Kennalyn

Even though I do not know you, I somehow love you deeply.

2011-01-19T21:51:00.003-07:00

Dear _____,

It’s difficult to write this letter, because even the most brilliant, most perfectly written words cannot express emotion this deep, as I write to you, mother to mother.

Though we’ve never met, I know a few things about you…

Even though I do not know you, I know that you must be a beautiful person on the inside. How else would you be able to go through a great trial such as this, and have the ability to make the most difficult and courageous decision I think any human could ever possibly make. Ever. I respect and admire you for that alone, more than you can ever know.

Even though I do not know you, I know that you are a beautiful person on the outside, too. How else could this child be the most stunningly beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on?

Even though I do not know you, I know you must be a very strong woman. You must have an enormous heart, and happy personality, as those traits are abundantly apparent in your son.

Even though I do not know you, we share a bond that I see every time I look into my son’s eyes. And I close my eyes in thankfulness every single day. Thankfulness to you. And to Lorenzo for being perfect. And to whatever higher power helped us somehow find each other in this massive world.

Even though I do not know you, I somehow love you deeply.

These are things I’ll be able to tell Lorenzo about his birth mother as he grows.

I never had the chance to tell you how terrified I was, that Friday in March, as we traveled to meet this sweet little boy. What is his personality? What will he look like? Could he really end up in our family? It was one of the longest days of my life. I had gone to bed the night before by the light of my cell phone, staring at a tiny, pixelated picture message of what could be my son. Trying to fall in love with a blurry, 5-hour-old face. Anxious. Excited. Terrified. Elated.

36 hours later, Steve and I walked hand in hand down that hospital hallway and into the nursery, my heart beating so wildly that I actually thought to myself, “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, in case I need some cardiac assistance.” I’ve only been so scared and anxious one other time my life. But having previous experience in this precise feeling doesn't dilute its euphoria, its horror. That walk up the hallway was 4 miles long, in slow-motion like a dream in which you're sprinting, yet only moving several inches per stride.

Finally, we walked through the nursery doors and my eyes quickly darted from baby to baby, wondering, “Is that him? No. Is that? No.” and finally my eyes settled on a tiny little bundle, with long hair sticking straight out the top, just as my first son's had the day I met him. My heart stopped.

The nurse wheeled him into a private room for us to officially meet in private. And as soon as the door closed behind us, I immediately broke down into sobs of … relief! My anxiety and anticipation turned to overwhelming peace and gratitude in the smallest instant.

I already loved that little Lorenzo.

That little tiny baby grew from barely over 5 lbs. to perfectly PLUMP in no time. He's a ray of sunshine to everyone who knows him. He is quick to give a smile, and his perfect little dimple is so easy to fall in love with.

Lorenzo’s giggle is so infectious. It’s deep and rumbly, but very cheerful… just like you might imagine from seeing his chubby pictures.

He has the most tender heart of gold. He loves people. He’ll put his hands on the cheeks of someone’s face, pull them close, and study them very seriously as if he’s learning all about them. And then after several seconds, he’ll light up with a huge smile as if to say, “Ok, I trust you now! Let’s be friends!”

Your sweet boy is loved beyond measure. He is smothered in kisses daily. He’s the most amazing thing in the world to us. He’s truly happy. He’s healthy. He brightens the lives of those around him.

Please take comfort in knowing these things. Be happy, for he lights every room with his smile. Be proud, for he is magnificent.

With love, from my side of the rainbow.

(These thoughts are some excerpts from the letter I mailed, with additional thoughts that I didn't mail.)

Piggies

2010-04-26T21:58:00.003-06:00

This blog has been many things in the past. Now, for lack of time to do anything else with this space, it will be used as my saving grace. For there is no other way for me to remember all the things my children do, were it not for the convenience of blogging.

For those who care, here is a little slice of the heaven I get to live with:

He squealed with delight the first time... and the hundredth time.

2009-12-31T16:16:00.004-07:00

"I'm ready to go sledding now! Mom, can we man AND a snow penguin?"

Carter and one of his best friends, B.

This picture makes me happier than words can express. I was so proud of my boy today. Generally he's so very careful about new adventures. Yesterday I stood him in the snow and he screamed like a naked baby. Wouldn't walk because he was sure he would fall. It took a few minutes of coaxing just to help him feel confident he could take 2 steps in the snow, so for him to channel his adventuring side and have this much fun in the snow made me beam!

Our side yard thing has steep hills and shallow hills, so it's fun for all. But these boys were all about going faster! This is pretty steep for a 2.5 year old, especially after two hours of matting it down and polishing it up with all that sledding. Carter kept screaming, "I wanna go down da big one again!"

Guest Post - "A 2-Foot View" a.k.a. "My Grandma Gave Me a DigiCam 4 Christmas" by Carter (feat. commentary by Mom)

2009-12-26T17:49:00.013-07:00

Wowee our ceilings are tall.

Whoa, buddy. You're scaring me. Focus on walking down the stairs. Do nothing else but walk down the stairs one foot at a time.

Reflections of bed and window.
Cousin RayRay
Ray!
Hey, who took your camera? Putting together your new race car track.

Cityscape

Rayder in a Raiders shirt.

Very picture worthy, indeed! Aww.

I think this is Ray's crotch? Or maybe aunt Meg's? Kris? Wait, why am I even pretending like I would be able to tell who's it is??

Hi, Uncle Kris!

Mommy and Auntie Mel getting supper ready.

Nice framing job, son! Through the chair back.

Hiyeee!!!

A low view of the party.

Nice job on this one! Uncle Chris!

Oh, the old leave-the-lens-open -for-a-sec-trick! Nice one.

Auntie Meg

Auntie Meg's ~~rack~~ new scarf from Uncle Kendall.

Meet the photographer.

Nice use of color!

Macro.

Self Portrat #1.

My fave: Self Portrait #2.

Happy Holidays!

the ring wraith

2009-11-09T21:08:00.002-07:00

Steve was a Ring Wraith from Lord of the Rings for Halloween.

Our friend Marcia took this picture of him.

Generally, her photos are of a more cheerful nature. Like the time she took our family photos in the top banner of this blog.

Or the time she made me look less than horrible when I had to be placed front and center in a catalog for my company.

You really need to check her out at www.marsvasquez.com

Now, back to making holiday gifts.

WINNER! 100 holiday cards or letters from Kennalyn.com

2009-10-28T09:46:00.003-06:00

WOW! Thank you for 263 entries to this contest! Holy moly, I wasn't expecting quite so many. They were coming out from everywhere - the blog, the website, Facebook. Super fun!!

Congratulations to Lindsay Clausse! YOU WIN!

For everyone else, check your email later today for a special holiday TREAT from me!

GIVEAWAY 100 Custom Holiday Photo Cards or Letters

2009-10-20T21:54:00.002-06:00

Can you believe it's almost November already!? My first thought is to freak out a little bit that the holidays are just around the corner. But one of you can cross one of the biggest seasonal "to-dos" off the list because I'm giving away 100 holiday photo cards OR letters, completely customized for YOU. The winner can choose from a design on kennalyn.com or request a custom design (SERIOUSLY.)

Your name can be placed in the drawing multiple times. Here's how to earn entries:

1. Get one entry by visiting kennalyn.com and voting for your favorite design in the comments on this post.

2. Get 2 additional entries by signing up for the Kennalyn.com PERKS email list by clicking here.

3. Get 4 additional entries if you spread the word on Facebook by posting about Kennalyn.com holiday printables. (To get credit for this one, you have to let me know you've done it by commenting here.)

4. Get 7 additional entries if you have a blog and you post the HOLY CUTE Kennalyn.com animated button in your sidebar. Get the button from my sidebar. If that button is too big, use this button instead. (To get credit for this one, you have to let me know you've done it by commenting here.)

5. Get 10 additional entries if you actually talk about kennalyn.com OR this contest on your blog.

These entries can add up fast. If you do all of the above, you'll have 24 entries into the drawing. I have approximately 3 regular blog readers, so your chances of winning are pretty great!

Check out the collection of holiday cards, letters, and gift tags at kennalyn.com - new designs are being added regularly.

Time's a ticking, you have ONE WEEK. (Tues, Oct 27th @ midnight)

Good luck!!!

Tell me what you think, and don't lie.

2009-10-13T20:54:00.003-06:00

I'm pretty sure everyone who reads this blog knows I've been a graphic designer for a decade, give or take. I mainly work in the realm of corporate identity: logos, catalogs, business cards, websites, etc., but every now and again I do personal-type items like birth announcements and wedding invitations.

For the last few holiday seasons, some friends and family have asked me to design custom Christmas cards, gift tags, etc. I'm happy to do it for my favorite people for free. (They just reimburse me for the cost of printing.)

The other day I was anticipating the upcoming design frenzy I normally experience during the next couple of months, and a great idea came to me. I decided to create a handful of designs (some with specific friends and family members' personalities in mind) for my best buddies to choose from this season. That way, I could very quickly implement their customizations and possibly avoid going bonkers this year! (Friends, I love you. You could never make me bonkers.)

As I was finishing up the last design, I realized that streamlining this process made it completely scalable. I could offer the same gift I give my closest friends to everyone, and it would require no extra work on my behalf. So that's what I've decided to do...

My holiday gift to my family's family and my friends' friends (and their friends and family, too!) is to give them access to my holiday cards, letters, gift tags and stickers for FREE! All you'll need to pay for is the cold, hard cost of printing. Annnnd, I've scored us all some pretty amazing prices with my long-standing offset and digital press relationships. I can KILL VistaPrint on pricing, as well as Costco, Heritage Makers, etc. Except that I'm giddy with gleeful glee (Do you watch Glee? It's my fave new show this season) to promise you that the quality of printing I'm able to offer is incomparably higher.

So now, please do the following:

1. Go check out the handful of designs I have put up at www.kennalyn.com and let me know what you think! I'll be adding more designs periodically, and if you are looking for a Christmas card with, say, a hippopotamus on it? Just let me know, I'll do my best to make a darling one available asap.

2. Feel no obligation to order your holiday paper goods through me. Remember, I created this process first and foremost to save ME time. But if you like what you see, by all means, take advantage. And share the love! Send to anyone you think might be interested.

NOTE: You can also design your OWN business cards, magnets, sitckers, bookmarks, envelopes, letters, cards and more using my online design portal. Just upload your own design and take advantage of killer prices.

Seasons

2009-10-11T21:05:00.003-06:00

Sometimes life just kind of kicks your butt, doesn't it? How do many of the full time working moms I know do it all? Work, be a mom, cook dinner every night, shave BOTH legs, look hot and stay caught up on laundry? I fall short on at least one of these things each week.

Or, am I just seeing what I want to see? Maybe they don't get it all done like it appears. Maybe they look at me and wonder how I keep it all together. (That's laughable. If they were only to come take a peek in my fridge. Or under my couch!)

A week or so ago, cjane posted something I haven't stopped thinking about.

"I am not right. I am not right because I am not listening to what is right. Right for me, my body, my season of life."

Like cjane, my current season is not about house decoration, rather organization and cleanliness.

My season is not about fashion, rather simple items that are easily laundered.

My season is not about cooking elegant meals, rather green smoothies, sandwiches, and plain produce.

My season is for getting through. For working at the office and leaving it all there as I drive out of the parking lot. For soaking in every second of time I get with my son (and soak it all in, I do.) A season for growing with my husband and creating our family.

Though many women can do more, I cannot ask myself to do more than the above.

Another season may call for fashion-forward wardrobes, social entertaining and silk drapery.

Until then, this is enough. I don't need any more than this to be happy.

Some 4:14 a.m. complaining.

2009-09-21T03:51:00.004-06:00

It's almost 4 a.m. and I still haven't fallen asleep...which makes me even more angry than it would in any normal situation (not that insomnia is normal for me), because I'm sick and I really need some rest. Dare I say more sick than I've been in years. I've worked myself to the ground and brought this upon myself. Not that I had much of a choice... when life puts a mountain in your path, the only choice in my world is to start hiking.

It's like one huge bump after another. Too much work, no choice but to hunker down and do it, got the cold/flu of death, which made me miss a day at the office, which made me even more stressed out about work, so I worked 14 hours Friday from home and 8-or-so hours on Saturday, which possibly made me more sick. I missed my anticipated 5k race which was supposed to be on Saturday morning, and at this point I'm asking myself, "Why can't you be like everyone else when they're sick and call it as it is? 'I'm sick. Can't work. Sorry 'bout that, guess you have to deal with my workload while I'm out.' Why?"

I can't take night-time Tylenol, or night-time anything for that matter. The ingredients that help most people sleep keep me up all night in a jittery, paranoid mess. So today I tried Tylenol Cold & Flu Daytime. And I took it... in THE DAYTIME. And here I am 12 entire hours later, with the identical freaky, shaky feeling I get with p.m. meds. So I got up to Google the ingredients and turns out, it's not uncommon to experience shakes and insomnia when taking Phenylephrine HCI, the third ingredient in these "relief softgels". I hate you, Tylenol.

I've already called in sick for tomorrow, but I have to work from home. And now I'm sitting here sobbing because I don't even know how that is possible at this point. The more time I take off, the taller the pile of work on my desk grows. I can't seem to find a way to dig myself out of this one.

Boo. Hoo.

Wah.

There, I got it out. Go ahead and tell me to suck it up, I deserve it.

Don't bust my b*lls

2009-09-08T21:53:00.004-06:00

Can whoever taught him this please fess up? You'll have full amnesty, I swear. I just really need to know so I can T.P. your house.

Breakfast

2009-08-26T07:57:00.001-06:00

Yum.

What is more fascinating than a developing mind?

2009-08-24T21:33:00.009-06:00

Carter has always loved coloring. I love this about him, because I also love coloring. I find it very therapeutic.

You can get your frustrations out:

Or be very quiet and purposeful as you draw.

These pictures were taken several months ago. During that time, when I would ask him what he was drawing, he would say "Cars. I'm drawin' cars."

So this past week we've started a game that he now asks for every evening: "Mom, can we draw cars?" And here's what "drawing cars" means...

First, I hold his crayon-filled fist and together we draw two wheels, the bottom, and a front and back bumper. He narrates each part as our car begins to take shape. If he had his wish, we would repeat this 5,000 times per night, using every color in the box.

One night I asked him to try the top of the car himself. "Just connect one bumper to the other one. Up and over. See? Like this.":

His response was the sweetest, most humble and mildly embarassed, "Mom, I can't do it."

But by the next night, he found the courage to try, as long as the tip of my pointer finger touched the end of the crayon for moral support:(The second one down, he declared, is a "race car!" Indeed.)

By tonight, he is a pro.
Together we draw the wheels, the bottom, and the bumpers.
Then he draws the top and says (even on the 20th victory) "[gasp!] I did it! Look!"
And then, with nested hands, we add the windows.

There is nothing in the caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.

2009-08-23T19:07:00.002-06:00

let yourself feel. from Esteban Diácono on Vimeo.

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.

Burn down your bridges.

Think outside the box.

Let yourself feel.

Jeter Junior

2009-08-16T17:49:00.003-06:00

I suppose, after all the money I spent in New York, I can't complain about Steve HAVING to buy Carter an official (no street vendors, it had to be legit, apparently) Yankees jersey. I'm seriously not even going to tell you the price because you don't deserve to snort whatever you're drinking out your nose - I realize that's a very uncomfortable thing to do, especially when it's on accident.

Steve explained to Carter, "I got you a Derek Jeter shirt because Jeter's not a cheater." And then he went on to tell Carter about the dangers and ethical ramifications of steroids while Carter looked at him with knowing eyes, and then at the end he said in the most reassuring tone, "that's right, Dad. Nice job."

So here he is:

New York City

2009-08-16T17:30:00.002-06:00

Quite a long while back, when my friend Natasha started massage school, she and her husband, James, came to us to inform us we were accompanying them to NYC the day after she graduated. The second they mentioned it, we were in. It seems like just yesterday we were shopping airline tickets, etc. (we planned and paid for everything 6-9 months ago) and now the whole trip has come and gone so quickly.

These are completely out of order, but here are some highlights:

Steve and I won Yankee tix on eBay (I hate how it's normal to say you've "won" something on eBay, because these tickets were incredibly far from free). It was an amazing game - Yankees swept the Red Sox. If you know me at all, you know I care very little about sports. But even I couldn't deny the excitement of being in that stadium, witnessing the biggest rivalry in sports first hand. For a split second, I could almost picture myself getting in to baseball. That second has now passed, but I'm pretty confident I could conjure it back up in the future if needed. That was really, really fun.

This is James and Natasha, underground... below what I will henceforth and forevermore call Natasha's Happy Place: China Town. The woman can shop. The end.

My husband is a hot chocolate connoisseur. Here he is drinking Max Brenner's hot chocolate (for breakfast! Travesty.) in one of their famous "hug mugs". He shall now require a set of them in his Christmas stocking; please note, Santa.

This would be the pictorial verdict of said Max Brenner hot chocolate (for breakfast! Travesty.) Steve's words, "You can slice it!"

Natasha and I in Central Park. Can I please take another weekend just to play in this park? It was gorgeous, and I really wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I should because Canal Street and Little Italy took everything I had. Or, I should say, everything my feet had. Very upsetting when you want to do so much more, but your feet and legs hurt so bad from walking miles and miles whilst hauling approx 400 extra pounds on your butt.

Us in Central Park, trying really hard to smile through the foot-pain. I think Steve was doing much better than me at this point, though.

We decided to wait on buying Broadway tickets, knowing we'd be able to stand in line at a TKTS booth to get them cheaper. After just a few minutes in line, we got in to Mary Poppins for $85 bucks or so, which is about 40% off. Mary Poppins wasn't on the top of my list, (even though it's one of my favorite classic Disneys) but I was very surprised at how great it was. Disney knows how to do Broadway. It was a musical and a magic show all in one. The casting was brilliant. My only complaint is that one of my favorite songs from Mary Poppins, Stay Awake, was entirely left out for the Broadway rendition. It's the song I have sung to Carter almost every night since the day he was born, so I was really excited to hear it. Poo.

As close as we got to The Lady. She wasn't our top priority, so we just snapped a few far away shots while on the ferry to Staten Island.

The food was fab, the shopping was glorious, and the people-watching couldn't be better in any other corner of the planet. I am now five handbags richer. And p.s. - one of them is a diaper bag. But that means entirely NOTHING. Other than Isabella Fiore designs a delicious diaper bag and I couldn't leave 5th ave without one. Amen.

And it's kind of pink, which also means nothing at all.

Give me a kiss

2009-07-30T20:09:00.001-06:00

How can I complain about a thing when I have this?

video-2009-07-30-19-34-58

shootin' some b-ball outside of the school

2009-07-22T07:24:00.002-06:00

Good form!

"Ohp! Rayder's turn"

Embarking

2009-07-18T12:18:00.001-06:00

To anyone who reads this blog, it should be no surprise that I have struggled with my weight for exactly 7 years now. Okay, actually I've struggled with it my entire life, but in hindsight, I declare that it doesn't really count as a struggle when you're a size 6. Sorry. I detailed what happened to cause my weight gain in this post a while back. The past year, I have finally been able to get my endocrine system in check - at least in check enough that my weight loss efforts actually have the possibility to bring RESULTS.

Last year I lost 55 lbs, gained some back during the holidays (like an idiot), and have lost a bit more since then. Uber yay. Except that I've been thinking, my long term goal, Sexy Beeyotch, still seems pretty far into the distant future. In fact, I can't even see it on the horizon just yet. That can be discouraging at times, so I decided I needed to distract myself with something along the way ("oooh! shiny!!!"). So I signed up to run a 5k. I KNOW. What the CRAP. WAS. I. THINKING?

Too late to turn back now, I already paid my money. Nevermind that I've never ran a day in my life. I don't even like playing sports. I have a specific training program I'm following to develop a running base and prep myself for my race. This requires an amazing amount of trust, an emotion not native to my kind. Trust that this program really will get me ready to run withint 6-8 weeks as it promises. Because seriously? This week it's telling me to run 2 minutes at a time and walk 5 minutes in between? And 30 seconds in to the running spurts, I'm fumbling around with my phone's running application wondering if the freaking thing has somehow stopped working because I SWEAR IT'S ALREAY BEEN LIKE 6 MINUTES AND IT WAS SUPPOSED TO TELL ME TO WALK 4 MINUTES AGO AND I'M SERIOUSLY ABOUT TO DIE, LIKE LITERALLY HYPERVENELATE-AND-THEN-MY-HEART-WILL-STOP-BEATING DIIIIE.

Trust. Just don't think about the fact that your race is weeks away. Trust the training program.

So anyway, the purpose of this whole story is that, as extra motivation to myself, I am detailing my entire grueling training experience at KENNARUNS.BLOGSPOT.COM. This blog is my accountability system. So come on over and offer my chunky butt some words of encouragement. Or, I'll even take heckling and criticism because either way, it's still attention, and I'm very much like Lindsay Lohan in that respect. Amen.

Isn't he a little young for this?

2009-07-16T21:07:00.001-06:00

My son's fingernails grow so fast, it seems like we're clipping them every third day - and that frequency is slightly on the side of neglect. He hates having them clipped, so we invented a game called "POP!" about a year ago, and that has helped us all survive grooming time much more happily.

So the other day, I picked him up from spending the day at his Nana's house and his nails had been cut. Steve and I inspected her fine work, wondering how she got such a close cut. That was a week ago, and I just realized last night that I hadn't cut his nails in a while, so I checked them and sure enough, they're perfectly manicured.

Tonight after bathtime, we were cuddling up to a movie and I looked over at Carter and he was biting his nails! Drool dripping down his bare belly, and a handful of fingernails in his other hand. Turns out he's been biting off his toenails too.

What... the... crap.

He's barely two. Is this normal???

My first try at bribery

2009-06-21T19:18:00.002-06:00

"If you stand there real still and look at mommy without your hands in your face and laugh and say "cheese," you can have an M&M"

"A red oned?" (everything ends with a "D" nowadays)

"Yes! A red one if you want!"

"CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ!!!!!!!!!"

Love is a many splendored thing.

2009-06-17T19:52:00.002-06:00

Some wedding announcements I recently designed.
I chose the most delicious matte-coated paper with spot UV coating on just the green letters to give them a glossy pop.
They mailed them in long black envelopes with green and white mailing labels.
Perfect for a bride who thrives on marching to her own drum-beat.
Three cheers for uniqueness and individuality.

Oh, and I took the photos, too.

The most boring meme you've ever read.

2009-06-04T20:16:00.001-06:00

Emma tagged me because she thinks I say funny things.

6 names you go by:
1. McKenna
2. Kenna
3. Ken
4. Hon
5. Mama
6. Honey (by my son, nonetheless)

3 things you are wearing right now:
1. Wedding ring
2. Sweater that I'm going to wear to my sister's wedding.
3. Yellow shirt that is so cute and I wish I dared to wear it outside the house but my arms are still too chubby.

3 things you want very badly at the moment :
1. A housekeeper
2. An allergy-free head
3. Pedicure

2 things you did last night:
1. Pruned my tomatoes
2. Watched Forever Strong

3 people you last talked to on the phone:
Steve, husband; Megan, sister; Natasha, best friend and poodle. Totally a poodle.

things you are going to do tomorrow:
Wake up cured of the swine flu.
The laundry I am supposed to be doing tonight.

3 of your favorite beverages
1. Ice, ice, ice cold water. Filtered, please.
2. Umm...
3. Medifast Flavor Infusors that you mix into water - basically flavored green tea.

Sorry Emma, apparently I'm not that funny today.

i can haiku 2

2009-05-01T14:44:00.001-06:00

i'm so distracted
with a bouquet of flowers
except just one thing

instead of flowers
chocolate covered strawberries
perfectly ripe, rich

so hard to believe
seven years gone by so fast
here's to many more

He takes his hobbies seriously

2009-04-27T09:04:00.000-06:00

If Carter isn't meticulously "parking" cars in a row down the entire hallway, he's driving them around making engine noises (including sound effects for gear changes and squeaky breaks).

If he's not doing that, he's orchestrating car accidents with his various ramps and train track pieces. When they collide, he says, "OHHHH! Train trash!" or "OOOHHHH! Car trash!" (trash = crash).

If he's not crashing cars, he's talking about dump trucks, tractors, and train tracks, asking for Nascar while pointing to the TV, or reading books about excavators and helicopters.

If he's not doing any of the above, it's because he's eating or sleeping (with a HotWheels car clenched in his fist under the blanket, no doubt).

And the first thing he says each morning is, "Hi Momma! Trains?"

[gallery link="file" order="DESC" columns="2" orderby="ID"]

Two

2009-04-17T12:54:00.001-06:00

Happy birthday, baby.

K & M

2009-03-29T20:47:00.000-06:00

Yay! My sister Meg is getting married to an amazing guy. I took their pictures yesterday, and here is a video! It's late, so I won't elaborate.

Click to watch!

Mind-blowing.

2009-03-25T20:12:00.000-06:00

I love watching TED Talks. They're so thought provoking, and I'm pretty much addicted to them. But this one, you have got to see. A year ago, this idea would have seemed so incredibly futuristic to me. Like something out of a sci-fi movie. But all the super smart interfaces on phones lately make what you're about to see feel almost within reach. So get a load of this...

Boom!

2009-03-23T17:32:00.001-06:00

I took a much needed day off today. My first real personal day from work in almost exactly 2 years if you don't count one or two sick days and the regular work holidays. Steve already had the day scheduled off because our babysitter had the day off, so it just seemed like a good time to take a break. We took Carter to the Living Planet Aquarium. I was a little worried he'd be too young, but he had just as much fun as we hoped he would. The entire time he was either a giggly, bouncy mess, or completely enthralled. He hasn't stopped talking about the eels since.

This boy had no problem reaching his hand in the water to pet a stingray, but when a huge turtle behind the glass came a little too close to his face, he jumped into my arms. Funny boy.

My favorite part of the entire day was when a huge grouper swam right past Carter's face and he squealed, "Ooooh hoo hoo hoo! [think Tigger laugh] Lookitduh biiiig fish! BOOM!"

Austin & Alissa

2009-03-11T22:49:00.001-06:00

My brother is getting married in May, and I had the privilege of taking their engagement photos this evening. It was so cold, I couldn’t feel my fingers! I was wearing two coats and poor Alissa had short sleeves on. It was still fun. Here are a few of my favorites, and then a (poor quality) video of the rest. Check out Alissa’s cute foot tattoo in the first one, I love it!

I love you guys!

CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO

Comforting Chicken Pot Pie (feat. Photographer Dani Vest)

2009-02-20T21:04:00.000-07:00

I got this most fabulous recipe from one of my e-BFFs, Dani. I have since wowed many men with it (my own man, and to the chagrin of the other mens' wives. Ha!) (Totally kidding) (Well, kidding about the snotty "chagrin" part, not about the "wow" part)

I have made a few "personalizations" to Dani's original recipe, and have been meaning to post it for a while, but I think pictures are important on recipe posts, and that's been the main hold up. I'm too lazy to make the recipe tonight just so that I can get some good pictures, so I hope she won't mind that I'm borrowing her pictures for this post. I promise if you follow the recipe, yours will turn out looking just as beautiful as these pics!

Ingredients

2 pie crusts
3 chicken breasts (or you can buy a rotisserie chicken at the grocery and shred it up)
5 new potatoes (the red kind)
2 can Cream of Chicken soup
1 lb. bacon
1 bag frozen peas and carrots - thawed
1 sweet onion - diced
butter
egg

1. Heat oven to 450

2. Chop the entire package of bacon into one-inch chunks. Add to a frying pan and cook until crispy. Move cooked bacon to a paper towel. Dispose of the grease, but don't wash the pan!

3.Wash and dice the potatoes (don't skin them!) Throw them into a pot of boiling water and add a chicken bullion cube (or not, if you're watching your sodium)

4. At the same time, put the chicken breast into another pot of boiling water.

5. While those are cooking, grab a pie dish (the biggest one you can get your hands on, this pie is huge!) and put the bottom crust in. Bake it in the oven for 8-10 minutes or just until it's golden brown. This prevents a soggy-bottom pie. When you pull it out, turn the oven down to 400.

6. Add a bunch of butter to your post-bacon frying pan. Like, a lot. Half a cube (this is where the man-pleasing comes into play) Dice the onion and saute it in the butter. When they become somewhat translucent, take them off the heat and set them aside.

7. By now your chicken and potatoes are done. Potatoes are done when they break apart when you stick a fork in them and twist. Strain the potatoes. Shred the chicken into bite-sized chunks. (I use two enormous forks. It's kind of a workout, but don't worry about losing too much weight, because remember all that butter? Yeah.)

8. Get the biggest mixing bowl you own. Combine the chicken, potatoes, peas & corn (just throw them in there frozen, they'll thaw within a few seconds with all that other hot stuff), onions, bacon and the Cream of Chicken soup cans. Use a big rubber spatula or wooden spoon to stir it all up (be patient. go slow or you'll make a huge mess)

9. Spoon the entire mixture into the pie.

10. Add the top pie crust and trim, slice, and accessorize the top to your liking ;) (At least a few slits in the top to allow steam to release while baking)

11. Whisk one egg with a fork and brush it over the top. (This is more for presentation than taste. It's what'll give your crust that Betty Crocker glow)

12. Bake 40 minutes on top rack.

Seriously?

Seriously.

Her Morning Elegance

2009-02-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

This is the most amazing music video I'm sure I've ever seen. And. The Lyrics are delicious.

Sun been down for days
A pretty flower in a vase
A slipper by the fireplace
A cello lying in it's case

Soon she's down the stairs
Her morning elegance she wears
The sound of water makes her dream
Awoken by a cloud of steam
She pours a daydream in a cup
A spoon of sugar sweetens up

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
As she goes in a store
With a thought she has caught
By a thread
She pays for the bread
And She goes...
Nobody knows

And She fights for her life
As she puts on her coat
And she fights for her life on the train
She looks at the rain
As it pours
And she fights for her life
Where people are pleasently strange
And counting the change
And She goes...
Nobody knows

Thanks for the find, Ali.

They were rude. And when I asked them to be nice, they were even more rude.

2009-01-22T18:19:00.001-07:00

Twins!

2009-01-21T18:15:00.001-07:00

My yellow pepper was pregnant with two green peppers. Is this concerning to anyone else besides me?

Maybe I won something! I should check online to find out.

I'm blind

2009-01-12T10:44:00.000-07:00

Glasses or contacts? Please inform and discuss.

Me on Good Things Utah

2008-12-30T15:28:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was invited to be on a local ABC women's talk show, Good Things Utah. On the show we talked about my company, Urban Botanic. It was fun! Here's the clip:

Vermont's Finest

2008-11-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

If I can just make it until tomorrow night when my head finally hits my soft pillow...

Work is beyond busy. Home is even busier. Control over Mt. St. Laundry eludes me. Three big dinners to host/attend this weekend. Ack! It's all too much. So I've pulled back my hair, slid on my fuzzy socks, and am now taking a deep breath while I Imagine Whirled Peace with my friends B&J. Cheers.

Dead Meat

2008-11-18T21:23:00.000-07:00

That's what Steve will be as soon as he gets home from picking up our dinner from wherever he's going to surprise me. He left about 15 minutes ago, and I was upstairs on the computer in a green knit sweater and my undies. And socks. And a bobby pin holding back my bangs. There I just listed everything I'm wearing at the moment. Well, I was doing something on the internet that required the use of my debit card (shopping? me? nah.), which I left in my purse. Which is in my car. Which is in the garage. So I hopped down the stairs, through our kitchen, and opened the door to the garage. It was pitch black in there, so I flipped on the light. It pretty much blinded me, but I was able to make it down the 3 steps to my car. I opened the door and dug through my purse. Finally, debit card in hand, I whirled around to go back into the house, and was stopped dead in my tracks. You know what was staring me right in the face?

MY ENTIRE EFFING NEIGHBORHOOD, THAT'S WHAT!

He didn't close the garage door.

And it's pitch black outside, so it was all the same to me when I opened the kitchen door to a pitch black garage.

Here is a classic example of why men get in trouble for really stupid, petty things. I realize it's stupid and petty, but all the same, he is dead meat when he gets home in a few minutes.

Are any of my readers shrinks?

2008-11-10T15:50:00.000-07:00

***Update*** The cats hate Dino. He is now back home with us. Oh, what to do.

If so, advise me, plz!

After many moons of contemplation, this past Friday I gave my Chihuahua, Dino, to a nice lady with another Chihuahua and 3 cats. She's very much an animal person, and Dino seemed to take to her well. So off they went. I spent the entire weekend missing Dino and wondering (once again) whether I did the right thing. He's such a good little dog, and every reason I had to give him away fell under the category of my own weakness/inability to be a dog owner and be sane at the same time.

It was eating me this afternoon, so I gave Dino's new owner a call to see how things were going. She said, "Well? They're going." Dino and the other chi are in love with each other. But whenever one of her cats comes in the room, Dino goes absolutely ape all over the place. She wants to give it a few more days before making a decision on whether they can get along long-term and if things aren't looking good, I'm making her give him back to me.

So the part where I truly need counseling in order to get rid of my angst and guilt? Is the part where I'm seriously considering keeping him if he comes back to me. I'm picturing this trade-off scene between me and Mother Neurosis: "Hereyago, MN, here's my guilt [plop] AHHH that feels better. Now give me back my insanity." A fair trade?

Don't tell me it's just a dog, because I KNOW. I KNOW IT'S JUST A DOG. Eff.

This is your brain on drugs

2008-11-08T22:17:00.000-07:00

You know how every once in a while when you've stayed up way too late, your brain starts turning to slush? Usually for me that means giggling uncontrollably at the stupidest things in the world. But sometimes... sometimes ... something like this IM conversation will happen:

McKenna says:
i have this new tick

McKenna says:
i found this thing in my nose

McKenna says:
i mean, it's always been there, i guess i just found anew way to play with the tip of my nose? I can like crush the cartilage inwards?

McKenna says:
hard to explain

McKenna says:
but anyway it's so addicting that i'm now getting worried that i'm going to break it down and make it flabby on accident and then need a nose job

Chante says:
could i see it if you did it?

McKenna says:
no, it doesn't stick. the second i take pressure off it pops back to normal form

Chante says:
o

Chante says:
now i'm trying to do it

McKenna says:
to someone watching it would just look like i'm pressing in the tip of my nose

Chante says:
i'm moving my nose all around...?

McKenna says:
it's this specific spot

Chante says:
on the tip of your nose?

McKenna says:
yeah tip but at a special little angle

Chante says:
the tip of my nose has cartilage on the sides but not the middle of the tip

McKenna says:
try like just above your nostrils, at a diagonal, inward and upward angle

Chante says:
i don't think i have any there

McKenna says:
yeah every nose has its thorn

Chante says:
Ok STOP. To bed for you, plz.

Cowgirl Up!

2008-10-07T20:41:00.001-06:00

Meet Racheal.

Racheal is an all American cowgirl. Actually, I don't really know what that means, but I do know that she rides horses every day and competes in all sorts of horse racing events almost every single weekend. She goes to nationals almost every year, and this year... a horse literally kicked the crap out of her and put her in the hospital. But within weeks she was back on her horse kicking some butt of her own.

She's also funny, sassy, and stinkin' cute. And gorgeous. She looks just like her mom to me.

These pictures look a little blueish to me. Which seemed like a good idea at the time (last night), but now I'm thinking they'd look better as peachish instead.

Yes, I think I like this much better.

Sorry. I know, it's bad.

2008-10-06T19:50:00.001-06:00

This happened many years ago when I first got engaged. I kind of dropped my girlfriends and fell off the planet, because, well? There are only so many waking hours and a girl has got to spend them all with her man when she's engaged! On the one hand, I felt really badly that I wasn't hanging with my normal pals all the time; I know they didn't fully understand why I had fallen off the planet and that made me sad. But on the other hand, I still put them off so that I could spend more time with Steve.

After a while, I began wanting to call my friends, but because I had put them off for a few weeks, I didn't feel I deserved to call them up now that it was convenient for me. So I didn't call. I just didn't want to seem ingenuine.

Well that whole thing is worked out now. I'm pretty sure they forgave me, we still get together regularly. But I'm feeling similarly about this blog. I know, WHINE, WHINE, WHINE. I've already committed bloggy suicide at least half a dozen times. But the thing is I've had all these great little things to post, but I haven't felt worthy of posting them. I've felt like I need to come back out with fireworks and streamers and HELLLLO!!!! HERE IS MY BLOOOOOOG, ISN'T IT LOVELY? I'M BACK FROM HIATUS AND THIS POST IS MY WELLLLLLCOME WAGON, ISN'T IT GLOOORIOUS?!

So I did that with this whole redesign and then I went away again, in typical fashion. I'm not engaged this time (still married from the first time) but something has been yanking at all four limbs lately. It's still yanking, but I'll be posting for me now. For the sake of my quickly-fading memory of all the little things in life I wish to remember.

And, not that i wish to remember this particular thing, but last night I was bored, so I cleaned out my medicine cabinet, and look what I found in there:

Just a few packs of gum.
And yes, we prefer Orbit and 5.
That Trident must've been in our stocking last year at Christmas or something.

These don't count the 10-12 packs I threw away because they only had a few pieces left and I figured they were hard and dry by now. Where do you keep your gum? With the band-aids and the tea? Doesn't that seem the most logical place to keep the gum? "Honey, where are the matches?" ... "Dunno, try checking the gum-bandaids-tea cabinet."

So I officially implemented a spending freeze on gum.
Now if only all my other cabinets had such accessible contents with labels pointing outward.

Greek Salad with Shrimp & Orzo

2008-09-06T08:04:00.000-06:00

Here's a good healthy recipe to help stretch out the Summer season. (At least the feel of it, if we can't control the temperature.) Such an easy recipe and it's pretty! Very healthy, too. It's delightfully fresh tasting, and such a pick-me-up.

8 oz orzo
8 T green onion, chopped
24 cherry tomatoes, sliced in half
2 cucumbers, peeled and sliced
1 lb shrimp
16 black olives, sliced
4 oz feta cheese

Dressing:
4 tsp lemon juice
8 tsp red wine vinegar
1/2 tsp pepper
1 1/3 tsp oregano
6 tsp EVOO (extra virgin olive oil)

1. Cook orzo according to package directions, then rinse in ice cold water to chill it.
2. Saute shrimp in a bit of EVOO (this is how Rachel Ray abbreviates it, and I'm going with it.)
3. Make dressing
4. Chop veggies
5. Toss all together

4 Servings

Sad and depressing

2008-09-04T19:21:00.000-06:00

The other night I went out for dessert with some girlfriends from my neighborhood. (My friend Anne-Marie is 9.5 months pregnant; good excuse to celebrate)

And?

I ordered a white chocolate molten cake and ice cream JUST SO I COULD SMELL IT.

I didn't have one bite.

Letting go?

2008-09-03T18:54:00.000-06:00

About 3 years ago, we got a Chihuahua puppy. The sweetest thing in the world, and we named him Dino ("dee-noh"). Dino was really therapeutic for me because in my go!-go!-go! world, he brought me back to the basics. Taking care of him as a puppy, making sure he was fed, clean, walked, etc helped ground me, and gave me an excuse to take a breather during my busy day. I appreciated that about him so much. I still do. But you know? Now three years have passed and I'm not sure I was cut out to be a dog owner anymore.

He's completely house trained and extremely obedient. But he's a Chihuahua, which means whenever someone knocks at the door, he barks his brains out until it's answered. And then when our guest comes inside, he's all over them, "hi! hi! hi! mynamesdinowhatsyours? hi! you're here! i'm here! we'rebothHERE-HIIIII!!!!! doyouloveme? ithinkiloveyoualready,so.hi!!!

And then there's the hair, that I'm so dang sick of rolling off my clothes before I leave the house every morning. And the fact that Carter thinks it's hilarious to drop his toy cars into Dino's water bowl, hang out inside his kennel, and occasionally have an afternoon snack at his food dish. AHHH! Drives me nuts.

But I feel so guilty about all this. I can't believe I'm even considering finding a new home for sweet Dino. Because three years ago, I committed to being a dog owner. You can't just decide later on that you're not interested anymore, can you? On the other hand, my sanity craves simplicity. And I wonder if he'd be happier in a home with other dogs and perhaps an actual yard to run around in.

If I go through with this, I'll only accept one million dollars as payment OR zero dollars. And if it's zero dollars, there will be a strict interview process. I've already considered many of the points I will go over. And when they take him away I will stand on the porch and bawl like a five year old losing her best fwend.

But something tells me I'll wake up a week later relieved and validated.

Am I horrible?

Please either talk me out of it or give me permission.

Welcome to my new blog!

2008-09-01T18:36:00.000-06:00

I am the biggest dork on the face of the planet to spend my free time this weekend on a new blog. But it's something I've been wanting to do for quite a while. Not only because the name of my old blog was like a bad tattoo (didn't think that one through too much, did I? I liked it for about five minutes, and lived with it for 3 years), but also because I wanted to slurp all my blogs together in one place. I snagged up the url of my namesake forever ago but was hesitant to make it my blog because, well, despite being a little cheesy, I wondered if people would think it's a little egotistical. But you know, I've put all that past me now.

So before you freak and try to tell me this doesn't even resemble the look of a blog, let me explain. The whole change-o-presto tabbed section at the top? Those are my posts, they're just categorized. That means if you don't care about my silly aspiration to be able to take a pretty picture one day, hate to cook, or could care less about Photoshop techniques and artsy finds, well then you don't have to bother yourself with those subjects and just stick to the first tab. Each tab displays my most recent post in each category.

Below the tabbed area we have two columns: "Kennalyn Recommends" and my blogroll. The recommendations are not ads. These are products or services I've personally tried, received or seen and I think they're just fabulous. So I'm sharing the love. They'll change from time to time, but you'll always be able to see the entire list.

So there you have it! A virtual tour of my virtual blog. And I even have a new post up in every category. A small feast to end the famine, if you will.

Free Advertising Giveaway!

2008-09-01T18:32:00.000-06:00

Hi!

I have some space I need to fill on my sidebar! I plan for these areas to be FREE ADS for now. Free ads for blogs, companies, products, etsy stores and the like. And let me tell you, this ad space is in extremely high demand, as this blog receives about eighty to one hundred entire unique visitors every single day. Well, at least it did when it was at ShrekLovesFiona.blogspot.com, and I'm assuming all those readers will very soon update their bookmarks, but can you believe that crazy, band-width busting statistic?! I'm practically famous. I'm practically Marth Stewart, people. No. Oprah.

So to kick off Kennalyn.com (I still feel a little funny saying/typing 'kennalyn.com', kinda like I did with my new last name for a few weeks after getting married), I'm giving away the following:

One 250x250 ad (you need to design it yourself) (although if you absolutely can't and you are really, really nice to me, I suppose I could whip one up for you) (actually, I'd love to, but just.this.once!)

Two 250x88 ads (same rules apply regarding button design)

Your button will appear on Kennalyn.com for one entire month. That's approximately 3000 impressions. If everyone updates their bookmarks. Oh, and if everyone didn't go away while I was on blog-hiatus (it so far seems like you've all stayed, thank heaven!)

So to enter, leave a comment telling me about what your ad would be for (your blog... your store... your online dating profile?) and also a link to the site your ad would promote. If you have more than one blog/shop/company/product, please enter them all separately, and they'll receive a separate entry. After I rule out any inappropriate entries (you wouldn't do that, would you?) I will choose a winner using Random.org.

You have until Wednesday, September 20th to enter! I chose that date because 1) It gives people time to realize that I indeed still exist and to update their bookmark. 2) That gives the winners several days to send me their button so it can go live October 1st. 3) That's my sister's birthday, and she's a crazy punk.

On your mark, get set, go!

I heart bathrooms

2008-09-01T18:02:00.000-06:00

Since I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do is walk through a brand new, freshly & uniquely decorated model home. I love the feeling I get in that emptiness, where there's no evidence of anyone actually living there, and I'm a complete sucker for beautiful interior design.

My two favorite rooms (decor wise) are the kitchen and the bathroom. My bathrooms have plain white walls and a simple rug thrown on the floor. Mainly because I'm too chicken to commit to anything else because I haven't found the perfect expression of me in bathroom decor. But these bathrooms make me want to drive myself to The Home Depot right this instant:

For many more bathrooms and photo credits, visit this post by The Inspired Room

Masochism and Snickerdoodles With a Twist

2008-09-01T18:01:00.001-06:00

I'm not quite sure what got into me today. I've been on a diet "lifestyle change" for quite a while now and my commitment is still fairly solid. For the most part, I've only been eating fresh fruits and veggies, and plain grilled chicken breast or fish, and man! I've missed cooking!

So today I got a hankerin' to make cookies. Not to eat cookies, to make them. Because I enjoy torturing myself like that.

Snickerdoodles With a Twist:

1 cup shortening
1 1/2 cups sugar plus 2 extra tbsp for later
2 eggs
2 1/5 cups flour
2 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
4 tbsp finely ground toffee bar (no chocolate) or caramel sprinkles

Preheat oven to 350 farenheit. Blend together the first 3 ingredients. Sift the flour, cream of tartar, soda and salt. Combine flour and egg mixtures. Stick the entire thing in the fridge until it's chilly throughout. Combine 2 tbsp sugar with the cinnamon. Form chilled dough into 1 inch balls, then roll in cinnamon-sugar and place on an ungreased cookie sheet.

Now for the twist:

Use a fingertip to dip a small hole into the top of each cookie. You don't want to squish it, you just want to leave the smallest dent, to keep the topping from rolling out. Now drop a pinch of your ground up toffee or caramel into each fingerprint.

Bake for 10 minute or until just starting to turn golden.

Then, be a good girl and refrain from even licking a piece of dough, because you made these cookies for the sake of making them, and not so you could enjoy them with everyone else once they were done.

He's already grunting for more and he still has at least 2 bites left on that thing.

Mariah

2008-09-01T14:39:00.001-06:00

Mariah was super busy texting on her cell phone during my brother's wedding, so I had to give her a hard time about it. When I was in 8th grade, my parents laughed in my face when I asked for a cell phone. But now it seems everyone has one by the end of jr. high. Can you believe she's only in 8th grade?

I've known her since she was probably two years old.

She's a sassy goofball.

And now she's growing into a beautiful young woman.

Delicious Wallpaper

2008-08-31T14:14:00.000-06:00

http://www.burkedecor.com/WALLPAPER_s/67.htm

My Baby Brother Got Married

2008-08-24T13:47:00.000-06:00

There wasn't really a photographer at the wedding, so I did my best and snapped as many as I could. Here are my favorites:

My brother Chris, the handsome groom.

His sweet new wife, Ashley. She looked gorgeous.

The princess of the party, and my new niece! Chris is the sweetest, most cute step-daddy ever. These women have captured him and he's head over heels two times over.

The flowers were so cheerful and bright!

It's all in the details.

My sister, Melanie, helping with flowers. Yes, this is how she normally looks, don't make fun of her, she's very sensitive about it.

Yum. (I did not partake thereof, unfortunately.)

Ashley and her Dad.

My sister, Megan. It's a complete pity how hideous she is.

My sister, Melanie, again. The only way she'll smile for a picture is if she doesn't know you're taking it.

Chris and my baby, Carter.

May you look back on today in fifty years and say, "this is when we loved each other the very least."

My brother is now truly and beautifully complete. I couldn't be any more elated that the three of you have found each other.

"Evil Sometimes Feels Good": a Summer re-run

2008-07-14T21:27:00.000-06:00

Today's Summer re-run is (not) brought to you by the fastly-becoming-an-epic-trend Twilight Bracelet! I know I've said it before, but I embarrassingly admit to being a fan of Stephenie Meyers' cute, little vampire series. (Except I'm of the few who prefer Jacob to Edward). If you're a fan, check the site out and tell your own sick, eternal love story through a piece of jewelry. Cool idea! And if you're not a fan of the idiot Bella... well? Don't be hatin'!
***Update: I completely forgot! When shopping for your Twilight Bracelet, enter the code "Inksplasher" during checkout for a 10% discount!***

And now for the feature presentation:

Evil Sometimes Feels Good

There are three simple, unspoken, but widely understood rules to automatic carwash etiquette:

Any rules subject to standing in any line, be it grocery or otherwise, duly apply. This includes any decorum regarding butting, and the ever popular “I’m reading a magazine an aisle away but I’m clearly still in line, which I’m making apparent to you by establishing eye contact every 10 seconds, so don’t you dare take one step forward” act. (And yes, I have found these examples to take place while in line for the carwash - astonishing, I know.)
If your carwash of choice kindly provides a soapy bucket and brush for you to scrub off any cemented-on dirt before entering, please promptly cease said scrubbing when it becomes your turn to enter the wash. Put the brush down, get in your car, and enter the wash.

When it’s your turn to enter the wash, wait for the person before you to finish their drying cycle before pulling forward. This prevents your undercarriage wash from re-soaking the car ahead of you. And please also be respectful if the neurotic in front of you feels it’s necessary to sit there for all 49 seconds allotted for the dryer.

Today was agitating and it’s entirely my fault. I slept not only through my alarm, but through 1.5 hours of my alarm, on volume 19 nonetheless (out of 20). So I skipped breakfast for time's sake. Then I skipped lunch because I was playing the “I’ll go in 10 minutes” game all afternoon. By 4pm I had the starvation migraine. By 5pm I had a lethal case of rancor. By 5:30 I was pushing the button to add the Extreme carwash to my gas fill up – and none too thrilled, still.

I pulled out of pump 6, aimed straight for the carwash entrance. Ahead of me at pump 2, is an ornery looking 40 something man with sprayed-on hair just getting back into his car. He starts his car, pedal fully down before the engine even has a chance to turn over, and slips neatly into the carwash line as I break (oh WHY did I break?) to avoid an incident. As if that’s not enough, Mr. Slickspray actually LOOKS for my reaction in his mirror.

U T T E R.....R A G E.....E N S U E S

I wave and smile the cheesiest smile I can muster. I won’t go into detail about how he had to enter his wash code three times before he got it right, (and I gave him a “thumbs up” out my window for it) or how, after getting his front wheel perfectly in that little ridge that starts the carwash, still backed up twice to reposition himself. I sat there and thought that it’s unfortunate we’re in cars and not in the grocery line where I could audibly clear my throat over and over while staring at the back of his crackled-paint bald spot and wishing I had the guts to huck my gum on it. No, we were sound-and-krusty-proof to each other. I’d have to get creative.

So, in lieu of common courtesy, I violated automatic carwash rule number three. And no, I didn’t
wait until the 45^th second. In fact I didn’t wait until the first second. I simply pretended to be as ignorant as he was in the ways of the day-to-day carwash, and gosh, I got mixed up on which “Drive Forward” I was supposed to read. Apparently I read his Drive Forward sign instead of mine and rode his bumper all the way out the door. He did pause for about 3 seconds in the dryer but gave up after he realized my under-carriage wash was spewing mud and winter salt every which way.

and then…

my ultimate retribution…

a big shiny present with a billowing pink bow and it smelled like chocolate and peanut butter…

Mr. Slickspray waved the evil finger at me through his rear-view mirror.

And then I had French Toast for dinner to celebrate.

Summer Re-Runs

2008-07-08T19:56:00.000-06:00

Thought I'd replay some episodes from S+F's "Best Of".... This episode made possible by the following:

Designs by Summer - Want a completely custom, fabulous blog design that no one else has?

(Except for that this isn't an advertising blog? So, I made that part up. This is a legitimate recommendation from me. I guess that makes me the advertiser, which makes this an advertising blog. But you won't be put off by that or anything, since I'm your friend and I'm just doing you a favor by giving you an awesome tip. Either way, Summer's Designs are to die for. Case in point. See? Come back for more excellent re-runs not-sponsored by other great not-advertisers!

And now for your feature presentation....

It's been a little while since I've seen you, but it feels like it's been forever because I know the distance is greater than it was before. Perhaps because even when I pretend otherwise, I know deep down I can't just come knocking on your door when I want to see your face.

I never dared to open my mouth and tell you how wonderful a person you are. How, in my eyes, you could hold the moon and the stars if you wanted. How I admired your way of living as if you were hiding angel wings behind you everywhere you went. I never told you how I feel because sometimes a feeling means so much more than a mere word can describe. Sometimes saying something out loud or even writing it down on paper strips the greatness out until all you have is a collection of words, poetic at best.

Right now my memory of you is so clear. From playing "makeup" with you in your bathroom and watching you rat your hair to death, to the walk to town and back in Avenal, and then the most recent giggling about memories and discussing whatever came up. My memories range from watching you as a child to truly enjoying a deeper relationship with you as an adult.

It's funny how something so simple as a smell or a song can become a treasure. Thank God for the smell of banana oatmeal and the taste of those goldfish crackers - the kind you made dance in the air while you taught me how to sing that song about the fishes and the dam.

I find myself wondering lately what you're up to. Are you busy being a guardian angel to some little boy or girl? Are you held up in meetings about when to let it rain, when to shine? Or do you have a moment to peek down on me once in a while? Can you see me here in this very moment writing about you? Do you ever smile when I accomplish something great? Hold my hand when I'm overcome with sadness? Do you have a moment here and there to paint my sunset or blow me a kiss? If I concentrated long enough, would I be able to feel you here around me? Can I believe you're still here with us, breathing... watching... moving...?

I wonder if you've yet been enlightened to all this world's mysteries. If you now know all the answers - about life and religion - about which one is real, or if it even matters. I wonder if you've met my unborn children. Have you held them in your arms?

I'll choose to believe it's all true. That you can see us all, that you hug me back when my soul reaches out, that you can read these very words as I write them and feel the strength behind each one - the strength that would be there if they weren't merely words.

You were something. You're still something. An inspiration. One that makes a difference in every single day.

cher·ish (chrsh) - To harbor in the mind deeply and resolutely.

You Are My Sunshine

2008-07-04T11:17:00.000-06:00

How rude of me

2008-06-04T19:05:00.000-06:00

Dear Internet,

I'm very sorry for my absence as of late. Well, not super sorry. I'm more sorry that I didn't give you any forewarning, or provide any valid excuse. The truth is, I don't really have an excuse other than that I'm kind of sick of you. No, I'm not sick of you or you or you, you, you, you, you, omg you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, oh man...you, you, you, you, you - we'll always be soul sisters, you - we should meet in the RL, you, you, you, or even YOU.

I can't believe I just typed all those links in. Sad.

Know what's even more sad?

You totally just moused over every one of those links to make sure I included you, DIDN'T YOU?

Well anyway, the point isn't that I'm sick of all you lovelies. The point is that I just can't do everything. Something has to give. I wrote down all the stuff I do on a regular basis and drew a line with a big green crayon. And my blog is under the line. I'm not closing shop for good. I just need a break in order to ... you know, be a mom, grow my businesses, lose some weight, keep my house clean, basic stuff. Except for that I do it all exceptionally well. Compared to Britney Spears.

So? I guess this is it. I'm breaking up with you, Internet. But don't worry, I'll be the type of girlfriend to call you up every once in a while for a NCMO (non-committal make-out), and eventually I'll come crawling back to ask you back for good. Meantime, I'll still come visit you all, too!

p.s. - Visit my sister's blog. She just graduated High School and is p-r-t-y talented!

p.s.b.p. - If I missed you in all the "you, you, you and YOU" jumble above, please don't feel badly about yourself. I'm not sick of you either. The copy/paste was flying pretty quickly there and I'm pretty sure I missed a half dozen or so.

Totally, fer sure

2008-05-20T09:44:00.000-06:00

We are really trying to deliver ourselves like a gazelle from the hunter's hand and get completely out of debt - cars and house. And it is like, SO super fun, dude. Yeah, because like just now there was this purse I saw online? And I was like, :OMFG I HAVE to have that purse right now!" And then I was like, "You know what's even awesomer than that perfect purse? Not.Having.Debt." And it was like, soooo FUN to just click on that little "X" in the top right corner instead of clicking that little "add to cart" button like I usually do.

I mean like, SO fun.

So fun in fact, that now I want to go do another thing that is on the exact same level of fun, and that is shave my tongue with my Venus razor. Anyone want to join me?

My curls could take them or leave them.

2008-05-14T19:08:00.000-06:00

Here is the product I talked about the other day. Buying it seemed like such a great idea at the time. I have naturally curly hair, which often gets quite a bit of frizz, especially when it's over dried. Enter Curls Like Us, the product that claims to be made of a "special patent pending fabric" that wicks away just the right amount of moisture pre-blowdry, resulting in silky, bouncy, shiny curls and no frizz whatsoever.
Sounds fabulous right? I was sold. And then my Curls Like Us Curl Cloth arrived. I opened the box to find a foot of jersey cotton sewn up into a loop and surged on the end with colorful thread. Hm. Coulda made this for 2 bucks. Well, let's not get too upset until we try it, mkay? So I did. I followed the directions exactly. And I didn't notice one single difference between blotting my curls with a regular towel before blow drying and blotting it with jersey cotton. In fact, I tried it several times, and it takes me approximately 3 times longer with the Curl Cloth as opposed to a regular towel to get my hair to look exactly the same as usual. Oh well, who could even use an extra thirty bucks including shipping, anyway? Not I. Except yeah, I KIND OF COULD.

To be fair (and because I realize I may not represent 100% of the curled community), I searched far and wide for some positive reviews to link here. Here are the two I could find, although I can't tell if they were "sponsored" reviews or not:

Positive review
Positive review

I know this post applies to about 4% of my readers, and I promise to never do a product review again. Ever. Unless I become compelled to do so. But I probably won't.

And, I hope you haven't noticed, but I confess I'm feeling a little disenchanted with the internetz lately. I dunno, I'm just not feelin the love much. Perhaps it's just chronic writer's block or maybe reversed seasonal depression. Like now that the sun's out I've got the blahs? Maybe I'm committing bloggy suicide by admitting all this. Kinda like when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah's couch, except not really like that at all.

Mother's Day and money.

2008-05-12T12:27:00.000-06:00

Carter wanted to make me a homemade Mother's Day gift all by himself. Can you believe that? At only 13 months of age! He gave me a hug and then put his gift all over my shoulder, and down the front and back of my shirt. And then he gave that gift to me several times throughout the day resulting in 3 showers for me and 4 baths for him. Despite it all, it was a great Mother's Day.

This weekend we have tickets to a financial seminar by Dave Ramsey. We took his Financial Peace course several years ago and have had nothing but peaceful feelings when it comes to money ever since. No, but really, we like his advice and use a quite a few of his budgeting methods. I've always thought it a little peculiar, though, that some people make an extremely comfortable living teaching others how to make a comfortable living... or at least hold onto the living they're currently making. Don't get me wrong, I'm not sour on it one bit. It's a valuable service and learning to manage your own money is an important thing. But I couldn't help the sarcasm after reading a reminder email that just arrived about the seminar this weekend (which starts at 1:00pm). They say doors will open at 11:00am. Why so early? Probably so we can spend all our emergency fund on Dave Ramsey T-shirts and CDs and stuff - which, doesn't that kind of defeat the entire point anyway? Along with the option for VIP tickets you can get for $150 extra, which include "Lunch with Dave" and free refreshments during the seminar. Wouldn't DAVE, by his very nature, recommend we go with the cheapest tickets available? I'm secretly hoping he'll scold those in the VIP rows for spending way too much on his tickets when they could have gone the discount route and put the rest in a high-interest savings account. But then, he WANTED them to buy the expensive tickets, no? What a quandary.

And speaking of quandaries, based on all your comments on this post, I've decided to talk about the product I purchased that would have been a little overpriced even if it worked magically. But then it didn't work at all. And not because of manufacturer's defect, either. Just because it's plain dumb. But just to be fair, I'm going to spend some time looking for positive reviews on the product as well. If I find good reviews, maybe that means I just have really bad taste and am apparently not with it. At ALL. And if only bad reviews exist, well, then, more fuel to the fire, baby.

Lovies!

Scattered

2008-05-07T20:19:00.000-06:00

I've been swamped the last week! With what, I can't really quantify, but life just feels really busy right now and the laundry, my unplucked eyebrows and this blog are starting to show for it. I'm still feeling really scattered but I do have some very important things to say:

1. It seems nowadays that more women have hormonal problems than not. And by "hormonal problems" I don't mean being neurotically touchy & pugnacious (well, not necessarily, although I know these two are often related), but really having some sort of imbalance that causes health grief. I came to this realization today after hearing these words come out of my mouth during a conversation with a friend:

"What?! You have a period every single month? And it only lasts 5 days? pfff! (freak.)"

2. I hereby confess to reading and enjoying the Twilight series, in spite of the fact that Bella is a BLINKING IDIOT and Edward is a CONTROL FREAKED STALKER and that the series sends a clear message to all 17 year old girls who are in love (and clearly, if your knees buckle when you make out with your boyfriend, you are, in FACT, in love): Don't think twice about leaving your entire life behind and changing every single little thing about yourself in order to be with "the bad boy". It makes perfect sense, of course, because of your deep, undying love for him. (Even though he's permanently incapable of doing the same for you.)

Yes, in spite of all that, I enjoy myself some Stephenie Meyer. And today her first stab at sci-fi came out. My mother will be so proud that I'm giving the genre a try.

3. Scruples question for all of you: Say you recently bought a so-claimed "patent pending" product for $30 from a brand new, woman-owned company. The product seems so innovative and fun, providing a solution to a problem you've had (and you know many others have, too) your entire life. And then the product arrives and immediately upon opening it, you think, "Oh. That's it? I could have made this for 2 dollars using very common materials." But before getting too upset about it, you decide to try the product out, thinking there must be some hidden secret locked inside its fibers. And it does nothing. Absolutely nothing. Do you blog about it to warn others? I mean, where is your loyalty: with your friends and blog readers, or with this fellow woman entrepreneur who is trying to launch a new business?

"Kicking Off Year Seven" ... a camera phone tale

2008-05-03T18:24:00.000-06:00

At grandma's house: bye, baby. [sniff]

Dinner: (Everytime I pass this place on the freeway, I have to do a double take on their sign because I almost always see "La Vagina" when I look at it.)

Me: lemon cookie + whole milk. Steve: one of these darlings + 2%.

Can't believe we got out of there this time without a new gadget, for I am the "gadget slut" of the universe.

Really surprised at how good this was, and how SMOKIN that RD Jr. is.

Day 2: Woke up, took this picture, rolled over and closed my eyes again. Until TEN THIRTY! Livin' on the edge!

Lunch.

Steve's brother on the phone to ~~say Happy Anniversary~~ ask how to train on leather working in World of Warcraft.

Sunglasses: "Any pair you want" Only a few can know what this means for me. Sunglasses to me are like shoes and purses for most shopaholic women. (Unfortunately, so are shoes and purses.)

Hilarious. And horrible. But hilarious.

Reunion in super hot sunglasses.

A perfect weekend to kick off our seventh year of happy, squishy, cheesy, sunshiny love together.

Still feeling a little guilty about this one, though. Back on the diet starting tomorrow!

Waiting for the sun

2008-04-29T10:48:00.000-06:00

After a few days of waiting, these lovelies now get to go outside and play. And I get to reclaim my kitchen table. Here's to a hearty season of herbs and vegetables. And for the sake of these blurry pictures, here's to yesterday's tripod purchase, too.

Today I'm participating in the "How I Met My Honey" carnival at Ramblings by Reba. My entry is here. Go check out a few of the stories if you're in the mood for some pure and unadulterated sap and cheese. :)

Please send help immediately.

2008-04-25T12:10:00.000-06:00

I totally got sucked in.

I added the Turbo Jam to my cart? And then clicked check out?

And then it kept offering me all these other Really! Amazing! Offers! And I just kept clicking ……

YES! Upgrade me to the MAXIMUM RESULTS Package!

YES! Upgrade me EVEN MORE to the Elite Package!

YES! I want 3 additional Turbo Cardio Party workouts PLUS, send me 2 free gifts!

YES! I want the turbo sculpting gloves and FREE upgrade to express delivery!

YES!

So in approximately 3 to 5 business days you can find me in my basement with this exact look on my face:

Macro

2008-04-23T22:04:00.000-06:00

I've been playing with my new lens extension tubes I talked about here, and I think I'm in love. This first shot, I swear to you, is straight out of the camera. I planned to Photoshop it, but all my normal tricks didn't do a thing for it. Which is fine, because I'm pretty proud of myself for this shot as-is. I have no idea what type of flower it is, but it's growing like a weed in my mom's front yard. How's that for low-maintenance gardening?

And the flower below grows on a tree right outside my office. Don't let it's sweet little face fool you, though. This flower smells like CRAP. I enhanced the red just an itsy bit in this one.

And this is from the same stinky tree. This one was a mess. I had to completely re-color it. I'm happy with it now, though. It feels springy.
So all you non-n00b photographers out there: critique away! (That means you, Dani.)
The End.

p.s. - are photography posts boring? Should I keep them to my other blog?

Transcript

2008-04-22T19:39:00.000-06:00

...of a voicemail I received today. I so wish I could tell you who it was from, but some of her friends and co-workers could read this blog (I am famous, you know) and I've been sworn to secrecy.

First a little back story, for ultimate appreciation's sake: I'm doing a diet called Medifast, which is similar to Jenny Craig and the like, where some of your meals come in the mail (protein shakes, bars, soups etc.) and the rest of your meals are lean meat and green veggies. With no added dressing, butter, salt or other condiment might I add, which is very difficult to stick to, and some days the only way I get through is by licking grilled cheese sandwich remains off my son's face while he and anyone watching just think I'm pretending to gobble him or shower him in kisses. But I digress. So Medifast comes with this cute little measuring cup which you can see pictured in the post where I dumped my purse. (It's in the top right of the photo.) We use this cup to measure the water for our protein shakes and oatmeal and stuff, so this cup follows me everywhere because without it, I'll end up with runny oatmeal or a watered down shake because I can't for the life of me measure a cup of water by sight. Another digression. The point of this paragraph was to tell you that my anonymous friend and I have taken quite fondly to referring to the act of being on the Medifast diet as "MF-ing" and to each other as "MF-ers", in reference to the diet only, of course. Oh, and that we drink about 100 ounces of water per day, which means we go to the bathroom about 34 times per day, and if you are one of those who personally feels 100 ounces of water per day is just!too!much! to be healthy, please kindly keep those personal feelings to yourself, as I have already heard two unsolicited pontifications on the matter today and am no longer in the mood to smile and nod at you.

Well. Now that you're more than equipped with all you need to understand this voicemail, please brace yourselves. You just can't make stuff like this up, people. I didn't even hear the last 20 seconds of her message the first time I listened because her final twist had me screaming at the top of my lungs in shock and horror. And secret delight. And now here it is, word for very word:

I really hope you didn't press ignore when you saw my call because I have something really gross that I have to confess. And I don't know WHY. But maybe I'll just leave the whole thing on your machine and you'll have to deal with it.

So in my office... there is NO bathroom in the building because we're in a TRAILER. Because the main building is overgrown. We're moving into a new building in September. So if you want to pee you have to go alllll the way across to the other building, and I'm sure you can imagine how that sucks when you're MFing because you have to pee a LOT.

So I had to pee SO BAD. And I knew I was not going to make it over to the potty. I knew I was--I WOULD PEE MY PANTS, MCKENNA. But I'm embarassed to say that, because I know it's childlike. And I know this voicemail is TOO long, so I peed in my Medifast cup--I'M NOT GOING TO USE IT AGAIN--I had to PEE--Yes.

I peed in my office. I shut the door and peed in my Medifast cup. There you have it. kbye.

p.s. If you're reading this and think you know who's message I transcripted (transcripted is not a word, apparently), think again. I have more than one, yea, more than two friends doing Medifast with me.

Transcript

2008-04-22T19:05:00.000-06:00

...of a voicemail I received today. I so wish I could tell you who it was from, but some of her friends and co-workers could read this blog (I am famous, you know) and I've been sworn to secrecy.

Now, brace yourselves, people. You just can't make stuff like this up. I didn't even hear the last 20 seconds of her message the first time I listened because her final twist had me screaming at the top of my lungs in shock and horror. And secret delight. And now here it is, word for very word:

"oh hell. i really hope youd idn't press ignore when yousaw my call b/c that would be so like me andi ;d feel bad
so i have something really gross that i hae to confess... and i don't know why... but maybe i'll just lvea it on your machine and you'll have to deal with it.

so i n my office in h there is NO bathroom in the building because we're in a trailer. Because the main building is overgorwn. we're getting a new b in sept. so if you want to pee you have to go all the way across to the main builgind and i'm sure you can imagine how that sucks when you're doing medifast because

The sad, lazy truth about my bathroom.

2008-04-21T19:27:00.000-06:00

It remains clean for the most part. It's just that some days, after getting all my "get ready for the day" junk out to use, I just can't bring myself to put each item back in its appropriate drawer. So I stack my comb, blowdryer, root boost, glossing cream, de-frizzer, flat iron, and moisturizer into the open top drawer.

Well after a few days of doing that the problem is now this: the top drawer is so full that I can't close it in order to be able to open the middle drawer in order to put all that extra stuff away in order to be able to close the top drawer and have a neat bathroom.

Tomorrow will be the 4th day my bathroom has looked like this. Because who on earth has time to move all that junk to the counter so that I can open the middle drawer to put everything in its proper place? Not I, said the McKenna.

First

2008-04-17T18:26:00.000-06:00

Mixed emotions today, mostly overwhelming joy and gratefulness.
Thinking about Carter's birth mom. I wish I could wave some sort of magic wand and make her life as perfect for her as she's made ours for us.

2008-04-14T19:14:00.000-06:00

The other day I was Googling myself (I do this weekly) and got a little carried away with the search results. Anyway, one thing led to another and I found myself at a message board about people who are addicted to eating candles. Yeah, no really. Here are some snippets that will give you the jist:

AT:

what are candles made of?. can anyone tell me about the impact of eating candles?..i like to melt them and eat them .. i light aa candle and tilt it so that melted wax falls on a bowl..it also has some black carbon particles on it. and then i eat it warm.

Natalie Goobernau:

Candle wax tastes like gum. If you roll your candle in melted butter before consumption it's even tastier.

Erin:

My kids think I am crazy. I LOVE to eat candles. It started when I was young and liked to eat crayons. Not just any crayons, not just any candles. I love non-scented emergency candles. The texture, the taste satisfies me like nothing else . Does anyone know if this is dangerous?

There were several other entries along these same lines, and I just couldn't help but be a big fat jerk:

Me (aka "baMama"):

I am starting a company called "The Candle Diet" would you guys be interested in helping me with product testing?

I can't wait to see the responses.
Here's the page, if you'd like to join their support group, weirdo.

Naked and Famous (name that tune!)

2008-04-11T13:31:00.000-06:00

I.M. message I sent to a longtime friend of mine today (we both recently picked up photography):

"Rememeber that one time in high school we were so poor we couldn't even afford ONE SINGLE SHIRT so we both contributed to half of the purchase and then spent the next 3 years fighting over whose turn it was to wear said shirt to school? Although tempting, let's not ever do that with our camera equipment."

Last night I bought a set of lens extension tubes for my camera. I took a 3 hour beginner's photography class and they offered 15% off to all the participants for the evening, so I just couldn’t pass it up, especially since I had been drooling over a $600 macro lens for MONTHS now, wishing I could afford it, and then the teacher told me OH DON’T GET THAT WHEN YOU CAN GET A LENS EXTENSION TUBE because they provide the same effect for much less.

So I believed him.

And I bought them.

And I took pictures with them around my house until 11:45 last night.

And they are awesome.

And I am pleased.

And I can’t wait for warm weather because I really need to go on a nature walk with my new lens extension tubes!

Plus they make my camera look REALLY FREAKING AWESOME and HUGE.

Which makes me look awesome.

Which makes people think I’m famous.

And they want to give me money.

Amen.

Twitterer

2008-04-11T08:05:00.000-06:00

I'm on Twitter, people. And it's almost as addicting as World of Warcraft.

Help.

Or? Be an enabler and start Twittering too. Then follow me. And I'll follow you.

I'll trade you an Edward for a strange bearded man.

2008-04-08T19:30:00.000-06:00

I'll get right to the point. Last summer I dared Steve to read Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series AND Scott Westerfeld's Uglies series. He agreed, and in exchange I had to promise to read just the first book in his favorite series, George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire. "Cover to cover, Kenna" - that's what he told me, sure that I'd be hooked on the series after that.

Well, Steve has long read all 7 books from my challenge to him, and I have now officially read 7 pages of my part of the deal. I'm having a hard time getting in to the whole fantasy thing. I read three pages and then turned to Steve in bed, and this happened:

"What's this Night's Watch they're talking about, I don't even understand what's going on."

"Just be patient, it will explain it all."

"When?"

"In book three."

"Steve, this book is 924 pages. How am I supposed to put all this together?"

"Easy. When you read book three and it explains it, you'll remember 'oh they talked about that in book 1.' "

"Ask me what I had for breakfast"

"What did you have for breakfast?"

"I. DON'T. REMEMBER."

I consider myself pretty bright. I know I can get through this book if I change my attitude about it. Just please. Is there anyone out there who likes purses, shoes, pedicures and PINK who has read this crazy guy's books, and if so, can you tell me they're wonderful?

Check George R. R. Martin out: http://grrm.livejournal.com/

I think I'm going to start posting a picture of myself in every single post.

Is this considered a meme? Cause if so, I have to slap myself now.

2008-04-02T19:31:00.000-06:00

Summer just dumped her purse the other day, and it was neat. And it was pretty. And it was organized. And at first I thought to myself how I would never be able to do such a thing because my purse is more commonly referred to as The Black Hole than it is "my purse". But then I thought, "Or? I could dump The Black Hole for the entire internet to see. And then one third of the entire internet could laugh. And one third of the entire internet could be disgusted with me. And the remaining third might just breathe a sigh of relief that they are not the only ones who really need to clean out their purse.

I was going to keep it really real at first and just literally dump it onto the couch. But the diameter of crap didn't fit within my camera frame that way, so I had to line things up in rows in order to get it all in one picture. So maybe you disgusted third won't be quite so disgusted afterall.

Pair of giraffe baby shoes, mostly empty wallet and "5" gum.

Easter egg picture thingy my son made for me at daycare (okay, his teacher totally did it for him, but still).

Measuring tape (just in case!)

Measuring cup to measure water for my protein shakes, because I've tried eyeballing it several times and I can't get anywhere CLOSE to 8 ounces.

Glasses & USD cash.

Cuticle cutter (I cut them a few times per week because I'm neurotic)

Brand new toothbrush (JUST IN CASE, PEOPLE)

Pens, calculator, seven things of lipgloss, The CrackBerry.

Taiwanese cash from my trip there three years ago. It's gaining value every day I refrain from exchanging it. Pretty much my retirement plan.

Santa notepad (procrastinator, or early planner?)

Receipts, cards, frequent buyer punch cards I next to never use, checkbook and kid snacks.

Bottle of pure perfume oil: Jasmine. (Just in case.)

Oh, and by the way these four cards? I used them to break into my house one day after locking myself out. They're completely munched. I learned this trick in high school. My parents got so sick of me sneaking in the house late that they finally started locking me out after it hit a certain time of night (er, morning). Either that or my little brother assumed I was already home and inadvertently locked me out night after night.

So there. I dumped.

What's in your wallet?

another step.

2008-04-01T09:04:00.001-06:00

Pretty sure this is illegal...

2008-03-31T22:02:00.000-06:00

... but April Fool's anyway.

Mr. Peeper Man

2008-03-31T19:08:00.000-06:00

Right in the middle of dinner tonight, someone knocked at our door. Steve opened the door to a slightly familiar face: the same guy who knocked 6 months ago to ask if we'd like a peep hole installed for only! forty! five! dollars! Let's call this guy "Cletus" for the sake of storytelling, mkay?

When he came last fall, I told Steve, right in front of Cletus, "You can install one yourself for 10 bucks like you did at our last house, can't you?" Steve smiled and nodded to Cletus, "Home Depot." But this didn't quell our determined Cletus like I thought it might, ohhh no! Didn't you know that The Home Depot does not have superior spy-hole-getting connections at its disposal like Cletus? Neither does Lowe's or Ace: I mentioned these to him as well, and let me just make it clear to you right now that you cannot find a go-go-gadget peeper such as Cletus' any.where.else. but through Cletus. Because Cletus is The Peeper Man! And he knows the secret phone number and/or internet address to get a peeper that can peep on your ENTIRE PORCH. And did I mention that you can't get this amazing peripheral peeper anywhere else? Well. You can't.

So this time when Cletus reappeared, we knew we had to bring a little more compelling explanation to the door in order to get back to our little family dinner before it went cold.

"Aww, Cletus, you're two months late. See, we just had a video surveillance system installed. As part of our home security package? Yeah, so when someone rings the doorbell, we just push a little button back in our kitchen back there? And voila! We can see the ennnntiiiire porch, isn't that amazing?"

And now I'm thinking, if I would have just paid Cletus his frick-fracking $45 bucks, I could avoid situations like this altogether. But then, I don't know, that might be a little too tempting for me. Why, I could go months and months without ever having to answer the door! Once I peeped to see who's on the other side, I could just keep on walking by (quietly, of course) and continue on with my evening. Yeah, maybe the peep hole is the way to go because right now? Not knowing who's knocking and still ignoring it brings me too much guilt. I HAVE to answer.

Birth Story Chapter 4: Ours

2008-03-28T20:37:00.000-06:00

Click here to read Chapter 3
Click here to start from the beginning.

Teresa met us back at our house about 15 minutes after I hung up the phone. The funny thing about all this is, we technically hadn't finished our application process. The paperwork was done and approved, but there's a series of interviews and home inspections called a "Home Study" that has to be performed before a couple can be considered for adoption. But fate kind of shoved the cart before the horse in our case...

Teresa explained to us that Ashley had already chosen another adoptive family. This family was so excited for their baby to be born! They were all ready to go, were even at the hospital during labor and delivery. And then he was born. And he was beautiful, and he was perfect. And he was everything they had hoped for. And still they pulled Teresa aside and said, "We can't believe we're telling you this. And we have absolutely no reason at all. We just know this isn't our baby." They left the hospital heart broken. In tears. And Ashley was left devastated and helpless. What was she supposed to do now?

Teresa racked her brain for options to give to Ashley. We immediately popped into her head. But she shoved the thought aside. "They're not done" she told herself over and over as we kept coming to mind. Finally she had decided. "Kenna and Steve: NO for sure." And then five minutes later, another social worker whom we had never met, walked up to her and said, "I think you should consider telling Ashley about Kenna and Steve." Teresa said she initially snapped back at her, "No. They’re not. Done." But no matter how she went about it, she always came back around to us.

That first couple at the hospital had no idea why they had to do what they did. But as Teresa told us how things had gone down the day before, we knew why. And as courageous and humiliating as it must have been for that other couple to back out of something they had been looking forward to for months, we knew they were right. This baby wasn’t meant to be theirs. Call it what you like. Fate, destiny, following Heaven’s clues, there was no doubt in our minds – that sweet, tiny, perfect little being we met the night before was ours, and he was ours before we even knew he existed.

It took approximately 17 hours to complete our Home Study with our social worker. And by 17 hours, I mean 4. As soon as we finished, we were able to go back to the hospital to meet that beautiful boy again – this time, as his parents.

We arrived at the hospital just in time to see Ashley once again. She spent about 20 minutes alone with her son and then hugged us both good bye before checking out of the hospital to fly home to her family. As I held her, I whispered “Thank you” into her ear. Words were never so inadequate. I cried as I watched that intrepid young woman walk down the hall, leaving us with her heart; her hope.

It was hard to watch her leave, not really knowing who she was, yet possessing a part of her. I knew she would never be able to understand the great love I had for her. I ached for her. But at the same time, my heart galloped with joy. This was my son! And this time, when I lifted him into my arms, I knew him. I really knew him. I felt his peaceful soul, and it wrapped its adoring arms around my heart.

Me with Carter in the waiting room of the hospital. Because I wasn't a hospital patient like most moms are, I didn't have a room. Carter spent 3 nights in the hospital because of jaundice, so we slept on the couch in the waiting room, and that's where the nurses brought him to be fed during the night. A few of the nurses didn't really "get it". I had to throw a fit a couple of times, pounding on the nursery window and showing them my bracelet and shouting "My baby's in there too" through the glass. For some reason some of them didn't understand why I wanted to feed him. Get. A. Clue, people.

Ready to leave the hospital and go home! I sat in the back seat with Carter on the way home. The radio was on in the car, but barely loud enough to hear. I recognized some Ashley Simpson song and started singing along while I stroked Carter's cheek. I looked up to see Steve's glassy eyes in the rear view mirror. I said, "Are you crying?" he blinked and said, "You're singing to our son."

We called them Carter burritos, and they were the best tasting in all the land.

Birth Story Chapter 3: "Don't get your hopes up."

2008-03-27T20:13:00.000-06:00

Click here to start from Chapter 1.

“Now? You mean like now now?”

We had pretty much been waiting by the phone all night long even though Teresa (our social worker) had told us earlier not to expect a call until the next day. An hour later we found ourselves in the hospital elevator, creeping ever too slowly up to the third floor. A nice lady from the adoption center was there to meet us. She was ready to take us right into Ashley’s hospital room, but I stopped –

“Wait.” I said, “Behind that door is a girl who has the most overwhelming task of choosing someone to entrust with her very most precious possession. Forever. And here we are… what are we supposed to say? How are we supposed to act? Don’t you have any advice for us?”

“Just relax and be yourselves.”

Well. Sure. But, what else could there be? There’s just no possible way to prepare for this inimitable moment. We just had to do it. So we gave her a nod, and she opened the door to room 324. Every millisecond lasted a minute as we walked into that room. The bathroom wall jutted out into the room, blocking our view of the bed for a few steps. I couldn’t believe my feet were actually moving forward, one in front of the other. Finally, after what seemed like a mile of textured wallpaper passing by me, the bathroom wall ended and the room opened up before my view.

And then I saw her face.

Have you ever been just sure there was an intruder in your home? Sheer panic sets in. Your adrenaline skyrockets. And then the “intruder” turns around and you see your friend’s face and you go, “Oh. It’s just YOU.” The pure and unadulterated relief you feel in that moment? That’s what washed over me when I saw Ashley’s face. “Oh. It’s just you.” As if I had known her forever.

But I didn’t know her. Not at all. And I didn’t know the tiny blue bundle she was holding, either. It had two inches of black hair sticking straight out one end. I tried not to stare.

Ashley smiled. Her face was still and serene. Her smile was peaceful. We sat down in two wooden chairs.

“Hi,” we smiled, “How are you?”

Her quiet voice responded, “I’m doing good. You’re Kenna and Steve?”

She asked us questions about how we met. What we like to do together. Our future family plans. She lifted her swaddled treasure up and asked if I’d like to hold him. So I did, and I fed him his bottle as we continued to learn about each other. If I told you I felt an instant magical connection the very moment I lifted that little baby into my arms, I’d be lying. In fact, all I could think was, "DON’T look at him. DON’T fall in love with him." But it was impossible. He was perfect and mesmeric.

After an hour and a half, Ashley said to us, “I felt really warm when I read your profile. And I’m glad I got to meet you. Thank you for coming to see me even though it’s late. I love my baby very much and I have a lot to think about. Please don’t get your hopes up yet.” And then we shared some final small talk. And then we left. And then the entire ride home, I told Steve the reason she said “Don’t get your hopes up.” is because she thinks we are complete idiots and she was just trying to be nice. And Steve told me the reason she said it is because she needed to sleep on her decision to make sure it was right.

I slept like a rock that night. The type of sleep you get just after you’ve bawled your eyes out for hours and then finally the cry headache knocks you out into deep, sweet slumber.

The next morning, I sat up in bed and stared at the wall for a minute while I wondered what I was supposed to be doing.

“Well, it’s Wednesday. So I guess I should go to work? Yeah. Work.”

An hour later as I merged onto the freeway, I had a very lucid moment. I was sure I had become psychic. I told myself through quiet tears, “She didn’t choose you. It’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be. You’ll be fine. This too shall pass.”

And then my phone rang. It was Teresa.

“Hi Kenna. Where are you?”

“Just driving to work…”

“I just left the hospital. I had a long talk with Ashley. She wanted me to tell you she really appreciates you coming to meet her last night.”

Please say “and” PLEASE say “AND”!

“And. She wants to know if you and Steve would adopt her baby.”

...to be continued (and finished) tomorrow.

Click here to read Chapter 4

Birth Story Chapter 2: Already!?

2008-03-26T21:53:00.000-06:00

Click here to start from Chapter 1.

The next morning, after having calmed down in the comfort of my husbands enormous yet gentle arms, I called the doctor to schedule an appointment. In one nervous breath I answered the question And what do you need to be seen for?

“Well, first, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant so I’d just like a confirmation of that, and second, I haven’t changed a thing about my lifestyle except, well, I did just get married, I guess that’s something, but anyway the point is, in May? I wore size 10 jeans and today? I wear size 18 jeans and I swear I haven’t been eating like a cow, I swear it! So maybe it’s the pregnancy, or maybe there’s something wrong with me. And that’s what I need to be seen for.”

“Mmmmmkay,” she said, “we have an opening at 3:00pm.”

Steve and I walked into the doctor’s office, hand in hand, hearts racing, completely ignorant to what was ahead of us. The doctor took a pregnancy test. It came back negative. But the phenomenal weight gain and other strange symptoms begged him to take a closer look. An MRI showed a small tumor on my pituitary gland, which caused a repeating cycle of freakiness in my body. In short, wigged out hormones caused hundreds of ovarian cysts, which caused the jacking up of different hormones, which caused mega insulin spikes, which caused me to gain weight like a diabetic on a carbo-licious diet.

Blah, blah, blah, fast forward four years and many boring medical quandaries later to 2006, when Steve and I really started wanting a family. We went to a few fertility doctors and at the end of a 2-3 month series of tests, we were candidly informed of our grim situation: we had a small chance of pregnancy with in-vitro fertilization, but even then, I wouldn’t be able to carry a baby for any longer than 20 weeks.

Surprisingly, we both left that particular appointment with the same prevailing feeling of … peace. And I was shocked to discover immense relief within myself! I was somehow able to feel thankfulness in that moment, perhaps because I felt some conclusiveness. Instead of having a reason to hold on to a single thread of hope for what could be years and years of trying to get pregnant, I felt overwhelming closure.

We immediately opened our hearts to the idea of adoption. Steve is a stage 2 testicular cancer survivor, so we knew from the beginning that adoption could be in our future. We chose an adoption agency and picked up the application paperwork. It sat on our kitchen table for months, glaring up at us every time we sat down to dinner. We knew we wanted this, we knew we were ready, but I just wanted to be absolutely sure I wasn’t emotionally hurting about my infertility. That wouldn’t be fair to my child, as it would surely affect my parenting an adopted child. I didn’t want one single reservation. And I hadn’t felt any yet! I didn’t feel any amount pain. I spent an entire year waiting for the pain to come. I thought maybe it was dormant and would eventually surface, at which point I could have a few cleansing weeks of emotional torment, and then I’d know I was fine. I’d know it was time. But all I felt that entire year was excitement to meet our future adopted child.

In early 2007, we dusted off the application papers and filled them out. We dropped them off at the agency and had an interview with a social worker. Two days later we took off on a 7 night Caribbean cruise and ohhh, boy it was divine and spectacular and fabulous. And way too short. And even two whole weeks after we returned, I found myself dreaming of sunshine and sandy beaches at the office. During one particularly poignant daydream on a Tuesday afternoon, my cell phone startled me back to reality:

“Hello?”

“Hi McKenna, it’s Teresa from the adoption center.”

“Oh hey, how’s it going? Did my background check come back clean? Hehe”

“Uh. Ha! Yes, actually, but that’s not why I’m calling. A little boy was born this morning. He was supposed to go to another family, but… that didn’t work out. The reason I’m calling is just to ask you if we can present your profile to the birth mom, Ashley, for consideration.”

All I could say was a pensive, “Oh.”

“I’m really, really sorry to do this to you. I know it puts you on the spot in a major way, but I need an answer within an hour or so.”

She told me several details about this little boy. 8 lbs 4 oz. 20 inches long. Native American. Perfectly healthy. Tons of dark hair. I took copious notes on a fluorescent orange sticky note, and told her I’d call her back.

I ran to my car, and started driving home. I called Steve to tell him the news. He thought his phone was breaking up because all I could utter was, “Hi. Um?” and then I interrupted myself to shake with silent sobs for 10 seconds before I could spit out, “Teresa called,” and then more silent sobs. After a couple rounds of this, Steve knew exactly what was going on, and he met me at our house 10 minutes later.

I told Steve I didn’t think this boy was supposed to be ours because the timing wasn’t right at all. We had just turned in our paper work two weeks earlier! He asked me to list my reasons and all I could come up with was:

1. We haven’t finished painting the kitchen.

2. Our basement isn’t finished.

3. What will I do about my work schedule? You can’t just take maternity leave on 5 minutes notice!

As soon as I finished with the list, all the bawling-induced snot in my head shifted just enough to relieve pressure from the part of my brain that keeps me from being a COMPLETE IDIOT, and we called Teresa to tell her that yes, she could show our profile to Ashley.

Several hours later, she called us back.

“Ashley would like to meet you if you’d feel comfortable coming to the hospital right now.”

…. to be continued.

Click here to read Chapter 3

Birth Story Chapter 1: One day late on posting my story about being 3 weeks late

2008-03-25T22:38:00.000-06:00

One of my very favorite bloggers, Sarcastic Mom, is hosting a Birth Story Carnival, inviting all bloggers to tell their stories. I’ve had this carnival on my calendar since it was announced several weeks ago and it would be just like me to get an IKEA hankering on the day of the carnival. I’ve never managed to get out of that forsaken place in less than several hours, and last night was no different. Result: I didn’t even sit down to the computer yesterday. So if you want to get all technical, I'm a day late for the carnival. But I’m still sharing my story with you. And since I’m already late anyway, I suppose it’s not a problem if I tell my story in a few installments instead of plopping in all the details into one post for you to fall asleep over. This is one of the stories I hold closest to my heart. It’s quite remarkable, yet I don’t tell it very often at all.

Here’s the prologue.

And now, our birth story:

********UPDATE********
Oh GREAT, I've created some sort of awkward silence - zero comments. So let me add that the next chapter brings an unexpected twist and this story starts to look much more pretty, very, very soon. No need to feel bad for me just because I used the "F" word. Promise. :)
************************

Chapter 1: 90 Surprises in Under 3 Months

He was different from other guys. Other guys opened doors for me. Fine. This guy pushed in my chair at dinner. He held my coat open for me to slide my arms in. He turned the heater in his car on full blast to keep me from shivering, even though it made him sweat. He deeply respected me. He wasn't too cool to be goofy. He didn't kiss me until Thanksgiving, our fourth date.
And by Christmas, we knew we were forever.
And by New Years, he had picked out a ring.
And by Spring, we had tied the knot.

We came home from our honeymoon to our brand new 600 square foot apartment. Okay, actually it was 40 years old, but it was brand new to us. Our first home together was perfectly tiny. The kitchen had 6 square feet of counter space (I really did measure it).

We woke up every morning at 6:00am to workout and eat breakfast together. After work we’d make dinner together and then cuddle together on the couch, watching television and munching on kettle corn and slices of fresh swiss cheese (not in the same mouthful). Life was so sunny and golden. We were caught up in the whirlwind of newlywed uber-BLISS. So caught up, I didn’t even notice that my body was going through some very rapid, very major changes.

One morning, just several weeks after our May wedding, I was getting dressed, and my size 10 jeans didn’t fit. Man, I couldn’t get that zipper up for the life of me! And here's the real proof I was all fogged over in newlywed bubble-land: It. Didn’t. Even. Phase me. I thought to myself, “Ah, yes. Must be the newlywed 10.” (I don’t know, something similar to the Freshman 15?) As if it was some unavoidable fact of life that would magically resolve itself later. And if that’s not nutty enough for you, it also didn’t bother me to find out later that evening while trying on new jeans that the “newlywed 10” made me jump from a size 10 clear up to a size 14.

But then, a couple weeks later, the same thing happened. My new 14s suddenly didn’t fit anymore. That night I found myself in the dressing room with dozens of hangers ranging from sizes 10 to 22. I left the store with a sac full of 18s and 20s, self conscious and confused. I hadn’t changed my eating habits much at all. I hadn’t become more sedentary. What was going on? I walked to my car with my sac of clothes, newly wed and newly fat. Two and a half months previous, my husband married a thin, beautiful, happy woman. And now some strange enchantment had turned me into a fat person. I was ashamed. I was ugly. I was pissed as hell.

As I drove home that night, I planned the whole thing out: weight loss is mathematical, right? CALORIES IN minus CALORIES OUT = WEIGHT LOSS. I would eat no more than 900 calories per day and do an hour of cardio each morning. I walked in the front door, took three steps forward (in order to cross our tiny living room, go through our minuscule kitchen, and enter our strangely normal-sized bathroom). I stepped on the scale to see just how bad it was.

WHOA.

220 lbs.

WHAT!?

It’s impossible to gain 90 pounds in less than 3 months. Right? RIGHT? Well, at least I had a plan to get it back off. I estimated I'd be back to my normal size in about double the time it took me to gain all this, and that felt conservative. So the next morning, I got to it! I had never worked out so hard in my life. And I stuck with it, too. Every single day for a week and a half, and then? On July 30, 2002 I realized my period was 3 weeks late.

My heart started pounding so hard I was sure I was seconds from a heart attack. I couldn’t believe this was really, truly happening. I couldn’t hide my anxiety behind my newlywed smile any longer. Not even one second longer. I threw myself onto my bed and sobbed into my husband's pillow, staining it with 2 coats of mascara and pink eye-shadow. What could I tell my husband when he got home from work? Three months married, fat, and now pregnant!?

…to be continued.

Click here to read the next chatper.

Big Wuss.

2008-03-22T22:52:00.000-06:00

We are sitting in our pitch black basement watching I Am Legend with the bass turned up and we're completely FREAKED. I've heard it gets stupid toward the end. Oh please, oh please get stupid soon!

Slackerdom

2008-03-17T17:30:00.000-06:00

Okay, I know, I really do know. I'm a complete slacker. I'll spare you all my (very valid) excuses, although if you're really interested in the details (TMI), be my guest.

So this time I'm really back to blogdom. I've sanitized every corner, spread a line of sand along the perimeter of our home, and otherwise voodoo-prohibited any other illness from entering our home from now until the next time they enter our home again, which thankfully, according to the very wise sage to which I turn with all the most important questions in my life, is "Not likely" to happen even at all. Are you a big old skeptic like most people are when I tell them about this sage advice giver? Need some concrete, mathematical proof? Well, first off I think you should try having a little faith, but if you just can't muster any, then fine. I will tell you that I tested the sage, and have scientifically proven he is not lying to me. Here's your proof, naysayer.

Now that my excuse for not blogging is feeling much better, I'm going to go have a time out for mommy (read: sleep til the cows come home). And by the way? Due to lack of interest, tomorrow is canceled.)

"Priceless"

2008-03-15T17:25:00.000-06:00

Number of diaper blowouts today:17
Number of times I've been puked on today: 4
Number of baby baths: 5
Number of large loads of poopy laundry: 4
Can someone please tell me what the "priceless" line is?

Btw that's not even his shirt... Its mine. And that's poop. Very watery poop.

He has a future in extreme sports.

2008-03-04T20:29:00.004-07:00

Carter has been getting around really well lately. He seems to have no fear, mowing over anything in his path, climbing up, over, under, inside every new and interesting thing. Yesterday while sitting on the couch with me, he kept throwing himself over the front of the couch and if I didn't reach out to catch him, he would have landed on the floor right on his head. He'd giggle each time I saved him, and finally I thought to myself, "You're not going to be there to catch him every single time. He needs to know this isn't a game. It isn't fun." So the next time he did it, I broke his fall just enough to ensure he would land in a safe position, but otherwise let him feel the full impact of his 18" fall. I prepped to pick him up to dry his tears from the fall, sure that he had learned his lesson this time. But there were no tears. Instead, I heard the most hearty, rip-roaring laughter I've ever heard escape him. Then he turned around, stood up to the couch, and started bouncing up and down, asking me to lift him back up. Bouncing turned to a screaming temper-tantrum, and stupid first-time mom that I am, I gave in and lifted him up to the couch. He didn't sit for one entire second before thrusting his entire body forward and off the couch again.

Well that was yesterday. This morning he stood up on the tile in our kitchen and fell on his face. Ten minutes later, a dark purple bruise appeared in the perfect shape of his left eye socket. Heaven help me.

Back

2008-02-29T19:51:00.003-07:00

Back in black, I hit the sack,
I've been too long, I'm glad to be back
Yes I'm let loose from the noose,
That's kept me hangin' about...

Boy howdy, I just endured one FREAK of a flu. On top of it a sinus infection, a double ear infection, and strep! COMBO POINTS! Really though? I've never been so sick for so long in my life. I have to cry just by thinking about it, it was that traumatic. Or maybe it was all that money I spent on lotion-coated Kleenex, which, before this bout, I always thought was silly. But when you have 3 layers of scabs forming around your nostrils from the constant wiping? Lotion-coated Kleenex is like the greatest invention ever.

So anyway... here I am. I've missed you, internet!

Sharing the love

2008-02-14T19:34:00.007-07:00

This year I made hand made valentines with my mom. We got the idea from Heather Bailey and I love how they turned out! Here's mine:

Here's Heather's:

I'm not so much bugged about how my valentines turned out, because in person, mine look every bit as delicious as hers, but my photo... left something to be desired. Heather's picture warms the cockles of my heart. I can almost taste perfectly plump and juicy fruit in my mouth when I look at it.

I have a special valentine for all my readers. I am subscribed to over 100 blogs, some of which I read daily, others weekly or monthly, etc. and I'm always on the lookout for great, new content to read and am continually inspired by the blogosphere. So today I'm sharing the bloggy love with some of my very favorite blogs ever, in no particular order:

Chea Lamb Inspiring, creative portraiture.

The Pioneer Woman Horse and food photography, and I'm not even a horse person OR a food pers -- oh.

Dooce Three photos posted daily: daily photo, daily chuck (her dog), daily style.

Sarcastic Mom Her wit never ceases.

PW Cooks My favorite cooking blog.

Domestication in Progress My other favorite cooking blog. It has an awesome contributor community.

Web Designers Wall If you're a web designer like I am, you will want to marry me just for introducing this blog to you.

DesignMom The best blog on where design and motherhood intersect.

Heather Bailey Who I want to be when I grow up.

Design Sponge The ultimate collection of eye candy, served up daily.

I can do this.

2008-02-11T22:09:00.001-07:00

Tonight, just after I laid you in your crib and watched your eyelids slowly fall as you snuggled up to your woobie, I went downstairs to start collecting things for your big day tomorrow. I wrote your name on your shirt tag, your sippy cup, your favorite blanket. I carefully folded your clothes, and as I placed the last sweater on the stack, I wondered for a moment if it smelled like me. I unfolded it and raised it to my face, breathing in deeply. It smelled like nothing. Maybe to someone else, it would smell like our house, or like me, or like you. But to me it smelled blank; meaningless. All at once I started to sob, and this shocked me because before now, I had completely held my crap together about all this. But not tonight. Not now, as I top off this huge sac of everything-you-could-possibly-want-and-more for tomorrow: your first day of daycare.

For weeks, I have carefully researched and interviewed to find you the most ideal place. The place I feel you’d be the most happy, and somehow I feel only I can know this. And I found a great place for you, right near my office, where you can play and sing songs and create your first little friendships in life. Ms. Mariala is kind and sweet. She knows how to make your bottles and change your diaper. She knows lots of games and rhymes and is probably better-equipped to save you from a choking attack than I am. She sings songs too, but not as good as your mama, and I’m certain you will notice this. The thing is, though... she doesn’t know how you like to be held before your morning nap, with your head on my arm and your blanket over only half of your face. She doesn’t know that when you’re really sleepy and you hold your hand up in the air and close your eyes, what you’re asking for is the palm of your hand and your forearm to be caressed. And she doesn’t know just the right way to tickle your ear and the back of your head that makes you finally nod off to sleep. She doesn’t know these things.

But you know what? You’re going to love her anyway. And you’re going to love being around kids your age. You’ll watch them closely and meanwhile get so excited that there’s someone your size rolling around on the ground, you’ll have no choice but to grin that perfect, crooked grin of yours and bounce up and down that one way. That’s exactly what you do when there are other babies in the room, and I guess, I suppose, I can’t think of anything else that gets you more excited than loving on other kids besides seeing your daddy walk in the door from work. So, see? It’s your second favorite thing, you’re going to be just fine. And besides, no one will be able to steal your favorite sippy cup because I just wrote your name on it, in permanent marker, on four different places, just in case the cup is turned just “so” on the shelf, hiding the fact that THIS IS CARTER’S CUP.

And, okay, I’ll even bet that your favorite blanket? Doesn’t smell at all like “nothing” to you.

If you use a blog reader: don't click to view this post! You've been warned. Everyone else: I'm so very, very sorry.

2008-02-07T21:12:00.001-07:00

Behold the flesh-eating staph which makes my husband's skin looks like he's 67 years old and fresh out of the tanning bed. I took this picture yesterday but wish I took it the day before because this is looking really, really good in comparison. I just don't quite know what to say about this picture. Perhaps: "sluuuuurp!"

(You're welcome for making this tiny. Click to zoom at your own risk)

It's hard to get a camera angle that really does the depth of this pot hole justice. Mind you, this started as the tiniest, most minuscule and innocent zit/ingrown hair thingie. And now it's a horrific canyon of puke-inducing pus.

I'm really sorry I posted these pictures. I regret you have to go through the agony of looking at them, but I had to post them, honestly. It's just one of those things. Well, whenever I have to take something really disgusting, I have a glass of fruit juice handy to wash it down. So here's some of the sweetest juice I could find. This is my offering of peace:

See? Doesn't that make it all better? Now please don't delete me from your RSS list. Pleeeeease.

How to annoy me

2008-02-06T23:57:00.001-07:00

Put one of those stupid playlists on your blog that automatically start blaring out as soon as your visitors scroll down far enough for them to come into view. Playlists are great and all, but don't effing default them to "on". Lub you!

On to other issues... I know my posting has been really light lately, and I'm sorry. But my first excuse is that I'm working on something that's consuming my evenings, weekends and all other moments of free time. More on that later. My second excuse is that what started as a silly ingrown hair on Steve's arm has rapidly developed into MRSA (mer-sah), a flesh-eating, resistant to antibiotics staph infection. It's highly contagious and highly disgusting to look at, and highly likely to be the reason today will be the last day you'll ever visit my blog for fear of catching it just by looking at your monitor.

So needless to say, trips to the doctor and constant home-sanitization have kept me far away from being able to write anything thought-provoking or intelligent. So I resort to excruciating kenna-shtick and self-facial morphing to get me through the slump. I love you if you keep coming back anyway. But not if you have an auto-play music list on your blog. I kid, I kid. But not really. I'm not really kidding, kind of. Well, maybe, you know?

Steviebear,

2008-02-02T21:04:00.001-07:00

Would you still love me if I looked like this?

Hmmm... looks like SOMEONE needs a sideblog. Because I can't help myself but post these stupid little mini-posts.

Awesome.

2008-02-01T22:30:00.001-07:00

Last night as we were getting ready for bed, Steve turned to me and said, "By the way... you PUNCHED me last night."

"Um. Como?"

*pulls down lower lip* "See my bloody lip? I was lying there, innocently sleeping. You rolled over and cold-cocked me."

*laughing so hard I can hardly breathe, let alone spit out the sentence* "Honey, I do not remember doing that and I am so, so sorry."

"I jolted awake and had to go rinse blood out of my mouth. And my teeth have hurt all day long."

I then threw my head back in some freak-accident fit of laughter, and it hit the wall behind my bed so hard I didn't think it would ever stop throbbing. But I didn't even mind it because the other night in my sleep, I PUNCHED MY HUSBAND IN THE FACE.

Creme de la meme.

2008-01-31T20:13:00.001-07:00

How lovely of my friend Jason to tag me.

How long have you been blogging?
I started this blog in April 2005

What inspired you to start your blog, and who are your mentors?

My first post ever was published into the bloggy-void from Taiwan. I was there for a month on business and without a camera. It was a means to communicate with my family and preserve my memory of the amazing culture I was experiencing. My mentors, who of course (obviously) read my blog daily and hang out with me on a regular basis, are PW, Bossy, Dooce, and DesignMom.

Are you trying to make money online, or are you doing it just for fun?

"Online" is such a general term. I am not trying to make money with this blog (although I wouldn't return any checks you feel compelled to mail me). However I am online in many other capacities including a few other blogs I author, and the following online contributions, some of which provide income for me:
www.urbanbotanic.com
www.homemade-spa.com
...and coming very soon – so soon that I can't even allow thoughts of the deadline to creep in or my brain will start drooling out my nose and that? That is something I wouldn't even feel comfortable paying someone to clean up – something I'm very excited to announce the launch of. Here is a minuscule snippet of a completely cryptic, confusing and useless preview:

What 3 things do you love about being online?

1. I love the internet because I am proficient at Google. I can find the answer to anything, ANYTHING on the web in mere seconds. Dare to challenge me. I dare you. I expect this to one day be the hirable difference between myself and another job-applicant front runner.

2. I love the internet because I am truly inspired by the photography, musings and lives of the people I have met through blogging. Steve often interrupts whatever I'm talking about to say, "wait, WHO are you talking about?" ... "hold on, WHO are you sending this package to?" ... "now, WHO are you taking nanny-hiring advice from?" to which my reply is almost always, "psh! SUMMER, one of my BLOGGY-friends, like, DUH!"

3. I love the internet, OH I love you, internet! Because? You make me feel soooo good that some days I can't wait to get home just so I can run upstairs, close the blinds, and shoot you through my veins. Or roll you up and smoke you. But really, best of all are the days when I have cocoa in the pantry so I can sprinkle you all over in my brownie batter and eat the whole batch. And then lie on the floor and watch the ceiling fan swirl around for three hours while I drool on the carpet and dream of someday being as famous as Dooce. Or Pioneer Woman. Or at least Bossy.

(And that keyboard diarrhea is precisely why I am not as famous as DesignMom. Or SarcasticMom. Or at least Amalah.)

Chat and IM.

Never really chatted. Still IM, but only at the office. And only when my voice hurts from yelling across the building.

Um, whoa. That's the end? What a crappy way to end a meme.

I'm not tagging anyone. This meme ends with me. Well, I mean if you want a tag, go ahead and take it.

*****UPDATE*****
I was so high on the internet last night, I couldn't even tag anyone. Now that the brain-fog has died away somewhat, I hereby tag Karlene, KA and Megan.

Sleepy Winter

2008-01-29T20:51:00.003-07:00

It's been such a snowy, slushy, disgusting mess for the last several weeks. Yesterday I pulled onto a somewhat stunning sight on my street. It was just before sunset and everyone was inside their houses, hiding from the arctic tundra outside. The neighborhood looked like a perfect white canvas: snow gripping to stucco, painting all four sides of every house white because of the strong wind, not an inch of asphalt peeking through the six inch blanket of snow on the ground.

I pulled into the garage and emerged again one minute later donning a crocheted hat and my camera.

But I couldn't stand to make it past the front porch, which is covered, making it the only bit of color on our otherwise sleepy street. Suburban winter. It was a lovely sight.

Abridged from 4 minutes to 30 seconds

2008-01-28T20:52:00.001-07:00

My son called his grandma today. Here's how it went down, verbatim, according to my mom:

*ring, ring*

GRANDMA: Hello?

CARTER: Hi!

GRANDMA: Hi Carter!

CARTER: Hi!

GRANDMA: Hi!

CARTER: Hi!

GRANDMA: Hi!

CARTER: Hi!

GRANDMA: Hello?

CARTER: Dada!

GRANDMA: Helllllloooooo?

CARTER: Dada!

GRANDMA: Hellllllooooooo?

CARTER: Dada!

GRANDMA: Carter, does your mommy know you're on the phone?

CARTER: Mama!

GRANDMA: Hi!

CARTER: Hi!

GRANDMA: Hi!

CARTER: Hi!

*throws phone, starts to whine*

I walk across the room to pick up the phone and it says "Connected: Mum"

KENNA: Hellllooooo?

MOM: Did you call me on purpose?

KENNA: Ummmm. I got too tired of telling Carter he couldn't have my cell phone so I finally caved and let him just have it. He's been playing with it for 5 minutes.

MOM: Well I've been talking to him for 4.

I see how it is

2008-01-24T20:16:00.001-07:00

We’re sitting at the dinner table talking, and all of a sudden this strange feeling comes over me. It was this sick feeling that I was halfway mistaking as a sharp pain underneath my cheekbones and between my ears. It was nothing like the pain you have during a sinus infection, more like that salty, tingly feeling you get in your throat right before you puke, except the puke feeling was located under my cheekbones. I realize this makes me sound like a complete nut bar, but I swear that’s exactly how it felt. Anyway, it came on really strong and sudden and I was trying to concentrate on the feeling to figure out what on earth it could mean, and I must’ve looked a little dazed, because this is what followed:

“What’s going on? You have a weird look on your face.”

“I don’t know, I just had this really weird feeling come over me. I’ve never had this happen before; I have no clue what it is!”

“Is it like really peaceful and calm?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, like there’s nothing to be stressed about and everything in life is juuuust fine?”

"Ha, ha. You're soooo funny."

Dear Carter,

2008-01-21T20:33:00.001-07:00

Please don't ever make a diaper like that again.
Love,
Mama

Honey, have you seen my lipstick?

2008-01-19T22:05:00.001-07:00

Just got back from a party our friends were throwing where a bag of liquorice was being passed around. And please don't confuse that with licorice. You can't get away with putting some Twizzlers on a plate and telling your guests it's liquorice. Everyone will know it's just licorice. I never knew gourmet liquorice existed until a few weeks ago when Steve and I bought some at a local chocolatier for around $36 an ounce. The stuff was amazing. And by amazing I mean uh.may.zing.

For a straight week and a half after bringing home our tiny, precious bag of candy, we acted like four year olds. We kept blaming each other for trying steal a piece without the other one knowing. We had to make sure we each got equal amounts. If I got one piece, Steve got one piece and visa-versa, and they had to be approximately the same size. On a daily basis, one could hear shouting coming from our kitchen, "YOU stole a piece of liquorice, DIDN'T YOU?" Candy so good it put us at odds.

So tonight at the party, some liquorice similar to our cherry-flavored gold was being passed around. There were two little girls there, about six, and I "psssssted" them over to me as I slowly and mysteriously reached my hand into the bag and said, "You two have got to try this stuff. Here's one for you... and one for you." Then I waited and watched for their faces to light up. And they did, kind of. Although can I really expect a kid to appreciate fine candy when they have glow in the dark jelly worms at their disposal? I say to the one girl, "It's goooood, isn't it?" as I nod my head in approval. And she closes her eyes and says, "mmmmmm yeeeah. It tastes like lipstick!"

When Art Becomes Work

2008-01-18T20:54:00.001-07:00

I'm a little bit addicted to makeup, skin care, and hair care products. It probably all started with the way they smell, because I've always had a special place in my heart for good-smelling products. I'm a non-practicing media makeup artist. At one time, I had a lot going for me in the makeup world. I trained under a high-profile celebrity makeup artist, had a handful of great connections, a three foot tall makeup chest on wheels (equipped to walk onto any set and do any style of makeup on any ethnicity), and an excellent starting portfolio featuring shots from an amazing photographer.

I worked on one movie, which was amazing. Being on set for 16 hours a day was exhausting and exciting. And a lot more work than you'd ever imagine. I loved it though. I worked on a few tv shows which never aired, but most of my makeup career time was spent managing a Nordstrom makeup department and doing tons of bridal makeup. Working retail was so not for me, and the brides? Well, let's not go there.

Makeup became less and less fun and more and more work for me. And I wasn't about to move my husband and I to Los Angeles where all the fun jobs are. So I slowly let my makeup kit dwindle and what you see below is what's left of my kit that I actually use on a regular basis. I wanted to share a few of my favorite makeup products with you:

1. MAC Eyeshadow (my "everyday" palette is pictured above. It's one of four). Among the best shadows I've found so far. When looking for a quality shadow there's two factors to pay attention to: pigmentation and blendability. A lot of cheaper shadows are full of fillers, so you need to apply several layers in order to see the color on your eyes. Other shadows have a great amount of pigmentation, but aren't very forgiving. They stick where you place them. To test a shadow, set your finger onto the shadow (don't twist or rub, you shouldn't have to) and then rub your finger on the back of your hand. You should see a lot of color and it should be able to spread over a fairly large area of your hand (at least a square inch). It should appear to set into the pores of your hand, rather than looking like it's sitting on top of your skin.

2. MAC Pigments (these are the stacked bottles in the back of the picture - and yes, of course you would find them stacked perfectly like this if you were to walk into my bathroom on any given day). These pigments will last you forever and are so, super fun. You can use them for anything. I've used them as eyeshadow, blush, mixed with clear lip gloss for a perfect lip color, with lotion for a body shimmer, even into clear fingernail polish. RAD.

3. There's a tie for my favorite lip gloss: MAC Lip Glass and Benefit's VIP glosses.

4. Brushes are very important. In the picture are MAC brushes but they're not the only brushes I use. Cinema Secrets have some great brushes, even Sonia Kashuk's Target line has a few great brushes. How to find a good brush is another book entirely.

5. My favorite mascara is L'Oreal's Telescopic. The brush takes getting used to, but it makes your lashes look super long. One thing I absolutely hate from MAC is their mascara. It smells like crap and takes 2-3 coats to look good. I don't have time for this stuff! Mascara is one thing you don't need to spend more on to get great quality. Find the perfect marriage of ink and brush that works for you.

Yay. I should review stuff more often.

standby one...

2008-01-17T16:47:00.001-07:00

Looks like blogger just blocked all custom templates. So my blog went down. I just switched to one of their lame-o canned templates for now, which simply won't do.

Please be patient with me for a bit while I change hosting providers. While I'm at it, I may as well change my name to something cooler than a disney character. Any suggestions?

Would you...

2008-01-17T14:21:00.001-07:00

Would you put your baby to bed for the night, lock up the house, and bring the baby monitor with you to the next door neighbor's house to play board games?

I don't know whether to call this a question of ethics or of parenting style. It seems a little overly judgmental to call it a question of ethics, although if the question were, "would you put your baby to bed and take your monitor to the grocery store" (if the monitor could reach that far) then I would consider that an ethics question. So I guess it depends on where you personally draw the line. What would you do? Where's your line? The front porch? The mail box? The neighbors? Mexico?