Talent Out Their Ears

...my brothers have it...

http://www.wannaberacing.net/woutlaw.html

One stipulation: ABSOLUTELY no laughing at their best-bro-fros...

The Purpose-Driven Blog

And I sit here, digging in my proverbial heels, procrastinating the sleep I so desperately need to get through tomorrow. Yep. Tomorrow. The day that my "legitimate" medical education begins (though the practical one started 12 years ago this September). I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!! I start PA school tomorrow! Geeze, this is gonna be like the Uber-Mental-Ultra-Marathon of Doom! What the heck. I say, "Bring it." Show me a challenge, then watch me rock your faces off in amazement. ;0)

My friend, Erika, recently had her entire blog bound for posterity's sake, and it got my wheels turnin' (faster than usual -- but with actual direction this time!). I've journaled faithfully(-ish) since I was about the age of the average Hannah Montana fan. Sadly, once I got married, though, that went pretty much out the window...or it's just been teetering precariously... with about a dozen entries in the past eight years. (Hubby Dearest brags that it's because when I married him, all my dreams came true. Eh, I'll give him that. ;0)

But around New Year's time, I got to really thinking about the purpose of my journal and how to make the most of my entry time. It was then I realized this: if I want it to be useful to me (or my poor, unsuspecting posterity), I'll need to cut to the chase about WHAT I'VE LEARNED!!! Recently. In the past. Vicariously and through sad/happy/hilariously ironic, personal experience. Not exactly Pearls of Wisdom...maybe more like Pumice. OOH! Insightful AND exfoliating!

So here it is, folks: Life 101.

• Everyone needs an advocate. (This cruel world has enough critics, thank you very much.)
• Life is too short to own a David Spade movie.
• As a man(die) thinketh, SO IS (S)HE!
• Speak kindly. You never know who's defending you at this very moment.
• New razors are NOT my friend.
• Don't fear the mob. (Or the reaper. But a cowbell in the hands of Will Ferrell? Now that's something to fear.)
• The chance that your 3-year-old will splatter an entire Costco-sized vat of a greasy, smelly substance all over your house is inversely proportional to the number of minutes since you scrubbed that house clean.
• An experience is only bad if the lesson(s) went unlearned.
• Practice makes permanent.
• I run exactly like a lumberjack with a rash.
• Feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and self-defeat are nothing more than a jealous Satan working overtime.
• Swimming is fun...unless you're a cell phone.
• While we're on the subject, Bella Dunkerella, electronic devices do NOT get thirsty. Ever.
• Never underestimate Satan's craftiness.
• It's not old people's fault. Sometimes they buy the car with the signal already on.
• If less is more, think of how much more more would be.
• Shampoo your carpets and you'd best prepare to clean up the ensuing pet barf.
• The hardest climbs often bring the greatest perspective.
• Journaling is cathartic. So is burning the bad parts.
• We are REQUIRED to forgive all men.
• Wanna serve the community? Avoid creating or perpetuating drama!
• The only people who can be trusted 100% are immortal.
• Before you despise someone for something about them, make sure you don't share that quality.
• I don't care what Disneyland attraction your head is shaped like: Bic'n it is ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS superior to a comb-over.
• If you can only find one person in the world you can trust, make sure it's your spouse.
• Time only heals what you let it.
• Become a mom and you'd better be prepared to become a milk factory, a deflated off-road tire, late to everything, a binky, a broken record, a road hazard, a Nazi, a 24-hour on-call maidservant, a buzzkill, a sounding board and a launch pad. Often simultaneously. (Oh, and the happiest, most joyous, most eternally fulfilled person in the world.)
• If a liar tells the truth in the woods and no one is around to hear it, would anyone have believed it anyway?
• Satan can mimic everything but peace.
• Hair growth follows gravity along the path of least resistance, old dude in the line at the grocery store. If you're missing it on your scalp, plan on mowing it out of other orifices.
• There is no limit to the power of positive reinforcement. (This works as well for 4-year-olds as it does 49-year-olds.)
• Moisturize, moisturize, moisturize.
• Good music is just as medicinal as laughter.
• Wouldn't you rather love someone more than they deserve than short them where they earned it?

Yeah. That sounds like a decent running start for now. So, lay some of your gems on us!

"It's okay, Mom..."

"...I'm dus' covering my moles wif my hands."

DOH!!!

Does This Drag Boat Make Me Look Fat???

• Screaming across glassy water at downright irresponsible speeds, risking (at the least) imminent bodily harm.
• Anchoring myself to the steering wheel like a hostage wired to a bomb clutches the motion-sensitive detonator.
• Snickering at the epileptic tach needle as it mirrors my uncontrollable bouncing over even the slightest trail of "lake lice" (you may refer to them as jet skis).
• Wondering how effective "racing shoes" really are at being life-saving flotation devices. (Yeah, still not buying that one.)

All for a rush that makes my cheeks burn with excitement, my abs sore from uproarious laughter, and my dreams ring with the sound of a surprisingly throaty little 350 that packs a punch.

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What's not to love?!?

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Plus I giggled like a school girl in pigtails...wait a minute, I was wearing pigtails...when I stood up out of the carbon fiber sliver, unstrapped my helmet from my harness, pulled off the helmet, peeled off the "sock" (more sweat-net than anything), shook my hair out -- and a boat full of boys, their dad, and their grandpa, stared until the youngest boy shrieked:

"WHOOOOOAH!! That's a GIRL drivin' that thing?!?!"

Believe it, cutie. Mission accomplished. :0)

Mad props (Haha!!! Get it?! Props? 'Cuz boats, and, um, yeahhhh.....) to my brother, Paul, who's teaching me (select bits of) everything he knows, and for my brother, Buzzz, who slaved with Paul over the Money Monster for more months than they care to count.

Seriously. Nothing says love like letting your little sister race your prized possession.

Plus I think the family had fun chillin' on shore.

Now THAT's my idea of a Friday.

The Cutest Bug On The Block

Today, my baby turns three! (Interesting mix of emotions there.)

Just when you think your bugster can't get any cuter, you uncover a long-forgotten gem:



HAPPY BIRTHDAY, QUINSTERELLA!!! I LOVE YOU!!! I speak for Daddy and Big Brutha Squid when I say that you have made my life and my world brighter than I ever thought possible.

Highway to the Danger Zone...and tax-free commissary!

Perhaps when I start referencing Kenny Loggins soundtrack songs as blog titles, it's time to rethink this blogging thing altogether. ;0)

A few weekends ago, we fired up the Silver Hornet (two points for IDing that movie reference!) and headed to Tucson to see one of my very best friends in the whole wide world, Stephanie, and her daughter, Hannah, and husband, James. You see, I'm a great friend (clearing my throat) and have been many (zero, zip, nada) times to see her new house (that she's lived in for over two years now. But in my defense, gas had been ridiculous, schedules conflicted, my shoe came untied, and the sun was in my eyes.)

Friday night, we slept in the COOLEST LOFT OF ALL TIME, custom-build by her handy hubby, James. Can't wait to go back there! It's like a top-secret fort for grown-ups with a real mattress, total isolation from light, and a step ladder prohibiting the post-midnignt, "Mom, can I sleep in your bed," shenanigans.

Saturday morning, I had a downright ethereal experience running through the streets of Tucson with a crisp, clean breeze, the scent of Citrus and Mesquite blossoms in the air...and a million other people running, too! (Evidently Tucsonians have the most fun...so much for that theory about blondes.)

We then rushed to a farmer's market to meet up with our friend, Allison, whose fiance grows and sells his own organic produce. It's amazing! (Who knew lettuce could taste like butter?! I was running faster and jumping higher less than one hour after my salad, and I think it even lowered my cholesterol AND my interest rate.)

(L->R: Stephanie, me & Allison.)

Little known fact: the last time I saw Allison was the weekend of me and my husband's first date. Awwww with me now.

After a Bella-induced mad dash for a public restroom -- BTW, if you ever require facilities in downtown Tucson, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE!!! -- we headed to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base to see a friend of mine from high school (and growing up, for that matter), Jerome. He's a firefighter at the base......so we chillaxed (that's right -- I'm owning it, in print and everything) with him, his wife, Lori, and his son, Brayden.

Jerome was gracious enough to lead us on the COOLEST firehouse tour in the history of firehouses...mostly because we saw nearly every room......got to sit in every vehicle... ...suited up... ...heckled a firefighter doing girly sit-ups (no need to thank me, ladies -- just doing my job), and shot water scores of feet from a crash truck with a 3,300 gallon capacity. Yeah. Tell me you're not jealous.

The inside of the gazillion-dollar crash truck door.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for hilarious no-no demos. That's it. I'll collect them. Spice up the subtle hilarity that is this blog.

If you live in my ward, you'll know why I got a modest kick out of finding this island of familiarity in a sea of firehouse patches.

Label on a crate that could have easily once housed Madagascar's Gloria. (Equal parts freakin' sweet and perplexing. Do I want to see this on something involving my very own, personal military?!?)

Eh. HTML shoulder shrug. At least it breaks up the monotony of the often-karaoke-ed, never duplicated "Top Gun" song blaring through my head. I can thank the Foo Fighters for that.

..."Now you won't find me; I'm goin' MIA..."