Tonight thank God it's them instead of you

It's no secret that my favorite Christmas song is "Feed the World" by Band Aid. There is something about those bells at the beginning, and Bono's voice (which I usually could care less about) that makes my skin start to tingle and my eyes well up with tears.

I know it's not the Christmas season yet, it's not even officially Halloween yet, but eh. I don't follow the rules.

I got a catalog in the mail the other day that I wanted to share with you guys. If you're like me, the holidays are a time when you look to how you can help other people who aren't as fortunate. I got a Heifer International catalog in the mail and I thought "Genius! I can help someone else, maybe even a whole bunch of people, and it involves cows and goats!"

It doesn't take a whole lot of money to help a whole lot of people in some parts of the world. Sure, a water buffalo costs $250 but you can also give a flock of chicks for $20 or a trio of rabbits for $60.

We take protein for granted in this country. Did you know a chicken's egg is the most pure form of clean protein you can eat? In the States we have the luxury of deciding to be vegetarian, of cutting milk and dairy out of our diets, of not eating pork, of only feeding our children organic milk. There are millions of people in this world that would give their right arm to eat all of the foods we turn our noses up at.

So think about it, if you're in the mood for giving this Christmas. A hive of honeybees is only $30. Without honeybees, we've got nothing.

I might have given a goat, a trio of rabbits, and a flock of chicks. Just an idea.

- H

Crap. The wagon is rolling over me.

OK, second day in a row that I've failed the Pepsi Challenge. Which, in case you're curious and in case you're younger than, oh, thirty three, is a not-so-veiled reference to those Pepsi Challenges that used to plant themselves in the malls of America and let blinded people try to tell the difference between Pepsi and Coke. Hello?! That's not even a challenge. That's just free drinks.

I know I'm supposed to be officially quitting Pepsi, but once again I succumbed to my weaker side (which actually makes up about 92% of me cause I'm not strong nor do I have any willpower whatsoever) and drank half a soda with my McDonald's burger at lunch today.

What other choice did I have? I had two small boys in the back who were surely going to die of hunger and an acute lack of stimulation if I did not pull over that instant and equip them with food in a colorful box accompanied by a plastic toy made in China and coated with lead paint.

And it's rude to watch other people eat and not eat yourself. Right?

So I had a cheeseburger.

And everyone knows you can't eat a cheeseburger without a soda. Cheeseburger and iced tea? Gag. Besides, I'd already downed a gallon of tea while avoiding Pepsi this morning.

So I ordered a small drink. You all know those small drinks at McDonald's are really freakishly small.

And I only drank half of it.

So that's good, right? I'm definitely on the right track. Either that or I'm hanging by my fingernails to the train that's on the right track and I'm trying super hard not to fall off it and have the wagon roll over me.

You know the worst part? It wasn't Pepsi. It was Coke.

Oh, and I gained another two pounds yesterday.

- H

I've already fallen off the wagon

Three days into my Pepsi-free lifestyle and I lapsed today. I got an iced tea at breakfast, which is so lame it makes actually going to Bread Co. every morning almost a ridiculous waste of time. In a moment of weakness at the cups and napkins station, I took one of those little water cups they have and put a shot of Pepsi in it. I drank it.

Then Griffie and I went out running errands while Cooper hung out with my mom on His Special Day with Grandma, and we went through Culver's drive-through for lunch. I ordered a Pepsi.

I only drank half of it, so that's cool.

I guess a half a Pepsi plus one shot in three days is still better than what I was drinking before. Sucks that I've gained three pounds during these three days. It's not exactly helping my motivation to be getting bigger, you know?

I will carry on, though. In the name of all that is healthy, I will carry on.

Oh, and remember my new thing? How I was going to start running? I've run once. Maybe twice, although if I ran twice that second time is blocked from my memory. I think maybe I thought about running a lot and I'm confusing it with actually running.

Sheesh. What a loser.

- H

Quitting crack is really hard

I imagine it's super hard to quit real hard drugs.

Cause I quit Pepsi the other day, and I'm going to share a little secret with you. I think I might be dying. I'm weak. I have a headache that kind of makes me dizzy. Either that or I'm dizzy and it feels like I have a headache. And I'm cranky.

I feel hungry like I could eat the couch but we just ate dinner at 54th Street Grill. Where I ate my entire meal plus snuck bites of everyone else's food. And I'm cranky, did I mention that part?

I didn't really want to quit my beloved Pepsi, if I'm being truthful. It had just gotten to a point where my flabby belly was starting to look like those young teen girls who are drinking too much sugary drinks and wearing huge love handles over their ridiculously low-rise jeans. You've all seem them at the mall. I couldn't lose weight for love nor money but no one had offered me any money to try. I was considering joining Jenny Craig but I knew in my gut that the first thing they'd say is "well, you have to stop drinking soda." And then what's the point of eating their food if I can't wash it down with a cold bubbly fountain Pepsi?

Then there were all the food snobs who would say things like "oh, golly, I never drink soda because it's just so bad for you. All of that sugar, there are like seventeen thousand teaspoons of sugar in each ounce, did you know that?! And the chemicals could melt a bolt. No, I just drink pure water from a private spring in Switzerland or this all-natural neon green concoction of grass juice and wheat juice that's been fermented in a cow's belly that will totally boost your immune system. But soda, ick! It's so unnatural." Usually after one of those conversations I'd want to puke. Not because of my Pepsi. Because of that cracked out green powder they were pouring into their bottled Evian that's supposed to make them healthier or younger or prettier or sexier or richer or whatever.

Most food snobs are more run of the mill. Like my mom. "Honey, you have got to cut back on the soda. The chemicals in Pepsi have been found to leach your system of all its vital nutrients like calcium! Oh, and your kids don't drink enough milk either." I've known her for 37 years. Milk has been her hot-button for oh, about 36.75 of them.

I have just come to the honest realization that I am one of the unfortunate few who does not have the taste for healthful eating. I like fast food. I think it's tasty. I like Pepsi. It's my friend. I like pizza and cheeseburgers. This may also account for my stellar physique. But alas, if giving Pepsi up for a year or two weeks or however long it takes for me to fit into my jeans from last year (yes, almost the entire pile are shockingly tight or even *gasp* un-buttonable), then I'll do it.

Good Lord, if quitting Pepsi is this hard, imagine how hard it must be to quit crack or heroine?! [sic - I misspelled heroin but I kinda like the way it turned out, so I'm leaving it] That's a really good reason not to ever start taking drugs. Not to mention the other added benefits of not frying your brain and not going to prison or ruining your life or health or dying early. You know, the regular.

Say a little prayer for me as I travel through the DTs into the unknown. I hope to report back next week that I'm off the sauce and I'm thinner. I'll let you know.

- H

What hands and birthdays have in common

Yes, there are rebels among us. It is my birthday and despite my explicit instructions, two netty friends wished me happy birthday. Insurgents!

I was driving in the driving rain today - irony? - and I was wondering to myself why I'm so confused by my own birthday.

I don't really care about aging. It doesn't bother me to be older, in fact I've always been one of those people who feels a little more legit each year. I start calling myself the next year's age a few months early.

I don't care for the lines and wrinkles and saggy belly, but I don't think that's it.

I guess I have a hard time knowing what to do on my birthday. How does one celebrate their own existence? Am I supposed to be all Hey, check me out, I'm a year older today! Whoo-hoo!!! Thirty seven years ago today I came screaming into this world and y'all better recognize.

That seems kind of weird. I can remember the year I turned 25. I was working in an office in Peoria and the other girls in my department had ordered a birthday cake. The time came to go into the kitchen and celebrate myself, cut the cake, partake of party fun and eat stuff people brought it for pot luck. We stood around a few minutes. I got uncomfortable, and I went back to my desk. My manager came up to me a few minutes later and was all "are you all right? Why did you leave the kitchen?"

I just told her I was fine, I didn't realize they wanted me to stay in there a long time. I don't know what else I said.

The deal is, I think knowing how to celebrate my own birthday is a little like the part in "Taladega Nights" where Ricky Bobby is being interviewed on TV and his hands keep drifting up into the head shot. He says he doesn't know what to do with his hands, they have a life of their own, which is so true and so funny. Like when you're suddenly on stage or in front of a video camera and you're standing up and you don't know whether to stick your hands in your pockets, hold them behind your back, hold one forearm with the other hand, or what.

That's what celebrating my birthday is like. Like my hands are drifting up around my face.

- H

House arrest

Today's my birthday. Blah blah, don't bother with the "Hey, Happy Birthday, Birthday Girl!" messages. I'm not having any of it. 37 isn't a year to celebrate. I'm not sure what year is a year to celebrate anymore, but maybe 40?

I rang in my birthday (and our anniversary) by taking the boys to the pediatric dentist this morning. It wasn't bad, their teeth looked great and they had fun. You know who else was having fun? The guy who showed up in shorts with his wife or female companion and a small boy [that's the sad part about this story].

As he walked by, Cooper said to me "Why is he wearing a watch on his leg?" in a really loud voice which was cool.

Cause it wasn't a watch.

It was one of those homing devices people have to wear when they're on house arrest or something?

So what in the hell was this guy thinking, that a nice little trip to the pediatric dentist was a good idea? And that on a cold rainy fall day on said trip he should probably wear shorts because then everyone could see this obvious sign of CRIMINAL ACTIVITY and maybe we'd all think he was cool? He looked like a guy who wasn't embarrassed by the boot on his ankle.

Sheesh. I bet there's a story there.

- H

You think you have problems?

Have you ever found yourself inspecting your navel for lint, thinking your life is in a shambles? Maybe your hair didn't turn out right today. Or if you're like me, you have adult-onset acne. Or your neck is stiff. Or your new shoes hurt your feet. Oh my God, I'm talking about myself.

Yeah. You know you've done it.

A sweet co-worker of mine was recently diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. Metastasized to her liver and in her lymph nodes. She's my age.

Here's her story, if you're one for praying or positive energy thoughts, please visit her site and send her some well-wishes.

- H

In-flight reading

I’m on a flight back from a meeting in Dallas. Regrettably I was too cranky at the airport to buy a magazine for my in-flight enjoyment, and I’ve read the American Airlines magazine three times in the last two weeks.

So let’s turn our attention to the Sky Mall magazine. Otherwise known as The World’s Strangest Compilation of Stuff to Spend Your Money On.

For instance, did you know you can buy a toothbrush that cuts your brushing time by 60%?! It’s called the 40 Second Electronic Toothbrush. So now, instead of wasting two full minutes of precious time brushing your teeth, you can complete the job in 40 seconds with this neat-o contraption. For the low low bargain basement price of – get this – $99.95. Holy crap, that’s quite a bargain. I’d be saving almost 100 seconds, twice a day, that’s 200 seconds at the price of almost a hundred bucks, carry the one, that comes out to something like sixteen dollars per minute per month? Or not. I was an English major, not a mathemagician.

A few pages later they’re offering an authentic (very very different from the knock-offs you see everywhere like at Walgreen’s or Borders or gas stations) handmade Irish Shillelagh. Picture a cane without the curved handle. With a bumpy surface because it’s been carved out of wood with knots. And it has a copper tip so that if your kids get a hold of it it becomes a deadly weapon that is seriously more dangerous than lawn jarts ever were. In fact, in the description they say it evolved (because honestly, would a walking stick ever just spring to life on its own?) from traditional fighting sticks (of course) and are used today to herd sheep and cattle. Good thing it’s offered in the American Airlines Sky Mall catalog, otherwise sheep and goat herders would probably never get a chance to see it, you know?

They have a diamond-tipped microdermabrasion kit. For some reason, the thought of using diamonds on my skin doesn't make me very comfortable. Diamonds cut glass. My skin is sensitive enough as it is. Pass.

There’s a portable microwave oven for three hundred bucks. That’s kind of a cool idea for those of us who love irradiated food. And it’s red, so that's cute.

There’s a telekinetic obstacle course. You know, the thing everyone already has (for a hundred bucks) that hooks up your scalp to electrodes and uses your focused brainwaves energy to move a magnetic ball through an obstacle course? Blah blah. Boring.

The laser-guided pool cue. Come on, people. That’s like calling “shooting guns at animals that aren't also carrying guns” a sport. The fun of billiards is hitting the cue ball a thousand times with no success, but then one time by some freak of physics magic you get it right on the mark and sink another ball. That’s when you get to cheer and gloat and act like a ringer. Laser-guided pool cue, jeez. Takes all the fun out of it.

The indoor barking dog deterrent. For those inhumane animal owners who like to send ultrasonic piercing soundwaves through their dog’s brains at the mere sound of a bark. Which, by the way, is how dogs communicate. And how they protect us from intruders. But yes, let’s punish them for talking. For a mere $49.95. There's actually quite a few interesting pet related items. Like two different end tables - one that becomes a dog crate and one that becomes a cat perch. And don't forget the fake palm tree potted plant kitty litter container. Because I want my cat's kitty litter in the living room.

They have the requisite Slanket. And a framed Bon Jovi gold CD collection for your wall, because who doesn't love the eighties. What better gift than a framed collection of CDs you can't play on a stereo? Huh?

- H

A Halloween confession.

With the notable exception of my Most Excellent Halloween Spiders, and the planting and gardening that goes along with the season, I really am not that into Halloween. I am not one who spends months planning their darling children's costumes or thinking about what I could be. I don't go to Halloween parties (this may have more to do with never having been invited to one, but I digress). I just could care less, really.

It's a miracle I'm making the boys' costumes this year. Mostly it's because the stores aren't carrying anything cute, and cute does matter to me. I'm shallow.

I like the trick-or-treaters until 7:15, then I'm usually sick of the damned doorbell ringing and want them to go home. And if no one comes until 6:30, I'm usually ticked off that why are they skipping our house? Don't they know we give out rock star candy and we're nice? What, are they afraid of, the spiders? Sissies.

And then every year is the Very Sad Doorbell story, where the bell rings after 8:00 and it's two or three adults plus a few skinny, sickly kids without costumes, holding bags and basically needing the food because it's calories for their families. That's about when I want to shoot myself and join the Peace Corps. That's when I turn out the porch lights and lock the door.

So it may come as no surprise that the requisite Trip to Ye Olde Pumpkin Patch is not my favorite ritual either.

Today, we decided to torture ourselves and go before lunch. It would have helped if I'd looked up the weather forecast for today.

If I had, it would have read COLD AS HELL. Our car thermometer read 46 when we got there. I was not dressed for 46 and windy. With Halloween festivities.

So we whizzed through the not-so-scary haunted house (mostly so I could get in out of the wind), sat on the tractor and antique firetruck, ignored the sign on the tractor that said "Stay Off Tractor" (oops), and had a pony ride. Threw three pumpkins on the cart and got the hell out of there.

You may notice, my children were also not dressed for 46 and windy. Do they own hats?! Who knows. I usually have another month before I need to think about their heads.

Yeegads, next year I will be checking the weather and maybe coming down with strep throat or gangrene in a toe so I don't have to go.

But the kids had fun. That's all that matters.

- H

My post with unnecessary quotes

I'm sending this picture, snapped by me on my very own Blackberry, to the Blog of Unnecessary Quotes. I just thought I'd share it with you guys cause Lord knows she gets a lot of emails. And because I was so giddy to finally see some obviously unnecessary quotes I squealed like a schoolgirl!




- H

The one where my son said I look like a man

I’m writing this on a Southwest flight from Saint Louis to Omaha [with the magic of the world wide web, it'll actually be published much later in the day, prolly on my return flight to St. Louis]. In my new gig, I have to fly to some cities in Iowa and Nebraska on a fairly regular basis. I get to return home by dinner so it’s no big deal, but it has certainly added a layer of, shall we say, CHAOS to our morning routine.

This morning I got up at 6:00 to get in the shower. By 6:30 Griffin was yelling for someone to come get him, and Cooper crabbed his way down the stairs by 6:45, pissing and moaning that Griffie was yelling at him the whole way.

To be fair, Griffin was yelling at him. He picked up a super cute trick at daycare whereby he screams (or is he growling?) in a gravelly voice at anyone he wants to irritate. I always thought it was just him until I happened to be in his school room on a day where all the boys were ticked off at each other, and they were all screaming the same offensive gravelly scream at each other in a crazy round-robin that never ended. This was the day I said to myself “yeah, I love my job. No way in hell could I be a daycare teacher.”

So I was standing in my bathroom getting ready, and Cooper grumbled in to go potty. I just bought some new suits because my old ones were raggedy and didn’t fit very well. I put my last old suit in the donation box Tuesday night.

Today I put on my snazzy new black pants, a white dress shirt with French cuffs (LOVE French cuffs cause I’m tall and they make it look like the shirt actually fits me and I don’t have orangutan arms). I even jazzed it up with a chunky Boden stone necklace. Ooh la la, I was prepared to knock Nebraska’s socks off.

Cooper took one look at me and said “you look like daddy.”

What?!

Oh.

Yeah.

Black pants, white button down shirt. Except for the tie, I did look just like dad.

- H

I read a good book

The title of this post was kind of an untruth. I didn't really read an entire good book. I read the first half of a good book and who am I kidding? I don't have book-reading time anymore. Someday (hopefully in the not too distant future) I'll have book-reading time again, but not now.

So I had this cool book sitting around my house. My mom is a big reader, and doesn't mind spoiling storylines for me, so I gave it to her with instructions to read it and tell me what happens. By the by, did you know there are some weirdos out there that really don't like telling plots and storylines to books and movies? I just think it's strange, I have to practically force them to tell me what happens when we all know I'm never going to get a chance to read or see what I'm begging them to tell me about! So strange.

I'll spare you the spoilage, but let's just say I got a stream of live updates tonight as my mom was reading, filling me in on the suspense and twists and turns. She loved it, she's recommending it to her book club this winter.

I don't have a book club, but I figure if you're reading this blog you can read, and maybe someday you'll be sitting around thinking "hmmm, I wish I'd heard about a great book I could buy at Target or check out from the library." And then you'll be able to say "hey, wait! I did hear about a good book from Heather's mom (because honestly, I can't take credit past the first 35-40% which I thought was really good)."

I bought mine at an airport bookstore, but I'm Borders or Barnes and Noble has it, too. Let me know what you think if you read it.

It's called The Weight of Silence by Heather Gudenkauf, set in Iowa because the author is in Iowa. I have a friend in Iowa, I think she'll like this book.

- H

Who doesn't love garden gnomes?

I've been totally stumped as to what Griffin might be for Halloween this year. Target doesn't seem to have anything cute for his age, and he's just not into anything. Cooper has a ton of requests, from ghosts to Spiderman to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (which he's never seen, by the way).

I stopped at JoAnn's the other day and I found it! The perfect costume for Grif - he's going as a garden gnome. I can't wait to make it and share the pictures. For some reason I can't copy and paste a picture of it, I'm sorry.

The cool thing is the same pattern that has the turtle shell has the garden gnome, so I saved four bucks. Cooper's thrilled and so am I. And Griffie will be happy when people smile at him and give him candy. Of course, I overpurchased all the fleece so I have enough to make two garden gnomes and three turtle shells and the urge to do so and sell them on Etsy is very strong. Must resist. Must resist....

- H

Can diuretics make you cry?

Alright, I went back to my crazy dermatologist today. I call her crazy in the loving-est way. I love her, really. If I printed her name you could Google it and see that she is somewhat famous in Saint Louie for shopping off the internet and furnishing her entire 10,000 square foot man-see-yon with designer bling from the eBay.

But I think I'd feel kind of funny putting that information out there, into cyberspace where everyone who likes to read the world wide web could see where I go when my zits are out of control and I don't want to look 37 anymore.

So for now, let's just say she's pretty cool and I like her.

Today I visited her for a little anti-aging advice on what in the hell am I going to do with this skin that is constantly breaking out? I know, you're thinking other people have real problems and Heather has bad skin, but this is a real problem. It's not just on my face anymore. No, I have this great area behind both of my ears that's super prone to pimples.

Last week I grew a couple on the side of my neck, which is totally cool.

My chest and back are always favorite spots but at least on the chest they tend to blend so nicely with my liver spots and crepe-paper sundamage that you can hardly notice. The final straw came yesterday as I was noticing that I now have zits on my upper arms.

I mean, COME ON. Shoulder caps? Biceps? It's disgusting.

So Dr. Fandango's office took mercy upon me and booked me super quickly and by 1:30 today I was sitting in her office reading brochures on Restylane and Botox and waiting to see what she was wearing today.

Most days she's wearing Chanel flip flops or Gucci boots. Today I didn't recognize her shoes. Probably because as she opened the door and turned to come in and sit down, she audibly gasped and said "oh honey! Are your periods ok? Because this is just not good, not good."

Me: "I don't know, I don't get them anymore. IUD."

Her: "Ugh! This is hormones, sweetie, I'm going to have to start you on sprintolaxacone [or whatever, I'm too lazy to go look at the bottle label]. Now the deal is, it's a diuretic but it actually works to regulate your hormones and I have a TON of women on it and it works really well. Drink a lot of water. It'll make you pee a lot."

Yadda, there was more conversation and maybe sometime down the line we'll change up my non-existent skincare routine, but for now I've started taking this diuretic. And I've also started weeping.

Yes, that's right folks. Diuretic = weeping for Heather. It's not really my fault. I finally dragged the laptop up to bed so I could watch House Hunters International where a couple of foreign bajillionaires are looking for a new house on the Malfi coast, and read my favorite blogs. It's something I haven't had time to do since 'Nam.

And wouldn't you know it? That Penne got me! She has the most beautiful post right now about pets. I laughed and cried, it was like the waterworks watching Terms of Endearment, and then read funny in the hood and sobbed through that one, too, only those were tears of laughter and the first ones were tears of denial that I will ever lose my girl Binnie. Where is she, anyway? BINNIE! Come sit by me for a second.

So I can't wait to see what the next few months on a diuretic are like if this is the first night. Hey, maybe I'll get all skinny and un-water-retained? Wouldn't that be cool?! Alright, I gotta go watch the ninnies - er, first-time home buyers - that think paint color is a deterrent to buying a home.

- H

Cute is as cute does

I found a super cute thing. It's called Clothkits, and it's genius and cute, the perfect combination.

Clothkits is a British company that sells, well, cloth kits. Pre-printed fabric kits for things like kid's clothes and women's skirts and pillows and all sorts of fun things. The Magic Tree skirt is my favorite.

Seriously, if someone were to introduce that in the States it would go over like gangbusters right now. If I had any gumption or desire to work ridiculously hard to start up a business, this would be it. Or maybe something different, but still - a very good idea.

I've totally downsized my fabric stash after clearancing out my Etsy shop and you know what? The sewing bug isn't gone. She's just living a lot more quietly in my head. Stewing and brewing and cooking up new ideas. My Etsy shop isn't gone for good, just for now. It's probably good timing, since the seasons have just dramatically changed. Now I can dream up cozy warm winter clothes for little girls.

The downside to not selling as much on Etsy is I've spent far too much time shopping on it. I recently caved and ordered a bunch of stuff that I'd been stalking all summer from gaiaconceptions. I can't wait to get them and hopefully I'll be all svelt and buff from my new exercise routine. I hope I'm still exercising by the time they come. In two weeks.

- H