We left Thursday evening for a nice long weekend in St. George. Pics Here! We stayed at Green Valley Spa and Resort. Wow, the spa shop… forget about it. I could have bought one of everything in there. There were shelves and shelves of little bottles and viles filled with sparkly, good smelling stuff. *sigh* So pretty. We swam, we sunned, we hiked red rocks, we ate ice cream every night. It was some great R & R.

I think the teenage years are the years when you are most often taken into strict confidences. These are the years when you, and all of your peers around you, are making pivotal, life changing choices. And because at 16 you are—to use a Britney Spears line—“not a girl, not yet a woman”, most teenagers need some helpful insight and advice from other experienced, seasoned, and hopefully wise people around them…ideally someone from the junior or senior class. At the time, these most-excellent-secrets, and pinky-promises, and cross-your-hearts seem like the most paramount decisions of one’s life, and in a sense they are. I won’t trivialize anything that happens during the teen years; my worst heartbreak to date occurred in 11^th grade. But my heart and conscience have been heavy all these years, carrying around the secrets and privileged information of so many people (including some secrets of my own). I have to think that there is a point at which all of these things can come out, without any threat of suffering or torment to any of the parties involved. So here I sit, 13 years after high school graduation, and I’m putting it out there, folks. I’m letting it all go to dissipate into the universe.

Kevin: When you asked Jess to prom and she said that someone already asked her, she was totally lying. She was waiting for Jason to ask her…and she thought you had a skinny head.

Carrie’s mom: When Carrie and I were supposed to be filling out and returning all of those job applications, we were really shoving them in the back of a kitchen drawer that you never looked in.

Tara’s parents: When Tara said that she was spending the night at my house and then you called to talk to her and I said that Tara just went to the store for a minute to get us Dr. Peppers…Tara

Camp counselors: Cris and I did run through the woods in our underwear, we did T.P. cabins and cars, and we did jimmy-rig a blow-torch with matches and a can of Aqua Net… but we maintain that we DID NOT put bananas up anyone’s tailpipe.

Mom: That same year at camp I shaved my legs and hoped you wouldn’t notice. You didn’t.

Cris’s parents: Cris and I drove the car down the road to the bridge and back when you weren’t home, but we couldn’t figure out how to get it out of first gear, so we may have contributed to some transmission damage.

Amy: Kevin made out with the other Amy at Joel’s party. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and that other Amy was such a skank.

Manager at McDonalds: Many Saturday nights when I was closing, I said I cleaned the shake machine when I didn’t. Oh, and the drive-thru window was kind of broken because I had to climb through it one night after I locked myself out of the drive-thru room…during a huge water battle with the guys in the grill section.

Jeff: I lied. You did make an ass of yourself and you threw up in Angie’s bushes.

There. Ahhhhh…. My heart and mind feel lighter already. If you are one of the people mentioned above and you are experiencing suffering or torment from this new-found knowledge—I would kindly advise you to get over it. Sulking is so 1992.

Women do a lot of strange things that leave men baffled. I know this because I am a woman, and I see the odd facial expression my husband has when he looks at me. Some of the baffling things I do, I don’t even have an explanation for. But some things I do know.

Like why women love shoes. All women do. There exists an infinite number of degrees of shoe love, but trust me, every woman has shoe love. My shoe love mainly revolves around flip-flops. I love flip-flops; ones with sequins, ones with beads, ones with ribbon and silk flowers…even ones with googily eyes. Whatever. I love flip-flops, and the more gaudily decorated, the better.

My firm belief is that women are drawn to shoes because the foot is the part of the body in which all women are pretty much created equal. The neighbor may have bigger boobs, the sister has a firmer butt, the husband’s ex-girlfriend has leaner thighs… but I strongly doubt that any woman has coveted another woman’s feet. A foot is a foot. You gain weight, your feet stay the same. Your face breaks out, your feet stay the same. Your hair falls out… you get it. A woman’s shoe size basically stays the same throughout her entire adult life, which is way more than a woman can say about her jeans size. This one comforting constant in the way of fashion is fabulous for a woman. It is a source of empowerment and self-esteem. (Yeah, all that from a foot.) If a woman puts on a bikini and stands next to a Victoria’s Secret model, she will collapse in tears, get an immediate appointment with a therapist, and probably never remove her clothes in the presence of a man again. However, if this same woman puts on a fabulous pair of red Jimmy Choo’s and stands next to a Victoria’s Secret model—as long as she is only comparing the feet—she’s feeling like she can hold her own next to this beautiful woman who hasn’t eaten a french fry in 8 years. A woman can eat a pound of fries and still be okay going to try on shoes.

So if you are a woman reading this: go out and immediately buy a new pair of shoes. You deserve it, girlfriend.

If you are a man reading this: be more understanding when your woman buys shoes. And compliment her on them. It’s really in your best interest.

Okay, kind of cute, if I do say so myself. Check out my new Fave Links page. It’s set to a jaunty tune… have fun!

My husband has lost nearly 60 pounds since October. Let me just put that out there. Not by any easy means, either, but simply by a lot of hard work. He started going to the gym religiously, he ate his weight in salad greens, and he does push-ups and crunches every night on the bedroom floor while watching the sports highlights. It’s been cool to see the transformation, but all of these sudden changes can affect the less-on-the-workout-wagon spouse. Sometimes these effects are positive, and sometimes these effects are down-right traumatic. Here I’ve broken it all down into a rudimentary “Pros and Cons” list.

Pro: Hello…my husband is hot. ‘Nough said.

Con: Other people also find my husband hot, which at first is alright, but jealously sets in pretty quickly. The first time he told me that he got a “woo hoo” while he was jogging, I wanted to claw someone’s eyes out. It felt like high school all over again.

Pro:  He can pretty much tell me the number of calories in any food imaginable.

Con: He does tell me the number of calories in every food imaginable, and usually while I am shoveling said food into my face.

Pro: Sometimes seeing him being so active really inspires me to get more active.

Con: However, when I don’t act on this inspiration, I feel like a chubby lazy-butt.

Pro: He feels good enough about himself to be in a family picture.

Con: I no longer do.

Pro: He likes to go clothes shopping now.

Con: ummmm… I’m having a hard time thinking of a “con” for that one.

Hmmm. I have a hot husband who likes to shop. What am I whining about? I’m glad I got this down in writing so I can see clearly now how great I’ve got it.

That was a helpful list. 

New review on Movie Reviews page. ——->

So I’ve had a couple people wondering about the outcome of the iPod debacle. I thought I’d give an update. As of this moment, no, I do not have an iPod. I know…WTF, right? Remember how I told you that Jon took iPod B for one run before I found iPod A in the tote bag? Well, on that one single 2-mile run he managed to bust it. Hmm, maybe I should rephrase that: He managed to be using it when it mysteriously stopped working. He swears he did nothing to it. So we sent poor little iPod B back to be fixed. Keep him in your thoughts, please. Maybe he just got too much dust in him…

ps- I did get an awesome Dyson vacuum cleaner for Mother’s Day. No, it doesn’t play music, but I think I can use it in my workouts… if I do some deep knee bends while I do the stairs, or something.

Mother’s day is now officially my favorite holiday. My kids have been so stinkin cute today. They’re cute everyday, but today I am really noticing it. I totally love being a mom. Today I was wondering what kinds of things the kids will remember about me after they’ve grown up. Some people remember their mom’s awesome cooking. (They won’t be remembering that.) Some people have really elegant mothers who, no matter what, always look pretty. (They won’t be remembering that, either.) I started wondering what kinds of things I do that will really leave a lasting impression. I’m not sure which things they are.

Then I got to thinking about what I remember most about my mom from when I was a kid. There are a few things that really stick out in my mind:

*My mom rocking my younger siblings in the rocking chair at night. She would always sing “Memories”.

*My mom packed our lunches everyday. My favorites were ham and cheese loaf (y’know, the bologna with bits of stuff in it) or olive loaf. There’s no way I’d eat that now.

*The one day my mom didn’t pack our lunches. Lunchtime came, and we were worried that we weren’t going to eat. My mom came into the cafeteria with Happy Meals for us. At that moment, she was the coolest mom in the world.

*Letting me run around in my Wonder Woman UnderRoos when I really felt the need.

*The afternoon we sat watching tv while she put “Bo Derek” braids in my hair. I think we watched three soaps that afternoon, and I didn’t take the braids out for over a week.

*The day she finally let me cut my hair, despite fierce opposition from others. In retrospect, it was a hideous hair cut. But at the time, it was so important to me.

*The way she would say “yes” to any question while she was sleeping. (Can I have a sleepover at Cheryl’s? Sure. Can we shave the cat? Sure.) This actually got me into trouble a lot of times. We were finally forbidden to ask her questions while she was napping.

*She always volunteered to come on field trips. She was the nice, fun mom.

Thanks, mom, for all you do. I love you.

The question still remains: what will my kids remember about me? I hope all of the good stuff remains in perfect clarity, while all of my mistakes grow a little dim. I think that’s what every mom wants.

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