Ham Fixes Everything

As I was busy at work today, I found myself on the internet looking for a new recipe for Christmas (I had trouble focusing this afternoon). I came across a picture of a ham. It was one of those hams with pineapple rings and cherries. It immediately made me think of my Nana, which was weird because I never think about Nana. I was really young when she died, and to be honest there isn't much I remember about her. I remember what she looked like and I remember her house. I remember her garden (she had this huge garden, it was like a palace of flowers) and I remember the rope swing we used to play on. I remember the toys she kept in the hall closet for me and my brothers and sister (the little monster finger puppets were my favorite) and I remember her guest bedroom. On the dresser she had this mirror that laid flat that she kept bottles of perfume on. I always thought it was so pretty, elegant, sophisticated. It is funny the perspective a child has. Now that I think about it though, perhaps that is why I like perfume so much and why I've always wanted an old antique mirror tray for my perfume bottles, but I didn't realize it was because of Nana and the impression her display had on me as a child. (writing really is therapeutic! even for just the simplest "break-throughs").

I remember those things about Nana's house, but I don't remember very much about her. I have one memory that may have clouded all of the other ones. I have this thing in my head that Nana was mean. She was a mean old lady and that is probably why I never really think about her. I was at my grandparents one day and Nana was there. And I know this is when she was older, probably closer to the end because her hair was white and not red anymore. I walked into the house and went to give her a hug, and she stopped me and grabbed me by the shoulders and just looked at me. And then she said I was fat. She said I was turning into a fat little girl and then stood up and walked away. Now as an adult, I know she didn't mean to hurt my feelings or be mean. She was just saying it (I was a fat little girl!) probably out of concern or just an observation. But as a child, it really hurt my feelings. She died shortly after that. And that is how I think about her. She was mean.

Which is why it was odd when I thought about her when I saw the ham. I had to copy the picture and email it to my dad to see if Nana made hams like that. Sure enough she did.

I don't have a memory with Nana and a ham. At least not one I can remember. But seeing the picture of it made me miss her. Really miss her. I had to choke back tears as I sat and thought about her. Nana wasn't mean, she loved me. It took a picture of a ham to remind me of that...

-S

Defying Gravity

I left work promptly at 5:00 yesterday, something that normally doesn't happen. BUT I was cooking dinner and wanted to have plenty of time, plus I had to run to the store to get some last minute ingredients.

While I was at the market running frantically down the isles trying to figure out what I needed so I could get out the door as fast as possible, I walked past the flower section. Normally when I am in a rush, I do not take the time to stop "and smell the roses" but that is exactly what I did! I pulled my cart over and perused the flower display. They were so pretty and smelled delicious. So I made an impulsive decision to buy a bouquet of roses... for myself! Now normally that is something that I would never do, you don't buy flowers for yourself.... BUT WHY NOT?? I decided to throw that learned thought out. If I want flowers, I am going to buy flowers. (I had this little thought battle in my head before I actually put them in my cart).

It was funny, at the market, the checker asked who I was buying the flowers for. When I told her myself, she made a face. When I came home with an arm full of roses, the individual members of my family asked who sent me flowers. When I told each of them I bought them myself, they each made a face (not even sure if they knew I noticed, or noticed that they even made a face).

But for me, buying those flowers almost felt liberating in some strange way. Although the liberating part probably came from the song I heard when I got in my car to drive home from the market; Defying Gravity. I've never really payed attention to the lyrics before (I could always sing them, but I never really listened).

-S

***For all of those wondering how my dinner turned out, it was delicious!***

Safety Deposit Box

A secret holds a heavy burden on those that know it; especially on those that like to tell secrets.

I have a secret that I keep from the world. Most days I keep it from myself, distracted by the day to day mundane tasks of life. But it is in those rare moments when the air is quiet, when it is still, and it feels as if nothing else but you and your thoughts exist, that is when a secret slinks its way out of the darkness. Slowing making its way up your body, desperately seeking an ear where it can whisper its truth and unleash its destruction.

-S

Slapstick Comedy: Funny or HILARIOUS?

I've noticed something about myself, I like to laugh; it is one of my favorite things. I've also noticed that I really like to laugh at other people's embarrassing or dumb moments, and especially when they get hurt. Not take you to the hospital hurt or massive amounts of blood hurt, just hurt enough to make it funny. I've also noticed people's reactions when I start laughing at them, usually while they say "stop laughing, it really hurts" (this makes me laugh more... BUT I've been there too, remember the 'great fall' during the bathroom race of '97? I thought Katie would pee her pants as she laughed at me rolling around on the sidewalk saying "stop laughing, it really hurts").

One thing that I really like about me, I can laugh at myself (and I do, quite frequently)...

*unrelated thought: Do you think a sense of humor comes with weight gain? Look at all of the fat comics out there. I personally noticed that the fatter I get, the funnier I am. Obviously it is not the fat that makes you funny, but do you think it is a defense mechanism that fat people unconsciously hone? hmmm, something to ponder.*

...I can laugh at myself when I do or say something embarrassing, I can even laugh at myself when I get hurt. Which brings me to last night. I got seriously hurt and: 1) there was no one there to witness it, and 2) I wish that I had a camera set up in my room last night to have caught that on video... of course it would have been 10 times funnier if it had been someone else, guaranteed there would have been pee all over the floor. It was so funny, I'm still laughing today (although I will say it is more painful today than it was after it happened, I am very sore!).

This Is My Story: BONG, BONG (yes, that was a law and order reference...)

I'm laying in bed last night (about 10:00) watching So You Think You Can Dance (for all of those that watched it, didn't you LOVE the Homeless/Rich Man dance? I thought it was a fantastic piece), and I tilted my head back and behind my head on the wall, up toward the ceiling there was a spider... Ugh. So the spider wasn't scary enough to go drag someone out of their bed to kill it, but still scary enough where it had to die. I got out of bed, turned the light on, and grabbed a shoe. I went over to my bed, climbed back up on it (keep in mind, my bed is really high off of the floor, it comes up to my waist when I stand by it), and stood psyching myself up to kill it. Just as I was posed right above the spider (in motion to squish) it flew off of the wall toward my face! Of course it scared me and I stumbled backwards off oh my bed falling into my computer chair and armoire. My hand got cut in 3 different places, I twisted my knee, and banged my head hard enough to get a bump. As I laid on the floor, cracking up, I realized that "no Sarah, that was not a spider but a flying bug" (I think it was a mosquito... which still must die). I wish I could have seen my face as I was falling to the floor (and it's a big drop to have fallen while you were standing on my bed). It was hilarious!! And there was no one there to see it! So of course I had to go around the house and share my blunder with my family, it was too funny to keep to myself.

So lesson? I could have sat there and held my wounds and cried, but it was much, much better to laugh. And to be honest, I would have preferred to have someone there laughing with me (I guess it would actually be at me). So for all of you that get offended when I laugh at your pain, don't, join in with me!

-S

The Story May Be on the Ten O'Clock News

Have you ever wanted to crumble somebody up (like a ball of paper) and flush them down the toilet?

Pacifiers, Bottles, & Diapers

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a mom. What little girl doesn't? I wanted 3 kids but depending on finances and my husbands wants, I would be willing to go as high as 5. I've had my names picked out since I was a child: Aidan "insert the father's 1st name here", Colton (Cole for short) Brace, and Kyanna (Ky for short) Jayne. This is what I wanted. Being a mom is something I thought I would be really good at (I would always joke about how I'd make a horrible mother, but I never believed that, and I would get secretly offended if someone agreed with it).

Here I sit, so far off from where I thought I would be at 26, but so relieved that I don't have the life that I thought I would have by now. I don't think that that life is even something I want anymore... I babysat my niece and nephew over the weekend for maybe 2 hours. I love my niece and I love my nephew. They are adorable and beautifully wicked. But I get to hand them back to their mom. I get to give them back and then get to do whatever it is that I want to do. I like doing what I want to do. I like not being responsible for someone else. I like the freedom. But more importantly, I honestly don't think I can do it, I don't think I want to even try. I am ok just being the aunt; I have my big 10 year old, and I have my cute little 3 and 1 year olds with potentially more on the way. I'm good. I'm content. I'm free.

I may not be up for the task, but for all of the moms out there, I have to tip the proverbial hat to you; you definitely don't get the credit you deserve.

- S

Mucus & Flem

When do you hit the realization that you are a grown up? There are the obvious milestones in ones life when you know you are getting older: first day of school, first day of junior high, first kiss, first day of high school, drivers license / dating, being able to vote, and for the masses reaching the age of drinking and gambling. But it is the subtle milestones that make me feel old: changing wallet sizes from the cute square "teenager" wallet to the rectangular-fat "mom" wallet, showing an interest in gardening, realizing that cooking is fun, having your purse grow exponentially bigger over the years (I remember the cute, tiny little hand bags I used to have... now my purses are huge! I actually use a Hurley diaper bag most days, and I don't even have kids!!), and making that "old man" sound when you bend down to pick something up (you know the one I'm talking about. The one where it sounds like you are in jeopardy of straining 7 different muscles but in the end make it back up without any pain so you get the "sigh of relief" sound mixed with the "straining bend over" sound?). But here's my number one sign of getting older, when you voluntarily offer stories about your bodily functions.

I remember as a child and even into my 20s hearing adults talk about disgusting, private bodily functions. I've never understood how they think it is acceptable to talk to other people about the substances that the body pushes out (mostly from the rectal region). I mean, this is just something you don't do. Yet it is talked about among the older population. I never thought I would reach that point...

I was promoted at work a few months ago (by default yes, but nonetheless promoted) and since that time I've been working a lot closer to the owner of my company, and in connection with working closer to him, I've actually gotten much closer with his wife. His wife and I have always been on pleasant terms, she would come in and we would exchange pleasantries, nothing ever in depth. Though we've become closer, she is still just my bosses wife, it's not like we would ever call each other up on the weekend to go to lunch. So imagine my surprise when I reached another dreaded old-age milestone with my bosses wife.

She came into the office, asked me how I was, and then I told her a story about a bodily function... What?? Really? I mean WHAT??? The story just came out of my mouth, there was no stopping it.

All I can do is shake my head, take a deep breath, and patiently wait for the next sign of old age to surface.

-S