Sick. Again? Still?

Ok, so I've been battling the flu over the last week. I thought I was feeling better and just a little tired. But once again I feel like dookie. If I owe you email? It'll be on hold until I sleep a lot more.

I think it's the evil caulk's fault. That or the ribbon.

Disorganization.

My workroom? Looks like an art supply store threw up. I hate messes. And with my workroom a mess, I don't go in. When I don't go in, I don't make anything. When I don't make anything? I get creatively constipated. And that makes me cranky, people! I just can't get a handle on things. The ribbon? Is totally staging a revolt and taking over. The stamps have gone into hiding, which sucks because if I don't see them I forget to use them. My mom gave me the full set of Nick Bantock inks for my birthday (because? My mom is cool like that. She's an artist too. Yay for me!) But my poor inks are sitting smack in the middle of my table right now for fear of losing them in the chaos.

So what have I done to remedy the situation? Pretty much gone into denial and watched HGTV and Best Week Ever on DVR this morning. Have you ever seen Rezoned on HGTV? Love that show. It's basically about public buildings - usually 50 years old or more - that have been turned into private homes. Blacksmith's shop, fortune cookie company, cap and gown factory, firehouse... some really great spaces. SO creative. The really great thing I've noticed is that many of the people fixing up these spaces aren't the Gen-X'ers you might expect. They're older, in their 50's, 60's and even 70's (the couple who fixed up the steel mold making shop in Pittsburg were so cute.) All these people have done years of work to uncover amazing spaces in which to live. We, on the other hand, have done a year's worth of work to uncover the basic shoebox that is our house. Blech.

Anyway, what else did I watch in my effort to totally ignore the chaos in my workroom? I had another episode of Creature Comforts to watch. I'm totally loving that show. Rusty doesn't get it at all and I laugh myself silly sometimes. The show is on BBC America and is by the creator of Wallace & Grommit (a favorite in our household - that's them in the pic). It's essentially this:

Now, for this BBC America series of nine 30-minute episodes, Park has expanded the concept into a collection of shorts that are airing three per week. The opener serves up the original short along with two other segments. It's unfailingly adorable stuff, showcasing very elaborately drawn stop-motion critters (pigs, alligators, dogs, monkeys, birds) spouting very British observations about life in words culled from the mouths not of voice-over artists but regular members of the public in England. So you have sea lions speaking out against liposuction, a horse explaining that he sleeps alone because of a flatulence problem, a buck-toothed donkey divulging his mating habits and flies trapped in a spider web discussing how they've been there "for two years." It's wonderfully deadpan stuff that finds "Wallace & Gromit" creator Park at his subtly irreverent best. Set the TiVo to grab this one. (Hollywoodreporter.com)

The two dogs (Brian and "Keif" who are brothers), garden snails, pigs, a seeing eye dog, a hamster in a cage and more? Crack me up. The Sharpei doing his impression of Julia Roberts? Ha! The penquin kid asking his mom for money for the ice-cream truck in the middle of her interview? Loved it. The kids' voices are hysterical. And the two old ladies that do the bats? They are fabulous.

Anyway, yeah, didn't do much organizing today. But did get some "non-Dora/Diego/Backyardigans/PBS Kids" TV in while Sean played. But now I'm off to fight the ribbon wars. I'll take a few pictures of "Before" and "After". Unless my camera is stuck under the chaos somewhere.

P.S. (for Linda) This ranks as one of the most boring entries evah. I am, however, adding links to some of the stuff so maybe that will make up for the brutal boringness?

Sorry.

Dear Bloggity Blog,

Please accept my sincerest apologies for neglecting you. It's not that I don't want to update you on a regular and timely basis. I do. I so enjoy blabbering on and on about abso-freakin-lutely nothing. It makes me feel cool in an "Internet-meets-Seinfeld" kind of way. Tearing out your kitchen? Hysterical. Removing 400 year-old wallpaper? Comic gold, people. I mean, really. I know you all live for my posts. Your lives revolved around your "Refresh" buttons as you repeatedly click hoping to see something witty appear.

(I'm having a hard time keeping my sarcasm levels up enough to finish this post... bear with me)

Ok, so really? I've been down with what is most likely the flu. I've also been doing some actual work (as in "graphics"), trying to remove the old caulk from the bathtub in the boys bathroom, cleaning and organizing my workroom so I can actually get in there to do something creative and Jazzercising (though the Jazzercising was on hold this week while the flu persisted). I'm kind of achy and tired and cranky but otherwise fine.

In other news, Sean has gotten to be too much to handle. He fell down the other day and just laid there and said, "Um, a little help here?" I have no idea where the child gets his personality from ::cough:: RUSTY::cough::

Ok, well, that's about all I've got for now. My arms are tired and my head hurts and my legs ache and I'm going to go lay on the couch now. Like one of those giant sumo-sized jellyfish.

Got all da' bomb frostings

We saw this when it aired on SNL last month and still laugh every time we see it. Chris Parnell is hysterical when he raps. Not bad for a stubby white guy. The new guy is really funny too.

Inevitable.

Alright. For a while now I've been debating posting this kind of entry on my blog. It's an entry about my body. I know a lot of people don't want to read this kind of thing. But? It's my blog and I'll post whatever the crap I feel like posting. So there.

Ok. At the root of this post is my unhappiness with myself physically right now. Over the last six months or so I've gained and lost weight depending on the chaos of my life and how I was dealing with it. I know this is somewhat "normal." But guess what? I don't care if it's "normal." You know why? Because I did too much work to get back in shape after Sean was born to be such a lump now. Let's go back in time for a bit, shall we?

When I was pregnant with Liam? I gained seventy pounds. That's right. Se-ven-ty. Seven Oh. Before that? I wasn't "skinny". But I was in pretty decent shape. I was a happy size 8. I had Liam (who was totally worth the seventy pounds, by the way) and for some strange reason thought that all that pregnancy weight would magically disappear. Stupid, I know. Anyway, I was all kinds of depressed because of my weight and probably a touch postpartum as well. I didn't do much to take care of myself. I was, essentially, a big unhappy lump. One of my biggest failures as far as I was concerned was that up until I got fat? I didn't think my looks mattered to me all that much. I thought I was "deeper" than that. And I felt like I was now a hypocrite by feeling as depressed as I did. I knew being a size 16/18 wasn't the end of the world. But it still felt like it deep down inside.

When I became pregnant with Sean? I was terrified of getting even fatter and only gained eleven pounds with his pregnancy. Which sounds all great and such until you remember that I had already gained more than half of my previous body weight with Liam's pregnancy. Oy vey. Anyway, Sean was born. I wasn't quiet so depressed this time though in hindsight I think it was because I knew Rusty and I weren't planning on having any more children so my body was mine again. All of a sudden? I was all kinds of motivated.

After Sean stopped nursing at six months old, I joined Weight Watchers. I started walking and then eventually running. Over the course of the spring and summer following Sean's birth I lost almost sixty pounds. I wasn't out to get "skinny". I was out to find some part of myself that I felt I'd lost under all that weight. I was back in a size 10 and even an 8 in some things. I felt like myself again. Then? We moved.

The first couple of months in Maryland weren't all bad. I stayed the same size and ran a bit. But then the contract on our house in Ohio got held up. Our few months living with Rusty's mom turned into almost a year. Rusty's mom? God lover her, she doesn't really cook. We ate out a lot. A LOT. It took its toll and I was back into a size 12 then a 14. And I've been battling it all this past year. We're in our own place again and you'd think that would help. But with the kitchen renovation, and the house upheaval overall? Plus the stress over the summer with Liam's testing? I'm now a very unhappy size 16. So what will I do about it?

Well, for one thing? I'm not a big fan of making New Year's Resolutions. Because? I break New Year's Resolutions. And then I feel all bad about breaking the stupid resolutions. So I chose to ignore the whole thing. But last week I snapped. I hated looking at myself in the mirror. I hated not buying clothes because I refuse to buy size 16. It's not a vanity thing, either. I'm 5' 4" (and that depends on my shoes). My frame is not happy lugging all this extra poundage around. So at the urging of Liam's teacher - who is really great and has lost 45 pounds herself since school started - I started going to Jazzercise right up the street from my house. Oh heaven help me.

I don't know what I expected. I mean, I guess I thought it would be all "dance-y" and whatnot. Oh noooooooo. It kicked my butt. Which irritated me so I went back. And then went back again. I went four times last week and tonight will be my second time this week (the whole pink eye doctor's appointment thing kept me home Monday and Tuesday). I actually got out of bed and hauled booty up the street at 7:45 last Saturday morning just to jump around like a fool for an hour. And to laugh at myself with Maria (Liam's teacher, who is fast becoming one of my new favorite people).

So. What does all of this mean? I am not a size 16 if I can help it. If I exercise and try to at least be somewhat conscious of what I'm eating and then I'm still a size 16? Then fine. But I'm doubting that's the case. So I'm putting here in writing. I'm not going to obsess about some number on a scale. I'll rate it by sizes. I won't freak out and only write about my diet or exercise or whatever from now on. In fact you may not hear it from me again. But if you do? Please be patient and tolerant of me. If you're a size 16? Don't take my unhappiness with it personally. It's not the size. It's me.

Ok. That's all I have to say. Move along.

Uh.

Ok. I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. Um... we stripped off the 400 year-old ugly wallpaper from our bedroom Sunday afternoon (can you imagine? Wallpaper that pre-dates the United States itself.) It was that stupid grass paper stuff. You know, like on that episode of "Trading Spaces" when Hilde stuck hay on the walls. Thankfully, the stupid, ugly, 400 year-old, real grass wallpaper was only on one wall so it only took one annoying day to strip instead of multiple annoying days. Ugly, stupid wallpaper.

Anyway, we've primed that formerly ugly wallpapered wall and started painting. To anyone who saw our house in Fairfield? It's the same color we had in the family room - "Dusty Trails" (not to be confused with "Dusty Bottoms" of Three Amigos fame.) Though stripping the stupid, ugly 400 year-old wallpaper was fun, trying to paint our miniature master bedroom is even more fun. Imagine yourself in the handicap stall of the ladies room at your local Target (if you're a guy? You're on your own because I don't know of the mens' room has handicap stalls) Anyway, go ahead. Imagine yourself standing in the handicap stall in the ladies room. Now, you're probably thinking, "hey, this is kinda roomy." But then imagine that your bedroom is roughly the same size. Not so roomy now, is it? Now imagine that you're crammed into that handicap stall with a king sized bed and a few dressers thrown in. And imagine further that you're trying to paint that handicap stall so you you have to move all of this furniture around the room to access each wall to paint (and now imagine Target security coming in and demanding to know what the crap are you doing to that bathroom stall and where did all that furniture come from). I'll be sure to post the fabulous photos when we're finished.

In other news, Liam is home with pink eye today. Because, you know... fun! The only thing worse than a sick six year-old is a sick six-year old who doesn't feel sick. That's all we'll discuss regarding pink eye, because yuck.

Now, see, Jodia and Linda. Aren't you sorry you asked me to update? I have absolutely nothing of interest to say. Nada. Nothing. El zippo. Maybe I'll try to get some pictures posted to take up space and make it look like I'm actually having some sort of life (ha, good luck with that!)