Mukkefuck Cafe

Are you sure she's mine??

Originally posted on August 17, 2005.

I am taking you all the way back to December 31, 1995. This was the date that my first daughter was due to be born. I had gone for a doctor's appointment that day and my doctor thought that I was measuring a little bit big, so he went ahead and ordered an ultrasound just to check on things. I went in and had my scan, and then sat in my doctor's office while he looked the images over...saying hummm....and ahhh at annoying intervals.

He thought she looked to be about 8.5 pounds. We want to see you next week, and if she isn't born by then, we will discuss an induction. OK...red flags were waving all over the place. I don't know about you, but I think 8 1/2 pounds of ANYTHING is totally more than enough to have to squeeze out of one's twat! I voiced my concerns...and he said he could be off by a whole pound. (EITHER WAY, as it turns out...) And besides...he had NO plans of staying late on New Year's Eve to deliver me.

So...I go home and continue to gestate for another week. I go in for my scheduled appointment with strong hopes that he would just have me admitted to the hospital. I felt like a friggin' elephant! I was also fairly certain that the baby inside of me was MORE than finished cooking. He checks things out...and then says he wants to strip my membranes. OK...for any of you out there that are currently expecting, or plan to procreate...EVER!...remember what I am telling you now. You do NOT want your doctor (or anybody, for that matter) to EVER *strip your membranes*!!! OK...just a quick anatomy lesson...the baby is in the amniotic sac...floating in a bunch of amniotic fluid. This sac is located in the woman's uterus. The cervix it the baby's exit from said uterus. The amniotic sac is pressed against said cervix...and when your doctor says he wants to strip them...be basically has to stick half his friggin' ARM in there and he then runs his finger around the rim of one's cervix breaking the seal in between it and the amniotic sac. I will just leave you with this...it hurts. REALLY, REALLY bad.

OK...he says that should get things going. I leave, feeling more skeptical than ever. It was now January 7th. I called the next day in tears. NOTHING was happening. No contractions, not even a TWINGE. I BEG to be induced. I am admitted to the hospital on the evening of the 9th. They apply a capsule filled with synthetic prostaglandin into my cervix. (I would later learn that semen contains the real thing...so I could have just stayed home and skipped that part, heh!) OK...so I mostly stay awake all night paying really close attention to my uterus. That guy I Married sleeps in the recliner beside my bed. Nothing too significant happens during the night, so at 7am on the 10th, an IV is started and I am given pitocin to cause my uterus to contract. The contractions were very bearable throughout most of the day. I was feeling VERY empowered back in those days, and wanted a drug free, all natural delivery. I slowly dilate. (and when I say slowly...I mean VERY slowly) My doctor repeatedly tells me that he thinks that the baby's head is too large to pass through my pelvis. (Well...DUH!!) And I repeatedly tell him that I WILL have this baby the way I had always planned to. (I would later eat those words...)

So...at about 3am on the 11th, I am moved to a birthing room. I am finally feeling hopeful. We are all sleep deprived, and I was getting really cranky because they would no let me eat anything. So...sometime shortly thereafter, transitional labor begins. For those of you who do not know what this means...it is when the cervix dilates those last few centimeters to 10. The contractions come hard and fast with not much of a break in between them. It is both physically and emotionally exhausting. Once I am fully dilated, I get the strong urge to push. The bad thing about this is that the only two people in the room with me are my Mom and That Guy I Married...and they both happened to be sleeping at the time. My mom woke up to the tell tale sound of my straining to pass a watermelon through my yoni...and she screamed for me to stop...thus scaring the crap out of That Guy I Married. FINALLY, I was getting a little bit of support...or at the very least, some attention! heh

My mom goes to get a nurse to come and check things out...and they get the room set up for the birth. I feel so relieved that this is finally about to end...or *is* it?!? I push for more than 6 hours. I think that towards the end, even *I* was getting bored with the whole thing. The pain was becoming unbearable and I was becoming quite irrational. I BEGGED for an epidural...or Demerol...or a mallet. ANYTHING to put me out of my misery. That is when it was finally decided that I was a childbirth flunkie. I was totally incapable of pushing my baby into this world...I had failed. I was quickly prepped for a c-section...and at 1:18pm on the 11th, Rowan Emmalie was surgically extracted from my womb.

The first words I remember hearing were from my doctor...he said "I think she is my record largest baby!" (GREAT, I thought to myself! I had tons of newborn clothing that would never get to be worn!) The anesthesiologist replied "Is that baby holding a cheeseburger?!?!?" (This I took in stride, as he was the sole person keeping me in relatively good spirits whilst I lie awake in the operating table having a giant baby wrenched from my pelvis!) Then That Guy I Married had a good look at her. She was relatively dark complected and had a head full of thick, dark hair...in stark contrast to his blonde hair and blue eyes...and he looked at me and uttered the words no woman who has just gone through 2 1/2 days of labor wants to hear...

"Are you sure she's mine??"

The Cooking Lesson

This story was originally posted on the 9th of August, 2005.

For today's story, I had to do some serious mental de-cluttering. I had to dig through myriad file boxes of memories to find just the right one. One that will entertain, make Julia Child roll over in her grave and simply to make you all go "HMMMMM..."

I am taking you with me back to my high school years. This would have been 11th grade. I lived in a suburb of Washington DC with my comfortable, middle class family. My Dad had (still has, in fact) a job with the Federal Government and my Mom was a Dental Assistant. We even had a dog and a picket fence.

This story is not meant to portray my Dad as a bad guy. In hindsight, I think he was probably pretty typical of fathers from his generation. He worked hard to provide for our family...and spent most of his down time drinking. Now, I am not going to lie to you all and say he was not an alcoholic...but what he *wasn't* was a raging, slobbering, wife beating drunk. Quite the opposite, really. He would come home from work with his 12 pack of whatever beer was on sale at Giant, and then just drink himself quietly to sleep.

Most nights, my Mom would arrive home from work much later than my Dad. This story is about one of Those Such Nights.

It was a Friday. I had brought my friend, Kelly home with me for dinner before we went out for the evening. This was actually the first time she had the pleasure of meeting my Father. He had already emptied a few too many beers into himself when he asked us if we would like a cooking lesson. We were bored and he was amusing, so we obliged him. He gathered together what would be the ingredients for meatloaf. He combined them all together into a large bowl, impersonating Julia Child's voice to the best of his ability. He really didn't do too badly! heh

So...he gets to the point where you put the glob of meat into a baking dish and form it into the shape of a LOAF, right?!?

WRONG! He proceeded to fashion our dinner for that evening into the shape of a penis. That's right, my dear reader...he made a PENIS SHAPED MEATLOAF all in the name of amusing his 16 year old daughter and her shocked and horrified friend.

I had never been at such a loss for words...well...EVER in my short life up until that point. I was very much stuck in between laughing like a hysterical loon and hopping the next Greyhound Bus straight out of town.

I am proud to say that my Dad has been sober for the better part of the past decade...and as far as I know, has not attempted to fashion *any* food into the shape of human naughty bits, since.

The world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel...

Originally posted on August 7, 2005.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a double feature. A tale told by two idiots. Probably full of sound and fury...and definitely signifying nothing.

OK...today's tale is, to me, a tragedy...but I am sure that some of you will see humor in it. Let me start by introducing the characters. You already know me, and That Guy I Married.

Next, I will introduce Nathan. He was from a very upper middle class family in Northern Virginia. He rebelled against all of that by trying way to hard to be a cool hippie sort of guy. I lost touch with him some 10 years ago, but am fairly certain he ultimately settled in Albuquerque with a Massage Therapist by the name of Rainbow or Fruit Bat or something. Of most significance to my story, he was the owner of the van that we inhabited at the time.

Then there was Todd. We were on our way to the West Coast from the East Coast, and stopped in Albuquerque on the way as Nathan had some friends there. We were passing time in a park when I first met Todd. That Guy I Married was amusing himself with a balloon or some such nonsense, Nathan was busy trying to look as cool as a guy in a skirt could look...and I was people watching. Todd approached me, immediately confused me...and then proceeded to charm the socks right off my feet. He came up and simply said "Did it hurt?" I responded with "HUH?" And he said, "When you fell...did it hurt??" Still not knowing what in the world he was talking about, he eluded to my being an angel that must have dropped right out of the sky. I immediately loved him. Of all the people we met during our time On The Road, Todd is one of the rare ones who we remained in contact with. He was much more than a friend. He was a brother to me.

Next, I will introduce you to the Main Character. Her full name was 10,000 Upside Down, Screaming, Yakking Trees...but we called her Kitty-Kitty for short. We picked her up as a stray at a gas station somewhere in the South Eastern United States. She was a very tiny and very cute Calico Kitten. She was well cared for in my charge. I saw to it that she was dewormed and well fed...and even provided her with a litter box, despite the fact that we live in an van. I wore cut off cargo pants most of the time...and she would ride in my pocket, so we would not have to leave her alone in the van if we had to run into a store or something.

There were a few other players in this drama...but I will leave them Nameless...mostly because I do not remember their names anymore. I will just call them Seattle Guy, Girlfriend and Ex-Babysitter.

So...we headed up the West Coast. For any of you who have not made this journey...I highly recommend it. Nathan had some old friends in Seattle, and he wanted to pay them a visit. We met up with them at Seattle Guy's house. He actually lived in his father's basement with his Girlfriend. They were nice enough people...but not necessarily the type who you would imagine hanging out with Punk Rockers or Dead Heads. Wanting to show us a good time while in Their Fair City, they took us to one of their favorite pubs...which was not the type of establishment where you would expect to see Punk Rockers or Dead Heads. I recall it being called the Flower Pub or something like that. Anyway...we were met by many of their friends and acquaintances there...and were treated to many pitchers of Seattle's Finest Microbrew. At some point, this girl came on the scene. Apparently she was Nathan's Ex-Babysitter...and he immediately got it into his little mind that he needed to fulfill some sort of sick childhood fantasy by banging her on that very night.

Once we had consumed enough alcohol to be asked to leave the Flowery Pub Place, we returned to Seattle Guy's basement. I recall more alcohol being served...specifically vodka. (are you noticing yet another common theme??) heh

The merriment continued into the wee hours...Todd would burst out of the Way Cool Game Room, via the saloon style doors, whistling the theme to The Good, The Bad and The Ugly...Nathan was busy trying to get into Ex-Babysitter's pants...and me and That guy I Married just laughed...and laughed. I guess once Ex-Babysitter had become intoxicated enough to think that having sex with a smelly guy in a skirt seemed like a Good Plan...Nathan wanted us outta there. Me and That Guy I Married were booted from the house under the accusation of making Too Much Noise. So...we went to the van. Me, That Guy I Married and Kitty, Kitty. Taking full advantage of the Alone Time, we decided to engage in some gratuitous relations of our own...and then proceeded to pass out.

Upon awaking...I was shocked and completely horrified to find my beloved Kitty UNDERNEATH That Guy I Married. She had passed on to that Golden Box of Catnip in the Sky. She was gone. In short...he SMOOSHED my cat.

There has been much argument over the years as to what really happened to my Kitty...but the evidence kind of speaks for itself, doesn't it??

mutters day

Let me begin by saying that I read enough blogs written by infertiles to know just how blessed I am to have these four wild and wonderful little people in my care. (the red headed chick in this photo is not actually one of my children; she is my sister who just happens to be in the most recent photo I have of all four of my minions, together)

I know that there are many, MANY women out there who want nothing more than to be a mother, but for one reason or another, their bodies refuse to cooperate. It is heartbreaking...but it doesn't make me feel any less crappy when my mother's day is really nothing special.

*Disclaimer: That Guy I Married swears that he wished me a happy mother's day the minute I came downstairs in the morning. After I had tried for TWO hours to sleep in. But was awoken exactly every 15 minutes by my youngest minion. Because he didn't want to disturb he sleeping father. Yeah. I know. So if he did greet me with a warm, mother's day salutation...I missed it. Does that mean there should be no further effort made to make it a special day for me???

Money is tight right now. We are kind of freaking out about an expense that has come up (and we were hoping to use our stimulus payment to cover it...before we were made aware of the fact that we have to wait until June, for a paper check, because we had Turbo tax deduct their fees from our return. Bastards. But that is a topic for another day...) So anyway, I was not expecting an elaborate or fancy gift. A card would have been nice, though. I'm just sayin'.

So there's that. The reason why my Mother's Day sucked. I'm just a big, fat, Whiny MsWhinersons and I am sure that some douche will read this and cleverly point it out to me. I suppose it would be their right, just as it is my right to feel angry and hurt. I can live with that.

On the bright side, my 1st grader didn't trade the gift me made for me at school for a Gladware container full of snails, this year! Since I still haven't decided is I am ever going to repost everything, since I had my little episode and deleted the entirety of my blog's content (well...not before saving it all to a word document for myself), here is the post I wrote last Mother's Day.

Internets, meet Ethan. He is my third born child. My first son.

He is in kindergarten this year.

One of the perks of being Mom to a kindergartner is that you will inevitably be gifted a lovingly planted bean sprout in a hand painted baby food jar, or some such, for Mother's Day.

My Boy, Ethan, carefully carried his gift for me onto the bus for the short ride home this afternoon.

All was well until this little Punk Ass First Grader got on the bus and sat down beside him.

He didn't have a lovingly planted anything for his mom. What he did have was a snail. And some dirt. In one of those nifty Gladware containers. With some holes poked in the lid for ventilation.

He thought Ethan's lovingly planted gift was nifty. Ethan thought his snail was nifty. Punk Ass First Grader proposed a trade.

After school today, Punk Ass First Grader presented his mother with a lovingly planted bean sprout and Ethan presented me with his new pet snail.

This motherhood gig is thankless, I tell ya.

hurt

All I can really say today is that I LOVE being a Mom...but I HATE Mother's Day.

There's no place like home...

After a full week of trying to catch a hop from Ramstein Air Base to BWI, we FINALLY made it! I had actually decided that if we didn't catch a flight by that day, that we were DONE. I am SO glad it all worked out:)

Despite my continuing battle with Jet Lag, this trip has left  me feeling content and refreshed. For as much as I LOVE living in Germany...I miss my family more.

We left the dreary, cold, Germany Springtime behind us and landed right in Springtime's lap. We had a couple of days of rain in Virginia...but the weather was absolutely perfect for the rest of the time. (And you just don't realize how pasty you look after spending so many years in Germany! It amazes me that everyone in the USofA seems tan, even in early Spring!)

  My parents have a great back yard...so the kids spent a LOT of time playing, there. The boys enjoyed climbing the little apple tree and spent a ton of time up there. They played ball. Went for walks with Grandma and Grandpa. Blew bubbles. Visited with their Aunties. Watched an obscene amount of Disney Channel, Nick and The Cartoon Network. (Over here, all we have is the Armed Forces Network, which consists of approximately 9 channels. One of which is the Pentagon Channel (YAWN!) and another is the guide.) So yeah...we tend to gorge ourselves on cable TV when we get the chance;) The only real downside to TV in the states is the commercials. We don't have commercials on AFN; just Public Service Announcements. Now my obsessive, six year old is lusting after all sorts of GREAT! NEW!! PRODUCTS!!! UGH.

My parents really seemed to enjoy playing with the kids. My sister came to visit several times and we made our bi-annual pilgrimage to PF Changs for lunch. (Ginger Chicken thanks you, Moo Goo Gai Pan;) I got all of the kids' summer shopping done (I miss Target, already) and I got to see my best friend (since we were 11 years old...and trust me when I say we have known each other for a LONG time!) and her two sweet girlies.

We didn't make it up to Pennsylvania to see the exetended family, but it's OK. This visit was so good that I didn't feel like I missed out on anything. I felt fulfilled. Satisfied. 

Now we are back in Germany (incidentally, coming back was FAR easier than getting a flight out) and are trying to get back on schedule. The kids seem to be (mostly) back on track. I am still struggling with jet lag, but have enough to do during the day to keep myself awake. OH! And I gave my day care family notice that I would not be available to babysit anymore once the school year ended and they have already found my replacement! I am free! YAY!!

Now, maybe I will have more time and energy to devote to my writing and photography and housework and exercise and the myriad other things that I have put on the back burner because I was too busy raising other people's kids:)

Happy Birthday to my Elijah Bean

I know...I have just barely decided to return to blogging, and I am about to disappear, again. This time doesn't have as much to do with my own lunacy (although it  *is* a little bit crazy)! I am going to attempt to catch a hop to the states with all four of my kiddos on Wednesday. (and Thursday and/or Friday, if Wednesday doesn't work out).

For those of you who have NO idea what I am talking about, I will explain. One of the benefits of being military and also being stationed overseas is that we can catch VERY low cost flights on military planes. The downside of that is that you can only fly in and out of military bases. The upside of that (for me, anyway) is that my family lives just a stone's throw away from one. Or two or three;)

Aside from our moves across the ocean (which total THREE, so far!) I have always taken hops home so that my family could know my kids. It is cool that my third born son can say that he was only eight months old, the first time he flew in a C-5:) It's a far cry from First Class (or even "Economy Class") but you can't beat $3.75 for a trans Atlantic flight!

In  other news, my lastest baby turns five (FIVE!?!) tomorrow. We celebrated in Saturday with a few close friends. And pizza. And cake:) He is really such a cool little kid. Every little thing just makes him insanely happy. He is the polar opposite of me, and I love him for that:)

It is still hard to believe that my little (SURPRISE!)* miracle was born five, whole years ago! It is hard to really comprehend where all of these years have gone!

*I will close this post with a PSA. Breastfeeding is NOT a reliable form of birth control. After three pregnancies, you would think that I might have taken that a little more seriously...but "it has worked with the previous two, so why wouldn't it work this time???" does NOT mean that it will work again. Ethan was only eight months old and still being exclusively breastfed when his brother was conceived. Ethan was eleven months old when I found out that my preferred form of birth control had failed me. I will never forget how I felt when I went in for my ultrasound to date the pregnancy. I expected to see a little gummi bear bouncing around in there...but was instead greeted by the grainy image of his big ol' thirteen week old noggin. I was shocked, for sure...but if I could go back in time, I wouldn't change a thing.

Sleep Disorders

When I first started blogging in the summer of 2005, my original intent was to tell stories about my life. It was a good idea, but there were only so many stories to tell. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I am going to be re-posting some of my favorites from that time. For your reading pleasure is my original and unedited post from 29 July, 2005.

OK...let me start by telling you, my faithful reader, that sleeping in the same bed with That Guy I Married has often been more of an adventure in bizarre sleeping mishaps than I care to even think about.

One night, about 8 months into my 4th pregnancy, I was sleeping the broken, uncomfy slumber of the Heavily Pregnant. I was jolted awake my my darling husband. He sat straight up in the bed as though he had been bitten by a snake, or something. The next thing I know, I hear the tell tale sound of someone getting ready to hock a loogey. You know the sound...

Thinking to myself, GREAT! He is gonna hork all over the bed and I was trying to recall if he had consumed any alcohol or eaten anything that might have made him ill. It all happened so fast, that I am surely leaving out some details...but the next thing that happened is almost unspeakable. He SPIT on me. That's right, my dear reader...That Guy I Married *SPIT* right on me! In my sleep induced stupor, which quickly turned to rage when I realized what had happened to me, I uttered something to the effect of GAWD! You just SPIT on me! Then I hit him. I hit him HARD. He said something like WHA the FUH?!? I told him what he had just DONE to me and then he had the audacity to tell me that NO, he could NOT have spit on me because he was SLEEPING. I proceeded to wipe him down with his own saliva. I was SEETHING by this point...then he started to laugh. It was a psychotic and scary laugh. A *DARK* laugh. I asked him what he thought was so GOD DAMNED funny...and then he told me about this dream he was having. Apparently he dreamt that he was atop the Sears Tower with our two daughters. He was giving them the Fatherly Lesson of Spitting From a Rooftop. I guess our bed was the Sears Tower...and I was the poor schmuck who had the misfortune of walking by at the Wrong Moment.

I am sure that you, my dear reader, will hear many more tales of our Nighttime Mishaps...because there are many, MANY more. And know that while I am dreaming my little dreams at night...I always have one eye open...

ripple

If this past week has proved anything, it is that I can't not blog. Thoughts just whirl around inside my head, and I have no receptacle in which to dump them. I have decided to re-post some of my favorite, old posts before I move on. It feels so weird to go from several hundred posts to just two...but I kind of like the clean slate. Thanks for sticking with me and welcome back:)

This list was originally posted on 10 September, 2005. I am not going to edit a thing.

1. I was born in Carlisle, PA in 1973

2. This is the third time in my life that I have lived in Germany

3. I used to be thin, before I had four kids

4. I am totally hung up on old punk music...I just can't get into the new stuff

5. Scary movies really do scare me

6. It is odd, but my hair was naturally blonde when I was a teenager. I started dying it red, and now my natural hair color is kind of a light auburn color

7. I have 5 tattoos, all done by the same artist

8. Bananas make me want to puke

9. I have never owned my own home

10. I want to be a certified nurse midwife when I grow up

11. I am a total animal lover, and at one point in my life I shared a one bedroom apartment with my boyfriend, a dog, two cats, an iguana, 2 Senegal chameleons, some fish, 2 cages full of fancy rats, an African Grey parrot, 4 breeding pairs of lovebirds, a sun conure, a breeding pair of cockatiels, a pair of doves and a baby cockatiel

12. The only states I have not been to are Hawaii and Alaska

13. I am petrified of spiders

14. My favorite color is blue...almost any shade, but I like the darker shades the best

15. I drive a minivan (I never thought I would see the day...I am so ashamed)

16. I love photography...it has been a hobby of mine since I was in high school

17. At one time, I could play the clarinet, violin, flute, guitar, harmonica and piano

18. I love to swim naked

19. I was a licensed cosmetologist when I graduated from high school

20. I was a nanny in the Florida Keys for a summer

21. I have only truly been in love twice in my life

22. I always knew I would be a Mom

23. I love camping and rock climbing

24. I think that firing a handgun is empowering

25. I wish that all gang bangers would drop off the face of the Earth

26. I want to be cremated when I die and have my ashes spread at Cougar Hot Springs in Oregon

27. I have never ridden an elephant nor would I like to

28. Clowns scare me...a LOT

29. I am fairly certain that I have OCD

30. I have almost no artistic talent whatsoever

31. I will never forget Mrs. Drake, my high school English teacher

32. I love reading

33. I wanted to have natural, home births with all four of my pregnancies, but ended up with four c-sections instead

34. Fall is my favorite season

35. Kitchen gadgets make me happy

36. So do scented candles

37. I love the beach

38. I would love to have a vegetable garden, but do NOT have a green thumb

39. I used to have my head shaved

40. The only piercings I have are in my ears

41. I am afraid of needles

42. I only ever got one wisdom tooth, my mom had three, I got the one she didn't have, and my sister never had any!

43. I have hitchhiked across the USA more than once

44. I was a vegetarian when I was younger

45. My parents are still married to each other

46. I am horrible at managing money

47. And time

48. I have had the same best friend since I was 11

49. I do not own a bicycle

50. I love roller coasters

51. I do not like to be dizzy

52. Amaretto and Coke is my favorite mixed drink

53. I love to cook...and am actually pretty good at it

54. I am double jointed in my left thumb

55. I get to give That Guy I Married a shot every night

56. I do no paint my fingernails, or my toenails

57. I do not wax or tweeze my eyebrows

58. I HAVE to shower every day

59. I do not dress up...EVER

60. I do not own a single bit of makeup

61. My favorite shoes are my Doc Marten boots

62. I like zany socks

63. I am addicted to ebay

64. I love shopping on the German economy

65. I had surgery to repair an umbilical hernia when I was 3

64. I save all of my change in an old Jack Daniels decanter

65. I am horrible at math

66. My favorite flowers are tulips, lillies and dahlias

67. I don't dance

68. I collect polish pottery, trinket boxes and glass bottles

70. The only magazines we subscribe to are National Geographic and Discovery

71. I have had the opportunity to swim with dolphins

72. I have been SCUBA diving

73. And parasailing

74. I do NOT like bridges

75. The best breakfast I have ever eaten was prepared for me in Macon, Georgia by a sweet, old black lady at a soup kitchen

76. I believe in God

77. Rolling down a big, grassy hill makes me feel free

78. I love the smell of wood smoke

79. I originally planned to homeschool my children, but am glad that I enrolled them in school

80. Freshly brewed green tea, slightly sweetened and served cold is my favorite non-alcoholic beverage

81. I sing when I am alone in the car

82. I laugh at people who sing while they're alone in their cars:)

83. I have a HORRIBLE temper

84. I also have a good sense of humor

85. Hearing my children laugh is my favorite sound

86. Scrabble is my favorite board game

87. I am a really sore loser

88. My dream is to have a log home in Montana with a ton of land, a huge garden and lots of animals

89. I can not touch the end of my nose with my tongue...and yes, I just tried it to see;)

90. I would like to believe that I am witty, but really, I think I am just a smart ass

91. I love my Dad more than he will ever know

92. I don't wear any jewelry

93. My dad made sure I knew how to change a tire and my own oil before I was allowed to get my driver's license

94. I played the role of Kate in "The Pirates of Penzance" when I was in the 5th grade

95. I have never been hospitalized for an injury

96. I love riding motorcycles

97. I followed the Grateful Dead for more than a year and never even saw them play

98. I have never broken a bone

99. I am horrible at writing letters...I am sure that my Grandparents think I hate them! I just DON'T write letters

100. I can't raise just one eyebrow

should I stay or should I go, now???

I am not sure where I am going with this, yet. All I know is that I can't keep going the same direction I have been.

I have made it no secret that I have become quite jaded about my online life. It all started with the complete dissolution of a group that formed when we were all pregnant together...more than five years ago. While I am glad to be free of that yoke (I still have contact with those whom I have chosen to remain in contact with), the whole fiasco really clouded my online experience.

I have also seen too many people have their words, their images and for some, even their lives "stolen". I don't want to expose my family to that risk, any more than I already have.

I am also not sure I want to share so much of myself on the interweb, anymore. This place has become way too comfortable for me...and so I was maybe sharing just a tad more than I needed to. When my mom caught wind of my latest gripe (and as far as I knew, she wasn't even aware that this place existed) I had mostly decided to save all of my old posts and either start fresh or fade away.

That is where I am, right now. standing at the crossroad, not sure which way I want to go.

However this all ends up, I want to say thanks to those of you who have made this journey with me...and who have allowed me to travel with you on yours.