Vente Triple Shot, Two Pump Sugar Free Vanilla, Nonfat Nonsense...

I think today is one of those days where my brain won't wake up.  Even coffee didn't help!  For those of you who are close to me, I bet you were thrown off by that because everyone knows I don't drink coffee!! For real, I don't.  It hasn't been the easiest thing in the world to resist a habit that brands you a true North-Westerner (along with an active REI membership and "Coexist" bumper sticker on your hybrid coupe) but I have staved it off for years nonetheless.  From a 3 year stint as a Barista in college to enduring countless business meetings in Starbucks, I have never given in to this $5/day drug! 

You hard-core coffee drinkers are an interesting bunch...flashing your "Gold Cards" (and free flavored syrup privileges) almost as though God himself should have sanctioned you to be a part of the interview process for anyone who dares to stand at the helm of your favorite monster espresso machine.  You bicker back and forth about whether Starbucks has gone too corporate or if it's better to be in the Dutch Mafia, and you turn giddy when you get a free birthday drink like you just found $10 in the dryer.  You abbreviate the words "whipped cream" to "whip" (this bothers me so much for no particular reason...you're really not saving that much time.) You speak a nonsense language that would go so far over my head if I hadn't paid off part of my education by enduring collegiate late-night studiers screaming orders at me like their final grade depended on my propensity to get exactly 2 pumps of vanilla in their 110 degree latte. And worst of all, you coffee lovers push your drug on people like myself swearing up and down that the next Pumpkin Latte I try is going to BLOW MY MIND like the 5 I've had before (once a year for the last 5 years) never did.

But no one has ever gotten to me.  My kitchen counter has remained Keurig free and I've never once waited in line to redeem a Starbucks Treat Receipt.  So getting off my high horse.....and onto a confession, I should be honest and sat I actually have a faaaaaaaar worse habit.  It's a little something called "Diet Coke."  I LOVE Diet Coke!  I love it in the morning, I love it in the evening, I love it in a can, I love it in a bottle, I love it in mixed drinks, I love it!!!  If I could pre-write my obituary, I'm sure it would say:  Jenny died happily of aspartame poisoning.  For those of you worried about my health, I drink a lot of water to compensate and do limit myself to a certain amount a day.  But I just can't shake the silver can habit no matter how many times someone tells me that my drink of choice can literally take the rust of a nail or shine up an old penny.  I just shut my ears and scream "lalalalalalalalalalala!"  So, continuing in the spirit of honesty, my husband and I (who has the same horrible habit) have been trying to quit drinking soda for the last 5 years at least once every 3 months.  He usually leads the charge, I always cheat, and we never succeed.

But three weeks ago, for whatever reason, Luke decided to buckle down and get serious about changing his ways.  I didn't notice at first.  But after a few days of some incredibly chipper morning check-in calls, I couldn't figure out why Luke was SO happy.  I mean....did he get his hands on some uppers?  He works at an accounting firm so unless it's "wear a Hawaiian shirt day" I couldn't imagine that anything spectacular was happening at the office. (No offense accountants....it takes all types to make the world go round!)  Then he came clean.  "Jenny, I switched to coffee and it's AWESOME. It tastes like crap (direct quote) but it's AWESOME." So being the ever supportive wife that I am, after he proved his dedication to living Coke-free for two whole weeks, I bought our home it's very first coffee maker. (I'll get him the Keurig if he makes it a year).  So anyway, he's been using it....and I've been staring at it wondering if it really is the key to getting off the brown syrup? 

I hadn't really been motivated to try it until today though and it's only because I had one of those nights. The kind where you wake up to a 3 foot shadow by your bed whispering, "I have to go potty!"  Being the great mom I am I said half-awake, "So go."  

Emery: I already did.
Me: So go back to bed.
Emery: I want to sleep with you.
Me: No, go back to bed.
Emery: I need to change my pants, they're kind of wet.
Me: Did you pee them?
Emery: No! ..................................a little.
Me: Okay, I'll get you some new pajamas.
Emery (After changing): Will you lay with me?
Me: (half asleep) For a few seconds.

So if you're a parent you know how this ends.  I spent all night in bed with my toddler who was clinging onto me like a baby monkey in a grip Houdini himself couldn't escape, on a horribly uncomfortable mattress with cheap pillows, with only a Cars blanket to keep me warm, while the worlds brightest night light rotated ocean fish around the room and left me with what can only be described as the worst night of sleep the universe has ever offered.  If ever there were a time to try that coffee maker....it was this morning!!

So I did!  My final verdict is that I am not sure that coffee is great.  But my mug of creamer and sugar was fantastic! I think some caffeine snuck in there though, because my heart is pounding and I'm not even sure this blog makes sense?!  Forgive me for the time you wasted reading it!

Happy Thursday

Powder Blue, Brass & Glass

I love the Home Depot for 2 very specific reasons:

1. They have those genius carts that look like a car with the double steering wheels that my kids adore! This means I can shop with my children buckled in, and entertained, and not touching things, or asking questions, or begging for candy, or touching each other.  If ever a Peace-Prize could be awarded to an inanimate object, I think this would be our clear winner.  (Are you taking notes Trader Joes?  Love your store....but your cart situation needs some attention!)

2.  It a store of possibility!  It's a place where you can spend hours discussing what your brand new Kelly Ripa inspired kitchen is going to look like when you finally have the time and the money (30 years from now) even when you're just stopping in for some potting soil.  At the Home depot I can imagine all my door knobs matching, that brass and glass foyer light I've always hated gone, and the Bold Look of Kohler.  It's candy for a grown-ups soul, really it is.

So unless you have a really bad understanding of the concept of foreshadowing, I bet you can guess that I went to Home Depot this weekend? Specifically, I went for paint which in itself is a huge deal because as much as I want to shine our little house up, I am just DONE painting.  It's not that our current house doesn't a need a color re-do (what were the previous owners thinking? Was powder blue on clearance?) It's more that our first home before this was one that required "possibility and potential goggles" while signing the closing papers.  We spent the first 3 years of our marriage painting every wall in every room including the exterior until I didn't even need to read the sharpie names on the orange aprons at the paint counter anymore.  They knew us, and we knew them.  And naturally, as you can imagine, once all of my door knobs matched in that house and the last wall was painted.....we decided to move.

So anyway my extreme disdain for powder blue restrooms has been silenced my extreme fatigue of painting and I haven't been to that section of Home Depot for a while. But then this weekend, my husband made one small fatal error.  He decided to deep clean around a faucet. And being the extra prudent fellow that he is, he pulled the faucet off to do it....and I caught him.

Me:  "Hey, since you have that off, I want to run to Home Depot and pick out a new one!" (The old faucet was obviously picked out by the lovers of powder-blue.  I wish I could find them to give it back!  I have no doubt they are eating Pop Rocks while listening to Sinead O'Connor right about now...)

Luke: Well can you get a new towel holder too? I don't like this one and since we're changing things....

Me:  Well if you're going to pull the towel holder off, we should paint too!

And so on and so forth.....

Remember when I said my husband made one fatal mistake this last weekend?  Make that 2.  The second, of course,  being that he sent me to Home Depot by myself thinking I wouldn't meander down a few extra aisles when I was done selecting paint. Speaking of paint,  I love that there is a huge sign on the counter that says, "Men selecting paint colors will need written permission from their wives." I wish I had thought of that!  But I did think of another sign for them.  It goes like this:

"Men sending their wives to Home Depot alone for paint shall not hold us liable when she returns with new chandeliers as well"

Too specific? Not in our case!  So Luke spent the rest of night plumbing, painting, and hanging lights and I spent the rest of the night at happy hour with my dearest friends.  And they say marriage gets hard after 7 years?  Nah!  I say it runs more like a well-oiled machine where my husband understands that his best chance of peace is to send me out and shut himself in a closed bathroom.  He's not a pushover, he's a genius.  And that's why I love him!

Have a great week friends! 

PS....Anyone want a heinous light fixture?  Or should I save it for our community garage sale where inexplicably people will buy anything as long as you act like you're not ready to let it go?

Crayola Markers in Preschool.....Crayola Markers in College.

So yesterday was Emery's 4th day of preschool which loosely translates into my 4th day of freedom!  Although it's funny how my definition of "freedom" has changed over the years.  At age 8 it meant I could ride my bike to 7-11 for a Slurpee. At age 13 it meant that I could stray from my mom for an hour at the mall and shop for a new Esprit bag without someone asking, "Why is that bag $20 cooler than this one?"  At age 21 it meant that I could stop toting around Crayola markers in an attempt to mimic bar stamps so that I could enjoy my God-given right to sing a little Karaoke!  (Side note:  Don't judge!  I lived in a university town, was the youngest of my friends, and it was a time honored tradition that had been passed down by those who shared the same 20-something brain-lapse that I fear for my own children!  Did I mention Luelle isn't going to college away from home?  Ever.)  Regardless, at age 32 "freedom" means I can tote a 19 month old around for 3 hours while running errands at sonic speed, all the while thinking, "How did I not realize how easy life was when I only had one!?"  (I'm sure those of you with 3+ are laughing at me right about now....)

So back to yesterday, I somehow got it in my mind that with my 3 precious hours I was going to go to Winco and do some grocery shopping.  Now I'm not much of a Winco shopper.  It's not that I don't appreciate a good reduced-price can of Ranch-Style beans, it's more that it's just way too far away and I can't take the intense pressure of speed bagging groceries while the checker holds up the next order snickering at my inability to keep up the pace. Seriously, I loathe bagging my own groceries there; it speeds up my heart rate. The plastic bags never come apart easily and the paper bags only hold a few things each unless you happen to have a level of puzzle solving skills that warrants your acceptance onto CBS's Survivor.  So while I completely understand people's love of Winco's low price selections, I have to say I would rather save money by stretching out my (denied) hair coloring treatments than shop there on a regular basis.  To each his own, right?

But yesterday I needed to restock on things like salad dressing and canned basics and I simply cannot deny that Winco's prices are significantly better on mega-trips than my little town's Safeway where if you shop wrong, ketchup is going to cost you a good portion of your child's college savings. So I braved the crowds and stuck little LuLu in the cart determined not to get caught in the aisle gridlock that my husband (not so) affectionately refers to as the "Winco Shuffle" ("Which way you going?  Whatcha trying to get at? Am I in your way?  Can you hand me that?")  I believe with my whole heart that at the end of any Winco trip I have, by nature, bonded with my fellow shoppers more than I could have ever bonded with the girls who taught me the marker bar-stamp trick!  So it's only natural to size these people up as soon as I enter those double doors.  I mean, we're going to spend the next hour together analyzing each other carts, talking about whether Santias chips are better than Juanita's, you get it.

But do you know what I discovered?  Winco in practically empty at 8:00 in the morning! For the most part I didn't even have to engage in conversation!  I did happen upon another shopper by the cilantro but I didn't talk to her because she was too busy touching every single bunch of it and selectivity smelling some for freshness.  Are you supposed to smell cilantro?  I've never done that.  It was kind of gross and made me rethink my desire to make pico de gallo in the first place.  That's probably something that needed to be rethought anyway because I've never actually made it and I could just stop by Baja Fresh instead and eat mini-cup after mini-cup from the salsa bar to my heart's content for the price of a side of chips!   This leads way to my PSA for this week: always remember to wash your produce people!

For as empty as that store was it still took me forever to get out of there.  It reaffirmed my belief that it may just not be the store for me.  I have a low patience level, short time frame, and the money saved by shopping there is eaten by commute when gas is $4 a gallon!  In fact, I was so tired when I was done that instead of making a special trip to get a fall scented candle (one of my yearly traditions when the weather changes) I just bought one from the dog food aisle.  I did smile that it was only $7 instead the $25 Yankee candles that I desperately try to justify to myself every year.  I don't care who you are or how much money you have, there had better be gold flakes in $25 candles! And they better be made in a world of rainbows by magical unicorns where kittens cry when less superior candles are burnt!  Thank the good Lord above for Bed, Bath, and Beyond 20% off coupons, because I don't feel the same way about $19.99 candles...

Hope you all had a great week!

And So It Begins...

Okay, I've been taking an extended hiatus from my blog...I know.  Somehow I decided that I deserved a "Summer Vacation" from self promoting and decided that I would come back to my little project in the fall.  (Side note: did you know you shouldn't capitalize seasons? I had to Google that.)  If you're like me, fall is a second chance at conquering your New Year's resolutions. It's a time to give it your all (for a week) again!  So I'm going to see if I can start squeezing in a few blogs while Emery is hard at work conquering his grueling 3 hour schedule at a place where a good day means you didn't need your "emergency clothing" conveniently kept near the pint-sized restrooms. 

Ahhhh......preschool.  You've been a long time coming, my friend!  Maybe not every parent anxiously awaited for the momentousness "first day" to arrive with the same anticipation as myself.  But I bet those are the same parents that have a well-used craft bin at home with pipe cleaners, glue sticks, and other little dollar store finds that can be made into toddler projects whenever inspiration strikes (yep...I'm talking to you Pamela Susan!)  Notice I said a well-used bin.  Don't get me wrong, I have all of those things.  I'm not sure where they are and they definitely aren't opened, but I have them.  In any case, as a work-at-home mom with two toddler schedules to juggle, I have to be honest and say I'm not breaking out the glue gun that often. But I digress....

What I was trying to get at is that although I'm not winning any awards for a strongly structured home pre-preschool curriculum, I've always known that when the day arrived for Emery to start school, I wanted to be one of the parents who make it a priority to be involved.  This was heavily foreshadowed by my own childhood tendencies where I did things like begging to stay after recess to help the aides pick up balls so my "go home slip" would have a gold star instead of just a check.  And that was only first grade!  Fast forward to afternoons where I was up to my elbows in tempera* paint making student council posters and it's not shocking that my kids might develop a strategy to hide parent volunteer forms from me. Speaking of tempera paint, I bought some for Emery's classroom (even though it was the optional supplies list) just because the smell brought back fond elementary school memories the same way the sight of Elmer's Glue still makes me think of that kid (name withheld) who used to spread it on his hand until it dried and peel it off like it was dead skin.  I bet if he has his own kids, he taught them this nifty little trick in an effort to pass the legacy on!  I base that assumption on the fact that even though my over-involvement is embarrassing to admit, I can't shake it from my DNA 15 years later!

As you can imagine, when I got an email saying the very first PTO meeting was taking place in the church basement I cleared my schedule to make an appearance.  But seeing as the preschool is connected to a private school with children who've been attending for up to 7 years, I knew I would be low man on the totem pole and tricked my husband into coming with me.  "It's a parent's meeting Luke, everyone will be there!"  Ha!  Everyone was not there.  Am I the only one who got the letter? Or the only one that cared?  In all fairness they only gave us 2 days warning so I'm imagining very few people had the same flexibility to attend. But regardless I had just walked into a private meeting with the principle, two other moms, and the office administrator.  So I sat there and very awkwardly kept my mouth shut in a meeting where the seasoned pros went back and forth with inside jokes that I'm assuming might be funny to me if I had a 5th grader who took art literacy last year.  It was a very narrow audience they were appealing to if you catch my drift. They were very nice women, but I couldn't have jumped in there with an ice breaker if I tried!  We did finally have a chance to contribute to the meeting though.  When conversation worked its way to volunteerism, it was suggested that parents could offer their natural skill to help out.   

PTO Mom:  "So if someone likes to cold call, they can volunteer to cold call for us!"

Luke: "Yeah....good luck finding a cold caller. Solid idea"

Needless to say that if we weren't on the radar two weeks ago, we are now.

(*Edited because tempura is a batter and tempera is a paint!  You failed me spellcheck!)

Here are some pictures of Emery on his first day.  Joking aside, We really do love his new school and everyone there has been amazing!

He kept doing this!

So proud of his "big boy" backpack!

"Leave already mom!"

The Death Road

How was your Memorial Weekend?!

I wish I were going to follow up that question with a drawn out recap of how amazing my Memorial Weekend was, but there are a few things in the way of that happening:

1. I live in Oregon so Memorial Day weekend is generally an indoor activity.
2. I have kids.

Okay, okay! I realize that I am blessed to have kids and in theory that increases the importance of family time during these rare three day weekends.  In theory, however, family time doesn't include chasing a 15 month old in non "baby-proofed" environments thus eliminating any chance of actually having a conversation with another human being that doesn't involve the phrases, "No No!" and "Icky Icky!"  So instead of hopping in our car (after taking out a second mortgage to fill er' up) and creating memories at the beach or on a camping trip like the rest of America, we chose to spend most of the weekend in the good old Schultz house.   It's so relaxing to be in our own little bubble where every light socket is plugged and you can't go into a room without disarming a baby gate that rivals MIT in the level of intelligence required to be granted entrance. (Sidenote:  Do they use these baby gates in wartime strategies?  They should!  A retina scan security point would be easier to fake your way through than trying to figure out where to press one of those gates to unlock it!)

Anyway, because I was home (and my husband was here to help with the bath times and potty emergencies) I kind of went into this trance of laziness that my parental responsibilities wouldn't normally allow for.  This would be better explained if I just came clean and told you that I watched 6 hours of Netflix and made a frozen pizza for lunch.  I bet you're wondering what I could possibly watch for 6 hours?  You probably think it was Lifetime movies or The Real Housewives of Bankruptcy?  Nope....not even close!  It was Ice Road Truckers.   More Specifically....."Ice Road Truckers - World's Deadliest Roads." You see, besides "jean hoarding", another secret of mine is obsessive internet research.  For example, that is how I became "crazy tsunami lady" and scared myself into taking my kids to wave pools for all of life instead of the Oregon Coast. All it took was 12 hours of scientific article reading, youtube vidoes, and wikipedia. It was cheaper than another college degree and I probably retained 3 times as much information because I wasn't preoccupied with what I was planning on wearing to "Taco Tuesday" that night.

But waaaaaaaaay before tsunamis, I went through a phase where I couldn't learn enough about the deadliest roads in the world. I have no idea why this fascinates me considering the fact that if there is so much as "chain advisory" while going over the Government Camp Pass, I want to turn back and enjoy a nice afternoon in Sandy where we can admire Mt. Hood from afar.  Regardless, the one road I was particularly amazed by is this road in Bolivia nicknamed, "The Death Road." Have any of you heard of this road?  It's like a one lane gravel road with an unsecured cliff on one side and oh......just a mere 3000-6000 foot drop off on the other side with no guard rail.  Can you even imagine?!?!  And people drive down that thing every day! It's insane.  ABSOLUTELY INSANE!! So I was beyond captivated watching 6 hours of North American truckers driving on very similar roads in the Indian Himalayas in trucks that look like they were made out of toothpicks.  At least Indians have a sense of style and decorate their toothpick trucks with a whole bunch of metallic streamers that look like they belong adorning the handles of banana seat bikes. Hey, If you're going die, I say why not do it flamboyantly!?  We could all learn something from their stylistic optimism!

I, for one, felt guilty wasting so much time on a wonder of the world that I have NO intention of ever visiting.  But I think God was giving me a pass on my laziness this time because as luck would have it, Luke had some relatives in town this weekend that he hadn't seen forever.  And wouldn't you know it, they lived in Bolivia of all places!  So before I could finish introducing myself as Luke's wife I was screaming over a crowd of in-laws, "Hey...have you ever been on the Death Road?"  And not only had they been on it, it was their road to work!  I could have listened attentively to hours of stories about this subject. If Terry (our esteemed Death Road driver) had ever wanted a captive audience - he had one now.  I was both sad and relieved that he said the danger is kind of sensationalized for television documentaries. But I bet he is just conditioned to say that so his wife didn't spend her every waking hour in prayer for his safety!

I'm not sure where I'm going with this.  But if you're bored....it's a topic you can google or something.

Hope you had a great weekend!

Ummm....if this is my way to work, I'll starve thanks!

PS, a very sincere "Thank You" to all of our Nation's Armed Forces past and present!  I'm incredibly passionate about respecting these people, their families, and all they risk to protect our nation!  Even something as simple as writing this blog today is possible because of your tireless work to keep this a nation of freedom. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

And......We're Back!

So it's been awhile since my last post.  I've been thinking about writing for some time but the problem was that I didn't know where to start!  I have so many "this is what we did" stories and pictures, but after a month of no updates I wasn't sure which qualified as crossing that line into interesting and worthwhile reading.  But then again, not much I write about is ground breaking journalism to begin with. That is unless, you too, understand why finding a missing Spider-Man head can be the dividing line between a great day or one that makes you question your past birth control choices.

So....hmmmmm....let me see. I guess I'll do a mini-update!  Tsunamis:  I conquered my fear and went back to the beach!  Let me be extra clear that this was only because it was Luke's company trip and because there was a free massage involved.  So with heavy relaxation in mind, we left the kids behind and headed to Salishan Resort where I would have one very peaceful nights sleep that wouldn't end with Handy Manny at 5:30 in the morning. Bliss!  Except.....

I'm not someone who thinks that an hour long massage is Heaven on Earth.  Beyond the awkward touching between strangers, it's actually the environment I have an issue with. I mean, think about it!  Dark room....stranger....candles....new age music....people pay for stuff like this?!  Other people (like me) file police reports for stuff like this!  In any case, during a typical hour long massage it usually takes me about 30 minutes to stop the conversation in my head that I use as a distraction from my #1 enemy....silence.  If you know me, you know that silence isn't my strong point.  I can find a way and a story to fill even 2 minutes of dead air with anyone from my kids to a stranger in a lobby.  Yeah....I'm "that" person in front of you in the grocery store line asking the checker if they've ever tried Chocolate Cheerios while it's obvious that all they care about is that their state mandated 15 minute break is running late and desperately needed after an influx of novice "extreme couponers."  But worse than the silence, and worse than the fact that this massage was at sea level (can I survive 3 days in a spa robe until help arrives provided I even find high ground??) was the fact that I had my very first male massage therapist.  Ummm.....aren't there just some professions that are best left to one gender or the other?  A male therapist massaging a female in a closed room = awkward.  A male therapist massaging a male in a closed room = really awkward. No offense to my masseuse Greg (or whatever his name was) but unless you are 25, a Cross-Fit® trainer on the side, and my husband totally approves*, I NEVER want to tell you what I think feels good! NEVER.

Other than that, our main adventure in the last month was a family trip to the Great Wolf Lodge.  I eagerly booked two nights as soon as I saw the following magic words on their website : "84 degrees every day!"  SOLD.

Our trip can best be summed up by a list of souvenirs -

•  MagiQuest Wand
•  Set of Wolf Ears
•  Case of Pink Eye  (No extra charge for that!)

On a totally unrelated note, does anyone know where I can buy a black onsie?  For Luelle....not me (although that would have been a smashing addition to my bodysuit collection in Junior High!)  I am not a fashonista but I live by one apparel rule: never buy black cotton!  Black cotton items are like land-mines in your wardrobe that explode at the exact moment you need a sharp dark tone only to find it's now a faded heather grey after one careful wash and line dry! Of course, there is no shortage of black cotton at retailers across the city until you actually need it! And I need a black onsie so I can take some pictures of LuLu that should have been done forever ago!  I've been procrastinating on this task for entirely too long and after helping a friend with pictures of her little girl this weekend, I realized that I am way behind the eight-ball on properly documenting my daughter's life.  It was motivation I desperately needed!!  And I hope she doesn't mind me sharing.....but how freaking cute is this little princess Ellie???!

* Side note:  For those of you wondering.....Luke didn't approve even when it was a man more likely to go shopping with me than to hit on me in a bar.

Ding Ding Ding....It All Makes Sense!

Just so you know, you all let me down.....hard!  I thought that writing about my earthquake fear would be therapeutic and that I would get email after email from friends telling me that I am embarrassing myself in a public forum with complete and utter nonsense!  Instead I got emails, phone calls, texts, and posts offering me Xanax from secret stashes and countless people admitting that they too had cleared out some garage shelves for drinking water and flashlights.  But you all couldn't leave it there...could you?  No, No, No....you just couldn't! You had to take it one step farther with little quips like this:

"I'm not scared of earthquakes, but.....
  (a) I'm afraid of biological terrorist attacks on our drinking water"
  (b) I'm afraid of nuclear waste leaking into the Pacific Ocean"
  (c) I'm afraid of domestic shootings and bank robberies"
  (d) I'm afraid of Grey's Anatomy doing another Musical Episode"

Okay, I made that last one up.  It is actually a true fear though!  (Side note: Really?  Eight melancholy songs with an upbeat "make-out" melody tossed in the middle? That made it past focus groups and ABC executives???)  Regardless, I did learn a few things from this whole mini-anxiety attack.  You might want to write these down:

1. At the beach? Feel an earthquake?  High ground people.....get to high ground!! Why isn't this paired with "Stop, Drop, and Roll" as a child for us coastal state residents?  I could have died playing Fascination in Seaside trying to win a key chain up until this point in my life when Channel 8 decided to cram fear down our throats for 2 straight week post Japanese tragedy!

2. You all now need to think twice before leaving your purses and/or bags unguarded in my presence.  I wasn't aware that most of you are in possession of such fine mood enhancers!  I've always bragged that I surround myself with happy, positive, and uplifting individuals!  Ding, Ding, Ding...it all makes sense now!

3. Do NOT under ANY circumstance watch the show "It Could Happen Tomorrow" unless you have a drug toting friend who really is dumb enough to leave their purse unguarded in your presence. Don't think you won't sink that low after this mega-depressor!  After watching this show for 2 hours straight I developed my own conspiracy theory that the head producer is actually a commissioned anxiety drug salesman. Job well done, sir! You've been promoted....

In any case, I didn't mean for this blog to be about earthquakes, but I thought I should at least give a mini-update as to my sanity level. (Insert your obligatory joke about how I was never sane in the first place...good one!)  I actually meant for this blog to be about another issue I have encountered in my daily life: jean hoarding!

I discovered this horrific personal trait while cleaning out my closet yesterday. Important to note - I didn't say "jean addict," I said "jean hoarding."  You see, a jean addict is someone who spends a little too much time doing retail therapy at The Buckle.  A jean hoarder is someone who never throws away any jeans on the very slight off chance that some day (a) I might be that thin again (b) I might be that heavy again (c) high-waisted denim might come back into style (almost there!!) or (d) I will use a pair as "painting pants".  I am so embarrassed that I found about 15 pairs of random old jeans tucked in the back of my closet!  Seriously, if I ever lost all the photos of my twenties I could have pulled those things out for an equally reminiscent jaunt down memory lane.  After trying every pair on (some too tight - boo!, some too loose - yey, but all equally heinous and time warped) I finally found the courage to put most of them in a Goodwill bag.  Even that felt wrong though! Part of me wondered if it should be federally mandated that I burn them in the same way that they require that expired car seats be destroyed!? I cringe at the thought of another 5 footer picking a pair of these up for $5.99 while all I get is a tiny tax write off and a lost opportunity to compare my current body to my college body.  Shut up...you know you do it too! :) Right?!?!  C'mon.....right?!  Just me?!   

***Not my actual jeans, but it felt more official with a picture***