The Walk

As I stepped outside, I was greeted by the brisk morning air. Leash in hand, my dog and I proceeded on our typical morning walk. But something caught my attention. Something seemed….off. Not right. Was it that it was quite a bit earlier in the morning than we normally ventured out? No, thats not it. Although, it did feel odd to be awake and out of bed before noon. It was something else. We crossed the street and pressed on. Several strides down the damp sidewalk, the realization struck me. There was an unusual calmness about the neighborhood. It was the lack of sound that was unnerving, the absence of the ordinary hustle and bustle of daily life. The dog and I, both skeptical and uneasy, decided to continue on our journey. The dog sauntered in front of me, occasionally stopping to sniff a piece of grass here, then tottered over to another patch of grass there. Searching for the perfect place to go potty was her mission. Mine was staying vigilant. Our lives depended on it. 

The dog was being particularly fussy in finding a place to do her business. As she searched for the perfect place to leave her mark, I continued to survey the peculiarity of the situation. It wasn't until the dog found the perfect tree to mark, that I noticed that in addition to the absence of life being lived, there were no cars on the street. None. No cars parked in the driveways that lined the street, nor were there any driving down the streets. This raised my concern and I looked at things more critically. No cars on this street, none on the busy road just across the block, and not a breath of sound or wind. I began to wonder if this was death. Maybe I had died in the night. That would explain why I was awake at this ungodly hour. I pinched myself. Nope, that hurt. Not dead. My next thought was that perhaps everyone else was dead. And then I remembered. The Walking Dead. This is what it was like in the zombie apocalypse. Everyone else was dead. I was sure of it…. but they weren't really dead. They were out there somewhere…. searching for me. And my delicious body. 

I quietly urged the dog to hurry up and poop so that we could make a dash to the safety of the house, which was now several blocks away. I realized that if I had to run, I would not make it. I'm too fat for this. If the walkers got me, I would provide a luscious all you can eat buffet. Again, the dog was being picky. I begged her to poop. She looked up at me with her big brown puppy dog eyes that seemed to say, "Fuck you, lady". I began to calmly head back to the house. All of my begging and pleading must have agreed with the dog's anus because she decided to delay our escape to safety by pooping on a nearby stretch of grass. As she squatted, she again looked up at me with those condescending eyes. I swear it was the longest time she has ever taken to poop. After what seemed like hours, she got up and gave me the "I'm ready" look. I swiftly pulled out the plastic baggy and scooped up the poop. Even in a zombie apocalypse I couldn't justify just leaving her poop. Seriously people, clean up after your dogs. I don't wanna step in a huge steaming pile of shit when I'm speed walking away from a walker. 

As I got to the garage, I furiously typed in the code. I must have been distracted by the sudden noise down the street that I punched in the wrong number. What was that noise? A dog barking? Oh no! He was trying to send up a warning. They're coming. I had to get us to safety. I turned back to the key pad and frantically entered the numbers. One by one. I pressed enter and the door began to rise. The door clumsily and loudly opened. Damn it, I should have gotten that fixed! They heard me for sure. I knew there was no way they didn't hear that open. I pulled the dog into the house, closed the garage door, and finally felt a sense of safety. Something I hadn't felt since I stepped outside the door that morning. I cautiously made my way to the window, not wanting to make myself known to any walker that may be lurking. And that's when I saw it. It was my neighbor down the block. I gasped in horror when I saw the terrible, gruesome sight. Her dog had just taken a huge dump and she didn't clean it up. I stood at my window watching the gag inducing site. I couldn't look away. I stood there, watching, as she briskly walked down the street, enjoying her walk. That's when I realized the truth of the matter. It wasn't the zombie apocalypse. I had just watched too many episodes of The Walking Dead. No, people weren't dead. Just common courtesy and common sense. The most frightening truth of all. What is the cure for that? No one knows…. and that's the scariest part. 

Life Goes On

Wow, I can't believe it has been years since I've written anything on this blog. A lot has changed in my life. Hell, these past few years I have continued to grown into the real me. 

Writing has always been a cathartic outlet for me. It is a way for me to lay out my feelings, evaluate things, and helps put things into perspective. Why did I stop writing in this blog? Life, I guess. Tends to get away from you, you fall away from passions, but the important thing is reconnecting with those passions. Another passion of mine is making people laugh. I used to be able to combine the two passions. At least, I think I did. A few people told me they always got a kick out of my writing. So, I guess, in a way, this is me jumping back into the saddle. 

I've changed in the last few years, been through some pretty rough times, had a few laughs, but also some moments that I never thought I'd see. The old me was always going on and on about finding love. So? Did it happen yet? I'm pretty sure it did. One thing I've come to accept in this life is something my grandpa used to say- "Man plans and God laughs". If I've learned anything, its that you can plan life all you want, but it will never go just how you've planned. I had this time life for my life. When and how I'd meet someone, when we'd get married, have kids, and ride off into the sunset. Well, I'm pretty sure God laughed his ass off when he saw my plan. Nothing has gone according to plan in my life, not sure why I keep planning….

So back to the love thing. Back in October of 2013, someone very special to me came into my life. Since then, I've been head over heels. I finally found someone who appreciates my quirky-ness, matches my sense of humor, and forces me out of my comfort zone. Laughter has always been a huge part of my life and I knew that I needed to find someone who valued that trait as much as I do. I am able to confidently say that he most certainly makes me laugh… even on the days I don't feel much like laughing. He has been there with me through some very difficult times and can't thank him enough for that. I can only hope that I have provided that same strength, love, and courage that he has given to me. 

I have reached a point in my life where I have chosen happiness. I've seen and felt the deepest, darkest depths of depression and I don't intend on going back. Now that I've found my happy place, I'm holding on for dear life and I won't let anyone stand in front of my happiness. You can have your opinions about my life and choices, but I'm the one who has to live with them…. not you. I let other people's opinions about me run my life for far too long, and living a free life has made me a way happier person. Also, remember that plan I was talking about? Yeah, I've thrown that out and am just living life. What ever is meant to happen, will happen when it's meant to. My boyfriend has taught me that. Spontaneity is the spice of life, and I have a partner who reminds me of that everyday. To answer your question- Yes, I found my true love. 

Balls In My Face

This might come as a surprise to most of you, but I have never been... how do I put this..... athletically gifted. Quite the opposite really. I used to want to be able to play sports, but a minute later I came to my senses and realized I was meant for better things... like sitting in front of a computer, sharing my deepest most intimate secrets with you... a bunch of weirdos.

My mom was always trying to get me to do stuff and not just be a lump. Now, I liked playing outside and having fun, but the concept of organized sports and interacting with other people didn't exactly thrill me. Even at the age of five. For several years, I was in tumbling/gymnastics classes, but that didn't last too long. I think maybe 3 or 4 years. To tell you the truth, I only stuck it out that long because at a certain performance we got to wear these arm covers with tassels. Needless to say, I'm a gal who digs tassels... of all varities if you catch my drift *boobie tassels*. It didn't help that before every performance I was hit with a crippling bought of stage fright and had to turn to my number one helper.... pepto bismol. Oh look... I just happen to have a picture of me in the outfit I stuck around for:

I certainly thought I was hot shit in the moonlight with those things on! Look at that girl work it!! I also found a picture of how serious I took my athletic ability:

There's a sexy bitch right there for ya! I'm pretty sure I still make that face! And as always, dad is laughing at my immaturity, while my mom has to be the adult! 

So then there was also the summer of t-ball at palace playground. Boy, was I miserable with that one. Hot, dusty fields, screaming children, and running. Ugh. It disgusts me just thinking about it! It was terrible. I remember being the only girl on my team (which according to my mother isn't true). Maybe I was already boy crazy at that age too, and totally disregarded those other bitches. I found a picture of me from t-ball:

Don't let that smile fool you. I was very unhappy. The smile is only because right before this picture was taken, my mom said that I could quit t-ball.

So lets get to the part about balls in my face. Probably not the ones you were hoping for because you are all perverts. 

I noticed that my face had a magnetic pull for all sorts of balls in grade school. It didn't matter what kind of ball or what sport it was for, the ball had an uncanny way of finding its way straight for my face. Unfortunately, I was not equipped with the cat like reflexes I have now and so my face took quite the beating (that sounded very dirty and sorry, but I'm not sorry). It mostly happened in gym class when we played kick ball. Oh yeah, and dodge ball. Now, I'm not gonna say that the other kids specifically aimed for my face, but if I was into conspiracy theories I would look into it further. Maybe they DID aim for my face. Perhaps they were just jealous of how my beauty matched my sparkling personality. Franky, I don't blame them. If I was better at throwing a ball, there are several people from grade school I wouldn't mind hitting in the face with a very sharp, spike-y ball. But I'll be the bigger person and let karma take care of that. Any who. It got to the point where I would just bench myself even if I wasn't tagged out so that I could save myself from the agony of a ball to the face. Come to think of it, I did that for a lot of "games" we played in gym. Did I mention I hate playing organized sports. BUT I do have to throw out there that I would LOVE to watch a boyfriend play *insert any sport here*!! Nothing hotter than a man taking a ball or puck to the face! Wait, what? Never mind. 

I guess it's not just balls that have an attraction to my face because there was that one time with the shoe. We were playing kick ball and I'm pretty sure I was either in line to kick or up to kick when out of nowhere someones shoe comes flying at me. I was pretty used to flying object coming towards my head at this point and was able to duck out of the way before it hit my face. It still baffles me how it wasn't me in the outfield (I don't even know if I'm using these terms correctly) trying to catch the ball that was being kicked and instead their shoe flies off. Like, why was it when I was up to kick. I guess that's another one for those of you that are into conspiracy theories.

Ok, and here comes my rant portion of the blog. Why were people SO competitive in school. Really? Calm down! It's a frickin' GYM class!! The world isn't gonna end because I didn't catch that kick ball after it hit me in the face. I think that's part of the reason I hated gym/sports so much. I hated the competition. The only competition I like is FRIENDLY competition. Not the kind where I get yelled at for "not trying hard enough". Bitch please. I'll play as hard as I want. And frankly, this game of badminton is not on a priority. 

Long story short, I developed my cat like reflexes and (for the most part) have been able to dodge things flying at my face. Don't even think of testing out those skills like the asshole I know you are by throwing something at my head. I will be forced to show you what I learned in Girl Scouts (which is what I devoted my time to instead of sports). I'll open a can of whoop-ass all over you. 

Piece of My Heart

My last couple of posts have been of the humor variety, but I think it's time to get serious for a moment and share with you what is currently going on in my life. It is not all sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. No, in fact there are no lollipops or candy of any kind.... which would make any normal person freak out. (Unless you don't like candy, which if that's the case, please leave and never come back. You are no friend of mine). Any who, I guess I was getting to the serious mumbo jumbo.

Well, as most of you know, my family has encountered it's fair share of challenges, and this is just one more that we will face together. You see, for  a while now, my uncle has faced some serious health issues and is once again faced with a major health crisis. He was diagnosed with CHF (congestive heart failure) a while ago and, maybe because I am a nurse and know how serious the disease is, just put that diagnosis on the back burner and didn't realize how ill he truly was. That was until several weeks ago. He went to the doctor and they told him he had but months to live. UNLESS they took drastic measures. Drastic, as in a heart transplant. A heart transplant. You know, where they cut out his old heart (so during the surgery he won't even have a freaking heart inside his body), and put in a new one.... well not new... "previously owned"... you know, I'm not really sure of the proper terminology here. The thing is, he can't just get on the list for a new heart. He has to qualify. And for that to happen, he needs to have a different surgery to prolong his life so that he can have the heart transplant. Hopefully all the tests he is going through will come out with good news so that he can have the first surgery.

I can only imagine what he, my aunt, and cousin are going through because I know I am having a difficult time coping with this news. Primarily because he has been the father figure in my life for so long and I don't know what I would do if I lost another person so very important to me. It has also been very VERY difficult being so far away while all this is going on. I feel like I could be doing more for my family if I was back in the cities.  I mean, what good is it having a nurse in the family if I am hundreds of miles away. In reality, I probably couldn't be doing much more than what I'm doing here, but at least I would have that peace of mind. It's something I struggle with a lot. I just want to be there with my family, figuring out things together. I just wish there was something more I could do... Truth is- I'm scared shit-less. Scared for my uncle, for my family, for my sanity. I mean, a person can only handle so many losses. I wish I could explain to you how truly terrified I am, but there are no words. The only thing I can do is stay positive, hope for the best, and take comfort in the fact that he is seeing doctors in the top of their field. I DO have to say that through all of this, my uncle has most certainly not lost that spark! He keeps smiling and making people laugh and I absolutely love spending time with him. He is probably the funniest person in the family and if I can make HIM laugh, then I feel just freaking fantastic. I'm just thankful that he is still the comedic genius in the family... well, genius might be a stretch ;) Humor has, and will ALWAYS be my family's favorite coping mechanism!

In the long run, I know this scary and uncertain adventure will do what it always does- bring this family even closer together. Moments like this open your eyes to the important things in life. They also help you see through those insignificant thoughts and worries. Life could always be worse.

Sorry if this wasn't the type of blog you were expecting, but I just couldn't keep these feelings inside anymore. Thanks for reading.

Shit my mom says

Lots of people tell me I'm funny. And I thank you for that. If you know me at all, you know how much I enjoy making others laugh. But if you think I'm funny, you should spend time with my mother. Now that is one funny cookie. I most certainly get my humor from her. And so, this entry is dedicated to the random shit my mom says!

As most of you know, I went to my reunion this past weekend and my mom was not shy about telling me what she thought... in her funny way of course. I told her that I was excited to see people and I kind of compared it to the movie Carrie. You know when she gets asked to the prom and she is suddenly popular? Well, my mom turned it back on me and reminded of how that film ends..... she gets pig blood dumped on her head and everyone laughs. My mother looked at me and said (just like the mom from Carrie) "They're all gonna laugh at you!". A little something like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nV_0oQDiRA

So after that little smart ass comment, I get ready to leave and walk out the door. Before I do, she stops me and tells me that after her 5 year reunion she swore she would never go back because no one had changed and they were all the same stuck up bitches and douche bags they were in high school. So I just stare at her and say, "Ok, well I'm leaving now". And her response was, "You're gonna have a terrible time". We couldn't help but burst out laughing! Most people encourage their children and tell them to have fun where ever they may go. Nope. Not my mom. But I love her. P.S. I did NOT have a terrible, time.... quite the opposite of that actually. 


My mother also likes to talk about OUR baby, Elvis. When we first adopted him, he liked to lick his ass quite often. We assume it was a comfort thing because he rarely does that any more. Maybe he just realized that his ass tasted like.....well... ass. So she was talking to my aunt about it and was trying to describe how LOUD he gets. She summed it up like this, "I can sleep through thunderstorms, but I can't sleep through ass lickin's". Really mom? You are ridiculous. She also threw out this comment, "His ass is like a timex watch. It takes a lickin, and keeps on tickin'". My mom is too cool for school.


So my ABSOLUTE favorite quote comes from when she was at the dentist and was talking to her hygienist about something and she decided to tell me about the conversation. She started by saying, "So I was talking to Krista. My hynecologist....". I stopped her and asked, "What?". To which she angrily replied (as if I was SUPPOSED to know what the hell she was talking about) "Krista! My hynecologist! You know.... the lady who cleans my teeth!". I still give her shit for that one. 


Let's end with how my mother answers a joke:
Me: "What has rings, but no fingers?"
Mom: "Uranus? ... At least I hope there are no fingers in uranus."
Me: "Ummmm... no. A telephone....".


Hope you can pick up on my mom's humor. Sometimes it's all in HOW she says it and I only think it's funny here because I can picture her saying it..... anyway.... it's a glimpse inside my life so you nosy bitches should be happy for a while! ;) If you have any suggestions for blog topics, just let me know!

 

Call me maybe?

I was FINALLY able to come home to St. Paul this weekend for my 5 year high school reunion, and what a weekend it has been! I just wish that drive wasn't such a bitch. It's about a 4 hour drive (3 and a half if you speed). But for some reason, this drive didn't seem so terrible. Maybe it was because I rocked out to some great tunes like "Girls just want to have fun" and "Bohemian Rhapsody". Oh, not to mention the small little fact that before I left Fargo, I decided to put my hair in foam rollers so that I'd look hot as hell at reunion that night. Well let me tell you, I may not have thought that one all the way through. I realize now that other people can actually see IN TO my car, just as I can see out. Imagine that. So there I was, driving to the cities, rocking out to music, windows down, with my hair in rollers. I happened to look over at one point and saw an older woman driving next to me. Blond. With a mullet. Yeah, straight up mullet. Picture Dog the Bounty Hunter and that's what kind of hair AND hair style she had. This cool cat had the balls to give me and my rollers a dirty look! Ummmm.... HELLO! You are the one with the mullet!! What a crazy person. And then I had to stop for gas at some small town in Minnesota in the middle of nowhere. Of course it just happened to be the busiest time at that only gas station. So there I was, pumping gas, looking like I had escaped from the beauty shop from hell. At least I had my Goonies t-shirt on to make me look cool.
As I got closer to the cities (about 20 mins from home) I ended up in bumper to bumper traffic. Looking fabulous in those rollers. Oh well, though. I traded what little self respect I had left, for some curly hair.

So the reunion!! What a fabulous time!! I talked to so many people and got to see certain people that I hadn't seen since forever ago! It was lovely to catch up and to just chat with random people that I had never really gotten a chance to talk to in high school. I got to talking with an old friend and we both figured out why coming to the reunion was so important. For me, it was a chance to finally be the person I had always wanted to be... the person that people never got a chance to see back then. I was more confident this time, less shy (although that's still something I struggle with), but most importantly- more open to experience something.... anything. I guess you could say I was sheltered in high school, afraid to leave that comfort zone of friends and familiarity. It wasn't until I was forced to face the end of high school that I realized I had missed out on getting to know more people,and for them to see the real me. And by then it was too late. I can honestly say that after last night, all those regrets suddenly melted away. I laughed and joked with new people finally stepped forth from that bubble I was once trapped in. I wish it wasn't another 5 years until the next reunion. I didn't get a chance to talk to everyone I wanted, but I suppose that's what facebook is for right? It's either that or stare from across the room trying to build up that courage to go talk to that one person. I wish all my  courage didn't pour out on the internet. Why can't some of that translate into my daily life. I guess I do have a regret about last night. I wish I would have had the courage to go up and talk to someone instead of being all shy and what not. The thing is, I had every intention of chatting up this person if they were there, but once I saw that he was, my brain pulled one of these:

But it's ok. Because there's always facebook. Right? Call me maybe? ... or text me. I'm super awkward on the phone ;)

All in all it was a great time and I'm so thrilled I was able to go! PLUS some very kind things were said about this very blog, which inflated my ego slightly and made me feel like a celebrity! It's only a matter of time before the paparazzi start following me! Just kidding... not really.

So thanks for reading! You have inspired me to keep doing what I'm doing and you make it all worth it. THANKS!! I'll think of some more embarrassing tales to keep you entertained!

Suddenly, I'm craving oatmeal

I was finally able to skype with my aunt, who had gone over to my mom's house this past weekend. And what do I do? I make fun of her. She was wearing her glasses because she couldn't get her contacts in due to some eye issues. Instead of being caring and nice, I gave her shit about wearing glasses. BUT before you judge me, you have to know. Her glasses were HUGE!! Like... 1982 called and wants those glasses back! So then I told her that she was wearing the same glasses in her senior picture from high school. My mom just happened to have it near by and pulled it out. Yeah.... same glasses. Same size. Her defense was that the frames back then were plastic. Sorry, it still counts. Same glasses. I am such a horrible person. 

If you are still reading, I just have to tell you.... this entry is full of randomness. Read on if you dare.

So this one time, at band camp... Ok, so NOT at band camp, but a while ago, I had a very serious disease. This disease is known as...... chickenpox. Please talk amongst yourselves while I sob. Anyway, I had the pox. And you know how they say that it is soothing to the pox to soak in oats? Well, I was miserable (and I'm pretty sure my mom was willing to try anything to shut her bitching kid up) so my mom decided to draw me a bath (Why is it called "drawing" a bath??).

 Yeah, I am a MASTER at paint.

Any who....  my mom filled the tub and added some oatmeal. Yep. We had a bathtub full of oatmeal. You know how some people make moonshine/alcohol in their bathtub? It was kind of like that except instead of something good, our bathtub was filled with oatmeal.... probably the brown sugar kind cuz that's the only kind I'll eat. She probably used the whole box. So that's what... 8 packets? That ratio sounds about right. 8 packets= bathtub. What a waste, because I took 1 look at it, dipped my big toe in, shuddered, and told her that there was no way I'm getting in that. We ended up eating oatmeal out of the bathtub for a week.

All this talk about food has me hungry.... for some jello. But take it from me- an accomplished chef/baker that making jello is a dangerous activity! You might be thinking, "Jello is the easiest thing to make" or "My 2 year old isn't allowed to touch the stove, but I make an exception when he wants to make jello". I advise you AGAINST this! Let them play with matches instead! I was making some jello for Easter one year. I was stirring it when I heard the microwave go off. I went and leaned on the glass top of our stove and burned the entire length of the side of my hand. Damn jello. Looks so innocent and delicious. FALSE! It is a MONSTER. A sick, masochistic, demon. Watch out jello, we are on to you. 

A very useful blog for you tonight! Let's recap what we have learned:

• 70's- 80's glasses are a fashion DON'T
• 8 packets of oatmeal= 1 bathtub
• I kick ass in Paint
• Jello is the spawn of Satan 

Hope you enjoyed the post! Thanks to Jenny for the inspiration! If anyone else has something interesting to contribute, let me know! Thanks for reading.