That one time I had to go to driving school...Part 1

Those who know me probably would call me a cautious driver and definitely not a speed demon. When forced to finally get my learner's permit, I was the kid who got an A+ in Driver's Ed and was nicknamed "Binoculars" by my teacher -- if I could see the faintest sign of a car, I wasn't turning until it had passed. Driving wasn't my thing, but if I HAD to do it, you could bet I was going to do it with extra caution.

The cars bestowed upon me by my parents further perpetuated my slow and steady driving habits, and when I went off to college in my 4-cylinder Geo Metro, I knew I wouldn't be breaking any land speed records. In all honesty, without a strong tail wind, it was hard enough getting up to highway speeds let alone exceeding them.

Sadly, my twenty-first year of life wasn't my greatest year behind the wheel. In November, shortly after Thanksgiving break, I got pulled over for the first time. I was driving back to my campus apartment after a long evening shift at Hy Vee, and I was going 35 down the side street, which I believed to be the speed limit and had for the 3 years I'd lived in Sioux Center. But, apparently, it was a residential area and, while not posted, the speed limit was 25.

My first encounter with a cop resulted in a ticket and a healthy dose of embarrassment since he pulled me over in my apartment parking lot and 90 percent of my friends and acquaintances walked by while I was sitting in the police cruiser. People who talked about these things called "warnings" we're immediately dubbed liars. If I couldn't get out of that ticket with a PERFECTLY clean driving record, then I was positive warnings didn't exist.

Fast forward to January. I am driving back to campus after winter break. I'm going downhill, my windshield is completely covered in slushy grossness from a passing semi, and I am desperately trying to figure out why my windshield washer fluid won't come out. I pass a cop going the other direction. He turns around and comes after me. I have NO idea how fast I was going, but the cop says it was 65. Who's he kidding!?! I'm driving a GEO METRO. No warning, very few words exchanged, and I pull away with ticket number 2...in less than 2 months. Crap.

Now, it's summer. June to be exact. I'm taking a trek to Storm Lake for a little family reunion with the boyfriend's family, and I'm feeling pretty good. I'm a year older, a year wiser. It's been a few months since my last encounter with law enforcement, and I'm being hyper-aware of my speed.

I'm cruising through Alta, Iowa, and slowing down to make sure I don't miss the turn I'm looking for. In fact, I am going 40 in what I believe to be a 45 mph speed zone. BUT, as I reached the edge of the half-mile long town and passed the 55 mph sign, I started to accelerate only to see flashing lights in my review mirror. Seriously!?!

I pull over fully expecting to see the police car go past me and after some other law crushing citizen. But no such luck. The speed limit was actually 35 through town, and I had missed the speed limit sign while looking for street signs indicating my turn off. I tried to explain that I'd never been to Alta and was trying not to get lost and simply missed the sign indicating the drop in speed. And, for a second, I had hope. It really looked like he wanted to let me off.

But then he asked for my license and registration, walked back to his car, and came back a few minutes later with a freshly penned ticket. Gross.

He explained that while he sympathized with my situation, he couldn't ignore my driving record. He hoped this final ticket would be the wake-up call to get my habitual speeding under control.

While he chided me, I pretended to be contrite and show an appropriate level of disappointment and self-deprecation. Deep down, I was hoping the pain and sadness in my eyes would convince him to tear up the ticket and send my on my merry way...I was also contemplating my punishment if I forcefully opened my car door into his shins and drove off a-la Bonnie and Clyde while he hopped around in pain. Since I'm not currently writing this from prison, I clearly opted to remain calm and take my verbal whippings.

However, by this time, I was convinced the system was out to get me...but I would pay this fine, as I had the other two before, and seriously consider hiring a professional chauffeur. Civic responsibility, blah, blah, blah, at least I live in America and won't face the death penalty for speeding, blah, blah, blah.

THEN, in October (more than 4 months AFTER my last ticket), while I was completing my final semester of college in the great city of Chicago. I got a little letter that replaced my civic responsibility attitude with one of righteous indignation. I was being summoned to driving school...in two weeks...in western Iowa...and I had to pay $75 for the class.

I did what any self-respecting, grown-up, independent college kid would do. I called my mom. See, I was LIVING in Chicago until December, without a car, and no way to get back to Iowa for driving school.

Mom talked me off the ledge and encouraged me to see if there was any way to reschedule and attend a different class. Thankfully, the Iowa DOT is an understanding lot and would allow me to reschedule, for the low, LOW fee of $50.

Sweet. Now, I get to pay $125 for 8 hours of driving school, and icing on the cake, the next available date, which I MUST take unless I'd like to lose my license, is a Saturday in December -- the same day my boyfriend, who would become the Hubbs, is scheduled to graduate with his associate's degree.

Let's just say, I wasn't going to win any awards for driver OR girlfriend of the year...BUT, what I didn't know then, that I know now, is this experience would provide some pretty hilarious stories from driving school.

Come back this weekend, dear readers, for driving school, part 2. It's a gem and far to much to document in one single post... clearly I've been bit by the blogging bug again.

Who is this person?!?

Who is this person?!?

My gym membership is limited and only allows me to go in on Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I woke up today – a non-gym day – and I WANT to work out.

WHAT!?! This is so NOT like me.

When I was a kid, my parents had to force me to go outside and play, and my version of "playing outside" was to sit on the porch reading a book while my brother rode his bike or threw his football around.

All through grade school, junior high and high school, Phys Ed class was my LEAST favorite point of the week. When we did fitness tests, I knew I had to complete my mile run/walk in at least 15 minutes, and I would cross the finish line at 14:59. My philosophy: Least amount of physical effort required. It's just PE and exercise is LAME-SAUCE. Plus, I don't think PE went toward or against your GPA…

Now, as an adult, I still have a recurring dream that I'm back in high school, have essentially skipped Phys Ed for an entire semester and am in jeopardy of not graduating because I'm failing Phys Ed. (I also have a similar dream where Phys Ed is replaced with Advanced Math…childhood trauma really sticks with a person).

But to be honest, this failing Phys Ed dream isn't too far off from reality. I was a Freshman and had missed the two weeks of school (hospital stay due to Mono) and was still recovering, so I had to sit out of Phys Ed class for a solid month.

The policy was if you missed a class you had to write a report on a sport of your choosing. Now, a normal person would use the time they were sitting out of PE class to write said reports, but I put it off. You technically had until the end of the semester to turn in all your reports so I used my downtime on the gymnasium bleachers to work on homework that had stricter deadlines.

Fast forward to a few weeks left in the semester. I was shopping at the local Pamida with my mom (a former high school teacher who was still very acquainted with the high school staff), when the Phys Ed teacher walked up and shared that I was getting a D in Phys Ed and needed to turn in my SIX OUTSTANDING REPORTS or else.

Pretty sure my mom chewed my butt the entire 15 mile car ride home while I complained about it not being fair because I couldn't help that I had Mono. But fair or not, I spent the rest of my weekend writing Phys Ed reports, and I passed Phys Ed with a more respectable B.

However, that NEAR fail didn't change my ideas on the whole PE front. While the teachers rambled on about fitness, blah, blah, lifetime of activity, blah, blah, healthy, blah … I was thinking: Phys Ed is dumb … I hate getting sweaty in the middle of the school day … Public showers suck … If lifetime fitness is so important, why are all my Phys Ed teachers a little heavy? … Shoot. I can't remember my locker combination. What if I have to wear my smelly, nasty PE clothes ALL DAY LONG?!?

However, in the last 5 years, I've gone from my lightest adult weight to my heaviest adult weight, and maybe an occasional game of capture the flag or prison ball WOULD'VE made all the difference in the world.

So here's to you Mr. Swivel, Swivel, Jump (J. High PE teacher who taught us the Macarena) … sorry I judged you when you when you wore your tight, red polyester shorts. Your confidence (or complete lack of fashion sense) made them look good.

Vacation Update: Compliment Challenge

At the start of our vacation, the BFF and I decided we should try to spread a some of our vacation happiness to those we encountered on our trip -- especially those who were serving us in some capacity.

The rules started off pretty simply ... Provide a unique compliment (no reusing) to as many people as possible and address them by name (as most of the service personal we encountered were wearing name tags).

I started off pretty strong with my first compliment directed at the gate attendant working C8 at the Atlanta airport. She had a rich voice as she called boarding zones, so naturally, as she scanned my boarding pass, I said, "Michelle, you have a voice for radio." My off-hand compliment solicited a pretty genuine smile from Michelle and a few laughs from the passengers behind me in line...and I boarded the plane feeling pretty darn proud of myself for my originality and kindness.

But then we went to dinner at P.F. Chang's in Ft. Lauderdale during our first night of vacation...and the Compliment Challenge evolved into the Complicated Compliment Challenge as the rule list grew exponentially:

1) Provide a unique compliment to as many people as possible and address them by name
3) Extra points if you can use alliteration (the longer the alliteration the higher the points) (i.e. Anna was always amazing and attentive at an attractive autobahn....one caveat: the longer the alteration, the less sense the compliment made)
4) Extra points if you can use a homophone -- words that sound alike but with different meanings and spellings. (i.e. for the man operating the wave-rider surf simulator, "Bodacious Brad, your brawny bod kept me far from bored during my first boogie board experience."...see how I worked in some alliteration, too. DOUBLE POINTS!!!)

Most of these rules evolved due to lack of sleep and the punchy, slap-stick behavior it prompted. For a good portion of dinner, we talked primarily in alliteration. Apparently, that's what happens when you put two sleep deprived writers together...if given enough time, things just kind of spiral and words like alliteration, homophone and homonym get thrown about until you've completely gone of course but don't recognize that you've taken a detour.

So when we paid our bill at P.F. Chang's, we wrote a compliment on receipt with the tip for our server Amanda, and we upped the ante by working in some alliteration.

Amanda, you're amazingly awesome! :)

Fabulous. We were ROCKING the Compliment Challenge.

Then we walked back to the hotel. Giggling and acting like fools because we were WAY PAST tired. And, the valet desk guy said, "Have a great night ladies." And, rather than let it ride with a simple, "Thanks," I decided to get in another alliteration compliment.

I was too far away to read his name tag so, I respond, "Hey, thanks. What's your name?" He responded, "Kevin." To which I go, "Well, Kevin..." Long dramatic pause while I rack my brain for any adjectives that start with the letter K. "...you've been...." Another pause while I futilely try to convince my overly tired brain to come up with even an adjective that starts with a K sound. No dice. "you've been faaaannnntasic."

Yep. Compliment Challenge fail. Best of all, as we rode up the elevator the BFF and I came up with an alliterative compliment that I would've been proud to share with Kevin..."Keep killin' it, Kev!!!" Now, I can't figure out why my brain couldn't have pulled that beaut out 10 minutes earlier, but I stashed it away on the chance we'd encounter another K named person on our trip.And, we vowed to do better the next day.

Then we got on the cruise ship and encountered "Iujlia." After a terrified look at one another that said, "I have NO idea how to pronounce that," we realized it might be best to keep the Compliment Challenge simple so we didn't have to ask every international service person on our cruise ship how to pronounce their names before we could compliment them.

So, that's what we did, and we still had fun genuinely thanking and complimenting those we interacted with. And, I think it was universally appreciated.

My challenge to you all...try the Compliment Challenge this week with those you encounter. You might be surprised how well it's received and how much it brightens your week in addition to the weeks of those you compliment (by name when possible).

If you want to work in some of the extra points methods, my one piece of advice is to tread lightly. I'd hate for you to have your very own Kevin moment...because it's awkward...and seems like you're completely hitting on said individual. Sorry, Kev. I hope you still got a smile at my expense.

Vacation Update: Stalker Gawker

Our cruise vacation was a trip for two, but come dinner time. My BFF and I often felt like we had a third member in our dining party -- Stalker Gawker.

You see, Stalker Gawker was a man who was technically traveling with who we assumed to be his wife; however, his mind and eyes seemed to be pretty focused on our table. And, honestly, I can't blame the guy. We were looking tip-top, enjoying our food and conversation, laughing with abandon, and making friends with our wait staff. I'd have given him a free glance or two per dining hour without a second thought. Let's face it, we were having a good time, and who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

BUT, with as much as he was staring, I was concerned his food wouldn't make it in his mouth because he was SOOO completely focused on us. To save his stylish plaid shirts from unsightly food stains, I seriously considered pulling up a chair for Stalker Gawker.

With our normal seating arrangement, my BFF had her back to Stalker Gawker, and therefore got a lot of me saying, "SERIOUSLY?!? Again with the staring!" However, on the final day of our cruise, I decided it was my civic duty to spread the love and give the BFF a taste of unbridled admiration care of the one and only Stalker Gawker. Through our little experiment, we discovered Stalker Gawker wasn't just partial to awkwardly watching me eat ... he had plenty of stares for the BFF, too. And, like any good blogger, I thought it only appropriate that we document our third travel buddy so I'd have a visual when I shared the story with my dear readers.

So, I give you exhibit A, Stalker Gawker caught in the act:

Yep, we're sly ladies. The BFF pretended to be capturing my dinner smile and some of the beautiful dining room, and as she captured the shot, Stalker Gawker glanced our way. PERFECT TIMING!!! This image was essentially my view as I dinned for the entire week.

So, PSA to all you "people watchers," (I'm totally one of them): Limit your staring and/or spread the wealth so it's not QUITE as obvious that you've completely singled out a person or two. You'd hate to be the next profiled Stalker Gawker on some strangers blog. AND, if you happen to recognize our dear Stalker Gawker, encourage him to focus just a tad more on the company he's with rather than the ladies at a neighboring table.

More BFF cruise vacation photos and stories to follow ... so get ready for that business.

My Little Kid Excited Face

I just returned from a FABULOUS cruise vacation with my BFF and if I had to sum it up the first thing that comes to mind is Little Kid Excited Face (LKEF).

You see, when I'm REALLY enjoying myself, my LKEF comes out in full force. AND THERE WAS A TON OF LKEF ON THIS VACATION.

Here's a sampling (note: if you read the captions as if they're typed in all caps, you get more of the LKEF effect):

In Florida outside our hotel...look it's a palm tree. I promise I've seen one before,
but by the look on my LKEF and my Vanna White pose, you'd think it's my first time.

Hey, hey. I'm swimming in the ocean off of Haiti. No, again, not my first time
 in the ocean...but with the LKEF I can see how someone might think that. 

They left these drums unattended on our Haitian cultural tour...
naturally, I'm going to pose with them...and bust out the LKEF.

Replicating my first day of school photo. Why?
Because I'm wearing my pack-back. Duh. LKEF coming out a little.

Check out the LKEF ... I'm being "team captain" for our section during a
game show style challenge on the ship. WOOT WOOT team 7!!!

Slightly obscured, but you can still see the gaping mouth LKEF smile
as I get ready to para-sail. This actually was my first time.

And, the most prominent LKEF of them all. I'm dancing with a DOLPHIN.
Pretty sure my dentist could check for cavities just by looking at this photo.

I hope you've enjoyed this vacation recap and introduction to my LKEF. More vacation stories will be posted in the near future...so get EXCITED!!! Yep, pretty sure all you readers just busted out your very own LKEF. :)

I realize I've been AWOL ... here's why

So, I've been AWOL from the blog. Sorry to those who've missed me...all 3 of you. :) A few things have been keeping me busy:

1)      Being a gym rat. We got a gym membership, and I'm using it pretty regularly. Regularly enough that the person at the front desk recognizes me. I've NEVER had this kind of relationship with a gym…and I think I could grow to like it.
2)      Cleaning and Crafting. I had some beautiful ladies over to make cards at the start of February, which required me to bring some order to my home. Now my house – especially the craft room/office – is more orderly than it has been in months. Also, it was fabulously fun to talk and spend time together with amazing women who make me smile. I hope they enjoyed the time as much as I did.
3)      Desk shopping. So my BFF is creating a home office and needed some furniture. We spent most of a Saturday going to multiple (7 ish) stores looking for the perfect desk. She didn't end up getting the desk that day, but we found a super cute and cheap end table that she's going to paint a brilliant color…the DIYer in me wanted to steal it for my home.
4)      Face time with the Hubbs! He recently changed shifts at work, and while he's home at night while I sleep, he gets home after I fall asleep and is still asleep when I leave for work in the morning. As a result, our time when we're both awake is pretty much limited to his weekday off and the alternate weekends he gets off. BUT, he had the 2nd weekend in February off and we spent 3 whole days being obnoxiously lovey dovey and inseparable. It was charming and the weekend went FAR too quickly.
5)      More crafting and friend time. Sitting down and making cards after a long hiatus has gotten me pretty stinking excited about making cards. So I went to my friend's house and we made more…while Hubbs and her hubby played poker. They both won money and I had a little stack of homemade cards at the end of the night. I call that a win.
6)      Making a BUDGET. Yep. The big ol' B word. It's been a time suck, but I'm kind of obsessed with it and will kick any unsuspecting expense in the keister if it messes up my beautiful, wonderful, zero-balance budget.

So, back to this beautiful budget. When Hubbs and I got married 3.5 years ago, we were gifted a copy of The Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey with a note from my uncle and aunt that read, "This is most valuable gift we got on our wedding day, and now we give it to all newlyweds. Hope you enjoy it as much as we have." 

So, I read the first few chapters, thought it made sense, and then I put it on a bookshelf and told the Hubbs we HAD to switch to a cash only budget. Play this cash only budget conversation on repeat for the next 3.5 years (add in a few budgeting spreadsheets, look how much YOU spent this month conversations, and wouldn't it be great to have no payments dream conversations) and you reach the present. BUT, this time, I plugged the numbers in a new budget software, shared it with Hubbs (face-to-face with no distractions), and WE ARE BOTH ON BOARD WITH A SERIOUS BUDGET. 

Now, we're not as GAZELLE intense as Dave Ramsey suggests. We won't be picking up additional jobs or switching to rice and beans only diet, but we're going to stop allowing stupid gas station and Target whim purchases to keep us from eliminating our debt quickly and building wealth early so we can enjoy our money and make decisions WITHOUT being limited by our financial obligations. So, thanks to this budget, I'm pretty confident we'll be able to say hello to early retirement if we so desire...and who doesn't COMPLETELY desire that dream.

Third grade put downs and other life lessons

I grew up in a home where there was a lot of laughter — usually at my mother or my expense, and usually after a zinger delivered by my too-smart-for-his-own-good older brother.

This upbringing helped me develop some life skills that are pretty important:

1)      Know how to be the butt of a joke with grace — I often am the one making myself the staring character.

2)      ALWAYS carry a comeback close at hand.

Now, in the moment, I didn't always love being the punch line. And I threw out my fair share of, "Well…you're a meanie head," comebacks. If you ask my hubby, he'll tell you that my defense in most compromising situations is STILL to throw out some old school name calling that ends in "head" or "face" — meanie head, jerk face, dork face, butt face, stupid head, etc.

Don't you feel insulted just from reading this list?

Now, I don't condone name calling. But, these are some gems so feel free to use them at your discretion. At minimum, they're AWESOME argument diffusers. Who can take a grown up seriously when they're busting out third grade put downs?

I feel like I need to add to my list of "life skills"...

3)      Add "head" or "face" to all name calling. It really ups the ante OR completely destroys your street cred...but life is a gamble so I really think the risk it worthwhile.

So, I guess the moral of the story is to appreciate the things in life that annoy you in the present (like a stupid head older brother) because they'll make you better in the future...and don't forget the lessons you learned in childhood. You never know when a third grade put down will come in handy.

Get fit...or hypothetically die first in a horror film

Last Wednesday, I was introduced to the world of BODYPUMP. Today, my quads are finally starting to feel pain free. I can even almost go up and down the stairs without wincing.

Yep, nearly 5 days after the original workout and I'm still sore. Possible reasons:
1) It was a really intense workout...
2) I am the MOST out-of-shape person who doesn't also have a TLC show about being 600 pounds...
3) A combination of options 1 and 2.

So, when a personal trainer from my gym called up a few days ago and offered some free training starting next Wednesday, I took him up on the offer...and not just because I could use my personal training time slot as a reason to skip BODYPUMP this week. But I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that skipping class was a factor, just not the only factor.

When I show up on Wednesday, he wants to take my measurements: height (short), weight (too much for my height), and body fat composition (Your clampy measuring things might be too small, but we can give it a go.). He also wants to discuss my fitness goals, so I started making a list...

1) Continue to participate in BODYPUMP classes and not have to convert everything in my home to be handicap accessible. I really could've used one of those grab bars by the toilet and I was pricing out elevators. Stairs post BODYPUMP are evil, and I'm now acutely aware of how many there are in our home. The Hubbs (who also got his butt kicked in BODYPUMP) and I were nearly ready to resort to rock-paper-scissors to determine which unlucky soul would have to go downstairs to put our dogs in their crate and let them out.  

I wish I could've thought of some witty explanation
for what I was doing while everyone else held the plank.

2) Be able to stay in a plank position for more than .05 seconds. Seriously, the rest of the class held that bad boy for a solid 30 seconds...I, on the other hand, took a rest on the mat and tried to figure out why my mouth tasted like pennies and when my sturdy legs had been swapped with Gumby's.

3) Balance. If you've been reading my blog, you saw here that coordination isn't one of my strengths...balance is also not one of those strengths. I kind of performed every other lunge during my class. On the lunges I missed, I was teetering perilously on one foot praying I wouldn't fall (curse you Gumby legs). Stretching wasn't much better...why don't fitness classes teach you how to stretch your quads while sitting? I feel like this would be a safer option for me.

4) Drop some serious poundage. I've had a desk job for five years and in those five years I've gone from my lightest adult weight to my heaviest (curse you desk job). As added motivation, I'm going on a cruise with my BFF soon and she's skinnier than me. I would prefer not to look like a beached whale in our pictures...unless of course I'm trying to imitate a beached whale.

5) Drop some inches and clothing sizes. My skinny closet is far cuter than my not-so-skinny closet. I would very much like to go shopping in my skinny closet. The Hubbs and the poketbook would also prefer this option over buying new clothes at the mall.

6) Be fit enough to complete a 5K. I would like to know with some certainly that I wouldn't be the first person to die in a horror film. The ability to run for a solid 30 minutes would greatly increase my survival odds.

Anything else I should add to my personal training list? I say bon voyage and set sail in less than a month, so hold me accountable dear readers...just remind me to go to the gym or be the girl destined to be the first goner in a slasher film FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Scary, right?

I blame the oranges

So I took a little blog hiatus last week, and I'm sure the suspense has been building as you await stories about whatever preoccupation kept me from writing. So here it is. While you all were anxiously refreshing your browsers in hopes to catch a glimpse at a new post (just go with it...this girl needs dreams no matter how far-fetched), I was hangin' with two of my grandmas in Arizona and acting like a retiree.

I'm not going to lie. It was pretty awesome. Minus the frigid weather. The high temps for the 5 days we were there were 51, 49, 44, 51, 61...and on the day we left, 74. Go figure. The Hubbs and I have some pretty awful weather luck when we travel...rained and was unseasonably cool for most of our honeymoon, was unseasonably cool when I was in New Orleans last year, and there's a record freeze when we go to AZ. Take this as your warning in case you ever decide to travel with us.

In spite of the lame weather, the Hubbs and I were able to enjoy the retired lifestyle — we played shuffleboard, bocce ball, drove around in golf carts, went to dinner shows and the theater, learned how to make jewelry, swam in beautifully heated pools, and watched people far more talented than us work on stained glass, wood working and whittling projects. And we ate really, REALLY well.

Post gorging ourselves on all-you-can-eat (challenge accepted) ribs, chicken, ham,
green beans, dinner rolls, potatoes, baked beans, stuffing, oatmeal cookies.
I could try to blame the bulk on the winter coat, but you'd all know it's a lie.

Let's just say the Diet Nazi was put on hold, but the fresh oranges that I could get right off the tree outside at least kept me eating something besides carbs. They've also ruined me because the orange I picked up at the grocery store couldn't hold a candle to the citrus I was devouring in AZ. I haven't weighed myself since I got home, but if the poundage I lost has been found again, I'm going to blame the oranges (not the pancakes, french toast, BBQ ribs, salmon, pizza, popcorn, etc.).

We also met some lovely people...and one of them gave us a frozen salmon that he'd caught in Alaska where he and his family live the rest of the year. A trip highlight was definitely the reaction of the TSA security checker when she screened Hubby's carry-on bag containing the frozen fish...she had to run it through the scanner twice. When Hubbs said that she was probably seeing a frozen salmon, I was pretty certain our loot would be near the top on her "strange things people pack" list...either that or Hubbs would be taken into custody. And while I love him, there's a good chance I would've left him at the airport and taken it as a sign that I was supposed to stick around and enjoy the 74 degree weather.

Now that I'm back and being welcomed home by even MORE frigid weather...I'm so flippin' ready to retire. I can learn how to make beautiful things from wood, stone, glass, etc., play a ridiculous amount of card games, swim daily in a pool that's essentially filled with bath water, gorge myself on oranges, and take ballroom dance lessons (or about 9,000 other classes covering everything from foreign language training and photo editing to acting and silversmithing).

If any of you all would like to donate to the "help Sara retire" fund, I promise to let you come visit me in whatever warm locale I choose for my winter home. It'll be like a cooperative...but I get the master bedroom and you get the sleeper sofa. It is my brilliant idea after all. AND if you're really lucky, I might even snag you your very own Alaskan salmon...

The would-be hussy of online dating

The writer in me wouldn't handle online dating well...
but if there's money on the line, I would learn to adapt.

A good friend of mine recently found herself single after being out of the dating world for quite some time, and like many modern women, she decided to give the online dating realm a try. Being the avid pursuer of knowledge that I am, I have been EXTREMELY checked in to the happenings in her online dating life.

While I do not intend to be single anytime in the future (love you long time, Hubbs!!), I am learning a lot about my would-be online dating persona...and apparently I'm the hussy of online dating.

Why? Well, it's all about the money, money, money. As you read that last line, did you sing it a-la Jessie J.? I totally did when I typed it. I took some creative liberties with the lyric, but that's just how I roll. Feel free to re-read for full effect. I'll wait...

Aaannnnndddd back to the point, you see, unless you want to pick your future partner from a selection of people who are ONLY looking for hook-ups, you apparently need to join a paid online dating site like match, eharmony, etc...and you pay by the month.

Um...what?!? My mom is a crazy frugal lady (wash out plastic sandwich baggies frugal), and I have adopted a lot of her money sense. So, you better believe I'd be maximizing my online dating investment. Because of the dollar factor, I have encouraged my friend to break some cardinal online dating rules (that she's ascertained from more avid online daters). For example:

1) When a boy winks at you on match.com, the appropriate response is to wink back and wait for him to initiate email communication. My online dating persona says...forget that business. Time is a-ticking which means money is a-wasting. Ditch the wink and initiate some communication already. DOWNFALL: Apparently this means you're a eager beaver which gets you dubbed 1) easy AND/OR 2) ugly. Sweet. Now I'm the ugly hussy of online dating.

2) When a boy sends you email communication, you respond, but not too soon and don't include too much info. Again, you want to avoid getting pegged as an eager beaver, and you want to pique their interest but still have some cards to play in future email correspondence. My online dating persona says...get on with the show already. We all know those profile pics are photoshoped, taken in pristine lighting, or actually of your brother. I NEED TO SEE IF YOU'RE REAL AND FAST. Here's my phone number. Call me and let's do coffee tomorrow...time is a-ticking.

3) Never suggest coffee. Oops. I've been told coffee is a really awkward date since it takes about 15 minutes to drink and then what do you do. My online dating persona says...coffee is crazy non-committal and will occur in a public place where I won't get shanked. Plus, if I hate you after 15 minutes of coffee drinking, I can leave when my cup is empty. It's not like I've gotta hold out for dessert. HUGE BONUS...in addition to not getting shanked, of course! It's called efficiency people...and without much effort, I can probably schedule a couple coffee dates in a single day.

4) Don't schedule dates back-to-back. Oh, so you're saying I shouldn't do a happy hour and appetizer date with one guy, followed by dinner with another suitor, and dessert with still another. My online dating persona says...this is totally acceptable. Why do you think progressive dinners are so popular? You get to sample a whole lot of food AND several male companions. If you like the dessert man but the appetizer food, you've essentially killed two birds with one stone. Hey dessert man, let's try this restaurant for a full-on date...they have amazing appetizers.

5) It's the dude's job to propose follow-up dates. Let him take the lead. My online dating persona says...I'm not great with giving up control. It's probably best any potential life partner learn this early on. If he goes, "Well, the food was good, but I'm not crazy about the company," no skin off my back...I'm just glad I didn't waste any extra time courting a tool. Plus, there are about 1,000 other men on match.com. Surely one of them will appreciate a woman who makes decisions based on time and money and isn't a fan of wasting either.

6) Early on you can send "Dear John" messages to a 6 pursuer cause you're holding out for a 10. My online dating persona says...I totally get this logic. Weed out all the 10 through 8s first and then move down a rung. It's like a man buffet. Start with the good stuff when you've got lots of room in your tummy....you don't want to fill up on only sub-par cuisine. However, a 6 can buy my dinner as easily as a 10...my frugal online dating person has gotta figure out a way to make up the subscription fees somehow...hello no grocery bill. And, sometimes a 6 will surprise you.

So there you have it. My online dating person is shallow, motivated pretty much exclusively by money, and considered an unattractive hussy.

I am incredibly  lucky the Hubbs found me before I had to try my hand at online dating. Best of luck to my friend...she's a far better rule follower, so I don't anticipate her facing the challenges I hypothetically would.

Anyone else spend entirely too much time considering how they'd hypothetically handle online dating? Tell me about it via comments so I won't feel as horrible about myself. :)

Come on shake your body, Baby, do the...

ZUMBA!! Since my participation in Zumba was a pretty big deal this week, I don't think the great Gloria Estefan will be offended that I took a few liberties with her lyrics.

The best way I know to describe Zumba is that it's like rhythmic, aerobic dancing with some Latin flair...and it's AWESOME. Well, it would be more awesome if God had gifted me with just a tad more rhythm and coordination, but luckily He gave me a whole lotta improvisation abilities and an aptitude for making a fool of myself and not really caring.

Here are some tips for other first-time Zumba-ers who are blessed with similar grace:

What I envision I looked like while doing
my unique Zumba/Tae-Bo stylings

1) If you have a propensity for falling UP the stairs, you might not not get every step right, but keep trying or make it up as you go. Pretty sure my workout looked like a combo of poorly executed Zumba with a touch of Tae-Bo (whoop, whoop, shout out to Billy Blanks). Why you ask? Well, if I didn't understand the move, I just threw in some awkward kicks and jabs followed by some step touches. Heart rate still up? Check. Movement vaguely disguised as Zumba? Maybe. Still sweating? Yep. Cool, close enough.

2) You will hear others in the class laughing. Assume they're simply enjoying themselves and not laughing at you...or assume they are laughing at you and be proud that you're able to provide such quality entertainment.

3) Your instructor will appear to have consumed 900 energy drinks. It's cool. Don't be intimidated. You don't have to do every move with quite the same enthusiasm ..and actually considering the coordination issues it might be safer to hold back a bit. That way, when you run into the support post in the middle of the room because you were looking at your feet TRYING to make them move as instructed, you only hit it giving 80% effort and only get the 80% bruise. Not at all speaking from experience...yet. But, not gonna lie, there were a few close calls.

Diet Nazi Update

So the Diet Nazi is starting to feel more like a fuzzy Diet Tiger that you can sometimes pet, but there's always the risk that it might be less friendly and bite without warning...that metaphor made more sense in my head, but I'm running with it.

I am also down 3.5 pounds since Hangry Sara started this lovely blog last week. I'm pretty happy about the progress and can say that it's gotten much easier to stick to the eating plan and find simple ways to naturally increase my physical activity, which is nice cause I'm not a huge fan of exercise that feels like exercise.

That's what's new in my life. I hope you all are also enjoying weeks with lots of laughter and a few new experiences. If you have any tips on improving my Zumba skills, comment it up...you can also comment if you just want to know the time of the next class so you can come watch. I won't be offended UNLESS you submit a video of me to America's Funniest Home Videos and don't share the winnings...cause there's bound to be winnings.

That one time in Mitchell, SD

You know ANY blog with a title of "That one time in Mitchell, SD" HAS to be good. I promise not to disappoint.

The Corn Palace
See how it changes? Magnificent. Truly Magnificent.

When my older brother and I were in grade school, my mom worked as a high school Spanish teacher and had her summers off. So most summers we'd take a rousing family vacation…that was until the parentals decided we needed to go to South Dakota and hit all the "hot spots" – Mount Rushmore, Wall Drug, some rock I was told was "Crazy Horse" but I couldn't find a resemblance, and **drum roll** the Corn Palace.

Hot spots? If used in the same sentence as South Dakota, not likely. Rousing? Not a chance.

At first, I tried to be optimistic.

Me: "So, this Corn Palace, it's made entirely of corn?!?
Mom: "Kind of. It's a building that's decorated with corn."
Me: "Um, okay. Well, does it at least look like a fairy tale castle? Will I get to see a princess?!?"
Mom: "Well, not exactly like a princess castle. But, it's really neat. They change the outside design regularly, so if we go now and go back next summer, it would look different." 

Needless to say, expectations for the Corn Palace were pretty low…yet still too high. It was worse than we imagined. SO MUCH CORN. The hour or so tour mom forced upon us was brutal and followed up by at least an hour in the gift shop that was filled with…you guessed it – CORN. Corn T-shirts, paperweights, magnets, key chains. You name it, and you could find a CORNY version of it (I've been waiting for my chance to work in this pun…success)!!!

When it was FINALLY time to leave, we headed to or trusty blue van. Dad turned the key…dad turned the key again…and again…and again.

Crap. We were stuck at the Corn Palace. WORST DAY EVER!!!

So we got out of the van into the rather toasty summer air while dad, certified mechanic extraordinaire, did some diagnostics. Low and behold, the van's starter was kaput…right there in front of the Corn Palace. We weren't going ANYWHERE without a new part…and I was terrified.

No worries for the parentals though. Mom strapped on the fanny pack (no, they weren't cool then either) and off we went, on foot, to the Mitchell, SD, NAPA auto parts store to purchase a new starter for our van. Then, in front of the "majestic" Corn Palace, my dad scooted underneath the van (no small feat for a man of his stature) and began operating on our trusty blue chariot.

It felt like we were waiting for days, but mom had a fanny pack (function over fashion) and "shops" to explore, so she was good. My brother and I on the other hand were pretty sure we were never going home…I picked out a room in the Corn Palace to call my own, started memorizing the Mitchell zip code, and named the Native American statue that was sitting on a bench across the street. If we never got home, at least I'd have one friend in this lame town – even if he wasn't much of a conversationalist.

And then, by what I can only assume was a divine act of God, the big blue van started up, and off we went.

I've NEVER been so happy – sorry hubs our wedding is a close second to the day our family van rolled away from the Corn Palace. And as we left Mitchell, SD, I made a promise to myself, "I don't care if this thing looks like a REAL palace next summer, I'm not coming back. Ever."

Sorry, Mitchell, SD, zip code 57301, but I'm pretty sure that's a promise I'll keep. However, if anyone does venture that way, be sure to tell my buddy Clark Big Bear hello from me. For half a day, we were really tight. My only regret is that I couldn't save Clark, but on your way out of Mitchell, there's NO turning back. Sorry, Clark.

I think I've finally found my calling in life

I think I've finally found my calling in life: To offer parenting advice.

Cue the collective sigh from all my dear readers (especially the parents) who can think of about 1.5 billion other people they'd take parenting advice from before consulting me. However, BEFORE you comment that I have NO RIGHT giving you advice on how to raise your kids and then unsubscribe, hear me out.

I'm not about tell ANYONE what to do with their kids...I merely like to offer suggestions when solicited. And, sure, I'm one part of a DINK (Double Income No Kids) family with no immediate plans to change that status. But, I am also now a proud older sister to 6 (count 'em) siblings whose ages range from 4 to 10.

My parents' house is like a legit parenting experiment…a real life living-learning lab if you will. While I was home over Christmas break, I had the wonderful privilege of testing out some of my parenting gut instincts…and they weren't all half bad.

STORY TIME!!!

My siblings have an amazing knack for losing things that are literally RIGHT in front of their faces. Rather than spend ANY time looking for said missing item, they find my mom and say, "Mom, I can't find **insert missing item**." So, my dearest mom, tells them to look harder, and then she eventually gets up to go find the missing sock, toy, shoe, coat, glasses, dog, etc.

I've witnessed this chain of events more than once, and when my lovely sis (age 5) trotted downstairs lamenting a missing article, I suggested to mom that she charge a "finder's fee." Mom would go upstairs look for the lost item, and if she found it, little sis had to pony up 50 cents of her allowance.

At first explanation of the proposition, my sis blindly agreed to paying for my mother's bloodhound skills, but when mom re-presented the proposition by saying, "So, if I go upstairs and find it, I get 50 cents of your allowance, which means you'll get 50 cents less than your sis (age 4) gets for allowance. Do you want me to go find it or do you want to look a little longer?"

WAIT. PUMP THE BRAKES. Less money than my sister?!? "I'll go look a little longer," she replied. And magically, the lost became found…without the aid of my mother.

So, there you have it. My parenting advice is the bomb!!! From now on you can feel free to message me any questions or concerns, and I'll bust out my amazing parenting guru-ness…but only if you ask. I promise not to be one of THOSE people...you know the ones I'm talking about.

AND...a Diet Nazi update for those who care.

I've lost two pounds since Thursday...all while eating peanut butter m&m's, a cupcake, and a cookie...oh and also while logging "fitness activities" like Wii Bowling, destroying the ice dam at the end of my drive way, light daily housework and playing a Zumba fitness demo. AND this included a 2 pound wight GAIN after day one...yeah, I wasn't impressed. (In light of this, I feel like I can claim a 4 pound weight loss).

Imagine what could've been had I been legit with the plan and exercise. However, I'm feeling less and less HANGRY these days (my hubby might beg to differ), so hopefully I'll be able to stick to the plan a little more now that my body is finally adjusting to the new eating regimen. I'll keep you posted—and all my limbs are still as God intended...uneaten.

When the universe turns against you

Do you ever feel like the universe is working against you? That's pretty much how I started to feel late last night. The Diet Nazi had been far kinder on day two than it was on day one and my limbs were all still in tact — it really is the small things in life. However, the day was wrapping up and my willpower was waning as my tummy began grumbling. And then the universe turned against me.

Some background info to help you follow. You see, Cedar Rapids is a city of many smells, and in the five years I've called this city home, 99.9% of the smells that have wafted in through my car vents have been FAR from appetizing. I've heard tales of the air smelling like Cap'n Crunch Berries on occasion, but I was pretty sure people were lying about this phenomena since I'd never experienced "pleasant" CR smells...that is until day two of the starvation plan. And then, as the day was coming to a close and I was starting to feel a little HANGRY, the sweet smell wafted into my car.

Seriously?!? Can't a girl catch a break?

Cap'n, why, oh why, do you have to make your Crunch
Berries just so darn tasty...and delicious smelling???

I took every evasive measure I could think of to distract me from the lovely smell that was amplifying the grumbles in my stomach — changed the settings on the heater to only circulate air already in the car vs. pulling in any more of the DELICIOUS scent (too late, the air inside the car was contaminated), singing loudly with the radio AND trying to sing every lyric correctly (now that takes some serious concentration), only breathing through my mouth (maybe not the best idea while also trying to sing loudly...hello lightheaded while operating a moving vehicle).

But everything I tried was to no avail. By the time I made it to my destination, I was ready to LICK the car vents...and then I ate a cookie. 

So there you have it. Day two of taking the Diet Nazi head on and I'm off the wagon. At least I know Cap'n Crunch Berries day does exist and isn't just a cruel prank to keep me inhaling deeply in the hopes that one day I will be greeted by something other than a putrid stench. What can I say. Living here is like roulette for the senses.

And, in the pursuit of full disclosure with my dear readers, I can say day three, which is quickly coming to a close, hasn't gone much better than day two...just replace the cookie I ate on day two with a cupcake on day three. And that slip up is even WITHOUT the Captin' Crunch air temptress crushing my willpower. Weight Watchers is sounding better all the time...well, Weight Watchers and a giant bowl of Crunch Berries. :)

Hey bloggy world...here's to distratcions

So, I finally bit the bullet and decided to start a bloggy blog. The reasons for this choice are rather vast...

1) It's a new year (w00t, w00t 2013!!) so why not try documenting the happenings in my life in a new and fun way...hopefully.
2) It's day one of my Special K Challenge and needed something to do during my lunch break to distract me from the throbbing hunger pangs in my stomach.

Diet Nazi -- Similar to the Soup Nazi dude only
WAY MORE  terrifying and he works for
Kellogg's developing meal (starvation) plans

Seriously, I could eat my arm. Now, I know some of you might be thinking, "Sara, don't be dumb. It's lunch time, so go eat." And here, my dear friends, is where the problem lies...I've already eaten the meager lunch allowed by the plan, which I will now fondly refer to as the Diet Nazi. I'm REALLY hoping the Diet Nazi lays off and stops tap dancing in my gut sometime during the next two weeks or my poor hubby is going to deal with one very, very HANGRY wifey. 

han • gry (han-gree) A state of anger caused by lack of food; hunger causing a negative change in emotional state.

Yep, that's where I'm at. Only hangry doesn't seem strong enough...I'm adding come up with a stronger word for my-insides-are-eating-themsevles-because-there's-no-food-in-my-belly-but-just-flippin'-ate hunger to my to-do list...stay tuned for that development because whatever I come up with is CERTAIN to be awesome. I'm a communication major after all.

If nothing else, this sorry excuse for a meal plan has prompted me to join the interwebs. Here's to day two being better, and a new start to 2013 with a new bloggy blog. For the sake of my limbs, I promise to update when starving...