Top Ten: Why I Am Addicted to the Olympics

Peeps.

I don't know about you, but my entire life revolves around the Olympics right now. I have watched more television in the last four days than I have the entire summer (minus the time when I watched every episode of Roswell). Last night, I dreamt about swimming. I either need to get a new life or I need to ride this wave for the next two weeks and soak up every minute.

I am even tweeting with a few of the athletes.

I think I need an intervention.

So, after four non-stop days of my new addiction, here are my thoughts on why these games are so great:

1. Team USA. Every time the Olympics roll around, I feel like it is the 4th of July on steroids. Patriotism is running amuck and I love every second of it. I tear up every time I hear our anthem, which usually means we are getting a gold medal. Double bonus.

2. Bob Costas. It is his voice that I hear in my head anytime I think of the Olympics. He has a way of making you feel like everything is okay, even if we are getting crushed by the Chinese. And I may be wrong, but I think he actually has a sense of humor this year.

3. London. For all the turmoil and controversy that have surrounded this Olympics (security, tickets, traffic), I am an anglophile at heart. England was my first international experience (at the ripe age of 17) and I love seeing those famous landmarks that hold so many great memories for me. Besides, I love a country that has royalty. And scones.

4. Gymnastics. This has always been my favorite summer Olympic sport. For exactly three months, I too was a gymnast. I particularly rocked the balance beam and the floor routine, but then I grew 9 inches and realized I may be a better shot putter. Regardless, I am loving the Fab Five and I am constantly amazed by their athleticism and talent. My heart is a little broken over Jordyn Wieber missing the all-around because of some ridiculous rule, but maybe she can make a comeback in Rio in four years. I am totally rooting for this. Oh, and tonight's team finals should be UH-MAZING.

(SIDE NOTE: Aaagghhh! I just saw the results. I hate spoilers. But it should be a very fun evening of gymnastics!)

5. Missy Franklin. Not only do I love this girl because she is from Colorado, but I especially love her for her humility. She is unbelievable and I wish her 79 more gold medals in the future. Oh, and she is 17. Seriously.

6. The Commercials. GE. P&G. Coca-Cola. You guys are rocking it. You are making me weep like a big baby. And you are making me want to thank my mom more often. Keep it up, Corporate America. These are the kinds of commercials we need on air.

7. Diving. This sport mesmerizes me, especially the synchronized diving. Their flexibility and control are breathtaking. And I love how they all hang out in a hot tub together.

8. Motivation. I don't know about you, but I feel like the biggest slug during these games. So, I have started doing push-ups and squats during the commercial breaks in an attempt to look as good as Lolo. I have a ways to go.

9. Swimming. This is the one sport that has everyone glued to their monitors. Thanks to Michael, Ryan, Missy, Natalie and countless others, the popularity of swimming has increased dramatically over the past decade, and not just for the eye candy. I find myself screaming at the television, jumping up and down, cheering for our swimmers like I am watching college football. Granted, these races occurred seven hours earlier and the outcomes are already on the internet, but I find that I am so excited about swimming.

10. Personal Stories. I love the personal stories of the athletes. I love seeing their hometowns, I love meeting their parents, I love knowing how hard they have worked and trained to get there. They make the Olympic games personal, meaningful and more than just another sporting event. It is the process that matters, not necessarily the outcome. There are so few opportunities when countries from around the world come together and have goals in common, and these personal stories are the glue that holds it all together.


So, are you addicted like me? Will we need to go through withdrawal together? Good thing there are still 13 more days to go!

Call Me Maybe - 2012 USA Olympic Swimming Team

I love the Olympics just as much as I love Sooner football. I have been counting down the days for the past month and tonight is the big night! Not only do you have the world's best athletes coming together in one place, but you also have Will, Kate and Harry making the rounds, hanging out with the commoners.

I really think I could be friends with them. I am super common.

To get you in the Olympic spirit, check out this awesome video:




Did you get that, Ryan Lochte?

My number is 303...

GO TEAM USA!!!

A Photo Shoot of the Someday Famous

On Monday, Sam asked me if I would be available on Tuesday evening to take a few pictures of him and Danya to help publicize Treehouse Sanctum and their rise to fame. Since I am the compliant middle child, I agreed.

And after three wardrobe changes and a lengthy romp through the neighborhood, a few pictures turned into 299.

No joke. 299.

When I told them I wasn't a professional photographer, they said that is why they weren't paying me. I said that since I am their ONLY publicist and that no one else would spend two hours in the grass in the middle of July snapping pictures, that I would take a percentage of their first hit record and call it even.

I consider this an investment in my future.

So, after viewing all 299 more times than I can count, I have posted a few for your viewing pleasure.

They owe me.

BIG TIME.

Two Cowboys and a Quarterback

Way back in January, when I was in the depths of my blue funk and only ate baked goods for dinner, my wonderful friend Sara asked if I wanted to see Tim McGraw and Kenny Chesney in concert in July. I immediately took her up on that because nothing sounds better in the middle of winter than a concert outside on a warm summer evening.

Well, that concert just happened to be this past Saturday. And let me tell you something: Mile High Stadium will never be the same again.

First, Tim McGraw came on stage and the crowd went ballistic, especially the women.

Because let's be honest, the man knows how to wear a pair of jeans.

The crowd was screaming and singing and dancing and screaming some more.

It was cowboy pandemonium.

Next, after a 30 minute hiatus, Kenny Chesney hit the stage, and again, the crowd went crazy! The entire stadium rocked. He even rode in on a chair lift, swinging high above the crowds, carrying him from one stage to another. I was wishing for that same exact chairlift as we hiked the 13 miles back to our car.

Trust me, this really is a picture of Kenny Chesney.

And then, just when the crowd couldn't get more excited, Payton Manning walked out on stage and everyone's heads exploded.

I am pretty sure you could hear the screams from Kansas because there is nothing this Denver crowd likes more than country music and football. It was their own version of utopia and it was pretty awesome to watch. It's a good thing football season is around the corner because I don't think this town can wait too much longer.

To top it all off, Tim came back out and they ended the show singing a few songs together, including "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy," which just happened to be a favorite of mine back in the days when I dated a guy who had a tractor. And yes, I did think it was sexy.

Needless to say, this concert rocked and I would highly encourage you to see them live if you get the chance. And they should seriously consider asking quaterbacks to join them on the road. They have a way with crowds, especially if the crowds are counting on them to win the next Superbowl.

Righteous Music for a Summer Evening

Treehouse Sanctum, otherwise known as my big brother and his amazingly talented friend Danya, are playing this Friday night at Paris on the Platte and I really think you should come.

All of the cool kids will be there.

Like me. And my mom.

And, one of my friend's from high school is opening for them. She is UH-MAZING! I am going just to hear her, but don't tell Sam I said that.

So, if you have nothing to do on a glorious summer evening, and you really want to hang out and listen to fantastic music, come and join me. If you live out of state there is still plenty of time to hop on a plane. I'll pick you up at the airport if you ask nicely.

Here are the details:
Who: Treehouse Sanctum (and other cool people)
Where: Paris on the Platte (1549 Platte St, Denver, Colorado)
When: 9:00 pm-midnight

And here is one of my favorite songs of theirs. Check it:



See you tomorrow!

Homeward Bound

Oh people. You know how how to get the party started! Thank you for your notes of jubilation and joy. You have made this week even better, if that were possible! See, here is my excited face:

I know that I never shared with you that my dad's hearing was on Monday. To be honest, I didn't have the heart to do it. I did not think the judge would allow him to be transferred and I didn't want to build it up and then have to experience the let down. There have been too many of these let-downs in the past nine months. In my mind, Monday was going to come and go and everything would have stayed the same: Dad in Alamosa, the rest of us in Denver, nine more years to endure. Horrible in every way.

But God.

He had other plans.

I didn't attend the hearing on Monday. Before, we have filled the courtroom with friends (all a part of the international cheerleading team of awesomeness), but this time it was decided that it would be better to keep it low-key. In a way, I am really glad I didn't need to be there. I can only take so many lies said about my dad without wanting to go all ninja warrior princess on someone. So instead, I just went to work and waited for my phone to buzz.

Monday was a really, really long day.

By 4:00, I received the text that my dad's sentence had been reduced by a few years and that he had been given permission to transfer to Denver. Since my dad has graduated out of Camp Alamosa and now lives in an apartment, this transfer will mean he gets to live at home.

As in, home. As in, he gets to mow his own lawn again.

I honestly don't have the words to tell you how blown away I was by this news. (Well, maybe I have a few words.) I just sat in my chair, stunned. And then I cried. And then I laughed. And then I praised. Over and over again.

We are still waiting for the paper work to go before my dad can actually move back, but that will hopefully happen very soon. I am just glad that Denver has a few Walmarts to help him with the transition.

Transferred

Guess who received permission to be transferred home yesterday?

A party of epic proportions is in the works, my friends.

EPIC.

A Survivor's Tale: Running with the Bulls

Eleven years ago, my Ferris Bueller of an older brother decided it would be fun (crazy-psycho dangerous) to run with the bulls. He had been backpacking through Europe with two of his friends when they just "happened" to be near Pamplona the same weekend of the running.

It could have been detrimental to my mom's health and my ability to ever eat beef again if we had actually been there with him, but we did receive an email from him shortly after his run, saying (and I quote), "no embellishment nor even honest prose could explain the mood and sheer terror that surrounded that moment."

Awesome. Sounds like fun.

Recently, Sam wrote an account about that day, vividly reliving those moments as he hurled himself down cobbled streets, narrowingly missing the sharp tip of a bull horn. And today, I am here to share that with you. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy an excerpt from his story. It's a great motivator for the treadmill.

The clamor was intense. Chaos defined, too many people, then, abruptly, in one step, it went quiet, no noise, just a fluid movement, gaining speed and confidence with each step. A symphony ensued. I felt apart from it all, totally internal. There was only blurs of white and red and grey. Bodies became objects to avoid. Two of these objects bumped into each other, I ran directly through the collision point as their forms fell away. Within a few meters I turned a left bending corner, keeping to the center right. Instantly everything became silhouetted. The rays of sunshine streamed between the city buildings and onto the ancient, slick cobblestone street below. I was blinded for a moment and nearly tripped over a man who angled in front of me. My camera was in my right hand. I raised that arm, turned the lens toward my pursuers and took a picture of the scene from which I had just passed. Click. An image of my shoulder in the foreground, the cobblestone, wide eyed runners, and the leg of a bull was captured. My eyes struggled to adjust; the warm glare of morning sun rays engulfed my face. Shadows formed and dissipated rapidly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone hurdle a stooping, indolent participant.

This contracted causeway was precarious; no place to exit. Only the stucco walls of a building extending into the sunlight. No sunken doorway within which to hide and cower. My feet felt light, I may have been running fast or slow, I don’t know. I jumped over two people huddling together near the wall. Looking ahead for refuge and seeing none. A strange sense of being stalked seeped in; quickly, I glanced back and to the left. The dark lead bull was 10 feet behind and 3 feet over and moving with purpose. At that moment, the confusion ceased and fear took hold. His right horn was white and enormous, his head the size of my parent’s TV set from 1981. I saw a cross street was coming up in 25 meters or so. These intersections are blocked by two rows of fences, which are erected to keep the bulls progressing down the historic route to the arena of their ultimate demise and to offer a last second sanctuary to the hunted runner. I noticed the runners in front of me were abandoning the thought of making it to the fence, and were ducking and rolling to the side in hopes of avoiding a foot, hoof or horn. This was hysteria, a stampede. Tunnel vision, I began to pray.

Harder now with a burning in my lungs and tightening of my body. The fence appeared, fifteen feet ahead, the black bull was less than two steps behind, his right horn near my left elbow. His momentum centered on my back. Time went into slow motion. I was flying, propelled by a consuming fear. Each step lasted an eternity. I felt hunted, escape in two steps or be overtaken, the boiling point had been hit. Where was my refuge point? I saw no immediate perch with which to occupy. My right foot planted and pushed down and forward. Witnessing my predicament and obvious distress, a huddled, terrified and confused runner currently occupying the sanctuary shifted ever so slightly. His eyes opened wide, the person hanging next to him inhaled sharply. My left foot came forth, struck the surface, I planted, leaned, cut hard in full stride and dove, terror-filled. Head first I flew, twisting in the air, between a pair of legs through an opening just atop the second rail, which stood at four feet. As my legs followed my torso beyond the barrier, I saw, felt and heard the black bull hip check the fence. A scream, a contestant fell from the fence. I sailed sharply forward then came crashing down onto the crown of my head, jarring my senses and vision, the right elbow impacted the tightly lined rocky street. I bounced with dullness from the momentum; the plastic camera remained glued to my hand. Some peculiar instinct caused me to reach out, to touch my pursuer as he passed. In one motion, while contorting, my left arm thrust behind and back but missed the bull’s right rear limb as he passed. I popped to my knees and dove forward and left, tried to snap a picture but in my haste had neglected to wind the film. The bull took two more steps then disappeared down the corridor.

More bulls passed, the person who fell from the fence was tumbling beneath hooves, more screaming then runners trailing the pack. I dropped, looked around and saw people staring at me, at the scene, the storm’s wreckage. There was a pool of blood in the street, it was growing, a woman lay motionless as a paramedic attended her. She was lying just a few feet from me. The paramedics moved with speed, the woman was unconscious. I was shaking and dazed. I crawled through the fence and back into the street. Where was Kurt? Surreal shell shock, my ears were ringing, sounds finally reaching my brain.


Retracing my steps. Another body in the street with red coats surrounding him. As I moved toward this wounded participant, three more bulls came into my peripheral. I jumped to one side instinctively then felt ridiculous after I realized they weren’t the angry bulls. They moved more slowly. The sweeping bulls; lumbering and huge. They passed. I crossed toward the damage. The man was on a stretcher, being handed through the fence to additional medical personnel. The medics were business like, quick and focused on their duties and unaffected by the carnage. Blood, like watery tomato sauce, splattered the stone in no particular pattern; the wounded one had dark hair, his eyes were open and he was scared; not Kurt.

Making my way back to the church, I found Kurt standing, holding our bags. Adrenaline coursed hard through my veins, a high unlike any other. We shared our experiences, his excitement was evident, a new commonality in our history established. We turned and walked toward the bullring, not as heroes, but as survivors. The sun was higher now, illuminating more of the roadway we’d just run. We found Mitten, near the narrow archway that designated the entrance to the arena from the running corridor. From there we exchanged stories and started making our way, through the city’s historic labyrinth, toward the bus stop. An hour later, as I sat atop an ancient wooden keg barrel, I started to shake. This lasted for 5 minutes, after which I rose and moved quickly around the nearest corner and vomited. Standing next to a green dumpster filled with festival shrapnel, I was unashamed. Later I boarded a bus returning to the coast, to San Sebastian and our small room next door to the kind lady with the child. While looking out the window as we entered the Basque countryside, I slipped into an unconscious state and snored with my mouth agape.

Top Ten: Fashion Faves of the Summer

I love and adore fashion.

And I especially love summer fashion. And since summer is nearly half-way over (CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT!?), I have scoured the internet (namely, Pinterest) to bring you my favorite fashionable items that make me oh-so happy this time of year.

SIDE NOTE: I usually gravitate towards items that I know will look good on my body type. I have to wear somewhat tailored clothing because I have hips. It's true, I do. The minute I go baggy, I begin to look like a walking tent. And let's be honest, what girl wants to look like a mobile home?

Exactly.

So, without further ado, here you go:

1. Cowgirl Boots. As you know, you can wear these year-round, but I find that the summer is when I wear mine the most. These are killer, by the way, KILLER.

 

2. Coral. This is the absolute best color, ever. It looks great on every skin tone and immediately brightens you up. Bust this out, people.

3. Neutrals. I love wearing white/khaki/black/brown this time of year. It is classic. You cannot go wrong.

4. Turquoise. This color has the ability to make any outfit say "Hey, look at me! I am gorgeous!" It is the perfect accessory color with neutrals, navy blues, pinks/corals and jeans. And you should totally wear it in every season.

5. Stripes. Oh, I love a good trend, and stripes are definitely the trend of the season! I am sure the pirates are happy.

6. Maxi skirts. I love these skirts because they are oh-so comfortable. You can dress them up or down and always look great. And bonus points if you pair it with a jean jacket.



7. Sundresses. Of all the things I love to wear in the summer, the sundress and the white t-shirt are tied for the top spot. This season there are so many sundresses to choose from and they come in every color. A veritable rainbow, if you will.

8. Red. I am LOVING red this season. Red jeans. Red chinos. Red skirts. And if you have a fabu pair of heels to wear with them then we should totally be best friends.

9. Maxi dresses. If the maxi skirt and the sundress had a baby, you would get the maxi dress. I love the one-shoulder look below and I love how the blue one is paired with a belt. Brilliant.

10. Strappy Sandals.  Flats. Heels. Yes, please.

So, what are your faves? I know you have some.

The Spiritually Lazy Saint

Let it be known that Oswald Chambers knows how to lay the smack down.

As I mentioned earlier this week, I have been in a spiritual drought lately. It's not that I felt distant from God, I know that He has remained close by. It has been more of a feeling of apathy, of not caring. Of wanting to take a break from the battle, the refinement and the suffering.

I have wanted a spiritual vacation so I could be spiritually lazy.

However, it appears that laziness is not the greatest of virtues.

(DANG IT.)

In fact, not once did Jesus talk about taking a break from our relationship with Him. It was quite the opposite, actually. He said that our every word should be a prayer. Our every act should be in honor to Him. Our very existence is for His glory. Laziness was not part of His vocabulary.

(Again. DANG IT.)

Oswald puts it like this:

The true test of our spirituality occurs when we come up against injustice,

degradation, ingratitude, and turmoil, all of which have the tendency

to make us spiritually lazy. While being tested, we want to use prayer

and Bible reading for the purpose of finding a quiet retreat.

We use God only for the sake of getting peace and joy.

We seek only our enjoyment of Jesus Christ, not a true realization of Him.

This is the first step in the wrong direction.

All these things we are seeking are simply effects, and yet we try to make them causes.

Yeah, I pretty much needed to read that.

The "vacation" is officially over.

First Half of 32

Today is my half-birthday. (Please, no gifts.) But I do like to recognize this day solely for the fact that my birthday comes 15 days after Christmas, smack-dab in the middle of winter, when no one has the desire to celebrate nor has any money for presents. July 9 just seems like a much happier day.

I decided that it would be a good idea to do a review of the list I wrote six months ago. I have included it for you as a reminder, because to be honest, I had forgotten about this list so I really don't expect you to remember it either.

Without further ado, here it is. You may need to take a nap afterward.

1. Eat more fish. I have never liked seafood but I am learning to like salmon. And perhaps if salmon doesn't taste too bad, then other slimy water-dwelling creatures don't taste half-bad either. Let's hope so. I had some salmon two months ago. Success!

2. Wear shorts. This was a goal last year that fell short when I rediscovered cream cheese frosting. But I am determined to overcome that current obsession.  I have successfully graduated out of my cream cheese phase (minus the cake I devoured on the 4th of July) but my legs are not quite ready for shorts. Almost, but not quite. They're a little shy.


3. Travel to a new country. Tunisia, Egypt, New Zealand, Peru and Cyprus all sound exciting right now.  For those of you who are new to this site, I hopped on a plane in March and explored all that Tunisia had to offer, minus the Star Wars set. It was fantastic. Oh, and I totally think Vegas counts too.

4. Renew my passport so I can travel to a new country. This happened. See above.

5. Have regular quiet time in the mornings. This is so hard for me but it makes such a huge difference in my day. Oh gosh. Here is my brutal reality check. This is still not happening, people. Partly because I have been in a bit of a spiritual drought lately and the other part is because I have been staying up too late watching reruns on Hulu. However, today I woke up with the desire to do this and I consider that half the battle.

6. Highlight my hair. Granted, this can be difficult with hair as dark as mine but I am thinking it is time to spruce it up a little. Besides, I am tired of plucking out gray hairs with my tweezers. I did this. And I love it. And I haven't had to use my tweezers in a very long time.


7. Take a road trip or four. I live for the open highway and a box of Crunch 'n' Munch. I have taken approximately 20 road trips to Alamosa. Does that count?


8. Save more money. There is something so rewarding about not spending money. I am doing fantastically well at this unless there is something new I want to buy, like high heels or a cruise.


9. Do yoga regularly. This has yet to happen.


10. Donate or throw away things that I do not use or do not wear. After moving last week, the last thing I want to do is haul that stuff around again. Oh, this happens regularly. I clean out my closet almost every month. It is so liberating.


11. Fall in love. It's just time, people. I think we all know that this one is still waiting in the wings. But at least he has a letter to help him figure it out.


12. Give myself more grace. God pours it out but I often refuse it. I need to embrace it, forgive myself and move on. Oh man. I am pretty sure I will work at this for the rest of my life.


13. Play more golf. And that means more than just the driving range. So far, I have only gone to the driving range. But I am pretty sure there is a Par 3 with my name on it.


14. Wear heels more often. They do wonders for your butt. You better believe this is happening. I bought a pair of gold sparkly heels that are so fabulous I could just scream.


15. Set better boundaries. I am really working on this but boundaries can quickly become blurred. As my sister says "own your yard," meaning I don't need to take care of your yard and my yard and my neighbor's yard and everyone else's yard. My yard is big enough, thank you. Owning a yard takes a lot of work and boundaries are the only thing that keep it from becoming too big. I love boundaries, don't you?


16. Take better care of my skin. It's a bit parched these days. There has been an improvement in this area! For my birthday, I asked for gift cards to Origins. And after a lot of research and smelling each sample, I have finally found the most amazing night cream for my face. For all the girls out there, you know this is a major victory in the area of self preservation and hydration. I only wish I could bathe in it.


17. Be more spontaneous. This is so darn tricky for me because I love to plan! And planned spontaneity does not count. So, give me a holler and ask me to do something. I'll do my best to not bring my planner along with me. I am planning on doing this more often.


18. Attempt to wear leggings. Oh gosh, this could be disastrous. Yeah, this hasn't happened yet. Granted, it has been 169 degrees here lately but I may aim to accomplish this in the Fall. I will keep you posted.


19. Listen to Noah. Soak up his stories, his theories on life, his imagination and his advice for my love life (oh, believe me, he has them). He is growing up so fast. I love this one. And yes, he does have some pretty amazing stories, like telling me that I am the fifth most beautiful person, right after Mary, Jesus' mother.

20. Be more bold. And this includes my actions, my words, my stance on what I believe, my fashion choices and lipstick color. I am wearing red pants with a turquoise necklace, does that count? And I have found that as I accept more grace and draw better boundaries, my boldness jumps in. I love how that works.


21. Get some muscle definition. Apparently I lost my muscles over the Christmas season. With the inclusion of squats and push-ups, and with the exclusion of cookie dough, this is beginning to happen. I'll let you know if the trade-off is worth it.

22. See more of my extended family. And that means you Becky, Matt, Jenny, Charley, Kellie, Nathan, Sherri, Edwin, Tammy, Duwayne, Rick, Kim, Diane, Terry, Lori, Thad, Spencer, Amy, Alan, Carolyn, Bruce, Chelsea, Katie, Vadim, McKenzie, Kristen, Chad, Marge, Larry, Dedra, Dale, Donna, Don, DeLynn, Linda, Mike, Tim, Kathy, Shane, Erica, John, Jenny, Patricia, Tyler, Ryan, Pamela and the two sets of twins. Plus the other 28,480 that I did not mention. Sadly, this has not happened. I saw a few cousins in May but that is it. And considering I have many, many more to see, I should probably get on this. Of course, they could always come to Colorful Colorado for a visit...


23. Be radical for Jesus. I am not sure what this looks like but I'm game. I really, really want this.

24. Sleep more. Yes, please. I have found that I sleep more on the weekends yet sleep less during the week. I am assuming those two are connected.

25. Laugh more. Yes, please. Peeps, I have some very funny friends! (And yes, I am talking about you, Melissa.) And I also have an older brother who just has to walk by me and I start laughing. The more these people are in my life, the more I am laughing.


26. Exercise more. My treadmill and I have been estranged, it's time to rekindle the relationship. Done and done.


27. Bake more. Yes, please. Actually, I have baked less this year (see #'s 2, 21 and 26), but I have something fun to share with you very soon that may have me baking like a crazy woman! 


28. Be less judgemental. Camp Alamosa is really helping with this. In progress...

29. Stop obsessing over my appearance. Give it a rest, Sarah. Give it a rest. Oy ve. Sometimes I am highly successful at this; other times this threatens to take over my life. I am not sure if that is normal.


30. Bake homemade bread. I am still afraid of yeast but I think this is the year to conquer it. Fingers crossed. I am still totally afraid of yeast. Perhaps October will be a good month to tackle this.


31. Be less fearful of failure, pain, disappointment, embarrassment and vulnerability. Come to terms with the fact that I DO NOT have it all together. Why in the world did I write this? Of course I have it all together.


32. Be a guest host on Saturday Night Live. I am just waiting to hear from Lorne Michaels. He said he would get right back to me.


So, how is the first half of your year shaping up?

The Thursday That Feels Like Monday

Is anyone else confused about having a day off in the middle of the week and then going back to your normal routine for only two days before you have a real weekend?

Okay, good, because I thought I forgot to do something over the weekend only to discover that my weekend starts the day after tomorrow. I feel like I am living in the past and the future AT THE SAME TIME.

So, my 4th of July was one of the most low-key in holiday history. I went from one lawn chair to another, eating everything that looked good, watching an assortment of bicyclers, scooterers, runners, walkers, skippers and pedalers all from my very own front yard.

My parent's neighborhood goes all out for this holiday. At 8:00, the day kicked off with a 5K around the neighborhood. Sam, Carr and Noah ran in it and Noah came in 2nd place for kids 15 and under. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? That kid is like Forrest Gump.

That's my brother in the all-red.  Apparently some people like to run for fun. Weirdo.

After the race, came the parade. It was a feast for the eyes as people tried to out-do each other on the patriotic color scheme.

Following the parade, there were relay races, a dog show, a water slide, a cookout, a pie baking contest, swimming races and live music. Frivolity was running amuck. So much so that I had to take a nap.

And then I got up and ate this cake with homemade ice cream.

It was a zucchini cake with cream cheese frosting, otherwise known as my love language. I would say it was a fairly productive day!

For now, however, I must get back to my Monday/Thursday and try to find a way to stay motivated for the second half of my week. I am just glad tomorrow is Tuesday/Friday.