  And if I ever find a time machine or develop a means for time travel, I will omit the Colonial period as a destination option. 

If Only I was You're-a-peein'

I was pondering what to write as a blog entry today.  Numerous ideas crossed my mind such as my latest tangle with my local pharmacy ("No I will not pay you $322 because you keep pushing the wrong button") but I settled on a topic that I'm sure we are all interested in - the bidet.

WARNING: This blog post contains juvenile wording for natural human processes and parts.  If this will offend you, please stop reading here.  If you're ok with words like pooh and tinkle, please proceed but comments saying how offended you are will not be tolerated.  You've been warned.

I don't know how it came up.  I think we were watching an episode of House Hunters on HGTV and the house the people were looking at had a bidet.  The potential occupants were surprised and in their uncomfortable way made some borderline inappropriate jokes.  But my daughter asked why they had two toilets.  I responded that one was a bidet.  She had no idea what that was so I explained to her that you use it after the toilet and it shoots water on your lady bits to clean you and then blow dries your private zone.  I explained that they are very popular in Europe but nobody uses them in the United States and I got to thinking - why not?  Why are we as Americans not blessed with possibly one of the greatest forms of hygenic cleansing ever invented?  I mean, what are we afraid of?  A little water?  A little air flow?  We pride ourselves in having technology out the whazoo but when it comes to our whazoo we skimp.  I did however have three questions for my European followers who are veteran bidet users.  First off, does water do the job?  I mean the full job.  Let's face it. We've all had those moments where we need to use more toilet paper than an overzealous three year old.  Does the stream of water have some force behind it to force our behind into clean territory?  Second, same question basically but this time it involves the dryer.  Do you end up feeling like you just sat in a puddle?  And latestly, how does one get from the toilet to the bidet without making a mess or leaving a trail?  I mean they are typically positioned close to each other but not THAT close.  Now, given that I have zero patience to wait for my European friends to comment.  I did what any normal American does when they don't know anything about something.  They Google it.  This is where I discovered the Swash 1000 Bidet Toilet Seat.  With an installation time of less than 20 minutes, you too can feel as though you are poohing abroad.  The review was good (Well I guess it was good.  I don't read many bidet reviews so I don't have a standard against which to measure this one.)  It even answered some of my questions.  Yes, the water does the job.  Yes, you still may need a minimal amount of toilet paper.  And with this particular model, there is no messy transfer from seat to seat.  Its an all in one deal.  It even has a smell elimination feature!  The only real downside is that you will hate poohing anywhere else once you've experience it.  You will become one spoiled tinkler.  But I say, bring it on.  Look out toilet paper industry.  Here comes the Swash 1000.  It will put you out of business.  Maybe that's it.  Maybe the supression of the bidet has been formulated by the toilet paper industry to protect their profits.  Like a toilet paper mafia!  See - good things come from waching cable TV and frequent Googling.  Without these, I never could have warned you about the toilet paper mafia.  Feel free to leave your thanks in the comments and remember this is America - it is your right to bidet.  United we Swash!

Cut the Cord Already

This past Monday was no ordinary Monday.  It was the day that my hubby and I took our daughter to University to get registered for the fall.  They had a day full of activities for the students and parents as well.  I can't really speak for the student happenings of the day but the parent sessions were really interesting.  I learned a lot of little tips for helping my child transition to university life, I was reaffirmed that the things I planned to do were indeed the right things to be doing and I realized that there are some wacko parents out there.  We had a short session that started at 8:30 a.m. and then much to the dismay of some parents, students and parents were split up.  Some of the things that were pointed out to us during those parent sessions were ridiculous - things we have been doing with our child for years.  They were recommending to parents things like "Don't call your child every morning to wake them up or to be sure they have gotten up".  I thought this was a joke.  I chuckled to myself and noticed that aside from Hubby no one else in the room seemed to be amused.  Were these parents actually considering doing this?  That's just crazy.  Your child is old enough to be responsible for rising and shining on their own.  If your child is not capable of doing this on their own, how did they get through high school.  Then it hit me - mommy and daddy.  These are the dreaded "helicopter parents" that I had heard about when my daughter was in junior high and high school.  They do everything for their children.  The thing is I didn't realize that this continued through college.  I can't imagine calling my child's professor to clear up an issue.  If you do that, at what point do you stop doing things like that.  Do they call their child's boss when their child wants a raise?  Where does it end?  My daughter heard my husband and I discussing this crazy style of parenting and shared with us a story she heard of one university student who regularly sent her homework home for her parents to do.  Are you kidding me?  You are paying big bucks for your child's education at this level.  Wouldn't you want them to actually GET that education.  Who knows - maybe it's just one of those urban myths of college.  I hope it is.  All I know is that I plan to not be a helicopter parent in any way, shape or form and should I have to deal with said "helicopter parents", I'm not sure how much patience I'll have.  Parents, at this age your children are adults, young adults, but adults nonetheless.  Allow them to function as such.

The Resignation

I did it!  I officially resigned from my job!
Oh and here was my resignation letter -

I don’t know how to say this, I don’t know how it’s done

But I’m concerned I’ve run my course, this job just isn’t fun 

It was one time way in the past a ministry I thought

But now it’s become frustrating – a ministry it’s not

And so I go in hopes of finding more out there for me

It won’t be hard to fill the office spot I bet you’ll see

I’m giving you my notice, two weeks until I’m done

I want the church to know at times it really was quite fun

But lately things are tough with those overstepping the lines

And venturing to tasks not theirs, to tell the truth they’re mine

As well as folks who volunteered deciding that they’re through

So I’ve been told their jobs fall to me which is not fair if true

And so it is with a sad heart you will not see my name

On the back of the bulletin anymore, the job just isn’t the same

As it was when I started long ago, way back when

So I will be no longer here officially as of May 10

I will miss some of you and wish you well along your way

But due to certain instances I can no longer stay

So good-bye, farewell, see you around and all those other things

It feels so good to finally be spreading out my wings

I feel bad even as I type this and am really on my way out

But before I leave I just have to say I will not miss the Scouts