Sunday, December 5, 2010

I am one lucky "ALASKAN" girl

I can hear the mumbling and grumbling now..."Hmmm...really, Whitney? Because we all knew you grew up in Evergreen, Colorado." That's right. I did--on the Conifer/Evergreen border to be more precise (yes...I lived at the TOP of the mountain and one side was Evergreen and the other side was Conifer--8,800 ft above sea level people--don't mess with me...Z-snap). Actually if you want to get "technical" I was born in California so if you want to peg me as a Cali girl you could do that as well I suppose. I just got done watching an episode of "Sarah Palin's Alaska". I TiVo'd it actually--I don't want to miss it. Don't get me wrong--I don't roll the elephant way politically, and quite frankly I'm moving to France in 2012 if she takes over but there is one thing I love about Sarah Palin--she is a true ALASKAN girl and I respect that more than any political mumbo jumbo garbally guck she might spew over Fox News. I was watching the show tonight and it actually brought tears to my eyes (even though she shot fuzzy critters on the show tonight and beat the holy living poo out of halibut and salmon the weeks prior). When I lived up in Alaska and couldn't wait to get back to warmer weather everyone up there kept telling me, "Most people feel that way and then they always end up coming back here to stay." I swore up and down when I left Alaska that I didn't have what it took to be a "true" Alaskan girl. They are all hearty, Carhartt-wearing, no-teethed, bearded women who wouldn't know moisturizer if it hit them in the face, right? **WRONG** There are some who are sourdoughs, don't get me wrong, but if you live in Alaska there is no way you'll ever hold that against those hearty women. When you are living in places that are remote and -90F I would expect that even the $10,000 moisturizer isn't going to do you justice. And, oh, BTW...if Paris Hilton ever went up there she'd never make her way out of a snow berm with a high-end shovel. I realized tonight as I was watching Sarah's show and recollecting, that because of Alaska, I have experienced things that most people will never have the opportunity to do. Here comes the Macaulay Culkin "grab both sides of your face with your hands and start screaming" portion of this blog. SAY IT ISN'T SO, WHITNEY!!! YOU ARE DECKED TO THE NINES TO GROCERY SHOP--YOU COULDN'T HAVE LIVED/DONE EVERYTHING YOU'RE ABOUT TO SAY YOU'VE DONE!!!" But I have. And I have because I was fortunate enough to live in Alaska. I was fortunate enough when I was much younger to be dating someone whose family had a gold mining operation up outside of a remote area of Alaska known as Northway. For an entire summer I lived with Paige and Beau out at a gold mining camp with little running water. The water we did have came from a creek where we had to drive a D-6 earth mover down with the water tank attached and pump water out of the creek to use. It wasn't that bad--actually it was pretty nice--until later that summer our water got funky and we couldn't figure out why. The tank finally got cut open and as it turns out there were bones, feathers, and fur from dead animals that had made their way into the tank. That was the water we were bathing with, folks. That was our water to brush our teeth. I, Whitney Madison, have brushed my teeth (in a flannel shirt no less) with dead animal water. The mining camp that we were out at was so remote that you had to fly in a small plane and land on a dirt airstrip to get there. We all flew in a 185 €essna. I am so thankful for that time. During that summer we battled a forest fire by hand and with mining equipment (there are no firefighters out in the bush), my daughter, Paige, got to fly a plane (Chip, the pilot let her take the wheel and she would steer us from side-to-side but she's a pretty good pilot I think ;), we got to go berry picking by taking 4-wheelers out in to the bush, and we got to go over to the "Canadian" side of the border on the "winter road" to celebrate the longest day of the year--the summer solstice--where the sun stays up nearly all day in Alaska. While up in college (I wish blogspot would let you write paragraphs and separate--I realize this is a hot mess), I experienced things most other college students don't get to. First of all...we were a hockey school. There is no college football team at the University of Alaska Fairbanks--hockey is what they do up there. Though the hockey games were fun to attend, some of my best memories lie in driving out behind the airport to the Nenana river, taking snow shovels and wooden pallets, clearing off the ice, lighting a bonfire, and ice skating through the night while the northern lights blazed overhead. Trips up Ester Dome with my good friends--again, up on a snowy mountainside with pallets of wood and we would light bonfires and have a blast under the northern lights on cold Alaskan nights. I loved that you could literally "PLAY" up there. Getting out of a car on an abandoned road and grabbing onto the bumper in a pair of slippery Doc Marten's and going for a wild ride (I don't recommend this in the inner city), or just enjoying hanging out and being an Alaskan. What's "being an Alaskan" you ask? Simple--low stress--high appreciation for the good things in life. After I got married in 2000 I actually lived for a year in a 400 sq. ft. cabin with my (then) husband in Fairbanks, Alaska that had no running water. We had electricity but had to haul water because the cabin didn't have it and it also had an outhouse. outhouse. That was my first bathroom as a married woman. Nothing screams romance like a Styrofoam outhouse seat (it was winter--had to keep the backside warm and styrofoam did the trick). We rigged up a camping solar shower in a bag in the house and would boil water to take showers. We kicked it old school, baby. I don't care what your opinion of me as a fashion-loving Barbie-wannabe is now--I can do what most women can't because somewhere inside of me I have that "ALASKAN" girl and I'm super proud of that. I won't ever give up the memories of the times I had up there. The laughter, the snow, the wool miniskirts in -60F weather and platform shoes trying to seize the opportunity to make Fairbanks, Alaska the next fashion Mecca. ;) I won't give up my ALASKAN best friends who collectively with me make up the "ARCTIC BARBIE GIRLS". I love having drop-dead gorgeous girlfriends who can salmon fish like madwomen, build homes from the ground up, snow machine with the ability that rivals any man, and play hockey most likely better than any man, shoot, and hunt. ;) You girls know who you are--you make my heart smile. Who says you can't wear makeup and heels after a hard day's work? You gals showed me that it is possible to be chic and a freakin' WOMANIMAL at the same time...or "shabby chic" as I like to think of it. ;) I won't forget the opportunity I had to soar through the air in 2-person air craft over the vast tundra of Alaska and land on a frozen lake in a plane that had skis on it; the hike up to Denali where we ran into a metric boatload of Dall Sheep on the mountainside where I was with my two good friends (one of which is now my Cute Alaskan Man); fishing for northern pike in the middle of nowhere; snowshoeing and hiking up on Hatcher's Pass, skiing at Alyeska and Arctic Valley at the top of the world; floating Chena River on the 4th of July in small blow-up rubber rafts from the local grocery store; or any of the other amazing memories that Alaska has afforded me. I'm so proud that I had the opportunity to live in that state and I'm so thankful that I met Tristan up there and that his roots are tied down to Alaska. I know that for a long time to come and hopefully forever I will consider Alaska a part of who I am.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Stick a Cork in It! My adorable story of my Champagne Friday

So here I am--disheveled, gross, probably have MRSA, Strep, Hepatitis, and C-diff cooties all over my hot pink scrubs. It's 9:15 on a Friday night. Well--MY Friday night. I work Friday and Saturday so my Friday is always on Saturday. After 13.5 hours of a long, hard day at work I drove the 45 minute drive home from Aurora to the same little liquor shop I always buy my bubbly from. The owner of the shop is super sweet. He's always very nice and has become quite thrilled about my champagne Fridays. He asked me a couple of weeks ago if he ordered a new Prosecco for me if I would be interested in trying it. Italian Prosecco? Me? Moi? Ma? (or whatever the Italian version of "me?" is)...twist my arm...YES, PLEASE! So tonight I walked in and he said, "You're late!" and I gave him some "for-sobbing-out-loud" excuse about how I worked a tail-kicking long shift that delayed my champagne Friday purchase (rather deja vu of every shift I work). Then he said, "I was so hoping I'd get to see you again for your champagne Friday before you went back on night shift!" I reassured him that I would be working Weds./Thurs./Fri. nights so we were still game-on for champagne Friday (Saturday) even after the switch. Long story short--THE NEW PROSECCO CAME IN AND HE HOOKED ME UP TONIGHT! *woot*woot*holla!* Yes, and it is TRES fabuloso. He also ripped open a box of expensive champagne and gave the the free champagne cork replacement lid that came in the package. I had told him that I don't drink a whole bottle of champagne in one sitting and gave away my secret that I learned long ago that you can leave it in the fridge with the top off as long as you stick a fork handle in it--it will save the bubbles. Thinking that this Macgyver method of champagne preservation just wouldn't do--homeboy hooked me up and now this sister has a real live bubbly preserver lid! :D I must delicious champagne, a new champagne cork saver thingy mabobber, and a liquor shop owner who will special order Italian Prosecco for me?...this whole "Champagne Friday" thing just got a whole lot sweeter, my friends!!! :)

Monday, October 4, 2010

When Did Parenting Get to be So Much Stinkin' Fun?

It was a cold, blustery night. January 1, 1992. I had just been through 28 hours of excruciating, exhausting labor. I was lying in my hospital bed on the mom/baby ward at Littleton Adventist Hospital, fast asleep with a little bassinet lying next to me. Suddenly I was awakened by the soft cry of my baby girl. I jolted up and to the bedside. I immediately had tears welling up in my eyes from the pain I felt post-childbirth trauma. I tried to console my daughter by putting a pacifier in her mouth. She spit it out and cried louder. I rubbed her little back. She cried harder still. I picked her up out of her bassinet and held her close--and I started to cry. We were both sobbing. I could barely see her through all the tears pouring out of my eyes. There I was, a scared, stupid teenager with this beautiful little girl in my hands. I held her up and looked at her little face and remember saying, "I am so sorry...I don't know what to do with you." **insert sound of record player needle scratching across the surface of a record** FAST FORWARD 18 YEARS: So the beautiful baby girl I just told you about is now a beautiful 18 year old teenager. She has given me periodic heart attacks throughout my life, but last night I thought I might just have a myocardial infarction that would be enough to guarantee that I will get that pink mausoleum I have requested to be buried in much sooner rather than later. Paige bought earrings a couple of weeks ago that are used for "gauging". If you are not familiar with this hideous trend, please examine the lovely picture in Exhibit A which is located at the top of this page in the left corner. Yes. That lovely piece of dangling flesh is what my daughter had decided to start striving to achieve. The trend is to just keep sticking larger gauge earrings in your ears until the skin becomes so stretched out that it's a huge hole. Now--I'm not a prude when it comes to expressing yourself through body jewelry. I myself express deep love and affection for my football team, the Philadelphia Eagles, through a green rhinestone belly button ring. However, tattoos can be removed, and so can piercings--gauged ears?...not so much. Paige assured me that she wasn't going to go big with her gauged ears. Little consolation for a mother who spent 9 months of her life trying to get her daughter to come out looking normal. Last night I noticed that she had stuck larger gauged earrings in her ears. I immediately lost my mind. I yelled at her and said, "What on earth is the matter with you? Are you crazy--or just stupid? What makes you think that this is remotely pretty or ok? If you want to do weird, tribal-looking crap to your body then I'll sew a plate in your mouth, or give you neck rings to elongate your neck so you can look like a giraffe! I'll make you look like one of the natives straight off the pages of National Geographic Magazine! Might as well! That's how stupid you're going to look once your ears are saggy and look like the butt of an elephant hanging off the side of your head! Why would you want to make your ears look like someone shot holes in your head? Get those stupid things out of your ears and if I ever see them in there again I will rip them out myself and then you'll really have holes in your head!" Ahem. Yes...I lost it. I never thought that when I held up my sweet precious child on that blustery day in 1992 that I would be sitting here in 2010 trying to convince her that gauged ears are the stupidest thing I've ever seen. When did this parenting thing get to be so much stinkin' fun?

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Shot Through the Heart and You're to Blame, Darlin' You Give God a Bad Name

Okay, America, this has to be why a fair number of you are making fun of Christians these days. Even I see this posting on MSN and have to wonder, "What the crap, Batman?". Apparently some Yay-Hoo pastor named Terry Jones down in Florida (the humidity is probably getting to him and scrambling his brain) has declared September 11th "International Burn-A-Quran Day". First of all--it's pretty bold that this leader of a SMALL Florida church thinks himself prestigious enough to be able to name any day out of the three hundred and sixty five days per year (less leap year) "INTERNATIONAL Day of ANYTHING". I mean, really?...REALLY? And then to go put on your white pointed beanie and decided that you're going to do this all in the name of God and the Christian church because you claim "God told you to"??? Scuze me if this seems a little...well...stupid. No, actually it seems a little "Grape Kool-Aid Gang" to me--you remember?...the religious fundamentalists who thought they were going to be taken away on the back of a comet and so they all wore black, put on their black sneakers, downed a bunch of poisoned grape Kool-Aid and then peaced out as the cosmic wonder barreled over their heads as they lay dead in their bunk beds? Yeah--it is leaning a bit in that direction for me. What better way to spread the word of God than through utter hatred and disdain towards other people that He created. Awesome. Thumbs up, Preacher Man!...NOT! The MSN article said that he had received death threats. Hmmm. Mind blowing, really *eyeroll*. Way to poke at a group of people who are mostly 100% normal but who have a fair number of war-crazed, jihad-loving terrorists living around them who are looking for any opportunity to point fingers, make themselves martyrs, and kill people who haven't done anything wrong. I think we should make September 11th "International Get Your Free Map to The Dove World Outreach Center Day (the church he is a pastor at--insert any number of jokes regarding the irony of that name here______)--Free Marshmallows and Brats Included So You Can Go View the Stupidity Yourself and Probably Witness a Brutal Murder of a Low IQ/Narrow-Minded Pastor Day". On the upside, Terry Jones, at least you got your name and picture in the paper--which is what my gut feeling most of this was about anyway. Well, that and you being a hater. Way to get the world in an uproar and take September 11th and make it all about you, Terry.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

*SIGH* Ok, Kate Gosselin...I'll go easy on you and blame your stylist.

Some of you saw my post some time back--well I suppose it was more of a plea to women everywhere to have a little more respect for yourself and cover up a bit. I mentioned in that little blip that leaving some things to the imagination was actually far more attractive than "letting it all hang out". You may be saying, "Where are you going with this, Whitney? Why are you bashing Kate Gosselin? Hasn't the modified Octomom been through enough this year?" The answer to that is YES, YES, and MORE YES. I'm not trying to bash Kate per se. I did, however, watch the first show of the season last night of the debut of "Kate Plus Eight" and I was disappointed. When the show first began Kate was verging on Amish (OR Let's just say "Duggar Style") with her style of clothing. Over time she got a little more trendy. However, since the divorce and the start of the new show she is "letting it all hang out". It was difficult for me to watch her toting around 8 children last night, 5 of which are young ladies who are probably looking up to their mom and seeking guidance in fashion whether they realize it or not, and see her outfit after outfit with her "ladies" hanging out. I realize once you have been anatomically enhanced that you want to "show them off" a little, but it got a bit ridiculous last night. The plunging necklines, cleavage that rivals the Grand Canyon, and Daisy Dukes that Kate wore last night were, shall we say, over the top (not to mention the fake nails long enough to poke kids eyeballs out, hair extensions, and questionable teen queen make-up job) . There does get to be a point where if you are a woman in your mid-30s you should ditch the micro miniskirt and embrace the "just above the knee length" skirt. I thought she actually aged herself quite a bit by trying to look like a 21 year old. It blows my mind that this show is actually on the same channel as "What Not To Wear" and Stacy London wasn't heard screaming and shrieking in the background or staging an intervention. Anyway, yes, I'm ranting. I really do think that "less is more" and that women should have more respect for themselves and embrace "pretty" and "classy" over "hoochie/sexy". There is no shame in being a bit modest and there are so many options out there that are "classy modest" these days. I would encourage Kate and those who are still delusional that mid-30s means "young, wild, free, sexy--so I'm going to act 10 years younger than I am" to rethink your style a bit. Our kiddos are looking up to us. We should set a better example for them, and we should love ourselves more than to feel like we have to exploit ourselves as someone else's "cheap thrill". K, I'm done. Carry on... ;)

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Painting for Emma and Chloe's Room

I painted this montage of paintings for my twins', Emma and Chloe. These hang in their bedroom above their beds. Some of the paintings are textureized. My medium is acrylic. Added a little fun to the walls, for sure. :)

Painting for my daughter, Paige

I painted this for my daughter, Paige. She had mentioned that she might be interested in becoming a pastry chef at one point. All of the small paintings are texturized and embellished with crystals, ribbons, pearls, and other little fun things. After I painted this she decided that she might want to be a party planner. *SIGH* Oh well..."A" for effort.

Bedazzled martini glasses for my friend, Erin Lake

I painted these glasses for a birthday present for my friend, Erin. I then bedazzled them with little crystals. The end result is a very fun glass to have some delicious beverages out of. :)

John Blandin's Painting

I made this painting for my friend, John Blanding, who is a huge sportsman/fisherman. He asked me to do a piece for his kitchen. He loves coffee so I used textured spackle for the frame of this painting and embedded real coffee beans in the spackle. I then glazed the frame. The coffee mug states, "Mountain Man Coffee Roasters--A rainbow of flavor in every cup" and has a rainbow trout coming out of the cup to grab a real fishing lure that I attached to a painted fishing pole.

Michelle Roark's Painting

I made this painting for my friend, Michelle Roark, who has her own line of perfume named "Phinomenal". She uses a lot of roses in her perfume so I took fresh rose petals, glazed them and attached them to the perimeter of the painting. Then I spritzed them with paint and fine glitter and glazed them again. The painting is my rendition of her Phinomenal logo. My medium is acrylic paint. This was also accented with swarovski crystals. A girlie girl's dream. :)

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

I'm Too Sexy for My Net, Too Sexy for My Net, So Sexy Yayah...

So I was at Costco again last week. I have been brutally honest with people who take time out of their busy day to actually read the nonsense on my blog by confessing that every time I go to Costco I buy one of their giant hot dogs and enjoy every delectable bite of the ground up, non particular animal body parts it encases. However, the last time I was purchasing my delicious tube of ground up weirdness I was a little taken aback at the gentleman checking me out at the cash register. Let me just start off by letting you all know that I'm not a huge fan of eating hair. I have done it a few times on accident and I can honestly say I didn't find it super delicious. I appreciate the concept of the hair net as much as the next person, but cash register homeboy was also going the extra mile and had a hair net on his chin pubes. Technically called a "beard hair net", this fast food fashion statement will make even the hungriest of the hungry people lose their appetite a bit. Especially since when the person wearing said beard hair net talks to you the hair net bobs up and down with every flap of their jaw. You can't help but look at it. It looks like a combination of a bad see-through Santa Clause fake beard and a jock strap for the chin. It truly is a site to behold and does make you second, third, and fourth guess the purchase of your food. I'm pretty sure it was invented by the same brilliant genius who came up with the idea for the Speedo. Although I get a little queasy thinking about the beard hair net, it's not nearly as queasy as I would be if holmes' chin pubes ended up on the wiener. All things considered though--it may be time to find another place to dine on the days I shop at Costco.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

CONGRATULATIONS!...Now stuff a sock in it!

I was at the grocery store today buying a few things that I would need for work for the next few days. I had my goods in my dorky little plastic basket that makes me feel like Little Red Riding Hood every time I pick one up. I finished my shopping and entered the check-out line. I placed my items on the conveyor belt and sat waiting behind a younger gal who had a few items--one of which was a pregnancy test. You could tell that the girl just wanted to make time through the grocery line and unfortunately the lady in front of her was slower than snail snot. This lady, while waiting for all of her items to be scanned, looked at the goods this young gal was purchasing and said, "Oh! So you must be really excited! I see you're buying a pregnancy test!" The gal looked mortified. It might as well have been over the loud speaker, "Herb, clean up in Aisle 9...OH! and the girl with the long brown hair and the blue jacket in the express lane is buying a pregnancy test! Make sure you tell her congratulations and high five her on the way out the door!" Ugh. I felt bad for her. Then, it was her turn to check out. I'll be darned if the check-out lady didn't do the exact same thing to her but only worse--she interrogated her by asking her if this was planned, if she had any other kids, etc. The girl turned about three shades of red and couldn't muster up many words--you could tell she was already uncomfortable enough. I was standing behind her in line and I felt like I needed to stage an intervention and give these people a lesson in manners and political correctness. Just a little heads-up and FYI for all you people out there: it doesn't matter if this potential bun in the oven was the most wanted little goober on the planet...NEVER EVER QUESTION AN INNOCENT WOMAN WHO IS TRYING TO BUY A BABY BATTER PEE STICK TESTER. It's just rude and it's none of your beeswax. Mkay? Mkay. :)

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Um...there seems to be a Wookie on my teeth...

I have a few lifelines at work. One of them occurs during the 5 second break I have after all of my morning shift assessments and medication administrations--the moment that I head to the nourishment room, grab little containers of peanut butter and a handful of graham crackers, and sit down at the computer to chart my assessments while chomping away ( this time it's 11:00 a.m. and I've been up since 4:30...I'm hungerized!). Another lifeline is my big honkin' mug I bring to drink ice water out of all day. I love my mug. I got it when I was going through my senior integrated practicum in labor and delivery over at Littleton Hospital. It says on the mug, "Littleton Loves Little Ones". I set this at my desk daily and find it hysterical that it's from a rival hospital corporation--but then again, I'm fairly easily entertained. Third...and super important--my addiction to my lifeline JOLLY RANCHERS. I go through a ton of them at work. I LOVE THEM. However, have you ever noticed when you eat sugary snacks that all of the fuzzy leftover weirdness just hangs out on your teeth? Or maybe it's just me--however, I feel like I'm walking around with a Wookie on my teeth all day. I NEED TO SHAVE MY TEETH! I don't think they make tooth razors though so OH WELL! I am nurse Whitney and me and my Wookie mouth will be here to take care of you all day. Good news is...I smell fruity! Well, fuzzy and fruity...

Wednesday, April 14, 2010


Why is it that every time I see a cop go by my heart sinks to the ground? As I sat out in the parking lot eating my lunch today (yeah, you heard me right...I'm the kind of girl who hides in far-off parking spaces way out in East Jeebus in the parking lot so I can suck down my food...true story) an entire squadron of po-po walked right past my car. All of them were fully decked out in uniforms that said "POLICE" on the back, bulletproof vests, and they were packin'. I froze with my food-in-hand and waited while all of them walked past both side of my car. I was still like a statue--didn't make a move. If mannequins were allowed to have driver's licenses I would've been mistaken for one, for sure. After the policemen made their way across the rest of the parking lot to Subway I finally took a deep breath and felt like I could relax and get down to business with my food again. I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG! Why do I feel this way? It's like I feel they are going to bust me for anything...ANYTHING! "Yes officer! I DID take more than my fair share of Wint-O-green Life Savers out of the bowl in the lobby the last time I had a Brazilian bikini wax!" "Yes officer...I DID call that guy a monkey effer when he cut me off on the road!" "Yes officer!...I DID flash my headlights at oncoming cars when I saw you were trying to clock people's speed to warn them that you were just over the hill waiting to bust them for speeding!" These crimes I have committed are obviously eating away at me--so much so that my heart takes the Nestea plunge every time I see the po-po go by.

Parenting 101

On our recent trip to Disneyland, Tristan and I were walking through Disney's California Adventure. I was wearing my flip flops (really cute Teva flip flops--not $0.99 cheap flip flops that you buy at Walgreens so you don't pick up foot cooties in the shower flip flops), and my 7.5 year old twins had stepped on my feet numerous times. By the 800th time of telling them to "please watch where you are walking" I had kind of lost my patience. Not only that, but it hurt! After griping and grumbling about it for a moment we all started walking over towards a ride. Tristan was holding my hand, I just shook my head and said, "Ah the fun of parenting. In all honesty 75% of parenting is not that much fun. It's the other 25% that you live for." to which he replied, "So it's kind of like summers in Fairbanks, Alaska?"

Now those of you who have not had the opportunity to spend time in Fairbanks for all two of the seasons that they have annually probably don't know what I'm talking about. Fairbanks can get down to -80F or more in the winter months (which is basically October through May). The extreme cold is not typical for more than a week or two during the year but it can consistently stay at -40F for most of the winter--enough to freeze your eyeballs anyway. Summers can go to the other extreme and get up to 100F and are usually beautiful and sunny--all day and all night long. It is the land of the midnight sun, for sure. People who live in Fairbanks live for the summers, and with temps plummeting the way they have been known to it's no wonder why. They typically have 90 days of summer and the rest of the year is...well...winter. Tristan and I attended the University of Alaska Fairbanks together so we know firsthand how much fun those bitterly cold winter months can be. When Tristan likened parenting to living for summers in Fairbanks he was dead-on.

As a parent of young children you repeat yourself, are constantly throwing out discipline and advice, and you're lucky if anyone is ever listening to you because you sound like a broken record and kids just tune you out. However, it's that moment where they listen to you, or do something fabulous to surprise you that makes all those toe-crushing moments worth while. Kinda like enduring all those harsh winter months for a fabulous summer in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

With a little style and grace...

I read an article interviewing Miley Cyrus some time back in which the reporter asked her, "If you could be like anyone in Hollywood, who would it be?" Her answer, "Jennifer Aniston." She aspired to be like "Jen" because of the fact that Jennifer had kind of been through the wringer with a few of life's most monumental events--like marriage and divorce. However, unlike a lot of bitter, jaded divorcees, Jennifer has managed to maintain, at the very least, a public image of being level-headed, calm, collected, and graceful. She has never publicly gone on a rant about Angelina Jolie, and never publicly bashed Brad Pitt. She spoke very little about what happened to her marriage and we all know surprisingly little considering she is very much in the public eye. Miley Cyrus had said that if she ever went through a divorce in the spotlight that she'd want to handle it exactly like Aniston did--with style and grace. I have to agree with the 16 year old teen mogul on this one. Even though there is no spotlight involved in my situation, as someone who has been through a divorce I think that most of my friends, even close friends, would tell you that they don't know much about what happened in my failed relationship. It's not something that I talk about in public, and it's certainly nothing I pop off about on internet social websites. There have only been a handful of times I have gone off on a tangent about my ex-husband but always realizing that ranting about it was ridiculous--that that was the whole purpose of getting make further ranting unnecessary. I have no idea who I will end up with in this life--if anyone at all, but like Miley Cyrus, I want to be like Jen, too. She is an example of how to be beautiful, talented, gracious, kind, and reasonable about the things life throws at you--even when they are life-altering and disappointing. It's certainly all the qualities and character of the woman I aspire to be. :) (and P.S. for those of you who read my blog yesterday about covering up your goodies and ditching plunging necklines who are going to rip on me for selecting this picture of Jennifer Aniston with a plunging neckline please remember that SHE IS JENNIFER ANISTON SO SHE CAN GET AWAY WITH IT...the rest of us aren't. ;)

Monday, April 12, 2010

With all due respect, ladies...

After spending nearly a week in California, supposedly one of the fashion meccas of the world, I must say I was disappointed at how people of all ages think they need to fit in with the hip trends that are targeted at young, SINGLE, twenty somethings fashion and clothing-wise. I walked down Main Street of Disneyland behind a mid 30-something gal pushing a baby stroller who was wearing Daisy Duke shorts with Ugg boots--perhaps she saw Miley Cyrus wearing them in Seventeen magazine but Miley is 16 and not pushing a baby stroller around occupied by small children who will one day be looking for guidance from said mother. I've also noticed how a lot of people in their late 20's and early 30's--heck, even 40's are still wearing plunging necklines that show everything but the "turkey buttons". Time to cover up the wrinkly cleavage and the slightly saggy ladies, girlfriends. There comes a point where showing this much skin is just, well...tacky. It is only my opinion (and I can say whatever I want cuz it's MY blog so if you disagree, fine, but it's still all mine so neener neener neener) that we LADIES should hold ourselves to a higher standard. Time to put away the plunging necklines, Daisy Dukes, and mini skirts. Time to embrace being classy and realizing that truly being SEXY means wearing clothing that actually leaves something to the imagination. I know some women think that wearing revealing clothing brings more male attention, but here's a newsflash from Whitney M. Madison: The kind of man who is attracted to me for THAT is not someone I would ever give the time of day to or ever want oogling my goodies. Stay away pervs, this fashionista momma is a class act. :)

Why THANK YOU TSA for being so observant and for keeping America safe! BTW...I just puked a little in my mouth.

So during our most recent trip to Disneyland I walked down to the security line at Denver International Airport with my herd of 4 amazing children and stood their waiting in line with the rest of the anxious travelers. The twins, Chloe and Emma, are 7.5 years old. Paige is 18 years old but she is only 4'11" tall and not that much taller than the twins. And then there's Beau. Beau is 6'4" and he was wearing his Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap that day and some pimp shades that he decided not to remove as we got past the first man at security who checks your tickets. The TSA guy looked at my ID first. He said, "Okay, mom! You're good to go." Then he checked Chloe and Emma's tickets, followed by Paige's ticket and ID, and then he got to Beau. He then said, "And you must be dad!" which made me shiver a little in every fiber of my being. I said, "Uh, no...that's my son. He's a minor. He doesn't have ID." The TSA guy was pretty embarrassed and I was pretty sick to my stomach. I realize that I am a young mom of teens but holy stromboli, Batman...NOT THAT YOUNG! And my son looks older than he is but NOT THAT OLD! It is bad when your son gets mistaken for your spouse though...I must say!

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Drop that burrito and smile for the camera, Ed!

I couldn't let John Lynch be the only (former) Denver Bronco on my blog so I decided to have Ed McCaffrey join him so he doesn't feel like the only (former) NFL football star to be exploited on this site of mindless banter. This past summer I was with my daughter and her friend getting ready to attend the Metro Station concert at Eliches. We decided to take a break from the heat and amusement park fun and head over to Illegal Pete's for a burrito that is literally the size of my head (but holy freakin' yum-o, Batman). Granted, I have kind of a pinhead but still--that's a big burrito. While chomping away at this mound of deliciousness who should walk in but Ed. Apparently Ed McCaffery likes giant head-sized burritos, too. Paige grabbed her camera and said, "I'm going to go ask him for a picture!" I got all embarrassed and said, "Aw, come on, Paiger, LET THE MAN EAT HIS BURRITO IN PEACE!" She lovingly looked at me, smiled, grabbed her camera and got up from the table. On her way over to stalk Mr. McCaffery she looked at me, giggled, and stated, "Mom, I don't have issues like you with being a creeper." Which is why she has the cool picture and I don't. ;)

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Thin Mints...YES! Samoas...NO! *DeNiEd*

On behalf of every person in America who owes the Girl Scouts a tremendous THANK YOU for the annual five pound weight gain that follows your cookie delivery I would just like to say, "THANK YOU". Now that that is out of the way I'd also like to express my frustration at the fact that I put all of my Girl Scout cookies in the freezer...yes...ALL OF THEM...not just the Thin Mints. Frozen Thin Mints are amazing. I've blown through two boxes myself this year--ALL BY MYSELF. All bets are off when Girl Scout cookie season arrives. I go from manic workout obsessed athlete to slimy mozerella cheese slurping Jaba the Hutt in no time flat. Que Problemo, Whitney Madison? or for those of you who don't speak spanish, including me and Ocho Cinco, SO WHAT'S THE PROBLEM, WHITNEY? The problem is that freezing my Samoas is the problem. I want them right now. They are frozen solid. They are not Thin Mints. If I attempt to eat one I'm going to look like someone threw a 90 mile per hour fastball at my mug--broken bueno (how do you like THAT espanol, my friends?). It's like freezing your credit cards in a block of ice so you don't use them. It's great--until you want to use them and then you look psychotic trying to bust them out of the block of ice. I want a Samoa. Not a frozen Samoa. I want a nice soft chewy one. One that doesn't exist in this house right now. It's making me very sad. Sad day. No Samoa for me. DENIED.

SON-OF-A-Bic!!!! *Mystery Solved*

I often times find that my pen-carrying technique of choice at the hospital makes for a lot of conversation with my patients and their families. Why this is, I do not know. People seem fascinated by it, when in all actuality--it's just a pen stuck in my hair. My method of carrying my pen in my hair has been something I've always done--from the time I was a Certified Nursing Assistant in the 1990's, through the pursuit of my geology degree at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and it has continued on into my career as a registered nurse. Some of my favorite questions are, "SO I BET YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR PEN, EH?" or "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU STABBED YOURSELF IN THE HEAD CARRYING YOUR PEN THAT WAY?" or "HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF STICKING MORE THAN ONE IN THERE SO IT LOOKS LIKE AND INDIAN HEADDRESS?" or "WHAT DO YOU THINK THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD LOOKS LIKE IF YOU SHAVED OFF ALL YOUR HAIR?...DO YOU THINK IT'S ONE BIG BLACK INK SPOT?" (like I would ever even consider shaving my head to see if they are correct?). The last of these quotes is why I write this evening--indeed, the mystery has likely been solved as to why I am the way I am (i.e. goofy and crazy)...I have obviously absorbed way too much Bic pen ink through my skin and it's in very close proximity to my brain. This coupled with the fact that I am an obsessive pen-writer-on-my-hand kind of gal, too. I am always taking notes on myself at work. Blood sugar numbers, vital signs, doctor's orders--you name goes on my hand. I'm not a huge Sarah Palin fan but if she were here I would fist pump her on her choice to use the same method of writing down important information. God wouldn't have given us such a nice flat hand if He didn't want us to write on it. Long story short, I've estimated that my body absorbs at least the equivalent of 3 full Bic pen cartridges every year. Anybody with that much ink running through them is bound to be a little crazy, right? :)

Friday, April 9, 2010

John Lynch FORMERLY of the Denver Broncos likes the fact that bags fly free, too!!!!

Ah yes! As we climbed aboard Southwest Airlines my children and I passed by this rockstar of an NFL football player sitting amongst us commoners!...on Southwest...the el cheap-o of el-cheap-o airlines! Apparently even super rich people like the fact that bags fly free! With four kids in tow I decided that the back of the airplane was the best place for me and my posy of offspring and as soon as we grabbed our seats and sat down with our seatbelts fastened we all grabbed our cell phones to tweet and upload Facebook status' of how we were on the plane with John Lynch of the Denver Broncos (AHEM...formerly of the Denver Broncos ;). Then what happened, since we are all linked to one another's tweets and Facebook status updates, all our phones went off to update us on one anothers status and tell us that we were on the plane with John Lynch....cuz we're dorks like that. Then we high fived each other for being so cool. Cuz we're cool like that. NOT! But true story. Then we laughed hysterically, high fived each other again, and told each other what dorks we are. Thank goodness Mr. Lynch was up about 15 rows and didn't have to listen to any of this star-struck ridiculousness. After we landed in Orange County, CA, my son, Beau, chased him down in the terminal for this picture. He was super cool about the whole thing and my son was on cloud nine. The funny part about it? son was wearing his Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap. We are HUGE Philadelphia Eagles fans. GO EAGLES! We still love you, John Lynch. You are a manimal. ;)


K, so after completely dogging heat-n-eat meals with meat on my blog yesterday and stating that the shrimp in Cup-o-Noodles is actually SeaMonkeys I ATE A COSTCO FOOTLONG HOT DOG TODAY FOR LUNCH!!! I am a hypocrite! Twelve inches of lips and butt cheeks squeezed into a sausage casing, covered with onions out a container you have to crank like a machine gun, and spicy mustard. Honestly, as disgusting as it is, it's the only thing that gets me through the trauma of actually having to shop at Costco and fighting my way through double-wide shopping carts and totally clueless people making b-lines for free food stands. UGH!!!!

By the way, I'm going to Philadelphia...

I caught a news blip the other day on television (on CNN me thinks) talking about how they are going to increase airport security by having people walk through scanners that will literally show people with no clothing on (cue flashbacks of the ancient movie "Airplane"). This all happened after the most recent terror scare where a crazy woman decided that she was going to try to put a new spin on the whole 'terrorist' thing by being the first white, female, redneck dork to cause more problems for America at the airport. Whether this whole new scanning process is total rumor/hypothetical or not, I don't know. I also heard that we should not be concerned because certain parts of our bodies would be "blurred out" so that the TSA workers could not see them--to which I thought, "Yeah basically you're going to blur out my left eye and right nostril meanwhile you'll be oogling the rest of my goodies. Awesome. I feel much better." Then I started to think, "You know, these guys/gals already sit there with rubber gloves on--why not just include a free pelvic exam or ultrasound for every woman. You already make us take our shoes off and strip down to basically nothing--just make us put a paper gown on and have an examining table with stirrups at the end of the security line. That way nobody can get away with anything. I mean, women are super unpredictable. You never know when we're going to try to make it through security with a bottle of Evian where the sun don't shine, or even perhaps a shampoo bottle that is 5 ounces instead of the alloted 3.4 ounces. Or worse embryo or fetus." You're already going to see me naked, TSA--why not give me a free examination, too? However, I might make you buy me dinner afterwards.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

What's in that shrimp Top Ramen anyhow?

This was the question posed at work the other day during our lunch break. It came up because one of the nurses was eating a heat-n-eat meal that had chicken in it. I told her that I would never eat a heat-n-eat with meat (that wasn't totally supposed to rhyme...completely coincidental) because the meat is meat/eyeball/lung/gizzard "parts"'s not real's the meat you don't want to eat (k, that rhymed, too, but crap...not my fault, people!). I likened eating a heat-n-eat with meat to eating Top Ramen with shrimp in it...which then led to the question, "Where do the shrimp in Top Ramen come from?". They are not real shrimp. They can't be. You can't cut the head and legs off of something that small. They have to be fake shrimp. You'd have to fish them out of the sea with control top pantyhose as a net. They are like Jelly Belly Jellybean shrimp--they're that tiny. My coworker then solved the mystery. She told us that they are really SeaMonkeys. Brine shrimp. Dehydrated brine shrimp. Eat up, America. That's high quality SeaMonkey right there. $0.99 well spent. 33% of your recommended daily fat intake in one beautiful non-biodegradable styrofoam cup. *SLURP!!!* YUM-Diggity*

So, listen up!...or don't. *WhAtEva*

I have unleashed the beast. Started a blog. Gone where only a few million others have gone before. Wandered into totally charted territory. Leading the way for other slow pokes who should've broken down and started a blog years ago when all the "cool" people did. Yes, the BETTER LATE THAN NEVER girl has arrived. Blogging will never be the same. High heels will be worn. Vacuum cleaners will be danced with. This blogger will have endless hours of fun exploiting herself and making ridiculous people look normal. You've been warned. :)