tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87096155359680720472024-03-05T07:50:19.900-08:00SassInTheCityA mod mom's journey through life in a somewhat large citySasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-14358330603554689502009-08-21T18:35:00.000-07:002009-08-21T18:45:36.604-07:00Friday Night InI am the kind of person that has a hard time sitting still. Being a mom, there is always something to pick up, put away, clean up, sign, make, replace, fill, empty...you name it. It needs to be done. It really gives me a purpose. I'm not complaining because I love having a purpose. <div><br /></div><div>Tonight, my purpose is visiting his dad for the weekend and I am chillaxin' and relaxin'. I got home and made myself a pork dinner, enjoyed a package that I received in the mail (finally), layed on the couch, watched a movie and had a ME night. In the past I was made to feel bad about pampering myself, but I've learned that everyone deserves a little pampering. Treating yourself to some ME time is not a bad thing, it's a healthy thing!</div><div><br /></div><div>So here I am. I feel restored and renewed and ready to tackle the weekend! (not that the weekend needs to be tackled, because I plan on extending my ME evening, to a ME weekend.)</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-87284859433025267902009-08-19T19:56:00.000-07:002009-08-19T19:58:00.056-07:00Don't Loose That Spark<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 153); font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; "><div>A quote I found from Ayn Rand.</div><div><br /></div>“<a class="sqq" href="http://thinkexist.com/quotation/in-the-name-of-the-best-within-you-do-not/347689.html" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(0, 51, 153); text-decoration: none; ">In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, <b>spark</b> by irreplaceable <b>spark</b>, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it's yours.</a>”</span>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-35177868653610835572009-08-14T08:52:00.000-07:002009-08-14T08:57:14.463-07:00Take My Backpack, please.Today was a "test run" at the middle school for all of the incoming 6th graders. Being that my son has A TON of school supplies and a trumpet to bring to school on Monday, I suggested he bring a few things today in his backpack. (Sounded like a good idea, right??!) That was all well and good, until other kids showed up at the bus stop with just their schedules in hand....and no backpacks.<div><br /></div><div>He leaned over to me and asked, "Can you take my backpack home, please." He was being nice because I know he really wanted to say, "For God's sake MOM, why did you make me bring my backpack today?!?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll be taking him to school on Monday because he doesn't want to carry all of his school supplies on the bus.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-17081001991771360952009-08-10T17:50:00.000-07:002009-08-10T17:55:45.925-07:00At The End of the Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivumQ2uzFbgG7pkFQodl94r_d9Fz39F6wpYt4RasO8F9WpRfkkGlW90bgejZYc5BjTDbisp6HpprhyphenhyphenO8SxqHWt3neBTnvuWGkO7Rtzm20gTvgM4aovkOFVP-5nQa6_m1dcNgqKKxcRswmX/s1600-h/DSC01403.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivumQ2uzFbgG7pkFQodl94r_d9Fz39F6wpYt4RasO8F9WpRfkkGlW90bgejZYc5BjTDbisp6HpprhyphenhyphenO8SxqHWt3neBTnvuWGkO7Rtzm20gTvgM4aovkOFVP-5nQa6_m1dcNgqKKxcRswmX/s320/DSC01403.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368502388262644562" /></a>At the end of the day after all the work is done; At the end of the day as we watch the setting sun; After all the trials, and after all the pain; After all the struggles to make it through the day;<div><br /></div><div>I thank God for peace and rest and for the little smiles from you; I thank God for the rising stars and for little hugs from you.</div><div><br /></div><div>For there is no blessing, such as this I found so true; It's such a pleasure just coming home and spending the end of the day with you.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-47432434760336816582009-08-09T19:21:00.000-07:002009-08-09T19:39:37.934-07:00A Name Above All Names<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNXRdcPyVYdZgsXBE3xVCF0uPUvz77O2luVXCLy_VkJnYN8VPoXq66JxZInAYzAo36MHGuiR2EBTj2Mth-PRgSroLgraVB5SKzEZS_GaQ9fF8Ysjkrd-zvapMFbBBwaF87vRjZe2gtWlz/s1600-h/SDC10366.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNXRdcPyVYdZgsXBE3xVCF0uPUvz77O2luVXCLy_VkJnYN8VPoXq66JxZInAYzAo36MHGuiR2EBTj2Mth-PRgSroLgraVB5SKzEZS_GaQ9fF8Ysjkrd-zvapMFbBBwaF87vRjZe2gtWlz/s320/SDC10366.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368157153746281490" /></a><br />I have been long overdue for a trip away from St. Louis and this weekend was the perfect time for one. I have a dear friend that recently moved from Hawaii to Kansas City and because I am stoked she back on the mainland....I decided to head to Kansas City to see her (PLUS I knew she probably was long overdue for some Kel time!)<div><br /></div><div>Erica and I very much the same. We're single moms. We're quite the empaths. And we take life by the horns and say, "Bring it." </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the BEST things about this weekend was Erica's daughter, Sequoia. I am her Auntie Kelly and it's a name that someone has given me that I will forever cherish. (It's 2nd best to being called Mommy.) She is the only one in my life that calls me Aunt because...I don't have any siblings, therefore technically cannot be anyone's aunt. BUT I AM AUNT KELLY to Sequoia....and I absolutely love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Being that I work for a dancewear company that makes THE CUTEST dancewear and costumes, I brought a few little items for Sequoia to enjoy. Next to myself, I have never seen anyone enjoy clothes like this little girl. It was FASHION SHOW weekend for sure. She seriously changed outfits like every half hour. On Saturday evening, we dropped her off at gymnastics (so Erica and I could enjoy a little girl time shopping for ourselves) and when she walked into the door the first thing out of her mouth was, "Look at what my auntie brought for me? Isn't it beautiful." Adorable. Words can't descibe how wonderful I felt.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's just something about being called Aunt Kelly that I will never take for granted...and that I will truely live up to being given that name. All I have to say is WATCH OUT WORLD, because this little 6 year old fashionista is going to be famous one day! And her AUNT KELLY is going to be supplying the diva's wardrobe!</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-59470111344364659692009-08-07T11:59:00.000-07:002009-08-07T12:11:35.852-07:00Gross.There's nothing more disgusting than coming across a dead bird. I used to have a dog that LOVED to come across dead birds, and then roll around in them. (yes, he would smell horrible after this exercize) Sometimes he would pick them up and put them on the step. Ummm, no thanks. Dead birds are disgusting! I will cross the street if I am on a walk and notice one in the distance...so I won't have to walk by it.<div><br /></div><div>Then today happened. I was driving back from a nice lunch with my windows down and the music playing...loving life. I pulled into a an available parking spot, turned the car off and then saw it. A dead bird stuck in the grill of the car in front of me. I almost started my car up again and pulled into another parking spot...but I thought, no, I can handle this. As I got out of my car, I avoided my eyes...but a quick accidental glance made me throw up in my mouth a little.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-15733395414942196592009-08-06T06:37:00.000-07:002009-08-06T06:39:34.539-07:00You're Either A Toaster or An Oven...You Can't Be BothI am frustrated with the toaster oven here at work. I see other people use it, so I know it works. Why is it when I go to use it, I have my bagel in there and I'm standing around waiting for it to toast....and nothing happens. No toasting. No heating up. Nothing.<div><br /></div><div>I feel like an idiot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Microwaves are the greatest invention ever.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-68866794541819974892009-08-05T09:05:00.001-07:002009-08-05T09:23:46.496-07:00Not A Cat PersonSo I am not a cat person, but I have seemed to find myself with cats as pets over the years. <div><br /></div><div>1.) Snickers: The grumpy old fat cat I had in high school. He was awesome. He hated everyone except for the 3 of us. He was best known for hissing at every single boyfriend that I had come into the house. That pleasantly amused my dad. The way we came about having him is humorous. My mom and dad aren't pet people, but this cat was roaming around the church for a couple weeks and people continued to feed it therefore it never left. One day I asked my dad if we could bring it home. I was in high school. I wanted a pet I could call my own and my parents refused all of my, "Can we get a dog?" questions. Well, he gave in and one day brought it home. ...And my mom threw a shit fit. "That thing is NOT coming in the house." was a phrase I heard quite loudly.</div><div><br /></div><div>It eventually was allowed into the house.</div><div><br /></div><div>Snickers lived to be quite the household pet until he got older and couldn't remember where the litter box was. That highly annoyed my mom (as it would just about everyone I know). He died the same day Princess Diana died and will be remembered for ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>2.) Tasha: Orange Tabby. I received her as a gift. She was a cute and hyper kitten who loved to get into just about everything. How can you turn down a real live gift like that? They always are the cutest when their kittens. It's when they turn into adult cats and the attitude changes. The I'm the princess of the house and you will serve me attitude...just annoys me. And Tasha knew how to annoy me at the worst times. 5:30 in the morning is not the time to play. Ever.</div><div><br /></div><div>She ended up going to live with my parents, because (a) my new place didn't allow pets and (b) well, I just couldn't do the 5:30am playtime anymore. (You know cats can knock loudly on doors? Well, if you didn't...you now know.)</div><div><br /></div><div>3.) Hannah: A pity rescue. Some of my friends were out one night and in their "altered" state of mind saw a cat in the bushes. Instead of leaving it alone, they took it home with him claiming it was homeless and needed a good home. I love animals. Don't get me wrong...but I should have never agreed to taking this cat. She craves attention. And when she gets attention she has the LOUDEST purring. We refer to it as her motor.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, (6 years freaking later)the day has come that I just cannot keep her anymore. Rescuers remorse so to say. but of course I feel horribly that I have had to do this:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://stlouis.craigslist.org/pet/1306944866.html">http://stlouis.craigslist.org/pet/1306944866.html</a></div><div><br /></div><div>Please tell me I'm not a horrible person. I just am not a cat person. I just know there has to be some little girl out there that wants a cat. A companion she can call her own. I am not that girl anymore.</div><div><br /></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-47167644207364868852009-08-04T14:48:00.000-07:002009-08-04T14:49:53.946-07:00I Got Myself Some Stars<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pZlhJPwRTSpw2WaaKZrRkAuCdf3Hm7bti63LS3hpGtYM4g4uZCOsF1hfHh0xf1IbhEmRMF4PrbNU3xDRf0mAZAvmFfWEfkm8J8StYd5gQBkN_Cy0T0js4nuqbRV50TMH8cwh2SJ2MQOd/s1600-h/0804090905.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pZlhJPwRTSpw2WaaKZrRkAuCdf3Hm7bti63LS3hpGtYM4g4uZCOsF1hfHh0xf1IbhEmRMF4PrbNU3xDRf0mAZAvmFfWEfkm8J8StYd5gQBkN_Cy0T0js4nuqbRV50TMH8cwh2SJ2MQOd/s320/0804090905.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366229123838224034" /></a>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-72491106614476175752009-07-30T09:35:00.000-07:002009-07-30T09:47:42.033-07:00Headband = Headache<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#551A8B;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><div style="text-align: justify; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7L9w2M4Q7GXhyEDjbBgCxMCb-Gxy4i9foo480ybDBmklEddUpzDJD_vXRRZFJ4HgBrQoDCjzIuOvJ76XDNod5xQ-72xj7cYTYZKFf5lAbVGqZCbybIGx6HcbAe_I4YeyceJg_7xd2tFfL/s1600-h/Kel.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Headbands are the cutest accessory. Some come just as plain bands. Others come with the cute flower or pouf on them. Some are thick. Some are thin. They compliment just about every outfit and help out a bad bangs day.</span></span></a></div><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The downfall.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">They create a hanus headache. But once you have one on...you're committed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">And today - I'm remaining committed. There's no chance in hell that I am removing the one that I chose to wear today. It's helping out my overprocessed dye job that I did last night because I refuse to pay $150 (even though it's well worth it) to have it done for me. I'm trying to watch my pennies. But that's a whole 'nother blog.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The cute headband is taking the focus away from the hair. But the pain, is almost unbearable.</span></div></div></span></span></span></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-49862797910729565472009-07-24T11:52:00.001-07:002009-07-24T11:55:41.100-07:00Eddie Veddar Is My Hero<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OVHDzHoGHVFQch5tmQ34lzk6x_qOkrxoqp4dqzIjIQDsGAiXSH2TlFRiyrf2QSIRJae6IFta6YgAo5ivgxFoWuXPUZOqCiniG8ALNY93WbfjkL-vW8Ulr6x4yRnQMyZmzcYsr0aDifdI/s1600-h/450px-Eddie_Vedder_and_Pearl_Jam_in_concert_in_Italy_2006.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OVHDzHoGHVFQch5tmQ34lzk6x_qOkrxoqp4dqzIjIQDsGAiXSH2TlFRiyrf2QSIRJae6IFta6YgAo5ivgxFoWuXPUZOqCiniG8ALNY93WbfjkL-vW8Ulr6x4yRnQMyZmzcYsr0aDifdI/s320/450px-Eddie_Vedder_and_Pearl_Jam_in_concert_in_Italy_2006.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362102181405230290" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); line-height: 18px;font-family:verdana;font-size:48px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(84, 85, 89); font-family: verdana; font-size: 48px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; ">Such is the way of the world<br />You can never know<br />Just where to put all your faith<br />And how will it grow<br /><br />Gonna rise up<br />Burning back holes in dark memories<br />Gonna rise up<br />Turning mistakes into gold<br /><br />Such is the passage of time<br />Too fast to fold<br />And suddenly swallowed by signs<br />Low and behold<br /><br />Gonna rise up<br />Find my direction magnetically<br />Gonna rise up<br />Throw down my ace in the hole</span><br /></span></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-48741643938169696702009-07-24T08:32:00.001-07:002009-07-24T08:40:13.048-07:00Chapter OneIt's seems I've been a little lax in updating my blog. Well, in Chapter One of my new life I will be updating here alot more often. <div><br /></div><div>The past 2 months have been a whirlwind, but looking back on the things I have accomplished in the past 2 months...I can say I am quite proud of myself. CHANGE is scary....but in this case, it's been a good thing. For me and for my son. I tried so hard to make something work for so long. Change was inevitable. Change was a necessity.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I am in a very good place now because of it.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-87379126970061502192009-06-10T10:51:00.000-07:002009-06-10T10:52:42.628-07:00The Next ChapterAbout to enter the next chapter of my life....and I'm welcoming it with open arms.Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-70121044721054121422009-06-03T13:24:00.000-07:002009-06-03T13:25:00.185-07:00Lost Along the Way by Staind<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(160, 82, 45); font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; ">we change the rhyme forget the reason<br />waiting for the change of season<br />drawing near its almost here<br />so save tonight forget tomorrow<br />say goodbye to time we borrow<br />its always there its in the air<br /><br />like voices in the rain<br />like a song without a name<br />like angel's wings and whisperings<br />of love we lost and found along the way<br /><br />do you take the time to really wallow<br />in the footsteps that you follow <br />gets you there takes you anywhere<br />so here today and gone tomorrow<br />with the time you had to borrow<br />its always there its in the air<br /><br />like voices in the rain<br />like a song without a name<br />like angel's wings and whisperings<br />of love we lost and found along the way<br /><br />like voices in the rain<br />like a song without a name<br />like angel's wings and whisperings<br />of time we lost and found out in the rain<br /><br />like a song without a name (it washes it all away)<br />like angel's wings and whisperings (like the moments we could have saved)<br />of love we lost (the things we forgot to say)<br />and found along the way<br /></span>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-33406226911110911502009-05-21T06:24:00.001-07:002009-05-21T06:31:25.022-07:003-way mirrors are the devilSomething has happened to my body that I am NOT happy about. I went to Target last night to try on swimsuits because we are heading to the Lake of the Ozarks this weekend. I wanted to sport a new cute swimsuit. I know myself and as much as I would love the itsy bitsy teeny weenie skull and crossbones swimsuit there on the front rack, I bypassed it and headed to the tankini's. They had a pretty decent selection of tankini's. (tankini's = 30+ age range). I grabbed a few and headed to the dressing room.<div><br /></div><div>And that's when it happened.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was standing there in front of the mirror. Able to see my sagging ass because of the mirror arrangement. I was mortified. When did my ass start sliding? I always heard people talking about gravity taking affect when you get older...but I would bound and determined NOT to have it happen to my ass.</div><div><br /></div><div>The worst part was that NONE of the swimsuits fit me. My boobs were either popping out. (in this case, this was not flattering whatsoever) Or the butt of the suit covered only the top half of my ass. (only if you are a size 0 model with a banging tan and 20 years old does this look sexy.)</div><div><br /></div><div>I even tried on a one piece.</div><div><br /></div><div>And almost threw up.</div><div><br /></div><div>That didn't even look good on me.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-31654485357245210052009-05-08T10:39:00.000-07:002009-05-08T10:45:19.882-07:00Raining MemoriesIt's thundering and pouring down rain today and I am reminded of how much I loved thunderstorms when I was in elementary school. Indoor recess with the fuzzy soccer ball was the best!<div><br /></div><div>Today, since recess isn't offered at my job.....we improvised. Instead of treking out in this horrible weather, we had Imo's deliver. I'm enjoying it just about as much as the fuzzy indoor soccerball.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-54774795834187306552009-05-05T07:14:00.000-07:002009-05-05T07:19:49.956-07:00ALWAYS bring a towel with you.Yesterday morning was quite the wake-up call. I woke up and stumbled into the hall bathroom to take a shower. Mind you, mornings are not my forte...so functioning the 1st half hour after my awakening is humorous. So I took my shower and was feeling ALOT more awake. When I was finished, I realized I had forgotten to bring in a towel with me. I thought, I could sneak out and grab a towel from the linen closet with no one seeing me.<div><br /></div><div>WRONG. When you live a with a 10 year old boy this is a difficult task apparently.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because outside of the bathroom, sitting on the floor, waiting his turn for the shower...was my son. There I stood in my nakedness. I screamed HOLY SHIT..and cowered back into the bathroom. I then whispered to him, "Can you please hand me a towel." He did. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was mortified. And he, now has a horrible mental image of his naked mom in his head. </div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-6605688517913437492009-04-28T14:24:00.000-07:002009-04-28T14:25:45.739-07:004:20 MotivationYep, that motivation to go to the gym...has now disappeared. Mamma of Gilbert Grape. Here I come to join you!Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-72955675987478747012009-04-28T07:33:00.001-07:002009-04-28T07:39:32.259-07:00It's Go Time<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssdmOd1e6E0PYAAh8jHXjrlEnBjflKY0DO9J8wp1qNYP93bq7-b7wx5PFTPcwf9mI_LaxriGUntjS4tEBG-NM3wX2Z2qlJJBwmo670f_KN_Y1ULY-vMCBpnrIDfMgUDG4f_21q8Geq3lD/s1600-h/18923133_w434_h_q80.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssdmOd1e6E0PYAAh8jHXjrlEnBjflKY0DO9J8wp1qNYP93bq7-b7wx5PFTPcwf9mI_LaxriGUntjS4tEBG-NM3wX2Z2qlJJBwmo670f_KN_Y1ULY-vMCBpnrIDfMgUDG4f_21q8Geq3lD/s320/18923133_w434_h_q80.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329751582457144658" /></a>I used to go to the gym everyday during my lunch break. Everyday. I would feel good after my workout. Accomplished. Energized. I would have definition in places that I thought would never be defined. Then I stopped going.....<div><div><br /></div><div>Sooo, it's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">GO TIM</span>E again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am joining 24-hour fitness tonight after work. I'm over it. I am over going home and plopping my ass on the couch until bedtime. Seriously. Life is passing me by and before I know it...if I stay on this same couch potato path, I'll be like the mom in "What's Eating Gilbert Grape." For real.</div></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-21919952967803143862009-04-10T06:03:00.001-07:002009-04-10T06:08:50.958-07:00When it rains, it poops.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gQO2zE74E_q2Tb1FrcSGZ32xEMRrueAsGXCRxeg_dghiRgMF4uyd-cnpQbxwuvWLqlFLQbJG4bCegV3WrfGE_67FrTy48JfsWyEql3NqC-WB_rYxvJrHytUHEFbcbzOSg5ukcXsvnB8e/s1600-h/IMG_2510.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gQO2zE74E_q2Tb1FrcSGZ32xEMRrueAsGXCRxeg_dghiRgMF4uyd-cnpQbxwuvWLqlFLQbJG4bCegV3WrfGE_67FrTy48JfsWyEql3NqC-WB_rYxvJrHytUHEFbcbzOSg5ukcXsvnB8e/s320/IMG_2510.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323048111686694162" /></a>They are cute, aren't they? Well, the wreck havoc on my carpet when it rains. If they hate going out in the rain so much (I seriously have to push them out the door because I know they have to potty) but why are their feet an absolute MESS like they've bathed in the mud when they come back in?<div><br /></div><div>Kylie (the one with her tongue out) REFUSES to poop outside when it's raining. First of all she hates it when her paws get wet. Yes. She is a princess. So where does she decide to go? On my bedroom floor at 4:30AM. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's crazy how when your dreaming......George Clooney all of a sudden smells like poo.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-49310351217599539592009-04-07T17:28:00.000-07:002009-04-07T17:30:53.684-07:00Holidays should be fun....but they just stress me out.You'd think I'd be used to dealing with the holiday arguement with my ex husband by now. It has been 10 years since I got divorced. But yet, here we are again. Another holiday. Another arguement. It's my year for Easter, but somehow after a lot of argueing and back and forth conversation....I have given up my Easter.<div><br /></div><div>F*ckkkkkk.</div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-76984654870444129682009-04-06T07:50:00.001-07:002009-04-06T07:52:25.024-07:00Ugh...the weather.Next year I am not getting my spring wardrobe out until May. I was all about Spring...until today. It's snowing. That's right, snow. For me, the wardrobe closet transfer is a big one.....today, I had no idea what to wear. When my brain clicks over to Spring, it's hard to click back.<div><br /></div><div>I defaulted to all black.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-1558089035058515482009-04-03T13:30:00.000-07:002009-04-03T13:36:04.635-07:00Chicken ThiefI went to Chick-Filet today for lunch. I haven't had Chick-Filet in YEARS, so I when I was asked to drive with a friend a 1/2 hour away from work to get it...I was in. I ordered a chicken sandwich, waffle fries, and a soda...oh, and I can't forget about the 8-piece nugget for my afternoon snack. The sandwich was DELICIOUS. I almost dug into the nuggets too, but showed great restraint. I knew I would be rewarded in the afternoon for waiting.<div><br /></div><div>So here it is 3:33pm and I was craving my nuggets. I walked down to the fridge that I put them in and I was amazed when I saw my Chick-Filet bag on the counter....empty. I was then on a mission to find out the culprit.</div><div><br /></div><div>What do you do when you find out that the chicken thief is the owner and CEO of the company you work for?!?! I should have eaten them when I had my chance.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-59141058360087935432009-03-13T09:06:00.000-07:002009-03-13T09:08:29.097-07:00Idiot Drivers Suck!I got rear ended last night on the way home. I was at a freaking dead stop and apparently the driver behind me thought that meant go.....it actually felt worse than it looked. There was no damage to my car or his car...therefore no insurance cards were exchanged. And now I am kicking myself for that because I am a little stiff today. Damn idiot drivers.Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8709615535968072047.post-43372797592153823032009-03-11T14:32:00.000-07:002009-03-11T14:44:12.645-07:00It's Time For Dinner!!Life is about trying new things and learning new tricks and last night I did just that. www.timefordinner.com is my new favorite hot spot.<div><br /></div><div>Those of you who know me, know that I RARELY cook. I can whip up a mean grilled cheese and microwave some canned tomato soup. Chicken nuggests in the oven for 20 minutes. But for the most part, my husband does alot of the cooking.</div><div><br /></div><div>Until tonight my faithful followers...because on tonight's menu is:</div><div><br /></div><div>Bistro Steak with Port Wine sauce, Steamed veggies, and bread.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sounds freaking sexy doesn't it?!?!?</div><div><br /></div>Sasshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314135507429062759noreply@blogger.com0