My Somewhat Annual Performance Review

I have been trying for the last hour to understand a certain word that Caleb has been trying to tell me. He kept pulling on my leg or yanking my hand saying "car plow." So I think I understand "car" and I open the car bucket. The shrieks that came out of his mouth let me know that the car bucker was not the object he was looking for. Maybe looking at something outside? No the thrashing on the floor was probably a good hint that I was still not on the right track. So I pick his limp body up and carry him thru each room in the house carefully pointing at random objects each time asking, "Is this what you want?" Each time getting a varied but none the less, ear piercing response that my guess was not the right one. What seems like hours later I near the coffee table and see on the floor his Cars pillow. Car plow = car pillow? Hmmm. I am thinking this could be it! I pick it up and ask him, "Is this what you want? Your Cars Pillow? And he looks at me like I have just discovered the light bulb, hugs my leg like a life preserver and says, "Good job MOM!!!" And you know what? At that moment I really did feel like I had just discovered a way to make cars run on garbage. I think I ought to wait a while before I ask him if I did a good enough job to get a raise. Crossing my fingers on that one.

Got the family I dreamed of

I love this...

Six-Word Memoir book preview from SMITHmag on Vimeo.

Your assignment today is tell me....What would yours be?

You asked for it so don't blame me for any increase you may see on the scale

No picture today because something is up with my computer (GRRR). I need to take it in AGAIN to get serviced and I don't want to take it to PC laptops. Does anyone know any other place to take computers?
Some of you asked for the enchilada recipe I mentioned, and I would love to give it out EXCEPT.... it is in no way a healthy food choice. In fact, it may disgust you. SO, please be warned.
I always tend to make this recipe for a crowd so if you don't plan on cooking for a bunch then half this recipe...
4 lbs chicken (tasty little animals)
1 pkg of 30 flour taco size tortillas (yes you will use most of them!!)
2 cans cream of chicken (please don't insult me by using the 98% fat free kind... gross!)
1 can rotell (however hot you like it... I use mild. This is found in the tomato paste isle)
2 cans enchilada sauce (again however hot you like it. Let me tell you that I am a wimp so I go for the nice and mild kind, but you go ahead and kick it up a notch!)
1/2 c. milk (There I threw something healthy in there. You feel better?)
8 ounces sour cream (again with the fat free....eww. In fact, I would venture to say that if you have fat free sour cream in your fridge right now, this recipe is not for you. Turn and run.
2 LBS Cheddar cheese... Yes I said 2 lbs. You know that big old brick? I know that is lots and lots of cheese. But know this: cheese is your friend. If you are having irregular heart palpitations due to this amount of fatty cheese, don't worry you don't have to use all of it. But you really should turn and run.

First you cook your chicken. I bake mine for and hour at 350 covered with foil... but cook it however your mama taught ya.
shred the chicken. The tasty little animal.
Then...
in a saucepan toss in:
2 cans cream of chicken
1 can rotell
1/2 c milk
8 ounces sour cream
Stir and heat through. Then remove it off heat so that you don't do something gross like scorch it.

Then this is the really complicated part...
you take a tortilla
put some chicken in it
then a good amount of cheese
then a spoonful of enchilada sauce
and a spoonful of the sauce mixture
and then you ROLL IT UP
and put it in a pan!
Then you keep doing that over and over until you have a pan full. This recipe makes like 20-26 enchiladas for me.
After you make YOUR desired amount
you spread the remaining sauce mixture and remaining enchilada sauce over the top of those tasty little things.
Why? So you can make it good and gooey and disgusting, that's why.
Then you cover the top of that with cheese.
Because you can never get enough cheese.
And cheese is very very tasty.
Then you cover it with foil and bake it at 350 for 30-35 minutes.
Then you eat them for dinner that night. Then you eat them again the next day. And the next. And the next. Until you feel like you don't ever want to eat enchiladas again.
But you will. Don't worry, you will.
Let me know when you make 'em if you like them!
Heather this is pretty similar to your recipe, right?

Back By Popular Demand

Ok so, as some of you may know, I have a slight phone issue. There is almost always something wrong with my phones. I have a monster, sorry, 2 year old that LOVES phones. All kids like phones, but he LOVES them. It started with my cell phone. First he lost one. No idea where it is to this day. So I got a new one and he threw it in the washer. Yes, he did. Then I got another one had it for 2 months or so when the sweet child bit it, which cracked the LCD, which eventually caused it to stop working. Period. So I have had one now for 4 months and it is going strong. So that is the cell phone. The home is a different story. We have one phone jack. That means one phone. Before I had several phones in my home, so I could go grab one if the other was dead. But now, if it is dead, I don't hear it. And this home has major wiring issues. If the doorbell stops working, the phone does. Or if the computer gets fixed, out goes the phone. It is strange, but true. Also, we live in a HUGE house (not bragging, it ain't mine). And the phone can only be heard when I am in my little upstairs apartment. Also I have a monster, I mean 2 year old who likes phones. And he takes it. And it gets lost for WEEKS. Then it turns up in some small nook in this HUGE house, and we start all over again. So the phone has been missing the entire month of April and I haven't missed it so I dumped it. Then I looked into upping my minutes on my cell phone and fell over and died. Then I got up, and called Qwest and luckily got my number back! So here I am a two phone girl once again. For now. But don't blame me if I don't answer... Oprah's almost on. (FYI, this last sentence would be a joke aimed towards my husband's comment on my "Learning to Bite my Tounge" post.)

Normally I don't do These

Yeah, normally I am not the tag type. I like reading other peoples things, but just never really liked doing it myself. Because frankly, I feel I am a little boring. But I was specifically tagged by Val so lets just lull you all into sleep why don't we? Okay here goes:

4 Jobs I have Had:
Allstate Insurance Agent (hardest I have worked for being so underpaid)
Collections Rep. (this was a very low point in my life)
Manager of Children's Club (Sucked bad except for the meeting of my long lost twin)
Orange Julius in the mall (totally got fired for not showing up to work)

4 TV shows I watch:
Friday night lights (EVERYONE SHOULD START FROM SEASON 1 AND CATCH UP)
American Idol (have you ever heard of it?)
Lost (MUST SEE... That means you val)
Biggest Loser ( I mean how could dropping 34 pounds in one week not be inspiring?)

4 Places I have been:
Kansas (sort of grew up there)
Texas (in August is not a good idea)
Arizona (visiting the coolest red head I know)
Las Vegas (annual soccer tournaments but my most memorable visit would be with the foxy 5)

4 people that email me:
Briana (when she can't get a hold of me because of a phone issue I have)
Val (when she can't get a hold of me because of a phone issue I have)
Heather (when she can't get a hold of me because of a phone issue I have)
My parents (when they can't get a hold of me because of a phone issue I have)

4 Favorite Foods:
Pizza (pizza hut and papa murphys are the best)
Enchiladas (I happen to have a great recipe)
Sweet and Sour chicken (my mother in laws recipe)
funeral potatoes (I have never met potato I didn't like)

4 Friends I tag:
Briana
Lisa
Sarah
Jenn

4 Things I am Looking forward to in 2008
Getting my husband back (graduation in dec)
Loosing Weight (slow going)
Seeing Jonas get baptized (May 3rd.. you are all invited)
Getting a whole slew of new babies in my family! (And I dont have to give birth to any of them)

According to my Husband, I owe y'all an Apology

My very sweet husband read my post last night and said, "Um... that post today was weird. Weird and really long. No offense, but I don't think you will get any comments on that one." So I very kindly thanked him for his constructive criticism. And this morning I checked my comments and some of you commented!! That made me feel better, but I apologize if it was weird and long... I am just keeping it real. For those who haven't read it: BE WARNED. My husband, who is NEVER weird and is the foremost expert on the matter of all things weird, says it is weird. But seriously? I can be a lot weirder. And you would think after 9 years of marriage and over 12 years of knowing me, he would know that yesterday's post wasn't even the tip of the iceberg on my weird scale. And I know a few of you know my husband, and lets face it, he has not always been the shining example of normalcy. So I guess my point is take what he says with a grain of salt... I know I do.
Oh, and don't think I am becoming green or frankly even going green. I am just wanting to do something to appease a little of my guilt... so Heather, and the rest of you who think I am crazy, don't worry, you are still okay with me. I mean, A LOT of you listen to country music and I still love you... doesn't that just say it all?

Can you keep a secret?

I swear if any of you repeat what I am about to say, I will deny it. I am using this blog post as a full confessional today. I don't tell people this, but I used to be a hippie. It may or may not surprise some of you, but I was. My ninth grade picture is great proof. I will do my best to see that none of you ever lay eyes on it. I wore bell bottoms and tie dye shirts. I spent my babysitting money to buy the recycled notebook paper my mom refused to buy me because it was so much more expensive than normal paper. I picked up trash when I walked home from school. I subscribed to Greenpeace's magazines as well as many other what is now known as "green campaign" publishing's. I wrote articles in the school paper about the the 3 R's (reuse, reduce, recycle). I covered my wall with the above symbol. I started a petition to get the school to start recycling. I first celebrated earth day 15 years ago. I sat in a drum circle with a bunch of hippies in pioneer park and listened to their message of loving the earth and protecting it and it's inhabitants with wide eyes and an open heart.
It was a phase though. I am a bit ashamed, but a lot of what I believed in just kind of disappeared once I hit high school. I needed to make new friends and was a bit embarrassed about my weird ways. So in an effort to fit in, I put away the tie dyed shirts and bell bottoms. I stopped using recycled paper. I quit opening the "green" magazines. I even threw newspaper and aluminum cans into the garbage when I wasn't at home. (it still makes me literally cringe every single time I do this). In time I just became the average self absorbed teenager and I quit caring about all that stuff.
But recently with the green campaign hype explosion, I have felt a large amount of guilt weighing on my shoulders. Some people I know, who shall remain anonymous, do not believe in global warming and therefore feel the need to go green is just a political campaign. I will not go into all that... (way to deep for this blog, let me tell you). What I can say is I do believe deep in my heart in treating the earth with respect. If that means not using disposable plastic water bottles daily, then I think I have a responsibility to do that. I think I can admit that now. I also think I could stand to step it up a little. I am going to start with little things. I think tomorrow, I am going to go out and buy those reusable shopping bags, and risk looking a little eccentric. Because it will plain make me feel a little better. Like I am doing something, no matter how small, it will be something. I can swear to you today, however, that you will never see me use cloth diapers. Not for any amount of money. I believe God had a hand in the creation of disposable diapers and I thank him for that. Also, I will never denounce my love for the paper towel. There are somethings you just can't live without. So my question for you, this earth day, is what small change can you make? And what will you never give up, no matter the guilt the world will throw your way?

Learning to Bite my Tounge

I am writing this not in an effort to bash my husband, but in an effort to feel a little more understanding of men and more united with wives out there. Okay, maybe that is a bunch of crap, but what is the harm in poking a little fun at my husband right? I am personally ok with it, and frankly I doubt he will read this, so I will just speak for him and say I am sure he wouldn't mind. I looked out my window today and this was my view. My kids riding bikes on the driveway. The oldest playing with a hose in the field (no he is not relieving himself in the pasture.) Then my eyes fall upon my husband. Washing his car right before he knows it is about to snow. And I started thinking to myself, "That car wasn't dirty. At least I didn't notice that it was." And I started wondering of all things to clean, (and mind you there is a lot around this house, and no, please do not come over to see, just take my word for it.) why is he washing his car in 50 degree weather right before it is due to snow? And the detail he is taking while washing the car is a lot greater than he takes to vacuum or make the bed, that is for sure.I mean there are a lot of cleaning jobs on my priority list that are WAY higher that waxing the car right before a storm. If I asked him why he felt the urge to do this, I am sure he would say something about salt on the road and rusting the car or blah blah blah...
But I know better. I suspect this is a guy thing. In my experience, guys mostly do things on their own schedules, and when it directly effects them. And it is a man and his car after all. And I come from a family very passionate about their German cars. So I snapped the shot and walked away. I won't remind him that it is about to snow and I wont even point out that is pretty much a waste to do this in my opinion. I won't ask him what he is thinking because I already know. This is his car. And I know better than ever come in between a man and his German automobile.
So my question for anyone reading this is does your husband have that thing? The thing that he is very possessive about and borders on the compulsive when it comes to taking care of it? Or is it just my neurotic husband? And you know, it very well may be. But I am willing to face that reality, people. Because it is not me we are talking about is it?

Twilight Poll

Okay I know everyone has probably seen this picture.... and honestly I am curious what everyone thinks of this cast. First off, is there any one female over the age of 12 on the planet that has not read the books? (Briana is off the hook for now). If there is someone that hasn't read them, I am wondering why? Because I am sure they have been shoved in your face enough. It is kind of like American Idol. You have to have watched at least one season. Unless you are my brother and sister in law who don't have a TV. They are off the hook too.
If you have read them on a scale of 1-10... how well did you like them? And were you hesitant to read a vampire book or was this your genre of choice? Honestly I am not expecting anyone to say this is there genre of choice, and frankly I would be a little worried about them if it was, but go on ahead and answer truthfully.
Back to the point, my personal opinion of the cast in this picture is.... huh? This is why it is soo much better to read the books first people. I would not like the books as much if the Edward in my head looked like that. Because honestly? That guy is not that good looking. To me. Personal opinion. I am interested to see if it is just me. Cause it very well could be. I never really caught on to the Tom Cruise is a hunk thing either. So it very well could be. And as for everyone else, I am honestly not sure who everyone else is. Obviously Bella is the short dark headed gal, and she looks right to me. But after that, I am not sure.
Some of you may know, so go on and share. And tell me your opinion. Have you or have you not read the books? Do you or do you not like them? Do you or don't you think this is a good cast? Do you or don't you have a clue who is who in this pic? And finally how many questions can one person fit into a short post? The answer to the last is more than you could ever want.

Yes, I do suffer from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affect Disorder)

It's snowing. It's April 15. This is wrong. In case you don't know how I feel on this subject, you can read about it here.

ALL THE LITTLE THINGS: Definition of Excess

And that's all I have to say about that.

Except for Sarah, and every other person living in Arizona, I envy you right now. Even with the creepy towel wearing, banana eating neighbor.

Truth Sayers II

Hailey: Ugg. You are so popular. (said like a dirty word)

Jonas: (utterly annoyed) Do you even know what popular means?

Hailey: Duh. Yeah.

Jonas: (challenging) What?

Hailey: It means you are a crazy person.

Jonas: (smug) No, it means everybody likes you.

Hailey: (a little humbled) Oh.

Then I'm popular. (apparently not humbled enough)

A big boy and a big birthday

This is you. 8. Today.

I don't know any other 8 year olds that want a venus flytrap for their birthday. But that is the kind of 8 year old we have. So inquisitive and confident in himself. I don't know any other 8 year olds that would ask to spend their birthday money on taking their family out to dinner. But that is the kind of 8 year old we have. So giving and thoughtful. I don't know any other 8 year olds that are told to sit back and relax while everyone else cleans and they ask if they could just help. That is the kind of 8 year old we have. So helpful and loving. I don't know any other 8 year old that would be so happy to just do nothing and hang around the house and play with his family on his birthday. But that is the kind of 8 year old we have. So sweet and easy going.

Jonas, you are the boy every mother dreams of. You make life Heaven on Earth. You are wise beyond your years. Your heart is larger than life. Your passion for the things you love permeates me in a way you cant see. In a way I have yet to find words for. All I can say is that you shine. Your spirit is strong. Strong enough to carry you through anything and everything. This and That and All that comes in between. Smile so pure. Eyes so kind. Your words, Teachers.

You are the best. Happy Birthday, my 8 year old. Amaze me some more this year.

The day the music died

I don't know that I have all that much to say today. I am just mourning the loss of Michael Johns, the reason I tuned into american idol this year. I mean, what? The talent impared cowgirl is still there. And the token wanna be whitney houston chick is still there. And I love the guy, but seriously do americans real have the illusion that david archuleta is going to make an album suitable for anyone under the age of 60? And David Cook? Well, he used to be a little beacon of light, until he mentioned his favorite band was Our Lady Peace? Crash and burn, brother, crash and burn. So today I am wondering when the world went so wrong and what people were thinking and I am debating whether I will still be tuning in every week to see Brooke, whom I frankly am very undecided about. If I do, it will be with great sadness in my heart and a bit of sickness in my stomach because eww, Paula Abdul makes me want to vomit. And that sadly my friends, she will never be in the bottom three.

Craft Therapy 101

It's nearing that time of day. Time for Clean Up Number Three. The tornados that are my children, never stop. So in order to keep sanity, I have chosen three times a day to pick up after them. So I am at number three, and I walk into the family room to find goldfish crackers lovingly littered on the floor. I am not pleased as I have told my children a thousand times no food in there. So I make my way into Caleb's room where there has either been some sort of blanket/clothing explosion or my kids have been setting up the forts again. I start to take care of this and walk into the closet and I find a cereal bowl and spoon. For real? In the closet? As I am reeling to find the sense in this I walk into the bathroom and find the dog leash in the sink. What? Upon further inspection I find under the stool, some dirty Dora underwear. So the line was offically crossed. I know they know better. At this point, my bad mood is offical. I mean come on, with the cereal bowl in the closet? What gutter did my kids crawl out of? For real. I am offically cranky and the kids after the mom stare and mom scolding are offically cranky. Then I walk past the craft corner. My space. And it looks clean. What? Something clean? My urge to suddenly stop everything and put off cleaning and dinner and the kid's homework, overwhelm me and I sat. I sat and I pulled out the paints. I called the kids over and we had an emergency paint session. And it felt good. And the mood was considerably lighter. That is until I informed them they would be cleaning up every last item they misplaced. Without my help. Ok, so maybe only my mood improved. But I'm kinda okay with that.

Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall, you've got a friend

I know how it is to have a brother that you love and can't stand at the same time. I am sure my brother knows how it is to have a sister that you can't stand, but deep down have a strong affection for (brothers don't say "love"). Brothers can be torturous. I know. I have 5. As a child I remember thinking sometimes it was about 5 too many. In their defense, though, it must have been pretty tempting to have such a easy, gullible target. I mean I can't even tell you how many times I fell for their pranks. Like the one where they tell you your adopted. You know, it's the one where they say that you were so ugly mom and dad saw you in the orfanage and they knew no one would want such an ugly baby, so they decided to take you home out of the goodness of their hearts? What, you don't know that one? Must have just been my cruel, cruel brothers then. Or how about the stolen dolls with ransom notes left in their place? (Robb, you still can't fess up to that one, can you?) Point is, I know where my kids are coming from in their intense hate/love/hate relationship. It is hard to have a torturer sharing your room with you. It can feel impossible to have the thorn in your side sitting next to you at the dinner table, the competition for star of the house next to you on the couch. But the fact is, that my mom was right. They are there to stay. No matter how many times I asked my mother to give my brother back, she didn't. She couldn't. Because she knew that brothers can be a sister's confidant, her partner in crime, a shoulder to cry on, her advisor, her teacher, her friend. My mom knew, like I do now, that family is it. It's what matters. She knew that no one will love and understand you like your family. That they are the first people to celebrate your accomplishments, and mourn your tragedies. They are the first ones at your door when you are in need. I guess that is why they call it unconditional love. Now someone tell me how to explain all that to a five year old girl who just got her spot taken on the couch by her evil brother.

Weekend Adventures

It is clear to see that I have not even cracked the surface on ways this child can cause me stress. Let us just start with Saturday, a lovely spring day. We were all together as a family with no places to go or errands to run, which pretty much happens twice a year. At about noon, I was deeply involved with making a display about Jonas for his class that was due Monday. Brian was relaxing on the couch. Jonas and Hailey were watching High School Musical for the 20th time, and Caleb was quiet. Too quiet. Know this, if there is quiet in this house for more than five minutes, you know someone is up to something that they shouldnt be. I asked Brian if he has seen Caleb. I got the sinking feeling he was outside. The dog we are dog sitting was no where to be found either. We jumped up and raced around the house. Not there. We raced out to the backyard and the pond. No kid there. We ran around to the front yard where I see a woman staring at something down the street. Now, in case you don't know, we live on a fairly busy street where people drive way too fast. At this point my heart was at my throat. Brian booked it, and because he can run a heck of a lot faster than me, I didn't catch up to him until he is on his way back. With Caleb, wearing a sparkly ballet shoe and one of Jonas' boots. And the dog on a leash. From THE PARK. Across the street. 10 houses down. We asked him, "What were you doing?!" and he looked at us like we were complete idiots and said, "take cocoa for walk". Oh duh, sorry. You go on ahead, Caleb. Sorry to have disturbed you. Just go ahead and hitch a ride home when you feel the urge. So we got home and I was cleaning up, waiting for Child Protective Services to knock on my door any time, when I heard Caleb calling to me from downstairs. It is at this moment that I remembered I left a bottle of BLACK INK within his reach. The lid is screwed on of course, but since when has something like a lid deterred this child from trouble? I run down stairs to see Caleb wearing my bottle of ink. Also wearing ink, was the fabric covered dining room chair, the hardwood, and some carpet. I spent half an hour in the shower scrubbing him down, and the ink has nearly disappeared from his face, but it has pretty much tattooed onto his stomach and legs. Just a lovely little reminder of one of the most fabulous weekends ever. (insert sarcasm here). I was still reeling from it this morning when I weighed myself and saw that I have lost 7 pounds this week. And I would bet most of those pounds were probably shed chasing him. So now I see that having Caleb around is like trading pounds for peace. And so far today, I am OK with that.

This was my view at 12:03 a.m.

My brother in law Dave and his strong, exhausted wife, Amanda, just gave us the latest edition to the Swanson clan. She came just before midnight. We could hear her cry all the way from the waiting room. She went ahead and followed my babies' examples of being GIGANTIC, weighing in at 9 pounds 11 ounces, 21 inches. She is a beautiful baby. Being all perfectly round and huge and cone headed, she really reminded me of my babies. Put me right back to a day almost 8 years ago when my GIGANTIC baby was born. I looked at this little girl (nameless for now), and was lost in the memory of my feelings as I held my first baby. Knowing that joy was right there in that moment. The purest form of love and happiness and everything good in my arms. Knowing that my life just got turned upside down and I was ready and willing and excited about it because I knew, holding that first little baby, that my life had finally connected with it's purpose.

Truth Sayers

So I am working out and I am not enjoying myself. Surprised? You shouldnt be. I get off the machine and plop on the floor, trying desperately to not be the first person to exercise herself to death. Sweat is running down my face and must have looked like tears. Caleb is studying me with a look of real concern and points to the eliptical machine and says: "Mom? 'dat mean?"

To which I respond: "Yes, baby that machine is really very mean."

Then hailey says, "So, like, why are you doing that machine anyway?"

And I say, "So I can be more healthy like you. And so I can loose some weight."

She stands there, ponders my answer, looks me up and down, and replies,

"Um, it's not working."

You always know where you stand with kids. And to her, apparantly, I am a strange mother who is killing herself for no apparant reason.

why I, a woman, don't desire a bigger closet

I walked into our closet this morning and looked at my husbands side of the closet. I don't often do this because the urge to throw out some of his stuff overwhelms me. That sounds horrible, I know, but my husband has a problem. He is a pack rat. When it comes to clothes and accessories, I don't think he has rid his closet of anything since 1999. And as a result, we are drowing in random screen printed tee shirts, old frayed flannel shirts, holey jeans, and piles of hats. As I am sitting there cursing him for his mounds of useless clothing, my focus zeroed in on the hats. As I looked at them, I realized that each of them represented certain times in his life. High School phase, the Band phase, the mission phase, BYU student phase, working at Richmond phase ( a particularly bad phase), and The Navy Reserve phase (Save that story for another post). And suddenly my moment of cursing him and his ever growing piles of useless stuff, changed gears into gratitude. Gratitude for the many different hats he has worn in his life for me. The phases he has gone through that haven't been the easiest or the most fun he has done to make our life as a family better. And there have been many hats he has worn and loved but had to put away for more important things. There are many hats he would love to wear but can't because of all he is already doing for me and his gaggle of children. So I am standing in the closet, this morning full of gratitude and love for my husband's efforts on my behalf. Then I turn to walk out and I trip on one of his 50 pairs of shoes. Then that love and gratitude moment passed right on by.

I am trying to be nicer to these two, so they will return the favor

Ok, so I know it may surprise you, but I use to be athletic. I used to do athletic things. I used to not care about the scale and working out. Then I got pregnant, got fat, had fat babies, stayed fat and then realized I needed to care about the above two things. But man, the more weight you pack on, the harder it is to approach these two, trust me. They are not my friends anymore. They both make me want to vomit, frankly. They don't work very well with my "must be perfect all the time" attitude I have mentioned previously in this post: http://swansonisms.blogspot.com/2008/03/this-is-me-learning-little-slower-than.html.

But I am trying now to not be discouraged when I don't burn 900 calories in 45 minutes, 6 times a week. I am trying to accept I have to start over and work up to this, and that there will be days where I don't measure up to the terribly high standards I tend to put on myself and mostly that THAT IS OK.

I have been waiting a while for motivation to come to me like a stike of lighting and ignite me to start working out again. But oddly enough, it never happened. So time kept passing and passing and I stayed far away from these nasty little things, until a friend (you know who you are), shoved me into the light of reality. I just need to do it. So this morning I did. And much to my disappointment, it still wasnt easy or fun. Then after, I stepped onto the little scale; and oh man, if you have not weighed yourself in a while and are looking for motivation to work out, just try weighing yourself. If the shock of the number doesnt move you into action, then you clearly do not need to be working out, so just sit back and have yourself a big old slice of pizza. And then tell me how it was, because I will be living vicariously through you for the next few months.