Day #3 - 30 Days of Truth

Something I have to forgive myself for.

Whether it's our fault or not, as mothers, we take responsibility for anything that happens to our children. Within our control or not. Ask me what I need to forgive myself for.

I'll say for not coming to my son's rescue.

He was taken by his father and step mother at age six and I didn't see him or speak to him again until he was eight.

Two years.

The most heart breaking and difficult years of my life. Past, present, or future.

The event began when I was a young police officer on probation. Family members would get word from time to time that he was fine and being cared for, although continually moved or concealed. Little comfort, but it brought me small moments of peace when having to do things by the book.

My department had advised me that they'd do everything they could, but in the meanwhile, being a sworn member of law enforcement, I couldn't go maiming or breaking down doors. No rash decisions. No impulse moves. No negative reactions. They also outlined the negative impact on children torn from homes via police escort. Like I hadn't had to do that a million times already. I knew. I'd seen the faces. The aftermath.

I wont break the story down here. That's not what this is about. It's about self forgiveness. I don't know if that will ever happen, but that's what this is about, right?

I did everything by the book. I never acted on impulse. I wanted to. I wanted to jump in my car every time I heard he might be somewhere. Break down the door. Tear my son from whatever place he might be at, and gravely injure whomever he might be with.

I never did.

I did what I was told. I acted within the parameters of the law.

I did the right thing.

Didn't I?

When I finally got my son back, I didn't hunt his father down like a dog and bring him the kind of justice I felt he deserved. Fortunately, life has done that.

I did the right thing. Didn't I?

I allowed justice to work its hand.

Involved parties went to court, went to jail, etc etc.

My son. He went through years of hell. Emotional hell.

I held him as much as I could. Worked myself to death to do all I could to repair the emotional damage that had occurred.

But what if?

What if I had been willing to risk my career and go break that door down? Taken him back two years before the end. Been willing to risk a career and a bad moment for the two years that followed.

What if?

Would he have gone through the emotional hell that he did? Would it have been a different kind of damage? Would I have gone to jail for taking things into my own hands? Wouldn't any other mother have risked anything to get their child back?

Responsible. I will always feel responsible for not doing more. For riding the line exactly as I was told. For not throwing caution to the wind and letting my mama lion fly and just getting him back. There would have been other careers, other ways to survive.

Instead, I followed orders. Anguished or not, I stood back and followed the lead of justice, only to have to spend years putting the pieces of my son back together.

The price to pay for that? Not thinking that I'll ever be able to forgive myself for not throwing it all away to do what my heart wanted to. I need to, but I just don't know if that's possible.

Something I love about myself

I like myself. I like who I am and who I've evolved into over the past few years. And yet, I've had a hell of a time with this topic. I love many things about myself. I think we all do, even if it's only in private. But to write about it? Put it out on the public table for consumption, scrutiny?

Maybe it's not even any of that. Maybe it's that we, well I, are not programmed to look at things we love about ourselves and share them. Out loud. You're raised to be humble. Confident but humble. In my case, brought up to be confident and let my actions speak for themselves. Not such a bad thing right?

However, getting to it already. What I love about myself. Not the most, just something I love.

My tenacity.

The definition is as follows:

Tenacious - To hold fast. Not easily pulled apart. Cohesive. Tough. Sticky. Persistent in maintaining or adhering to something valued. Strong.

Strong.

I love the strength I was born into this life with.

I'm a bit of a perfectionist, and yes, my friends who really know me are laughing right now because of the understated nature of that. My point is that, being that way, being tougher then the average person, more cohesive, stickier, if you will, I've pushed myself to do things. Do them well. At times exceedingly well.

Things that most people only dream of doing. Some things that people are terrified of doing just due to the sheer difficulty of it. Things that most people don't consider themselves strong enough to do. Although I think if any of us dug down deep, there's nothing we couldn't accomplish.

I've done this in various areas, but each has taken different kinds of strength. Emotional, physical, mental.

I've been a Marine. Ooh Rah. Completed boot camp out of Parris Island. One of the toughest 13 weeks of rigorous physical and mental training you'll ever experience. And I loved it.

I had to leave my three and a half year old son to do this. The emotional strength it took to do that will always rival any other type of strength I had to use there.

I've cared for an ill family member when I was young. Sacrificing activities that kids my age would have been involved in, friends, all of those things. I was a child raising children and had strength even then.

I've been a single mother. Do I even have to say how many types of strength that takes? Doubtful. It takes them all.

I've had to remain steadfast and within the law when someone took my child without permission. For a long amount of time. The law won out, but the strength I had during that was at such a high level that I may never, and hope to never, experience again.

I've had the strength to stare death in the face and survive. To hold a hand. To fight. To listen. To put my wants and needs aside for others. To give every last ounce, even when I felt like there was nothing left to give. Strong enough to know when I'm weak. And admit it.

I've had and have enough strength to not only help myself, but anyone who's needed it. I don't know where it comes from. I only know that I have it and I am often thankful for it.

So there you have it.

What I love about me.

I'm strong.

Strong enough to write all of this down.

Knowing that I may never myself read it again.

Day #1 - 30 Days of Truth

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.

I've stared at that for a few days now. I cant say that now, at this time in my life, that there's really anything I hate about myself. Hate is such a strong word, with a lot of meaning.

But.

The longer I stared at that up there, I knew that there was one thing. So if I have to pick, it'll be this.

My stomach. And the stretch marks on it.

If you ever need to take a trip across the country, and don't want to spend the money on a map. Let me know. You can use the map on my stomach. Free trip, you don't have to pay for a map, it all works out, right?

Seriously though. Road map. Right there. On my belly.

When Corey was born, he was 10lbs, 1oz. Big. Big head, big baby. Still big. Skinny, 17 and 6'2" tall. Go figure.

Well, all of that baby, stretched the heck out of me, so, there it is. Deep, long, scars.

A lot of people tell me, "It's beautiful, it's a reminder of the life you brought into this world".

Ok, I can accept that. Until I try to stuff my muffin into some jeans I'd really love to wear and look like I'm smuggling water balloons in my underwear.

I've grown quite adept actually at 'hiding' or 'concealing' the stretch marks and the roll that comes with them. I don't wear bathing suits or cut off shirts. Although that's not much of a problem now that the 80's are over.

I appreciate the marks for what they are. Although to call them stretch 'marks' is quite an understatement. They're more like little rivers stretching the length of my torso, carrying small little men in gondolas with nets at the end of their poppets (see below) straining the water for bits of my self confidence.

(......And it’s only by fully making use if its shape that a gondolier, masterly manoeuvring the oar, manages to imprint any direction of motion to the gondola. The poppets get completely hand-built, carving renowned woods for their elasticity, with the help of tools that only expert artisans are capable of using)

Until recently, I was really considering in a couple of years, of having a mommy makeover. You know, put the boobs back, cut off the muffin, all of that. I don't think I'll be going through with that though. For various reasons. CrossFit number one. Other personal reasons two through four. And, I have to say, I do think of Corey and Addison every time I see them.

I know that the roll will be gone once I'm firmly cemented in CrossFit, so I'm not overly concerned about that.

And who knows, after I have a new set of abs, maybe then I'll be able to accept my stretch marks a little more.

They will after all, be on a new background.

Michelle Math

I'll be starting the 30 Day posts tomorrow, but for today, I want to talk about a stress reliever.

Something that makes difficult, if not excruciating waits, jussssst a little easier.

It's called Michelle Math.

Michelle, because, well, that's me bitches, and math, because it is.

I came up with this for a friend going through a TWW (two week wait) and it's kind of come to apply to all waits.

Let me outline the rules and then I'll give an example of how it works. Please, feel free to use it to help you get through any difficult waiting situation. Fun trip, painful surgery, whatever.

Weekends only count as one day. Yep, that's right. Saturday and Sunday = ONE day

Today doesnt count. You're already in it, it's done, you made it, it's here. So, why punish yourself by adding that to the number?

Tomorrow doesnt count. Especially if it's the day OF the event, because well, today's over and you're basically already there.

Anything outside of a weekend, today, or tomorrow, counts as a full day.

So let me give you an example.

A friend of mine is leaving for Hawaii on October 22nd. Bitch. I mean, have a great time! lol ;) Since it's already the weekend, we'll start the count on Monday the 19th and change her leaving to the 27th.

So, it's Monday. Today doesnt count, and neither does Tuesday, because that's tomorrow, so scratch those two days. That leaves three whole days until the weekend.

There are three days of waiting so far.

Then the weekend comes, so that's one additional day. Four days total.

The following Monday counts as one day, so now we're to five.

The day you leave doesnt count, so scratch that.

You just turned nine days of waiting into five. Significant I feel.

Feel free to try it. Adjust it. Make it your own. For me, this really helps with looking towards weekends, visits with friends and delicious meals lol. Enjoy.

A few friends of mine have just started this and it looks like a good way to fill the terribly empty space I've found our blog in lately. So, thanks K and K and, away we go. 30 Days of Truth. The list looks like this:

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself.

This should be an eye opening fun kind of ride ;)

CrossFit is not my Lover

This post was written about yesterday:

I went to CrossFit today.

I left work early for it.

As I often do. Because I love CrossFit way more then work.

So. I went. And when I left.

I cried.

All the way home.

Like a two year old.

Let me back up a little.

This has been a long week. Addison hasnt been sleeping. She's up at least once a night. And when you go to bed between 9 and 10 every night, having to go to work at 4am, once is too much. Needless to say, I've been tired. Shout outs to my many other sleepless mother friends out there. You know who you are.

Work's been challenging. Stupid people irritate me and ignorant people drive me insane. I work with both. I usually do a good job of balancing speaking my mind and knowing when to let things slide. Lately. I've been pretty bitey to say the least. Add to that a co worker who bumped me for my days off, making it increasingly difficult to get to my workouts without burning time. Eff it. Totally worth it. The part I really hate, is that it's a later shift. So, now, by the time I pick up Ad and get home, she's cranky and ready for bed. There goes my time with her.

Our freezer went out Labor Day weekend. The next morning, the refrigerator went out. I had just done a meat run at Costco because of my Paleo challenge. We lost pounds of meat. Chops, ribs, turkey, chicken. You name it. My neighbors made out. Us. Not so much. Challenge interrupted, it was very difficult to keep any kind of focus on nutrition when you have to eat out every day. The fridge just got fixed this last week. So, challenge will start over on Tuesday, but until now, nutrition has SUCKED.

To summarize:

Little sleep. Asshole co workers. Bad nutrition. Strong desire to get my workouts in.

There are other things, but this isnt a 'poor me' bitch session. It's an explanation into a build up.

Today I woke up, especially tired. I had already scheduled myself to get off early so I could get to CrossFit. Even though my body is still reeling from the two days in a row workouts I did the day before yesterday. I needed to go.

So I went.

I wanted to be there, but I knew my face said "I'd rather be anywhere else".

I was beyond tired. Irritated. And tired. And it was hot. Very hot.

The pre workout, workout wore me out. I thought, "I could just work on my pull up drills and rope skills".

No. Do the WOD (workout of the day) says my mind.

Sarah always says, "You can do anything for ** minutes!!!! (insert number of minutes here and then yell it)

She's right. I can do anything for 15 minutes.

Do the WOD.

Ok, I'm doing the WOD.

So, I set up, walk around a little more, stretch and ask Sarah to start the timer before I change my mind.

Today's MetCon WOD was: Three overhead squats with 45lbs/Sprint 200 meters/5 ring dips with one minute rests between rounds.

I hadnt done overhead squats yet, or ever I dont think. Obviously not, because they are difficult.

Frustrating. I didnt expect to pull them off like a champ from the gitgo, but I sure expected to do a little better.

So, first three fails at the overheads and I'm off on my sprint.

My first 200 meter sprint. Well, it started out well. By the time I got to the 100 meter point to turn around, I felt as though someone had given me concrete slippers. Keep going.

Inside for my five very ugly ring dips. One minute rest. Sip of water, and what I know was still that ugly look on my face.

At that moment I thought "CrossFit is not my Lover"

There wasnt even anyone else around. It was me, two trainers and a random person here and there doing their own thing.

I was still frustrated. And I hate feeling like I gave any less then 100% of myself. I just felt like I was running on about 8% total.

Next round. Next round. Next round. I finished a little over four rounds. By the fourth round, I actually did three overhead squats and five decent ring dips. The 200 meter sprint however, was more like a race between a turtle and a rock.

Slow.

I got back inside, logged my workout, stretched a little and drank water. As I sat stretching, I felt a strange ache in my throat. My eyes welled up a little and it kind of caught me off guard.

I finished stretching, watched a couple of guys do some overheads and left.

When I got in my car, I turned it on and sat there for a second and just started to cry. That heavy crying where loud sounds are coming out of your chest.

I drove away and just cried. All the way home. Now. I realize that physical activity can promote release at times. I just wasnt expecting it today. And with myself.

I'm not someone who cries much when I'm so much sad or what not. I'm the one who cries when I'm pissed or frustrated and it's a reaction. I have no problem with that, or putting my shit out there. I just wasnt expecting it.

I gave it some thought and have just decided to leave it to frustration build up and lack of sleep. And irritation that I ever let myself get so out of shape. I didnt start CrossFit expecting to be up to par right away, but I also didnt expect it to be what it is. I'm in it for life though, I can tell that much. I love it.

And now. After venting. Maybe CrossFit is my Lover.

Where were you?

September 11th, 2001. We all know it. It's one of those sad unfortunate events that happen in people's lifetimes that never needs explaining. So. Where were you at?

I will never forget this day. It never gets any less clear as more time passes. I was a patrol officer with LAPD's Rampart Division. I worked 12 hour shifts on Day Watch. On this particular morning I had gotten up at 3:30 am to work out. Came back home, showered and sat down to watch some news and eat my strawberries and oatmeal.

As I'm watching the TV, a live shot from New York is shown. A clear, blue, gorgeous sunny morning. It was about 4:30am my time. 8:30 something East Coast time. The reporters are extolling the virtues of the amazing New York morning and describing how the smoke rising from one of the towers must be a 'small fire'. The smoke begins to rise. The reporters begin to talk about which tower it's in. Oh, and what a beautiful morning for the fire fighters to get in some 'practice'. I'm sure they eat those words to this day.

I sit. My eating slows. I'm ready for work. Just taking my few quiet moments as I do every morning to eat before getting on the freeway. I'm staring. A few other stories come across the screen and eventually, the newscast goes back to the towers. Out of the corner of the screen, movement. Small from my view. Fast. I suddenly realize that my mouth is full. And open. I'm staring and wondering if I really saw what it was I think I just saw. Fireballs don't lie. Suddenly, I lost all track of time. All I knew was, I had to move. I had to get to work. I threw my breakfast on the bed, grabbed my war bag, and ran out the door. Yelling at my roommates to turn on the TV. I didn't know what was going on yet, but I knew, everyone knew, it was big.

The only thing I remember about my drive is the radio. And that I was going fast. I didn't give a shit. I had my badge. I had to get to work. The radio said that they were working on confirming that two jet liners had been hijacked and flown into the Twin Towers. That a third plane had been hijacked and was heading towards somewhere in the Midwest. A third plane? Three?? Is this really happening? A theorist came on and explained that he felt Al Qaeda's plan was to hijack planes from the East Coast, to the West Coast, crashing each one into major landmarks and US populous. West Coast? I work in a major US city. What was more major then LA?

As I pulled into the underground parking lot at the station, I saw other officers driving in quickly, and others practically running from their cars to the back door. Things were moving quickly. So quickly that normal assignments were disregarded. Emergency procedures went into motion. As someone came through the door, someone in uniform with a patrol car ready was waiting. That's who you were with, and your assignment was ready. We were advised that downtown LA was being evacuated and for the most part, shut down. As I came in the back door, everyone was talking about how another airliner had just flown into the Pentagon.

No.

This is really happening.

Because I was a member of Mobile Field Force, I thought that I'd be headed downtown. However, my partner and I remained at the station. Each LAPD station was cordoned off within a two block radius. No one in or out unless you belonged there. My partner and I were posted at the North East corner of the station. This was semi comforting because you could see the front of the station. Semi irritating because you were victim to the media.

It was at this point that my phone began to become inconsolable. My family. My friends. My girlfriend at the time who lived in Virginia and was panicked beyond belief. Once I confirmed that I was indeed more then fine, things slowed down a little. The radio was on without fail. You couldn't stop listening. Watching. All of the TVs in the station were on. Many of the patrol cars had small televisions in them. Mobile patrol vehicles would come by for bathroom relief and to let you watch the news for a bit. Tensions were high. The waiting was hell.

Now the unfortunate news comes that another plane has gone down. Pennsylvania? In the middle of a field? Straight into the ground. Straight. Into. The ground. I don't like to fly. It terrifies me. I never wanted to fly again. And, at that same moment, all I wanted to do was get to my family. To Virginia. Even if it meant flying. The day slowed. Things shut down. People locked themselves down.

The world, that day, stopped.

The Towers came down.

All the while, we watched. We listened. We stared. I worked for 18 hours that day. Went home for 4 and came back for several more. I never felt stress for myself. Only for those I loved and couldn't calm from where I was at.

We all mourned. Watching over the next few days. People throwing themselves to their death to keep from burning or suffocating. So much sadness. Zombies covered in soot and ash, walking from pillowy clouds of jet fuel and tattered paper. Remnants of mechanics, of loss of life. The country mourned.

States.

Cities.

Families.

Friends.

Me. I went to a church service two days later. And I mourned.

My hope, on this anniversary, close to ten years later, is that people wont hate anyone, or hold faithful and loving Muslim Americans responsible for the actions of a few militant extremists. So. Where were you?

Do Over

So. It's been an effin' wash of a couple of weeks. I had to take a week off from Cross Fit because I got violently ill. Like I havent had enough of that shit this year. I'm back though and in three workouts since. I've also decided to start from day one again on the Paleo Six Week Challenge. There was too much of a gap while I was sick and chicken soup and gingerale are not on the plan lol. So, I'm calling a do over. I'm still loving CrossFit like a new lover. Jen's still kicking my butt, but I'm comin' up baby.

I havent had a lot to say blog wise lately, so my apologies for the radio silence. I'll be finishing my posts on people in my life in the next few months. Until then though, I came up with a new idea. I'll be writing about why certain things about me, are what they are. Ie; "I'm shy because" Hey, stop snickering, I USED to be shy lol. Anyway, you get the idea. Until then, here are some pictures of our family day workout from the day before yesterday. Little Addison is ready to start CrossFitting any day now :) I hope that everyone's well.

Voluntary Pain

Well. Today is the end of week two of our Cross Fit adventure. And, day six of my Paleo six week challenge. Today's workout kicked. My. Ass.

Up and down.

The pre-workout was 2 100 meter runs at 75%
2 100 meter runs with 10 walking lunges
2 100 meter side straddles
2 100 meter runs at 90%
10 push ups
and 10 ring something or others. Basically mid air pull ups on the gymnastic rings

THEN, the workout was, well, it was for time, in teams today. There were only two of us there today, three including our trainer. His name was Mountain by the way, which I found really cool. So, he decided to do the Team workout with us. Which, was awesome. The Team WOD today was as follows:

100 Wall Balls - For those of you who dont know what a 'wall ball' is, well, it's just a little bit of hell
100 dumbell swings? My mind is mush right now, so, it's something like that. Basically, ground to overhead with it
200 sit ups
100 pull ups
10 rope climbs

Now. Here's how this all worked out. One of us couldnt do sit ups. One of us couldnt get up the rope (give you one guess who). One of us had an achey shoulder, so the pull ups werent going to be any good.

So. Only one of us could be doing anything at any time, and only in sets of ten, but you're really trying to bust ass because you want your Team to get the best score possible. Long story short, we finished this in 18:53, give or take a few seconds. I ripped through 40 or 50 of the wall balls, and really, my last ten were shit on form, but I got them done lol. And, I did quite a few situps. I can still feel them as I write. So. It kicked my ass, but as I was just told, I had the guts to show up, so, I kicked some ass myself ;) Thanks S!

The Paleo. Well, it's actually gone really well. Until last night. I started to have a sweet tooth the night before last. The first night, I ate my weight in strawberries. Quite literally. Definitely got my fiber in that day. However, last night, well, last night, it hit me with a vengence. I was three steps from walking out the door to go buy a piece of chocolate cake. I could have made one of my rockin' cakes, but then I would have eaten more.

Dont cringe though, I didnt do it. I have pretty good will power, but last night was hard. What I did do, I'm paying for today however. I had a small bowl of Multi Grain Cheerios. I figured, much better then chocolate cake and for whatever reason, fed my craving for sweet. Well, my body was PISSED. And today, I've paid for it.

Let's put it this way, the cereal and milk hit my stomach hard. As though I were standing at one end of a football field waiting with my mouth open for Ben Roethlisberger to launch a football straight into my stomach. He's got that kind of arm I think. Anyway, my point. I wont be straying again for the remainder of the six weeks. It wasnt worth it. Not that it was the worst choice, but it certainly didnt help my cause. I guess that's about it for now. OH!! And, I've only lost two pounds, but in just over two weeks, I've lost three inches off of my waist. I had to measure about ten times before I believed it myself. There's a selling point for any potential Cross Fitters out there.

6 week Paleo Challenge

So. Two days ago I started something that kind of goes hand in hand with Cross Fit. The Six week Challenge. It's Paleo/Crossfit and basically clean primal eating. Here's what it is:


The Rules: Eat only meats, fish, vegetables, fruit, nuts and seeds for six weeks.

Do not eat anything processed, dairy, sugar of any kind, chips, starches, breads.

Ingest no alcohol.

Take Fish Oil Supplements, drink a ton of water, sleep eight hours and work out like a champ.

Day 1 of the Challenge: Get measured and weighed. Get your body fat calculated, take a pic and do CINDY.

Last day of Week Six: Get measured and weighed. Get your body fat calculated, take a pic and do CINDY.

CINDY is a Cross Fit workout. All Cross Fit workouts are named after men or women. Which is nice, because when you hurt like hell, you can call them whores or bastards. I started with Jackie. She kicked my ass so bad that towards the end I screwed up my counts about ten times. Hopefully my trainer doesn't read this. I was surprised by the 20th thruster that I could remember my name.

The nutrition change isn't so tough for me. It's very close to how we already eat. The most difficult part I've found over the past couple of days, isn't even sweets. It's been dairy. I love cheese. Adore it. If it were people, I might consider leaving Jen for it. It's tough not to have milk, cheese, skinny cows, etc. However, I haven't had any. And I wont. The good thing is, I do love meat. So, I've been gorging on chicken breast, veggies and fresh strawberries. Delicious. Then again, this is day two. I'm sure I'll have some moments, but my resolve is pretty good.

One of the other difficult parts is the competition in my household. Jen isn't doing the six week challenge, but she is doing Cross Fit. And, she's SMOKED me at all of the timed or counted rounds. She hasn't worked out in six years. I work out all of the time. What's wrong with this picture? lol I'm ok with it, but it sure is an eye opener.

I was last in everything for my first workout, which I'm also not used to, but again, I'm ok with it. I had a really supportive class that day, and no one looked at me funny or said a word, at least not until after I left lol No, seriously, really cool group of people and lots of motivation. And pain.

My body still hurts in places. Right now my motto is 'temporary pain for long term gain'. I need to keep saying it over and over. That, and my friend Korin says I'm going to love my ass after a while. So, me, being a booty girl, holds onto that.

My challenge goes until the end of September and I will post before and after pictures. Here's to fitness and the future.

Cross Fit

Just a small break from my 30 days of intensity lol. A lot of people have been asking about the lifestyle Jen and I just started, so I thought I'd put it out there.

Most of you know I work out pretty consistently. I've been very frustrated the last few months, because no matter how 'on' my nutrition has been, or how many two a day workouts I've done, not much has changed. So, for the last month, I've just kind of sat back a lot and tried to figure out which direction to go in next.

I'm fortunate to have a sister and brother in law who are ridiculously fit and kind. I thought this was a rare combination. Until they told me about Cross Fit. They attend a Cross Fit 'Box' as it's called, down in southern Cali. During my last visit a few weeks ago, I expressed frustration over my lack of progress. They extoled the virtues of Cross Fit convinced and me to check it out.

I'd looked at what I thought were all of the Cross Fit's in our area and didnt feel like it was something we were going to be able to do. Everything was too far, or too expensive. I'm still not sure why, but during those first few days of searching, the Cross Fit we ended up joining wasnt showing up. Suddenly one day, there it was, Diablo Cross Fit. At first, the plan was for me to join, and if Jen thought she might like it, she'd join later. I really wanted her to join, but I figured I'd let her make the decision. So, we made our appointment to go check it out.

I was addicted the second I walked through the roll-up door. It's not your typical 24 Hour Fitness 'gym' with treadmills, universal machines etc. It's gymnastic rings, medicine balls, walls full of weight bars and racks and a lot of sweat. Pain in the air and people all around who are loving it. The perfect sick environment for me. Life changing. Which is what I've been looking for. The trainers we met all have flawless bodies, and attitudes to match. You wouldnt expect it. They're all really kind, positive and open to any and everyone willing to give their all.

It was such a positive visit that Jen ended up joining with me the same day. Cross Fits are very family oriented which is another unique aspect of it all. Everyone at our Box has small children and brings them with them to workouts. It's kind of funny because the first day I went, there was a super fit dad, jumping rope, with his six month old little boy about two feet away in a stroller having a bottle. Awesome. They do family nights at Chevy's and other family oriented events. They do co-op type buying for organic foods, nutrition classes and on an on.

It's the environment and support system I've been searching for, and the right fit. The fact that Jen is willing to do it, and come together with the nutrition at home, is also one of the components that's been missing. It's painful right now, but it's going to be more then worth it. It's tough. I'm tired a lot, very sore, but again, worth every second. Plus, I like a little pain, so it's right up my alley ;) I'll be done with the Elements classes as of Friday. You have to do four elements classes before you can get into the regular classes. I'm excited and terrified all at the same time.

I'm nervous before every class. They say that that's good, so I'm already doing something right lol. So, there you have it. It's very new, but I see this being a long term life changing decision.

Sunrise, Sunset

Quote "If love were a choice, who would choose such exquisite pain?"

I never chose to love you. From the moment we met, it just was.

As though it had never been any different

In like a tornado and out like a hurricane

A conscious life is what you brought me.

You broke my walls down, and leaving the gift of communication

I had never experienced anyone like you, and after;

I never wanted to again.

Around you I was high. Drunk in a whirlwind of love

That spiraled out of control.

From the first moment, you told me

You know this ends badly, right?"

I didnt care.

I was like a Heroine addict with an unlimited supply

No breathing room, between love and pain, as the song goes

Part of my path, you taught me how love should be

And later, how it shouldnt.

You ripped me open to look inside and showed me how to do it on my own

We had fun unlike any i've ever had. Loved like never before.

Laughed and lived the same way

When the crash came, you admitted that fear caused you to balk

Leaving me out in the cold

and alone.

You once said you didnt know how, but you'd fallen in love with me

I held those words in my heart from the second they passed your lips

Suddenly, confrontation wiped your memory clean

So much right. So much wrong.

I could never hate you. I only know because I've tried.

You made me feel like I had never lived before we met

But your selfishness proved that you were never my friend

I'm not sure which broke my heart the most.

In spite of the pain, I'm thankful to you

for coming into my life

bringing me up

destroying me

because now

I'm better then I ever was.

See you Someday

We were crime fighters

You volunteered. The only one who did.

My first day off of probation and you raised your hand.

A man of few words, but mighty in action.

The boot idolized you before the cop became your friend.

I was good. You made me better.

You smoothed my edges, sharpened my sight, hardened my resolve.

Close friends, we'd confide in one another. Your family was mine.

When did it start? That second it all fell apart.

I know the pain of love, the sting of hurt.

You came to me and I was there. We all were.

Tucking you into our shift like a blanket. Protecting

It's what we did

On the upswing, smile across your face, life was moving forward

Brief moments

We all sat in briefing wondering where you were. "Sick" they said.

Two day later

Still sick

Still?

I wonder if you felt it was still the right thing to do

Cold blue steel pressed against your temple.

Did it still feel right? At that moment?

Did you picture their little faces? Picture the big ones.

We failed you.

I failed you.

Therapy's taught me that I didnt

But part of me will never believe it

I never read your letter. I never will.

You didnt have to see you children's faces

I did

You didnt have to live. Survive

I did

I'll always hate you, always be angry at you.

I'll always love you, always miss you.

And someday, I might forgive you

and me.

Thievery

A thief in the night, a punisher of faith

You've taken from me. Taken from my wife.

Taken from my family. My friends.

Many of those I love

You're a bitch of a mistress. You're a bitch of a bitch.

Hope is your favorite prize

You take everything from nothing. Things that don't even exist yet.

From people who want it more then breathing

Cold, evil and inexplicable

You cringe when people win, and gloat when they lose

Lingering like a heavy fog with the smell of failure

Capturing physical and imagined souls alike

Damage that takes pride, self confidence, relationships, lives with value

And swallows them whole like a bitter pill

You're hard to shake. Hard to give up on. You're pain is addictive

Giving a little from time to time, to take it away just as quickly

Like death on a merry go round, we try over and over

Coming to life long enough to try again

Some of us are beat, even when we've won before

The survivors grow strong to champion those who continue to fight

Even when they've lost

continue to poison lives if you will

But in the end, there's always a winner

And for them, we will cheer

My Furry Hope

You, are my furry hope

My canine soul mate

A survivor.

Found in chains, sprinting on freeways.

Somehow our paths crossed

and when you crawled into my lap, you went straight to my heart.

We're inseparable.

You've been in my lap in the car. At work with me. On vacations. Asleep on a sunny Sunday morning.

Spooning with me when my heart was broken.

People think I'm silly, but you know.

You always know.

When I need comfort, or a laugh.

Your face is irresistable and your eyes laugh

You're even a warm little water bottle during that time of the month

You're one of the loves of my life

and have stuck by my side through thick and thin

Know that any time you want a treat, I'll give you two

Sexual Freedom

You gave me my flag back.

My intimacy was scarred. From years of unrealistic expectations.

Mine, and those of other people.

We were only together a short time, but you made me push my own limits.

You were the first person to convince me that I am beautiful.

Society can be a bitch of a mistress. That's too big, that's too small. Too light, too dark.

You showed me how the body tells a story.

Round parts. Smooth parts. Hard parts and soft. Scars, tattoos, stretch marks, everything.

Everyones' story was a novel to you.

I had a hard time, but you never flinched.

You gave me the gift of freedom. And comfort.

I learned from you that it was ok to say 'Fuck' in the heat of passion if something felt good.

Fuck; it felt great.

Thank you for showing me how it feels to love someone enough to be able to 'make love' or, just have a 'good time'

My insecurities still shine through at times, but I'm able to get past them because of you.

There's a trust in intimacy that many will never know, and now I have it forever.

Thank you for releasing me from the chains of my past, I will forever be thankful.

The Dark side of a human

I hate you.

I do. I hate everything about you.

You're the only person in my entire life I've genuinely felt this emotion for.

I have faith that one day when I meet God, and ask for his forgiveness, he'll give it to me.

I've known you since we were 13. We were friends. Used to have fun.

In high school, the beginning of my senior year, you asked me out. In front of my friends. We all thought you were so cute and nice.

Could we have been more wrong?

I said yes, and so started a five year venture of love and anger.

After a few years, you wanted everyone but me, yet, you still wanted to control me.

You fat sack of crap.

I'd re chew the gum on my shoe before I'd shake your hand.

I loved you. I gave you my all. Literally.

You crumpled it up like a used piece of paper and threw it away, right in my face.

If you'd spit on me it'd have been less humiliating.

Nothings ever your fault. Just ask you.

Weeks before our wedding, I found out about her. She'd already been around for almost a year.

Fuck you.

I already had the best you've ever given in life growing inside of me.

You hit me.

Bet you thought I was like all the other girls out there huh?

Not me. I hit your ass back.

And then I left. Left you in the dust of life. And guess what? You're still there.

You're still there in that dry burned up vacant land of nothing. Stuck.

Deserving.

I still marvel at how a very small part of you could have been involved in the amazing creation that came of one night.

You, are the darkest side of a human and I only have to deal with you for one more year of my life.

After that, I hope you rot. Me, I'll spend the rest of my life praying to God, Buddha and anyone else who will listen, for that forgiveness.

My first real Friend

We met when we were both in middle school.

I felt instantly connected to you with no idea why.

I was horribly shy.

You, were not.

I wasn't hip or cool, but you still wanted to be my friend.

You exposed me to so much that was fun, and different.

When my parents sent me away that summer, you wrote me all the time. It was the one thing that kept me from feeling alone.

You sent pictures, stickers, little hand made gifts. I'd run the two miles to the mailbox on mail day to see if you'd sent anything. I have those letters to this day.

For a long time, I wished I was you.

The road in my path of memories of you is long. John Lennon. My 16th birthday party. Drill Team road trips that always included a rap or two, the plastic instrument band and Secret Pal gifts. Girl Scouts, your dad's ice hole joke.

Even though we were the same age, I learned a lot from you.

That it was ok to make mistakes because the right people will continue to love you.

That there are families who will love one another forever. Yours took me in from the moment they met me.

You taught me that friendships can survive hurt. Our sophomore year you handed me a note that said you couldn't be my friend anymore.

By our junior year, you were right by my side again and the adventure went on.

You listened to my truths and my lies and never let it change your opinion.

I had a hard time expressing my feelings and emotions, but you had the patience to pull them out of me.

After high school, as many friends do, we made contact from time to time, but had gone in different directions.

Even with time and distance between us, you were the first person I came out to. You didn't care that it was a late phone call. You just loved me.

I'm more thankful to you for that then you'll ever know.

You made me brave that night.

As adults we've reconnected and you're as amazing as ever, if not more.

You do more for other people then anyone I know.

Sharp as a tack, with wit that's faster then light.

You'd never admit to anyone that you're a pure soul, but you are.

I don't think I've ever told you how much you've always meant to me, so I hope you know.

Unique, strong, hard working, with an unparalleled love for life.

Loving wife, mother, friend, humanitarian and so much more. I'm proud and blessed to have you in my life, to say that I know you, and call you my Friend.

You've been one of the most important people in my life from the moment I met you, and I love you in the deepest places of my heart.

Oh Sarah

You sat me down one day when I was nine years old and said, “Michelle, you’re ok, just the way you are.”

I didn’t believe you. If it were true, the other kids wouldn’t make fun of me. My freckles. My red hair. My crooked teeth. My height. My big feet.

Would they?

I wasn’t sure why, but you were patient with me.

You fostered my love of reading. I think of you every time I read Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings or The Little Prince.

I was a great artist, and you knew it. You had me leading the whale project. A paper mache’ whale, the size of a car, that would hang in the cafeteria. Today, 30 years later, it still hangs there.

You were the only person in my educational career who caused me sadness when I would walk through the classroom door and see a substitute.

A hippy. Long sandy blonde hair. You taught the importance of creativity, individuality and taking care of the environment. Before it was cool to do so.

Anger was never the answer to you. You showed me how patience can create resolve.

You had no tolerance for those, who did not tolerate differences in others.

You convinced me that imagination was every bit as important as math. But I still needed math.

I was incredibly shy and you never forced me the way others did.

I didn’t know, but you took a picture of me one day. While I was reading in class. My stringy hair hung down around my face, my freckles sticking out like chocolate sprinkles.

You developed it in black and white and blew it up into an 8x10 and gave it to me at the end of the year.

You said that I had been your favorite and that the picture was to remind me that you could see who I was and that I was going to be alright.

Sometimes I wish you were around in my adult life, because people don’t always see me.

You will always be in my heart, and thank you for making fourth grade one of the best years of my entire life.

A Man like You

You stepped into the shoes of a man who couldnt have filled yours.

Never treated me like a red-headed step anything.

You loved me as though you'd held me from the first day I breathed in life.

At the age of three, you taught me that I could do anything and took me to Martial Scotty's. The premiere pony stable of that time in San Diego. I only rode level one once. You knew I was better. On our third visit, you had me riding level three, the top level.

I never looked back. I'm proud to say now that I've been riding for 35 years.

You'd tell her not to worry when I'd ride my Big Wheel for miles on the beach at dawn. You loved me enough to let me go, because you knew I was always coming back.

You were firm, but fair, and always working against her current. I wouldnt know anything about that until years later.

You had a gentle kindness that you've lost over the years, but I was the lucky one who got to experience it. She changed your view on life, and while the responsibility is ultimately yours, I understand.

You were never too rushed to remember to kiss me goodnight, or play Adam Ant. You didnt know he was a rock star. To you, it was a tickle game that never grew old.

You never wanted me to be limited. You taught me to cook. Clean. Rebuild the 440 horsepower engine on a 69' Pontiac Firebird. Arc weld. Fiberglass an auto body. Build. You taught me I could build anything. My gold medal for winning the entire West Coast FFA project competition proved that.

You gave me a work ethic that few people know anymore.

I credit you with my self confidence. You gave it to me early. It was one of the greatest gifts I've ever received.

I was unstoppable. Unbeatable.

So, even later, when you tried to tear it down because my body grew, you had already created an inpenitrable fortress of confidence.

You left a lot behind after she left you. You changed. And yet, you still call me your favorite. I forgive you your flaws, because you gave me so much, when someone else walked away. Because I know where you came from, and sometimes, those things are so engrained, that an unconscious life doesnt allow change.

I've watched you cry, and held you like you were the child.

Thank you for the building blocks. I use them every day.

Thank you for the skills. They have shaped my life.

Even though things are different now, I'm thankful for your unconditional love during my childhood. I choose to focus on your good, because you arent aware of anything else.

I'll always love you because without you, I wouldnt be who or where I am today.

And because you taught me that biology has no affect on Love.

And now, for a commercial break....

I'll be busy for a few days, so there probably wont be any blog posts until Sunday. I wanted to post this about it though because I've really appreciated all of the response I've received for my posts this month. I've enjoyed writing them and hearing from people via Facebook, email, and sometimes phone call lol, about it all. I'm happy to say, that I'm having a hard time sticking to my 'one positive person, one negative person' every other day balance. I've had many more positive people in my life then negative. Therefore, if I run out of negatives, you'll be getting all positive. I'm sure that no one will complain. I hope that everyone is well, and I look forward to getting back to this project shortly.

Potato Sack

I started asking for you for Christmas when I was eight years old. I couldnt believe it when you were born that next April. Just four months later. I truly believed, and somewhere in my heart, still believe, to this day, that you were born for me.

My gift.

The day you were born, I ran up and down our neighborhood and told every neighbor within two miles that you were born. Even if I didnt know them. Excited is a word that barely touches the feeling. You had the brightest blue eyes and blonde curly hair. You were my best friend before you even knew.

When you turned three, we started to play a game. Potato sack. I would come home from school and I'd say, "Hey! Where's my potato sack?!" You'd instantly fall to the floor and go completely limp. I'd go pick you up and toss you up over my shoulder. I'd walk around with you there for as long as you could keep from snickering. Once you snickered, I'd tickle you until you were tired. To this day, it's one of my favorite memories.

Sometimes family's fall apart. Unfortunately, you took the brunt of the fallout from ours doing just that. I was still young, unsure what to do, how to get you out. Selfish. Struggling myself.

Sometimes I'd have to sneak into the house to see you. It was worth it. I loved you as though you were my own child. I found out later that you didnt understand why I didnt come take you away. My heart shatters every time I remember that.

You werent treated right.

I wasnt there for you.

You deserved so much more. From everyone around you.

You pulled yourself up, and made your way.

I am blessed. Many years ago, we began rebuilding our relationship. You forgave me. I'm honored by this, because forgiveness doesnt come easy to you.

You've grown into one of the most amazing people I know. You're genius. Rational. Irrational. You're liberal, but conservative. One of the only people I know who can truly pull that off.

You're beautiful. Your heart is as big as your blue eyes. You'd never think of yourself as special, but you're more special then you'll ever know.

Your sense of humor heals my bad days. I could talk to you for hours, about nothing at all, and feel like it was the most important conversation I'd ever had.

I was given the greatest gift the day you were born. And, no matter how old you get, you'll always be my little potato sack, and I love you with all my heart.

My Worth

I've forgiven you.

But I still find it hard not to hate you.

I dont want to live my life with any hate in my heart. It's exhausting, and black.

So, I've done my best.

We grew up together. Thick as thieves, so the saying goes. Used to have fun.

Star Wars action figures on the lawn in summer. Making felt prize ribbons to give to the neighbors with the best fruit trees that year. We'd walk by and were always offered something from someone. We were 'cute'.

They always like you best.

The boy. Loved the boys. The men. You'll never be a man i my eyes.

When we went out, they'd ask you what you wanted. If I asked for something, I was told 'no', because you were getting something.

I thought we'd grow up friends, but, you were mean. Mean as hell by a certain point.

You were bigger then me. You'd sit on me because you thought it was funny. In my seventh year, I started going home with bruises on my arms because you thought 'socking' me was hilarious. It didnt feel very funny.

I hated being alone with you at night. I was a fighter. A scrappy little kid. But you were huge. Just too big.

I tried to tell someone everything that was going on when I was almost eight.

I got in trouble for tattling and received a spanking with the wooden spoon. Standard in your house.

I never said another word.

I did learn how to fight back though. The last time we saw one another, I was almost nine years old. You didnt say much. Later in the day you tried to bully me a little. Threw a board at me with a nail sticking out of it. I still have a scar on my finger where it dug into me as I put my hand up to protect my head.

At that moment, I beat you to a pulp. I picked up that stick off the ground in the backyard. Remember that?

I got into trouble. And it was totally worth it.

You're loathsome, and yet, you still put meaning into my life.

I have value. No matter what you ever did to me. I count. I stand up for myself. Because I can. And, sometimes, even as a child, no one else will.

Happy Birthday

10lbs 1oz

There you are. It's 1am and a nurse just wheeled you in. You're wrapped like a jelly bean; and quiet.

You're suddenly my world.

I was so selfish before this moment. Why? So self serving. How do I get over to you right now? Cant get out of bed. Finally someone comes in and asks if I want to hold you.

Yes please.

I'm staring at you and wondering how I'll ever do enough good for you.

You have changed my life.

You're three. My favorite time of day is our morning drive. You sit in your booster in the front seat, and always hold my hand.

Little fingers in mine, holding with no shame. Big brown eyes and a smile loving me without a word. Do I even deserve you?

You are eight. Things are tough. Very tough. Somehow, we're surviving. I'd do anything for you to make life ok again. How did we get here?

I hold you.

I wrap you up i my arms. Often.

You're 13. When we go out in public, you still wrap an arm around me, with no shame, and tell me "I love you", even with your friends watching. My irritation with your mid morning 'No's' instantly melt away. It's hard to keep focus on things when it's so easy to be swayed.

Maybe I did a few things right.

I've worried about what kind of man you'd grow in to.

But I see you.

I know who you are on the inside.

All Heart.

You're 17. Today. How did we get here?

When I look at you now, I have to look up. You've come so far, and I'm so proud.

Your future is bright and you're on the right path. You're beautiful and kind.

You're one of the loves of my life and you helped me to become a better person then I could have ever been on my own.

Happy Birthday.

Not like You.

I've known you longer then anyone else in my life, and yet, I know nothing about you.

The best times we ever had were between the ages of 3 and 6. You owned a hair salon and were well known for your talent. How sad that you allowed that to die through life.

Our daily ritual was one of my all time favorite memories. Every day I'd get dropped off at your shop towards the end of the day to wait for you to close. The last clients of the day would give me quarters as I helped sweep up hair. Once the shop was closed, we'd head to 7-11. For Slurpee's. You'd always let me get the cool cup. I liked that. It was a constant. Always there. Always fun.

It wouldn't last.

I got the best of you. The kind you. The funny you. The hard working you. You disappeared so fast that the others never got to know her.

You were supposed to teach me about life. How to: treat people, to be honest, to be good, to hang on to family traditions etc etc. Instead you taught me how to lie. Manipulate. Close myself off. Avoidance. Cruelty. You were supposed to take care of me until I could take care of myself.

Instead. I took care of you.

I took care of the others.

From doing these things, I learned how to care. How to love. How to tell what people needed and when.

I learned on my own. But not from you.

Don't worry. I am truly blessed. Amazing people's paths have crossed mine in life. Giving me the choice to continue to grow into your shadow, or to change and become who I have.

Someone who cares. Loves. Wants to invite people in. To be honest. And my heart? It's as big as a mountain.

People who taught me how to communicate. Such a simple thing, unless you don't have the skill. It took a long time for me to master that one and I still struggle with it at times.

You have a cruel minded heart. You call people I love things like 'Stupid' and 'Dumb'. You're a user. People are only in your life until you have no use for them anymore.

You'll take credit for my successes, but I'll give you none.

You've never come to see Addison and you'll never know her. I'd rather you didn't.

I've spent much of my life ensuring that I wasn't you. Because at my core, I was. I've accepted that you live your life to die. It's a sad way to be, but not within my control. With love in my heart, I don't like you, but I always pray that something will change and you'll find peace and happiness.

Regardless of whether you do or not, you'll never bring me down. And that, is no thanks to you.

Little Blonde Girl

I met you when I was six years old, not knowing how my future would be shaped by my feelings for you. Growing up in San Diego, there were a lot of little blonde haired girls. I was the red headed girl with the freckles. I guess that wasnt so bad, because I caught your eye.

Your parents had a house down the street from my aunt and uncle's home. You were there every summer like clockwork. After I moved away from San Diego, I'd still go down for summer vacation. There was always a one or two day period where all of the summer kids would start to wander around and find one another.

I always looked for you first.

You looked like a six year old Mary Ingall's from Little House on the Prairie. I loved your blue eyes and I didnt know why. I always felt 'funny' around you and never wanted to be far from you. I wondered what that was about?

When other kids would tease me about having red hair, freckles, bad teeth, you would tell them silly things like, "Someday you'll see her in Annie", or, "She's beautiful, you're just mean". Simple things that no six or seven year old should know how to say. You were beyond your years. You acted at least ten or eleven.

I remember the last summer I saw you. Your parents were selling their summer home in Kensington, so you wouldnt be back. I was crushed, but your parents took us to dinner at a fancy Chinese place. It was a lot of fun. You said I was great with chopsticks and they played a lot of Lionel Richie. I'm only now thinking that that seems a little odd for a fancy Chinese food restaurant.

At the end of the night, we sat on your front steps. Beautiful clay and marble as many of the old San Diego homes in the hills had. The air smelled like the ocean, one of my favorite smells, and you, smelled like Suave.

I used some allowance money to buy you a necklace. Probably the type now that would turn someone's neck green after one wear, but you loved it. I gave it to you on those steps, with Lionel Richie running through my mind and wondering why I wanted to kiss a girl so badly. At seven years old.

You started to say something, but stopped. It seemed prolific, but try as I might, and I did, for about an hour, I couldnt get you to tell me. I think you were going to tell me you liked me too.

You didnt have to say it.

Your parents came out and said it was time to say goodbye. You gave me a real hug and said that maybe we'd go to school together someday. I stood there at ten o' clock at night, even after you closed the door behind you.

My walk was only about four blocks, but I cried crocodile tears the whole way. I missed you for a long time, but, as life does, it went on. You're probably married with children and college educated. Even now though, thirty some odd years later, I still think of you fondly every time I hear Lionel Richie. I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

What do I call you?

Memories of a three year old. People probably raise an eyebrow when I say that I have memories from three years old. But I do. Vivid. Clear. Not many. Four, as a matter of fact. Four. They're all of you. My first memory of you coming to see me in the hospital when I had my tonsils out. They had to keep a net on top of my crib because I was a wild child and would climb out. You looked at me through the bars, held both of my hands and kept talking to me. I don't remember what you said. But I remember seeing you. I remember that I looked like you. An awful lot like you.

I remember when you took me to have my tooth pulled. I'm not sure why half of the memories are medical, but they are. I remember seeing carousels while I was under the general anesthetic. When I woke up, there you were. Smiling. I was happy. Happy to see you I'm sure.

I remember the night that you and she fought in the kitchen. You were making dinner. I got a little close and something popped out of the pan and onto my tummy. it burned me. A scar I still have today under the stretch marks. You knelt down and put butter on it. How very 1974. It still hurt, but you kissed it and I felt like I'd be ok. I remember our cat sitting there watching us. I remember wondering if the cat had someone like you?

I remember the day you left. You were wearing a dark colored pea coat and grey slacks. Your dark rimmed glasses just under your nice auburn hair. Me in my very girly little fluffy coat with my stylish polyester printed pants on and my roller skates. I thought we were going for a walk. We went about a block. You said, "I don't want to make your life confusing". I think back now and wonder why you thought I was confused.

Jump forward 18 years. I'm 21. I've used you in every argument I felt fire in. I've wanted to be where you were. And I didn't even know you. The hole you left in my soul, only had one filler. You. I searched for it. Searched for that. Searched for you. I found you at 21. I needed to see you. Needed to know what you were about. Was I like you? Did you know me?

I saw you and it was like looking into a mirror. I wanted to embrace you. I did.
Was I met with the same needy embrace? No.
I didnt mind.
Then.

We talked. Spent two days together. You were honest, which is the most I could have asked for. You hadnt wanted me. Once you saw me, you didnt know how you could have ever thought that. You also came to the conclusion that you werent good enough. Every time you looked into my eyes, you wondered how you'd ever live up to my needs. Was I that needy even at three? I was crushed and elated all in one sentence. You left. Left because you didnt think you could live up to what I needed. What was I supposed to do with that?

I decided that we move on from there. This was summer. By Fall you were gone. Gone from my life. Gone from life. Period. That was my chance. And now you were gone. You left. Again. Were my needs too much for you still? I hope not. Oh, and I looked, just like you. I never looked like anyone. Until I saw you.

Random Blog Posts

I've decided to write about people whom I've known throughout my life. Their effect on my life, or, lack thereof. I wont use any names, and I'll try to be as nondescript as possible. Hopefully someone out there in my small blog following will enjoy something I put out there :)

Passion

This blog is not going to be about what you think it will be when you first see the title. It is about passion, but not the romantic kind. Not in that sense anyway. It's about the passion we have for our children. The past week has been very challenging. Last night topped it off and today, there was intense fear and then resolution. There was a chance that Addison had been put into harms way, and obviously not by either of us. I cant begin to tell you, and if you're a parent, I dont have to, about the rage I felt. The passionate anger. It's tough to trust people with your children (omit family and close friends from that statement). Until at least, they're at an age where they can either defend themselves or tell you what's going on. Addison is not at that age yet. She's a sweet, trusting, defenseless toddler. And the thought that anyone could harm her, or, even disregard her basic needs, sends me into a tailspin.

We were fortunate today. The harm was not what we thought, but still a good deal of neglect. The guilt that goes with that is deep. We're here to protect her, and although we didnt cause the action, it was a small failure, I feel, on our part. Luckily, we're both pretty well in tune with Addison and our gut feelings, so there's nothing irrepairable

And still, I felt the intense passion of wanting to tear someone limb from limb. I've lived the past 18 years enforcing laws, so I would obviously never follow through on that, but, it's the closest I've ever been while not wearing a gun. Thank goodness for wonderful friends and family who embraced us and kept us sane for the day. We love you all very much.

The mother lion inside of me, would gladly eat someone whole for causing the slightest bit of damage to this little person who is my life. There was no rationale today. No reasoning. Just waiting. Waiting to know. Then once I knew, crushing guilt and passionate desire to go home and wrap Addison up. Which is exactly what I did. The passion I hold for this child, is unrivaled and overwhelming. I would give myself for her in a heartbeat.

And I hope to never feel it the way I did today, again in my life, or hers.

Apple Cake

Ok. So. I cook a lot. I bake. A lot. I love to do both. Well, tonight, I made one of the best things I've ever made. And it was simple. Figures. I like apple stuff. I dont love it, but I like it. I found this apple cake recipe, tweaked it a little and tried it out. LOVE it. I really put some tender lovin' care into it since it was so simple and apparently it paid off. So, I hope you enjoy it. Here's the recipe:

Simple Apple Cake

1/2 cup Extra Light Start Virgin olive oil
3 large apples, peeled, cored, quartered and cut into chunks
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups flour (I used half whole wheat, half unbleached white whole wheat)
1/4 teaspoon course salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Confectioners sugar, optional for serving

1 - Preheat oven to 350. Prep an 8 inch round cake pan. In a medium saucepan bring apples and 1/2 cup of water to a simmer over high. Cover, reduce heat to medium and cook until apples are very tender, 12 minutes. Mash apples with a whisk, stirring to dry the mixture slightly. Remove from heat.

2 - Whisk brown sugar into apples, then oil. Whisk in eggs, then flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

3 - Transfer batter to pan and bake until golden brown and a tooth pick inserted in center comes out clean. 30 to 35 minutes. Cool in pan on a wire reack for 20 minutes. Invert and let cake cool on rack. Enjoy.

Friday

Today is my Friday.
I have an empty blog.
Dont know what to say.
My head's in a fog.

My fingers are moving
across the black keys
Still cant come up with a thing
Someone help me please

The baby's sleeping
Hip hop horray
I did my workout, now what to say?

The dog is snoring
I'm watching Hell's Kitchen
I'm trying to blog
and quit all this bitchin'

Blog about food
or a jammin' new groove?
The length of this poem
or maybe a boob.
Nah, that's just rude.

My head is empty
Not a thing on my mind
So this will have to do
Until next time.

So long Sunday

Sundays are good for me. Work is usually slow, it's a good group of people, there's no traffic going in or coming home and it's just pleasant overall. I got to come home and see my wife and daughter, cook a great meal, workout, and spend a little down time. A very good end, to a very good day. So, I'll keep this as it is. Short. And good.

Photo Blog that did not post yesterday

So. This WAS the blog for yesterday lol. I guess you'll just get two today. One photo, one to read...