Fortunately There are No Photos (that I know of)

I am a first born.  Which means I'm an overachiever.  I can't help it.  It's just one of those things that happens despite my best intentions to lounge around quite a bit.

Take today, I overachieved in the Fashion Don't realm of life.  If Glamour magazine got a look at me today, in about 3 months I'll be on their last page with a black bar over my eyes.  Honestly, it's amazing I didn't run into everyone and their brother today.

My pants are too short.  Not short enough that people might think I bought the wrong length capris.  Nope.  Each pant leg is barely grazing the tops of my tennis shoes.   Just short enough to make sure I look 3 inches shorter and 10 pounds heavier.  You gotta love that. 

The pants are velour.  Enough said.

I paired these stunners with a long sleeved man's Volcom t-shirt.  And yes, it accentuates every figure flaw that it touches. And once my youngest finished knocking over his orange soda at lunch, I looked even better.  Why yes, I did, in fact, continue on from lunch to do  my Sam's Club shopping, why do you ask?

My hair is in the same shape as my body, limp and tired.  The thing they don't tell you when you hurt your back and are taking muscle relaxers, is that you will be utterly unable to suck in your gut.  There is no standing straight, abs pulled in, shoulders back, chin raised.  Not. At All. 

So if you saw me, my bad hair, my floods and my shapeless t-shirt today, my limp relaxed posture, thank you for turning away and pretending you never saw it all.  I appreciate it.

Changing into flannel pj's now,
~S

Distractions can be a good thing...

...especially when they shift my attention from my aching back.

Bruno Mars is a cutie.  Loved his performance on the Grammy's.  I might have to pick up his CD.  Yes, I am totally aware that buying a CD totally dates me.  Whatev'.  Shoulder shrug.  I remember 8 tracks too.  My cousin had the coolest one in her '67 Camaro.

Making oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for the first time in years.  They might be my favorite ever cookie.  I hoard them!  Which is why I don't make them hardly ever.

Reality TV - if you ever need a dose of how sane your life really is, just tune in to the Real Housewives of Somewhere.  What? You couldn't stand the OC Housewives.  Me either  I think I've known too many people just like that.  However, I loved the Jersey Housewives.  I so want to flip a table someday, when the circumstances call for it.  Of course I kind of hope they never do, because I don't like to get that mad.  You could also give Joan t Knows Best a drive through...poor Melissa Rivers is all I can say.  Joan is nuts.  I think each time she's had some plastic surgery they probably sucked part of her brain out.  This is what I do in the wee hours of the morning when I am up because my back is one massive cramp.

Accidentally take a 2 hour nap.  At 8:15 in the morning.  Yep, that's what happened to me today.  I had to restart my computer because it was misbehaving and so I decided to lay down for a few minutes while it did it's business.  I woke up 2 hours later!  And, no, my boys didn't wake me up when they realized I was not waiting and ready for school to start at it's usual 10am.  I can't imagine why?!

Just because I thought it was funny that I was teaching them how to properly use a semi colon in a sentence today.  Because really, when was the last time you did that?  And got it right?

Watching my husband do his impersonation of the little yellow guys in Despicable Me saying...Whaaaaat?!  He cracks me up.  I love him for that and many other reasons.  And that he worries if I'm okay when I'm being quiet because I'm tired.  I guess I must really talk a lot most of the time.

Well, that's all I've got...but I'm sure if this goes on I'll find more frivolous ways to wile away my time.

xoxoxo,
~Sherri

P.S.  My daughter has the bass cranked up SO LOUD that it's making the wall vibrate.

On the list, on the list - remember that Vh1 Show?

1.  My back is not fixed.

2.  I fully intended to make a delicious, healthy dinner tonight.  Built from the ground up of odds and ends in the freezer, fridge, and pantry.  It was going well.  And then I added a block of cream cheese.  Which doesn't help my 2-piece bathing suit by summer mission.  I must do better.

3.  My back works itself into a knotty mass while I sleep.  Which wakes me up.  And makes me cranky.  We might as well have a new baby in the house.  Aaack.  Did I really say that?  Slap me now.  How about a new puppy...they keep you up all night too.

4.  Our former and favorite, as well as my youngest's first crush, just got engaged (hi Kaitlyn!)!!!  Very happy news!

5.  Muscle relaxers are the bomb, but, not the be-all and end-all to my happiness.  I think physical therapy, a chiro, an acupuncturist, a jacuzzi and a massage therapist might be.  Remember the 70's...when docs could prescribe a jacuzzi and your insurance would actually fork out the dough for one?  I do.  2 friend's dads got them.  I want me some 70's love right now.

6.  The world would be a better place if everyone had to get in a jacuzzi at the end of the day.  I think everyone has one but me.  Does that sound whiny and spoiled?  I don't mean it to.  Kind of like the time I came home from my oldest 2's playgroup and announced to my husband that I was the only mom with 2 kids I knew who didn't have a housekeeper.  I wasn't whining.  It was true though.  It's okay, I moved on and found some new friends who didn't have housekeepers either.

7.  If my daughter doesn't hurry up and take her shower I'm going to bogart ALL the hot water and take a long, fabulous bath and she will have to shower in the cold remnants that are left in the water heater.

8.  Obviously we don't have a tankless hot water system.  Or solar panels.  We should though.  It's very sunny here.

9.  I think, but I'm not sure, that my photog class is not on for tomorrow.  I think we are supposed to be working on our midterm portfolios.  But I missed last week.  Because of my back.  I didn't have any muscle relaxers then, and couldn't quite function.  It's a recurring theme in my life right now.

Get in your jacuzzi...but don't add the cream cheese to dinner,
~Sherri

Next In Line Please.

Every once in awhile the universe honors the simple fact that it is your turn for some straight up Good News.  And today was our day.  No, I have yet to see the doc about my back, that's for tomorrow, but since I try not to borrow tomorrow's troubles today...I am focusing on what I know right now!

2 of my crew had doctor appointments today. 

First up was the baby girl and her follow-up cardiology visit.  (She was diagnosed with Supraventricular Tachycardia back in November.  Feel free to toss that around in a crowd.  If you live in my neck of the woods, people think you are really s.m.a.r.t.)  Be ready to jump up and down, because her heart sounds great!  Her resting EKG was just as it should be!  Her blood pressure was fabulous!  All of which means Dr. Perry gave her her walking papers.  If she starts having events, as they are called in the medical world, again...we go back.  We now know one of her main triggers is a rush of adrenaline.  So she has to manage stress really well, for instance.  But isn't that something we, the general population of the U.S. of A., need to work on?  Maybe she'll be a step ahead of her peers by the time she reaches adulthood in being able to discern that which really matters and that which she should and will leave by the wayside.

The man who makes me swoon (the grown one) also had a doctor appointment this afternoon.  Something had started to ail him over the weekend, and to my dismay, he went ahead Monday and made himself an appointment.  This little act alone caused me to fret, because in the 23 years we have been a couple, I have only known him to go to the doctor voluntarily twice.  And one of those times was after we'd had our surprise third precious baby, and our accountant had pointed out to him that he himself had put off the Big V Operation and was the proud father of 6.  So if he was going to the doctor of his own volition, well, it gave me pause.  I'm not going to go into his ailments as he's a very private sort of dude, but a little medicine and he will be back in tip top shape!  Can I hear an Amen! on that?!

Did you feel it?  That was the tension leaving the building.  I don't know how I'd function if any my crew were to be among the fallen...  I know I would function, because there are more than one of them, but it is not something I would wish upon my worst enemy. (Like my dad's 5th wife for instance...not even on her.  I think.  Is this bad karma?)

Last night I knew my hero was sort of freaking himself out a tad worried.  And knowing he spells comfort C.A.S.S.E.R.O.L.E.  I made him on of his absolute favorites.  Don't run'd off (name that movie) screaming, this ain't your backwards cousin's evil stepmama's tuna casserole with cream of mushroom soup and a bag of chips on top.  This is something I adapted from Trisha Yearwood's cookbook.  I made it a little healthier, because I would like a two-piece bathing suit this summer...so a little less jiggle is going to be mandatory if that's going to happen.  Know what I'm sayin'?  I like to think it helped my big bad ironworker man calm down just a little, when he needed it most.

Chicken Broccoli Casserole

2 cups cooked brown rice
3 cups cooked chopped broccoli (fresh or frozen, use the stems too, they're Good For You!)
1 cup lowfat Greek yogurt (like Fage)
1/2 cup mayo (Unless you like light mayo, just don't go there.)
1 Tablespoon lemon juice
1 10 oz. can condensed cream of chicken soup (you can make your own but I don't have time so I buy Campbell's Healthy Request version)
2 1/2 cups shredded cheddar cheese, divided in half (pay attention here, don't put ALL of this IN the casserole, half of it goes on top)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
4 chicken breasts, cooked and chopped - be sure to skin those babies! (I roast bone in breasts drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with salt and pepper for approx. 35 - 45 minutes in a 350 degree oven.  But you can also use leftover chicken you have, grill the breasts, buy a rotisserie chicken and shred it up...) 

Preheat your oven to 350F and spray a 9x13 casserole dish with cooking spray.

Spread the rice in an even layer in the casserole dish.  Layer the broccoli on top of the rice.

In a large bowl, mix everything EXCEPT all of the cheese, use only half!!!, together and pour over the rice and broccoli.  Smooth it out.  Sprinkle on the other 1/2 of the cheese.

Bake for 40 minutes.  Let stand for 5 minutes.

When I serve this up as our entire dinner (which, uh, I usually do, because it has everything and I'm all about accomplishing a lot efficiently) we eat most of it.  Baby girl and I like to spice things up with some Tabasco, but the males seem to like the mellow creamy flavor just as it is made. 

Make this for dinner and calm everyone down!  Besides, you can make it in the morning, or probably the night before, so all you have to do is put it in the oven at the end of the day.  I'm not sure if it would freeze though...

Food isn't just physical nourishment...it's how you love people!

xoxoxox,
~S

My Back Pain Chronicles: the crazy, idotic and generally ineffectual things I've done to Make It Go Away.

These past 3 days have seen me reaching 6 deep into the Advil bottle.  Don't worry my handsome gynecologist told me I could do that sometimes back in the day.  Yes, it was the 80's.  So what?

It's been a little dicey and I have been defeated in my attempts to deny Oscar the Grouch residence.
I have promised myself I won't be whiny.
Wah, wah, wah...my back has been killing me since Sunday...wah wah wah...promises are made to be broken, no?

But honestly, I don't think I've been in this kind of physical misery since 1986.  And that includes delivering my 9 1/2 pound oldest boy, in 1997, with nothing but meditative breathing and my good looks.  It wasn't pretty.  But it didn't last more than a couple of hours either.

I would like to tell you a little story.  One that I hope will prove I am not a crybaby moron.

It was a glorious sunny day in 1986.  The kind of day that is full of imminent summer freedom and a part time job.  I was a college sophomore and had, along with the thousands of other students at CSULB, just finished my last spring semester final .  Including a very nice nursing student.  It's funny, but I can't remember her name.  It think it may have been Carol.  Well, ol' Carol was cruising along too, euphoric that school was out.

Until she plowed into the back of my little, white, hatchback, Honda Civic.  The traffic, which had come to a surprising, screeching halt on the southbound 405 freeway, caught her by surprise.  My brown tortoise shell Rayban sunglasses flew off my face, my seat belt cut a burn into my neck and, a couple hours later, I found that I was unable to hold my head up.  Literally.  It was a problem.

She had shoved me, and my little white car with the luggage rack on top, into the sedan in front of me.  Rendering my car undrivable and totalled.  The backseat of my car replaced by the crinkled up entire back half of my car.  In my rearview mirror, I had seen her coming.  I had noticed she wasn't paying attention and wasn't slowing down.  I, instinctively I guess, mashed my right foot down on the brake pedal, trying to get her to hit her brakes I suppose.   All that brake mashing meant every single muscle on the right side of my body was tensed during impact.  Apparently, that is the exact opposite of what you should do.  It is the reason why the injuries to the right side of my neck and back plague me today and my left doesn't. 

I spent most of that summer recuperating from the crash.



All this to say,  that 25 years later, I am familiar with back pain that is persistent and recurs.  I know what to do about that particular back pain.   How to manage it, what I must do physically to keep it at bay, how to live my life in relative comfort and keep Oscar in his trashcan.

But this new thing that has been dogging me for the last 3 days is an entirely different beast.  Different area, different symptoms, different cause and not easily remedied with what I know.  U.G.L.Y.

I have tried... heat...alternating the heat with cold...just doing the cold for 15 minutes every hour...praying...promising...swearing...crying...apologizing for the cosmic badness I have obviously committed somewhere along the line...promising my unborn 4th child...you get the picture.  I have offered up things I don't even have and am too old to produce...if I could just feel better.  If I could just stop feeling like I can't breathe after I have been sitting for more than 15 minutes at a time.  If I could just get vaguely back to normal.

I decided this morning, I needed to call my doctor.  She can get me in...wait for it...Thursday.  What?!

Yeah, I'm looking for a new physician.
I'll keep the Thursday appointment, because I am a desperate woman.
But then I am definitely breaking up with my doctor.
I want somebody who respects me, understands me, recognizes my desperate plea for help, as a call to work extra hours, her own personal life be damned.
See, I told you I was grouchy.

I think I'll run a sea salt bath, sprinkle in some lavender, bergamot and eucalyptus;  see if I can hit pay dirt in an old holistic remedy...because I am, if nothing else, a creature of comfort.  And a redhead.  And I don't like to work too hard unless it's necessary.  And then I don't mind.  Just don't ask me to look for anything.  Yes, I just took 6 more Advil.  Why?  Oh, I'm not making any sense.  Oh.  Well, then, I'm certainly not recommending you take 6 Advil.

about to let my toes get pruny...

~S

IDK, The Boobie Hat & VD

So last night I subbed in my neighbor Sandi's (Hi Sandi!) Bunco game (I think she was desperate lol - can you lol not on fb or a text?! IDK and as my 13 year old writes next to his word problems in math...ID(on't)C(care).)  I think I've played about 5 times in the decade since I was first indoctrinated into the ritual of suburban bunco.  I don't mind playing, but it's not where my addictions lay.  Those happen to be firmly rooted in bad reality television, cheap wine with a pretty label and post-its. 

But playing is fine, especially if I don't have to keep score and nobody yells at me because I roll the dice too slowly.  It's happened.  Fine motor skills are not my strongest trait.  Once I even played Bunco for Boobies and when you got a 'bunco' you got to wear The Boobie Hat.  It was a breast cancer fund raising event, and I tell you what, THOSE ladies knew how to party.  I SO wanted that Boobie Hat.

BRB - I have to get the brownies out of the oven.

Happy to say they are - sing with me - Perrrfect.

We are celebrating Valentine's Day tonight at our house.  Tomorrow the hubs has plans with his other wife some kind of crazy work day, and isn't sure when he'll be home and the baby girl may or may not have plans with her sweetheart, so tonight's the night 'round here.  Hence, the brownie baking.

But I digress...I woke up with the Worst Back Ache In The History Of Man about 3am this morning.  And, despite being home by the respectable hour of 11pm,  I only went to bed at 1am.  You see, the males who reside here, decided last night would be a perfect time to watch Paranormal Activity 2.  Um...no.  How about NO?  Well they did, and I wanted to make sure the younger males were going to be okay going to bed.  The hubs, who committed the crime of saying yes?  Snoring like a log when I got home. I want his job.   Not really, the commute is a killer 3 hours and mine's less than the minute it takes me to get from my room to the rest of the house.

Back to my back issue...I have absolutely NO IDEA what the heck happened at that Bunco game, but it did my back in.  I'm sure it's not the six hours I spent seated at my own desk fulfilling my duties as CFO of the household and Chief Officer of Everything regarding our little school enterprise that did my back in.  Not at all.  Never mind that I just read an article about back pain, and that all the docs agreed that the single most important thing people can do to prevent back problems is practice good posture.  Huh?  Say whaaat?  All that good slouching I worked so hard at in high school is B.A.D.?  Yep, that's right, your grandma and mama were right.  Even the remaining mean old teacher at school who would thwack your desk with a ruler and tell you to...  SIT UP STRAIGHT PEOPLE! 

Happy Day Before VD,
~S

P.S.  The word 'bunco' is not in the spell checker.  How old is this thing anyhow?

Long(er) Red Hair...

I love that my hair is finally long enough to stick it up with pencils again.

While my hair has always been red, it's been long, short and everywhere in between.  When I had my second child, I chopped all to about an inch or two long.  And had some big bleach chunks thrown in it.  It was 1997 and heroin chic was all the rage.  Check an old Vogue, you'll see what I mean. 

I loved it. 

The man, however, not so much a fan of the wife with a butch haircut.  Not that he ever let on.  He's nice like that.

When I was about to have our third child, he cautiously asked...are you going to cut off all your hair again?  After I assured him that no, I did not intend to chop it, (heroine chic was So Over by 1999) he sighed in relief, and said in his usual diplomatic manner...Hmmm, that good.  It wasn't my favorite hair style.  It made me laugh.  And love him more.  But I know that if I had been planning to cut it all off, he would never have said a word.

That's all.

It's Friday night.

Have a good weekend!!!

Love ya!
~Sherri

Barry White and the Loove Machine

Isn't it all about the loooove this month?  It is, after all, February.  Home of the much anticipated and dreaded Valentine's Day.  Let's face it, VD, can really suck the energy out of the room if you're not feeling it.  Been there, done that.  And even if there is a guy dutifully orbiting around you as he should, the whole thing can really just set him up to fail.  You always have a friend, who has a boyfriend, who has, like, 10 older sisters.  And THAT guy gets it right simply as a survival technique.  His sisters would kill him slowly and painfully if he screwed up your friend's VD.  Then there's your boyfriend.  Sisterless and alone.  Consulting with no one but the dude at 7-11 who tells him it's a Great Idea to give you a chocolate rose (you know, the one's that have been on the counter since last year), a Monster and a bag of Corn Nuts.

But I digress, because I don't really want to talk about love in a relationship.  I want to talk about my love of Caller ID.  Possibly the best invention right after post-it notes.  (Do NOT refer to them as sticky notes, I don't do generic names around here.)

Caller ID means I never have to talk to anyone without knowing who they are first.  I figure it evens the playing field.  After all they know they're calling you, so why shouldn't you know too?  So if you call me, and think you are all tricky, with your Private Caller or Unknown Caller screen?  I don't answer.  Well, maybe if I recognize your Unknown Caller number, I answer.  But these days with every number programmed into my BlackBerry, how many phone numbers do I know?  Ask me however, the phone number of my 11 best friends from high school, and I can dial each and every one.  Some things last forever.  It's what I'll do when I'm really old and have forgotten everything.  I'll be calling those numbers, looking for my old friends until the nice nurse takes the phone away. 

Here's how it rolls if you call the house, have Private Caller, and leave a message...a neighbor of ours, who we Really Like, but is a man, and probably doesn't do cell phones, because he's a guy with a very nice, balanced, Normal Wife and Kids who regularly answer the phone, called for my husband and left a message.  Last week sometime.  Thursday I think.  Yesterday I happened to pick up a house receiver for some reason, and heard that special little jingle Verizon gives you letting you know you have Voice Mail.  So I checked it.  Among the other 9 messages from telemarketers and the library notifying me my book was in, was the VIM (Very Important Message) from our Awesome Friendly Neighbor.  Probably wanting to know if Bill wanted to golf Sunday.  Only it was already Tuesday.  Of the next week.  See what I'm saying.  It happens.  And it's not really our neighbor with the problem, it's me.  I recognize that and I apologize.  I'm a work in progress.

So, here's the deal.  If we chat regularly, you already know this about me: I check ID's more scrupulously than a bar that just got busted for letting in underage girls in mini skirts.  You also know that calling the house phone and leaving a message is pretty much like giving a shout out to space.  Not only are most of the ringers off all the time, but I also forget to check for messages days and sometimes weeks at a time.  We have voice mail, so no flashing light from my 1984 model answering machine.  No visual clue that someone has left a message.  We went over my Right Brained visual orientation yesterday so this should not surprise you.  My husband, Mr. Left Brain, of course should check messages out of his steadfast left brain ways.  But he commutes 3 hours a day and that eats his brain cells.


Why do we even have a house phone you ask???  911.  I have a pool.  I have kids.  Fires, accidents, and drowning can happen.  Though, thankfully, never to us so far.  But you never know.  If we're having a Major Emergency, I want to somebody to be able to pick up the receiver, dial 911, and know the Fire Department already has us pegged on the GPS while the response vehicles are firing up.

So call me on my cell.

Of course I don't always answer that either.

But it does have a blinking light, and a 'missed call' screen...

xxxooo,
~S

Leanin' far right...and this ain't politics.

Good Morning!

I'm trying to get over the HUGE disappointment of having zero, zilch, nada, nothing, not even one, beach camping reservation over the summer.  Why have I already given up hope on a cold, foggy, 30 degree February morning?

 Because out here, the state beach campgrounds are controlled by Reserve America.  Reservations are crucial.  And they must be made on the first day, in the first 3 seconds they are even available, at 8am on the first of every month - 6 months out - or you are out of luck my friend.  And that's us this summer.  Out. Of. Luck.

Sigh.  Whine. Pout.

I blame Arnold, our former Govenator.

Last night, I went through the 542 emails that had been languishing in my mailboxes (yes, it's plural, don't ask, why keep it too easy?), and found a little gem from Real Simple magazine.  Organizing based on your personality type.  I was hoping for the Slacker's Guide to Organizing.  Instead there was a 20 question quiz to figure out if you're predominantly left or right brained.  I loved the little captions they used to summarize each.

• Right-brain types are visually oriented. They tend to think in images rather than words, focus on the big picture rather than the details, and go through life in a somewhat seat-of-the-pants (a.k.a. scattered) way.
• Left-brainers are those who think in words (attention, list makers!), do a lot of advance planning, and approach challenges in a rational, linear way. 

Well, I didn't need to take the quiz to know where I fell.  Or where my man does.  But I made us do it anyhow, because it's what we've all been doing to our guys since our grade school Tiger Beat magazine quizzes.  Remember those 'Are You Compatible?' take this 5 question quiz to fight out if he's your Prince Charming.   Too funny how serious I was about those.  Whatever happened to Don B. who I loved in 4th grade, anyhow?! 


So Bill (who is My Prince Charming) and I scored exactly the same.  But opposite.  No big surprise there.  However, 3 of my 4 Left-Brain traits, are completely, absolutely, learned, conscious things that I have copied from my completely Right Brained husband.  Which either makes me wishy-washy and easily influenced OR coachable.  I'm going with coachable.
 
But really it's an extension of my deep, deep, Grand Canyon deep, desire to exert as little energy as possible, at any given moment.

Do I make lists?  All the time.  Otherwise I forget pretty much anything that's not right in front of me and it is ALWAYS more work if you forget something until it's upon you.  Do I always take one to the grocery?  Yup.  Not having say...the chicken...for the roast chicken/mashed potatoes/green beans dinner I'm making is a total buzz kill.  Morning routine?  Definitely.  Keeps me from walking out the door with different shoes on.  It's happened.  And yes, I do like having a designated place for things in my closet and dressers.  It's better to realize there are no clean underwear in there when you still have time to do laundry.  A little more comfortable too.

Okay, so re-read the two summaries they gave.   Any guess which kind of person wrote them?  Look at all those negative connotations to being right brained...go through life...seat of the pants...scattered...  Not Nice Mr./Ms. Author Person. Not nice.

How about creative?  Confident?  Unafraid of new horizons?  Able to handle unexpected situations?  How about that???  Huh?!  I'm just saying.

There are 2 sides to every coin my friend.  Of our left brainers we could say...rigid, anal, dull, unable to adapt...need I go on?  I didn't think so.

I must say many of my very favorite people in the world are totally Left Brainers.  Like my husband.  The man is unable to walk into a restaurant and order something other than what he always does (yes, it was one of the quiz questions).  It's okay.  I'm there to try every single menu option there is.

Off to go through my day by the seat of my pants...and love it,
~S