Fat Naked Dancer Lady

Once upon a time, there was a girly girl who moved into her new house, last Friday (WHATWHAT?!).

It was a great, exhausting, craaaazy day, including a teary moment out by her car because that girl's aunt was being totally bitchy, but mostly just awesome.  That girl has the greatest friends in the whole world, and by "that girl," I mean, "me," and I do.  SO THERE.

Okay, so fast forward (aside:  so many places say "flash forward," now, and that's just dumb.), and you get to that evening, after I finally kicked everybody out, and had a few drinks, and I decided, well, yes.  I decided that I ought to take a jacuzzi.  Because I have a jacuzzi tub, now.  That's why.

So I had cleaned the tub, and I got all nekkid and in the tub, and I had a beer next to me and tunes playing.  It was nice.  It's a very deep tub (though not a big fancy garden tub), and it took a long time for it to fill up enough for the jets to be covered, but once they were, I reached back to the button on the ledge and turned that puppy on.  Eyes closed, enjoy...

except only one of the neck jets was spraying, so I opened my eyes and simultaneously turned to see if I could fix it.

AND THE BATHTUB WAS FULL OF EVIL THINGS.

Black dirt and dirty-looking-crap.

SLIME.

And, best of all...

A DEAD COCKROACH.  I SHIT YOU NOT.

Fat nekkid girl flew, quite literally, only then, her fat body wasn't displacing water, so...

the jets weren't covered, so...

water went EVERYWHERE.

Let's recap:  nekkid fat white girl, jamming to Imagine Dragons, flying, roach, water everywhere, cat laughing, beer spilling, and a bathtub full of shit, after spending about 8 hours moving heavy crap.

I got the jets turned off.  I fished out the roach.  I drained and cleaned the tub.  I filled it up again, about three inches, so I could wash myself and my hair, all the while glancing uneasily at the back jets (where there was one roach, there could easily be another).  I got out of the tub promptly.  I filled it all the way up, added about a third of a bottle of bleach and turned on the jets again.  Let it run about 10 minutes, and talked myself out of NEEDING TO MOVE RIGHT THIS INSTANT.

House:  1.  Sarah:  0

Actually, it's like, House:  14, Sarah:  2, because every time I plug in ANYTHING, water pours out of it, and by "plug in," I mean, like "turn on (any sink)" or "connect (the fridge)."  And we haven't even gotten to installing the washing machine.  Gonna suck.

High five.  After it pours water on me, at least I can take a bath.  Do I dare run the jets?

Half Marathoner.

The bottom line is this:  I ran 13.2 miles on Saturday, and I freaking mutha fucking LOVED IT and I ROCKED IT and I am PROUD.

PROUD.

Here's what's crazy, I can pretty much remember each mile of the race.  It went like this:

Mile 1 - why isn't my music playing? It's cold.  I can't see the face of my phone and I can't make the music play- oh wait, I was pressing the down button instead of the up button on the volume.  Oh look, a mile already?  Wowza.  I kind of need to pee.  Water?  Already?  Well, why not.  Bottom's up.  I kind of need to pee.

Mile 2 - I kind of need to pee.  Look at those guys peeing in the bushes.  I wish I were a guy.  I wish I had a ponytail like that girl.  She's got to be hot in that jacket.  It's not cold at all any more.  I kind of need to pee.  Oh, he must have had a rock in his shoe, bummer for him.  There is a canal here?  Who knew?

Mile 3 - I kind of need to pee a lot.  None of these bushes look awesome for peeing, but I will if I have to.  hummdyhummhumm I need to peeeee hummdyhumm OHHELLYESAPORTAPOTTY.  And a water stop. Let's eat a gel and then pee so my hands won't be dirty until after I eat something.

Mile 4 - Game on, muthafuckers, I'm in the zone.  Look at me just a-smiling.  I like those girls' shirts ("Tramps like us.") and the team with the orange "13.1 - We are only HALF CRAZY" - I wish I were one of them.  It's flipping GORGEOUS out here.  Look!  Space ship parts!  (the race was at a space center.)

Mile 5 - I love everythingggggggggggggggggggggggg let's eat a gel smiley smiley smiley.

Mile 6 - STILL LOVE EVERYTHINGGGGGG smiley smiley smiley that girl that I'm passing right now has a big ol' bohonkus.  I also think it's weird to be running a half marathon in jean shorts but I lovee youuuuuuuu smiley smiley smiley.

Mile 7 - High fived a stranger.  Love everything.  Ate a gel.  Love love love love smiley YOU ARE ALL MY BROTHERS.

Mile 8 - Two random people.  I just caught them after trailing them for two miles.  Eek.  "Do you have sunscreen?"  I asked the girl.  "No," she said, smiling ruefully.  Bummer for her.  I will stick with them for a little while.  He says "pretty weather, right?"  I go, "yeah!"  He goes, "perfect for running!"  I nod.  This is not the time for a conversation, but I appreciate you being friendly.  Sign - "Great job, random runner!"  I love them.  LOVE EVERYONE.

Mile 9 - Leaving the random people.  A race official on a bike brought her some sunscreen.  That was nice.  See some of the full marathoners, now.  Eat a gel.  Home stretch now.  Hey, I haven't walked yet.  I was supposed to start walking by, like, mile 6.  Whattha....

Mile 10 - Hmm.  Not loving EVERYTHING but I can taste victory.  Just realized that I may actually FINISH this race.

Mile 11 - Getting tired.  Gel.  Also some extra chomps.  Because I can.  Still running.

Mile 12 - Out of my way, dude who can't run any more.  I know you are tired, and I'm about to cry.  But move, because I am NOT WALKING.

Mile 13 - Around the last curve, and there are lots of people cheering and ringing noise makers.  At the last possible minute, the first marathoner flies past me - I was lapped by 13 miles.  Imagine.  Doesn't matter.  I go around that last curve and the finish is directly ahead of me.  "It's right there?"  I ask a stranger.  "Yes," they say.  "You have got this."

I had it.  I may or may not have cried a little bit at the end (SHUT UP.  YOU WOULD HAVE, TOO.)  Think about it like this.  I'm a fat, middle aged woman with a 30 year smoking habit just barely behind me, and I just ran a half marathon.  Note, I didn't walk/run it.  I ran it.  I had hoped to finish in 2:50.  That would be an average of 13 minute miles, a touch faster than my long training runs were.

Actuals are below.  A few things to note:  My splits ROCKED.  Hello, very, very smart race.  Less than a minute's spread across the whole freaking race, not counting my potty break at mile 4.  Also?  Note that I kick total ass.  Average speeds well under my intended.  TOTAL ASS.

I am superman.  I am the terminator.  I am ready for a tiny little 13.1  tattoo.

I kick ultimate, total, amazing, utter, unbelievable, incredible, outstanding, complete ASS.

Who wants to be me?  EVERYONE.

Bring on 26.

Rememberer When

I'm pining for a few things that are long gone.

Jello Pudding Pops, for one.  My God.  Best snack popsicle ever.  EVER.  Dammit, Bill Cosby, why, oh WHY did you have to allow these things to disappear?  I have children now, I have the opportunity to buy them under the guise of "for the children" and eat my little pudding-pop-loving-heart out.

Manna from Heaven.

Then we have The Littles.

I find their goofy teeth to be both insulting, a mark of poor character, and oddly adorable.  Damn these Littles.

This one cartoon, one of those Saturday morning cartoons.  It was called, "The Littles," and it always had a craft idea at the end.  Make a fancy necklace out of a button and some embroidery floss!  WHY NOT??!!  My kid has a book called "The Borrowers" that appears to be freakishly alike The Littles, but I can't bring myself to give enough of a shit to read "The Borrowers" or determine if one is based upon the other.

Really, though, for sure this doesn't have a neato how-to lesson on something crafty and awesome.

My own goddamn bait box that I used as a makeup box, although I cannot tell you why, in that it was so fucking heavy and enormous that it wasn't like a travel box or anything, just occupied it's own corner in my bedroom, near a mirror...

Magical.

Here I am being all nostalgic, and the thing is, there's really only one thing worth talking about which is how, you know, yesterday, I offered to pay these one people some money, and they, in turn, are letting me take a house.

A HOUSE.  I BOUGHT A HOUSE.

And it's super freaking adorable.  Yep.

And it may lack pudding pops, Littles, etc., but it has a LOT going for it regardless.  And I can create my own nostalgia.  And I probably will. 

More to come.  In the meantime, let's all go listen to A-Ha and call it a day...

Week of Bad Things.

Dear Fucking Universe,

I'm pretty Goddamn Sick and Tired of The Week of Bad Things.

For the last two years, I've steadfastly ignored that The Week of Bad Things exists.  "Oh, it's April 17," I'd think.  "We are mid-way through The Week Of --- no, no, this is just any ol' week."

And kind of, it worked.

Three years ago, I'm all THE SPELL IS BROKEN, and all NOTHING BAD HAPPENED "except a little fire on an oil tanker or something," which turned out to be the most historic and devastating oil issue in the history of time.

And here we have a shooting, at a marathon.  White man's sports, running.

God dammit.

I've got to go for a run.

Friend Named Joe

I cut my hair off.  Not, like, a little.  A LOT.  All of it.  Most of it.  I'm happy I did that.  I look awesome.  And young.  And hot.  HAWWWT.

And like a villainess from a 1981 movie...

Works for me.

In other news, this weekend was the Louisiana Derby.  Like the Kentucky Derby, but white-trashier.  Well, honestly, just trashier in general.  It was a gorgeous day, and we wore hats, as one should.  My mother has developed a proper hunchback, and in a ridiculously large sunhat, it's very obvious:

My, how I love that woman.

I didn't win anything, and that's unfortunate, but it is so.  However, C-Luv won big monies on a single race, by betting a horse with long odds but wearing his middle name for a win.  We are talking $53.40 payout.  Big monies.  Otherwise, he mostly just hung out with his littlest cousin:

Awwwwww.

---

One of my favorite people from the grand state of Georgia passed away, suddenly, a week and some change ago.  The night he died, I sang karaoke, because that makes sense to me, and it had been a bad fucking day, and I wanted to drink.  So I did.  With Melissa.  Who danced backup for me, which was... odd.

I went to Georgia the following day.  Cried off and on for an entire weekend, and said my goodbyes on Monday.  The hardest funeral I have ever - ever - sung.  I hope he liked it.  I'm pretty sure he was there, fucking around with the piano while the pianist was trying to play.  In the spirit of Joe, I'd like to think that was him.  Good lord, he'd like fucking with the piano.  He also made it snow on us.  Thanks, Joe.  But really, he was an amazing friend.  Thanks for everything, Joe.  I hope you knew how much we all love you.  

As an aside, Joe was a namer- which is to say, he called everybody something, and mine was Sarie, and he was the only adult human being that could do that without getting a punch in the nose.  Perhaps.  Nobody else really ever tried.  When we couldn't agree on a name for Caleb (I mean, really, "DeMarcus"?  I do not think so.), it was on Joe we called, and he said, "Well, I've always been partial to the name Caleb."  Hence, history.

And so, on that somber note, I'm going to call this done.  I have a new (unusual) temp at work, and it's hard to tell her who to screen, so every time the phone rings, I jump out of my skin.  

Happy Monday, everybody.  And here's to Joe, one of the best I'll ever know.

First Grader's Biggest Fan

This week has the potential for big, giant suckiness.

The doodlebug started first day today.  Here's what it looked like.  Please note, my mom is responsible for the ridiculous haircut.

 Eyes closed picture.  Of course.

 Big ol' cheesy grin!

 "please can we be done??"

 Let's go, already!

 Look.  He's like, yes, I'm inquisitive and adorable, thank you very much.  New teacher will ADORE you!

 His new backpack has his initials embroidered on it.  Does LL Bean offer a replacement for when he loses it?

True to form, he insisted that he walk in by himself, this year.  He's a big boy.  I'd cry and sniff and such, but... eh.  It's not really that big of a deal.  I mean, I'm happy for him, I think he's going to have great fun, but I have bigger fish to fry.

Which is to say...

The big kid gets moved into his dorm on Sunday.  At college.  In another town than where I live.  Where he will then live.  Away from me.  Without me.

He promises that we can Skype frequently and still watch Jeopardy together and that sort of thing.  But.  Gulp.

I told him that he really doesn't NEED higher education, right, and so he should just stay home with me, but he didn't buy into that plan.

Kid is totally ready.  He has all sorts of electronica and then a fridge, a coffee pot, a toaster, a mass of tupperware...  He is much better set-up than I was, and I was going to school 2500 miles away from where my parents lived.  He's going to be about 60 miles away.

SIXTY GOD DAMN MILES IS 59 TOO FAR!!!

Ahem.

And so, today, I'm going to pick up the doodle and take him to the Soda Shoppe (I'm not sure if it is really douchy enough to be spelled like that, but I'm going to assume that it is) in Olde Towne (fuckit.).  And I'm going to try really hard to not get choked up that only one of my babies is still enrolled in the public school district...

I wonder if Ye Olde Shoppe serves Vodka...

Graduate's Mom

Dear Beanie,

Tonight you graduate from high school.  You've had a pretty rocky year, and through no fault of your own, have had to face down some dragons this year.  I want you to know that I have never been prouder of you and how you have handled it all.  You are a remarkable person. 

Tonight you graduate from high school.  I keep flashing back to moments from your childhood.  Aunt Carrie's wedding, when you were seven, remember?  You really, truly thought you might be Spiderman, in that you had been bitten by a spider, and you had an Uncle Ben.  You spent the entire reception jumping into a crouch and flexing your wrist, hoping for web to fly out.  You were the cutest child at the entire wedding.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  I can't believe how fast that time has gone by.  Do you remember when you were in second grade, and the World Trade Centers were attacked?  I couldn't wait to get to you, but I didn't want to pull you out of school early, because I was afraid you would be scared.  As soon as school let out, I was there.  You knew something was up, and I took you to McDonald's.  In the drive through line, buying you a McFlurry, I said, "I need to tell you something."  Do you remember?  I do.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  Remember when you were in the sixth grade talent show, and you drummed along to "We Built This City"?  Remember how the other kids went bananas over you, and how you had a moment of ultimate coolness, because, really, nobody is cooler than a drummer?  I was so glad you had that moment.  I think that might have been the only time you really understood how amazing you are, for that moment.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  Remember when you were a freshman, running Cross Country, knocking my socks off because you were so fast, so lithe, so incredibly much like a gazelle, running with strides that were literally five feet long?  I do.  Every time you left the starting line, I was fine for about ten minutes, and then I would start to panic.  What if he is hurt?  I thought.  What if you had fallen, twisted an ankle, broken your leg?  Of course, you were fine (even if you did push yourself so hard that you threw up at the finish line, pretty much every time.)  Of course you were.  You were amazing.  You inspired me.  You still do.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  Remember when you were granted the Person of Integrity Award by the Masons?  Remember how creepy/cool it was that we were invited into their Grand Poobah Room, and we got to watch the ceremony?  You were lovely with your big smile, pretty girl at your side.  I think that was the first moment when I felt like you were grown.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  You ARE grown, you are ready.  I believe in you.  I know that you are going to accomplish great things.  I know you are going to make an impact on this world, a real, live impact.  You may cure a terrible disease, or be the president that balances the budget.  Or, as you plan, you might become a very good high school history teacher, and you might inspire one kid to grow up to make a mark on the world.  And you know what?  That is enough.  More than enough.  All my life, I have learned that the only thing I have ever done that matters is parent you and your brother.  The impact you make on the next generation will carry forward forever.

Tonight you graduate from high school. You are already ready, I really don't need to give you a lot of advice.  All I can say is this:  keep doing it.  Keep being you, because you amaze me every day.  Try to be kind, try to be honest, try to do the right thing.  Look out for people who are smaller than you.  Pray.  Lean on your family, we will always be here for you.  Love with every ounce of your heart, even if it gets broken.  Dance like a white boy.  Don't drink alone.  Wear your seatbelt.

Tonight you graduate from high school.  I love you so much.  I am very proud of you.  You truly are remarkable.  Congratulations, my boy.   You are going to rock this world!

Love,
Mama

College Mama, Almost

The Bean is going to college.

This fat little baby:

(good heavens.  what a cute-heart.)

has turned into this boy, this incredible, sweet boy:

(good heavens.  still such a cute-heart.)

It happened so fast.  I mean, not that anybody else in the whole world has EVER experienced a child growing up on us, I mean, come on, but it's still tough to believe he's going to be going away so soon.  I'm not ready.  But he is.

Kid's going to be a Lion.  My tiger-ass self is coming to terms with that.  Could be worse.  He could have chosen Bama.  And then I'd have to disown him.  And I don't want to do that, because I think this is the kid that will be changing my colostomy bag when I'm 77 years old.

Today, he and my father are at Freshman Orientation, becoming oriented.  My formerly-professional-student-like father sent me the following text message:

Orientation going well.  Makes me want to enroll.  Sams dept head seems really cool

Awwwww, sha.  How cute would that be, my Bean of a boy and his Opa, all colleging together?  My dad has one of his degrees from SELU, so it must feel a little familiar to him.  Me, not so much.  I've never even set foot on that campus.

I've spent some time looking at the housing options, the meal plans.  Did you know that college kids today get free internet and basic cable.  Little punkasses.  I had to pay for my cable.they also get, like, a debit card onto which their parents can pour their income, and with which the little shits can buy Pizza Hut and do their laundry.

Seriously.

I had to save up $10 of beer money to do my laundry.  So obviously that meant that I would only do laundry like once a month.  My roommates hated me.

That's another thing- I lived in a room with two other girls.  Beanie has potential to get into the Honors Dorm, ensuring him a private room.  What the everloving fuck is that?  Not that I'm willing to pay for a private room, mind you.  But still! 

Tomorrow, he goes back for another day of this stuff, all by himself.  I hope he likes it.  I can't believe he's going to be gone so soon.  I mean, it's 45 whole minutes away!  My baby...  My baby is getting all grown up!!!

Grumpomatic Grumpopotamus

I got new running shoes.  I know, that's so stupid and hipster of me to be braggin about, but Good God in Heaven, I love them, and I needed them.  Seriously.  For real.

I bought them two Saturdays ago, and I was really excited and I immediately went to the Lakefront and ran 6 miles.  Six fast-ish miles.  Because I am a beast.

These are what they look like:

Only there are TWO of them.  Because I have two feet.  As usual.

Anyway, so I ran my ass off, and I ate little GU gels the whole time (not so very yummy, those), and it rocked, and I was all WHOOOOOO.  Beast.

And then, on Sunday, when I was going to Not Run, I didn't Not Run, I ran a little bit, with a friend who is thinking perhaps she would like to Run, only, that was over a week ago now, and she hasn't done so again, so perhaps she will Not Run, too.  Regardless.

And then on Monday, I had to get a cervical biopsy.  Look, I know y'all don't want to hear about my lady inside parts, and I'm certainly not going to go into any details, but I wasn't really expecting that, thought they were just planning on taking some binoculars for a closer look, and suddenly it was three little snips of tissue that hurt like a mo fo (for a second) and me feeling pretty damned bad-ass that I did that without even lidocaine.

boom.  beast.

Anyway, and that all left me feeling pretty crappy.  Like, much crappier than I expected to, and that's a shame.  All she wants to do is dance, dance (or run, run) and I really couldn't because I felt like ass.  Sort of.  Like, tired, crampy and bitchy.

Anyway, so I didn't run all week, until Friday, and I only went like a mile and a half on Friday.  Didn't run at all on Saturday.  Sucky. 

But yesterday I killed four miles.  And then, the baby, whose Very First Race Ever is on Saturday, and I ran another mile.  So five miles.  Because I am a beast.

And I still don't feel quite right.  Extra tired, grumpy... I should hear back from the pathology this week one day, and I am pretty sure I will feel better after that.  They are obviously going to tell me that everything is fine, so there you go.

Still, running OUGHT to help get me back to my self, right?

The sunshiney one?

Because I am so very much not there...

PTA Mom?

My baby is a Kindergartener.

I know.  I KNOW. I totally, 100% recognize that everyone else in the universe that has a child has either put said child into Kindergarten or will do so soon enough.  I am NOT SPECIAL.  I get that.  However...

He's just so little and sweet.

He is fine, he likes it, it's weird and different to him, but he is doing just fine.

I'm about to panic because today he has to get on the bus/van thingee to get him to afterschool.  AND EVEN IF HE DOES get on said van/bus thingee, WHO WILL GUARANTEE THAT THE BUS/VAN THINGEE WON'T WRECK?  HMMM???

See.

He didn't like being a car rider yesterday.  He wanted to ride the bus.  Note his pissed off wittle face:

He's very proud of himself.  Did his homework without any grief last night.  Seems to be behaving, in that he came home with a sticker (boom, yo.)  He's very pleased with his backpack:

Also, this is my last child.  My baby.  Forever my littlest one.  And this is the last time I will see this:

Big Fish

I used to be a really good swimmer.

This weekend, we spent, like, five hours at a pool, my brother and his wife, their kid, my little kid.  It was so much fun, just sitting around and kind of cooling off and bs'ing.  I say kind of because the water was about 95 degrees and hardly refreshing.  More than once, we daydreamed about how nice it would be if they brought in a great big block of ice and threw it in there.  Why don't they do that, actually?  That would be the highlight of every neighborhood pool's summer.

Anyway, in the spirit of the neighborhood pool, my brother and I started goofing off with contests.  Which one of us can make a bigger splash?  (my brother.  I'm afraid to run before I jump off the diving board, and also, I don't know how to do a cannonball.)  Who is a better diver?  (me.  he looks like Rodney Dangerfield in Back to School.)  (that being said, I dive too shallowly, a result of an impact of my face and the bottom of a pool in 1987.  I'll show you the scar if you want.)

It was awesome and fun and childish, and I loved it.  And we did enough swimming that I actually felt it in my shoulders the next day. 

I also had a race on Saturday morning, but I was running and not walking on my hands, so I think the pool is definitely the culprit.  (I did not PR, but it was a good race and I was pleased with my 13 minute miles, what with the 118 degree "feels-like" temperatures and all.)

Anyway, all this is to say that I like to swim.

Also, I used to be awfully, awfully funny.

Also, the baby was evaluated for Kindergarten today, and I only got misty once, and he had fun.  The big one actually started school today.  SENIOR YEAR.

My life is about to be one big week of crying.  And crazy.

Want to go swimming?

Mary Tyler Moore (she cried a lot, too.)

It is entirely possible that, today, as I drove away from my baby boy's Kindergarten school, at which he is Now Fully Registered, and as I called my husband to alert him to the Full Registration, that I burst into big puppy tears of wet.

"He's so liiiiiiiiiiitttttttttle," I sobbed.

My husband, usually so pragmatic, "He IS so little."

"He can't even say his "L's" right," I wept.

"He can't.  It's awful.  I have to go."

So I called my Janie, who made me laugh and all that and also slid in there that she would let me babysit her kids except, you know, I live so far away.

which is to say, i'm totally psycho.  i know how she rolls.

Anyway, the baby is completely, 100% ready for the BIG K, even though I am not.  And it doesn't help that my only OTHER child will start his senior year of high school in like 48 hours or something.  Maybe a little longer than that but NOT MUCH.

This is a tough year for me.  I'm a sap.  I get it from my Aunt Sally, the one who will still cry (this minute, even) about a cat that died 40 years ago.  I understand that.  Cats are awesome. 

-----

Next.  It's effing absurdly hot, jungle hot, soupy air hot, and I've been trying to get my run on, but even I am not stupid enough to try to run when it is 96 degrees and the "feels like" is 118. 

118.

Just needed to re-say that, because, you know, I'm NOT EXAGGERATING THAT NUMBER AT ALL.

Anyway, so I can't run in that mess, so I've been working on identifying "cross training" fitness activities, and I've settled on Step Aerobics.

Back in the day, I was a kick-ass step aerobics person.  I could out step-aerobics everybody I knew.

Now I can't even make it through the GD "beginner" workout on the video.

WHAT IS THAT.

When did Step Aerobics get so freaking HARD?

All this being said, I have a race tomorrow! WORD.

-----
You know what we need around here?

More giraffes.