Case of the Mondays: Blue Light Special

Yes, Kmart *is* a Michigan company.

Marketing done right.
Plus, I think I'm really twelve years old.

Happy Monday!

A Daughter's Love

(Update on Important Happenings:  Wednesday was our first class post-The Great Yoga Brawl of 2013. I was not disappointed.  The first ten minutes were fairly reminiscent of my middle school conversations, peppered with expressions of "No way!",  and "then I go, 'it was completely uncool of her to say that' ...", (all said in a Valley Girl like tone of voice which was weird seeing as most of us are from southeast Michigan and the closest we've been to the Valley is watching Clueless in our youth) as Natalie recapped the situation from her perspective and also let us in on the official reprimanding from the fitness center.

Here's what went down post-throwdown.  Natalie received three calls from different superiors over the weekend to address the "gross disagreement she and another instructor engaged in" and while she conceded with each call that "she totally went over her class time and so felt bad about that," it was also "completely not cool to be treated like a little kid in front of her class. Totally not cool."

In the end no one really got into any trouble, but I noticed out of the corner of my eye, as we lay in corpse pose towards the end of our class, the door slowly open and a staff member from the fitness center come in.  She stood quietly while we wrapped things up and I realized they totally sent a bouncer to handle the class transition.

In case you missed that - my yoga has security. The title remains - Best Yoga Class Ever.

The actual transition was seamless,  mainly because in true middle school fashion both Natalie and the other instructor fake smiled at each other and were overly sweet with every verbal exchange.  What a let down.)

And now onto today's regularly scheduled programming.

Ever since my double ear infections, I've been a bit wary of swimming because of the potential for water in my ear.  But because I am a super hardcore athlete, I've pushed aside that fear in order to enter the water and continue my tri training. (Which is going swimmingly, thank you.)

On Monday, however, that fear was realized and I came home from the pool in need of ear drops.  I came in the house, dropped my stuff, and told the clamoring horde of children that always bum rush the door and ask for things whenever I step inside from any kind of absence (dude, seriously, can't some other adult - like maybe the one who has been home with you for the last hour and a half - pour you some milk/change your diaper/check your math/braid your hair so I can step all the way into the house?) that I would be back in a second because I needed to fix my ear.

This is the conversation that followed with my sweet five year old.

Esther: Hey Mama, why does your ear feel funny?
Kelly: I got water in it while I was swimming.
Esther: What will happen?
Kelly: To my ear? Nothing.  I'll put some drops in it and I'll be fine.
Esther: So you won't die?

*Oh my word, is she really worried that I'll die and she'll be left without me? That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard.  I love this kid so freaking much.  I need to reassure her.*

Kelly: Nope, Mama will be just fine.  I'm not planning on dying anytime soon, kiddo.
Esther: (voice rising in both volume, speed, and excitement) Oh, because if you died Papa could get married and I could have a STEPMOM!


Totally glad she was worried about me.

A stepmom would probably let her wear this to church.

"Feel the stress of the day melt away, while breathing in the positivity of the screaming match I'm about to partake in."

Corpse pose.  How the ultra fit work out.

I use the website Dailymile.com to track my workouts.  It's a helpful tool because they keep track of total mileage and send encouraging emails every once and a while to show the trends in my fitness routine.  Dailymile also has a widget you can connect to your blog that reports your latest workout, which adds accountability for my physical activity.

However, Dailymile is only helpful if you remember to log your workouts, which I have been forgetting lately.  This was brought to my attention when I received an "It's been NINE days since your last workout - are you okay or have you fallen into an endless bag of oreo cookies?" email from them, bringing my slacker tendencies to light.

My last logged exercise was a 5.2 mile run, which for me is pretty impressive, and I'm sure on some subconscious level I didn't want to replace that publicly with some 1000 yard swim.  Then I got out of the habit of tracking through Dailymile, which prompted some concern on their part (or an automatic email, I'm not sure which) so now I am here to assure you, my dear reader, with the beautiful poetry that is Fergie and the Black Eyed Peas, that I've been "up at the gym just workin' on my fitness".

Here is one of the highlights.

The best part of the week for me was definitely yoga.  I love this particular class because it's taught by the "young" instructor (Natalie) and she uses the Twilight soundtrack as her background music.  I think she thinks no one knows this, but um, I'm kinda a fan of Twilight.  Her music choice is perfect because there are a few go-to's in my arsenal of stress-relief.  Yoga is one, and eating handfuls of doritos while watching Twilight is another.  So yoga and Twilight are like the best stress-relief combination ever.  After a yoga session backed by Twilight I'm like Crush from Finding Nemo.  "Whatever, Dude." Nothin' phases me.  I'm super chilled out.

I kid you not, I tried this.
I failed miserably.  But I tried.

This particular class was no different. (Except Natalie introduced a new position where you get into a squat, put your hands on the floor in front of you, brace your elbows against your knees, and then balance your entire body weight on your freaking hands.)(It totally didn't happen for me.)(But I did try.)(Unlike all the other people that said, "Yeah, right," in disbelief.)(I mean, they remained upright while I crashed to a heap on the floor with an audible, "Ooomph," but I tried.)



This particular class had all the calming effects I've come to love about yoga.  I spent a whole hour working out all my "I'm about to start my period and I'm a cranky ball of tight muscles and irrational emotion," feelings of the day.  We were ending yoga with corpse pose, and Natalie was saying soothing things that I tune out because it's just not my thing.  I was in a perfectly sleepy state because not only we were in corpse pose, but there was a thunderstorm outside and it was a little warm inside our class.  I was daydreaming about what I could go eat after class (because that's what everyone does as they are leaving the fitness center, right?)(I totally chose Cheerios, if you were wondering) when all of a sudden my eyes flew open at the jarring sound of a loud verbal spat.  Natalie, in the midst of her Zen-like murmurings, was interrupted by the instructor for the next class, who burst in the room and yelled, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET OUT FIVE MINUTES AGO."

Because our entire class was so relaxed, centered, and generally at peace with the universe, three different woman responded (from the floor, still in corpse pose) "WHAT THE HELL?" "THAT IS SO RUDE!" "IT'S NOT NATALIE'S FAULT WE ARE LATE!" (Now, I love Natalie, but it totally was Natalie's fault we ran over.)(In the interest of fairness.)

Natalie replied with, "EVERYBODY CALM DOWN." The other instructor informed us that her "ENTIRE CLASS OF PEOPLE HAVE BEEN STANDING IN THE HALLWAY FOR FIVE MINUTES FOR A CLASS THEY PAID FOR," implying it's superiority to our general admission yoga that merely requires one shell out the yearly $400 fee to be able to attend.  Natalie rolled her eyes (oh yes she did) and apologized sort of with, "I'M SORRY BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE RUDE ABOUT IT."

At this point I knew I was clearly at the best yoga class I would ever attend, because who expects yoga to turn into a fight?  It was awesome.  I was waiting for it to escalate further (my money was on Natalie not only because she's young and super buff, but also because she looks like she might be the kind of person that resorts to hair-pulling and ear biting)(like Mike Tyson)(but only as a twenty-something white girl from the 'burbs) but what really happened was that our class started packing up, mostly tense about the situation, and the other class trickled in, looking oddly embarrassed to be there.  Once we saw their embarrassment we played it up and managed to look wounded at the abrupt ending of our yoga time, because apparently we were all raised Catholic and/or by Jewish grandmothers and know a lot about manipulation through guilt.

Thanks to the fight, I left feeling exhilarated.  I felt energized and full of life.  It was an amazing feeling.  I'm going to petition that the makers of yoga look into officially replacing corpse pose with some kind of surprise exciting event (probably not always a fight because that would get stale fast)(but maybe something like a fake fire that triggers the sprinkers)(or you know that machine at the eye doctor's that blows air at your eyeball? That would work as well)(that thing always scares the bejeebers out of me), because that was my favorite yoga class ever.

Case of the Mondays: Dudes

If you've seen the Dove beauty ads floating around the internet, you know the point is being made that women often view themselves as less attractive than they are. (*shocker*) The answer to this is to think like a dude.

Happy Monday!

Whisper Sweet Nothings

Brian took this picture of me before a 5k.  True love is = taking a picture like this and keeping it on the
camera so it accidently gets uploaded to the computer and randomly used as a desktop photo. Thank you, honey.

Scene:  I have just gotten out of the shower and am drying off in front of the mirror.  I'm flipping back and forth between being super proud of my shoulders (thank you, swimming) and horrified at my former baby condo.  I am also simultaneously thinking about watching Sixteen Candles and eating Lay's Dill Pickle potato chips.  Brian walks in and I blurt out:

"Honey, I love you so much.  You are such a good dad.  You are a great husband.  I am sooooooo lucky to have you."

Brian assesses me and takes note of my verge-of-tears tone of voice.  He responds,

"I can't wait for you to start your period."

Wordless* Wednesday

*if you don't count the intro or any captions or disclaimers I may add.

I feel like I've been a bit absent lately.  I didn't post last Friday, and I haven't been able to keep up with/ comment on any of my favorite blogs.  I'm hoping this week settles the heck down.  Seriously.

Here are some pics to update you on all the exciting things going on.  I'll start with the basement.  (Which flooded Thursday.)(Again.)(I know.) I took these pictures back in November when I was motivated to clean and have a triumphant "Before/After = Look At How Amazing I Am At Cleaning" post.

Before

Just remember, however you judge me Jesus is gonna judge you. Think about it, son.

Don't hate.  You know you wish you had Mickey and pals on your basement walls.

For those of you who are questioning my self-proclaimed organization prowess, please note there are paths.

Then, a sort of utopian middle ground, taken Friday night.  Should I call this "During"?

"Kelly, whaaa?  Dang, gurl, where's all your crap?"
Please note the fans, mop, and bucket.  

Aaaand After:

"Um, wow.  You think maybe you took that cleaning thing a little too far? I mean, I think the walls are supposed to stay." Normally I'd agree with you.  Generally I like to keep the walls up when I clean.  I make exceptions for the BLACK MOLD we uncover when we discover the root of years of leaking. Don't worry, at this point we are bringing in the professionals.  But Mickey is sadly evicted. 

So that was Thursday, Friday, and part of Saturday.

This is a picture of me.

This is me sitting in my car.  

On Saturday.  

At around 8:30 a.m. 

This is about the same time I should have been conquering mile three of my 10k.

In another city.

Miles away.

"Kel, what the heck happened?"

Double ear infections.

Damp weather.

Cooooold.

(Also, I finally started treating my double ear infections.  Apparently I've only seen amoxicillin given to infants because when I went to pick up my prescription I was all, "Where's my pink liquid?!")


This is a picture of the spider that attacked my face late Sunday night.

Do you see it on my kitchen window sill?  Imagine that it is 11:00 p.m. and you are shutting the house down for the night.  All the lights are off except for the light over the stove which is illuminating this spider that is brazenly parked in your kitchen.  Your hubby, who is formally charged with killing things like this, is already in bed, so the task falls to you, oh Brave One, to save your family from this arachnid.  You reach for a paper that is sitting on the "needs to go to the recycle bin" pile and use it to whack the creature with all your might.  The creature ricochets off the paper and hits you in the face and you scream like a little girl but not too loud because all the kids are asleep and Dear God, don't let anyone wake up.
Upon closer inspection, you see that the spider is really this:

I think it's pretty rude, Random Screw Being Kept on the Window Sill By My Husband Just in Case We Need it for Something Someday, to pretend to be a spider.  Also, because I am a responsible adult, I keep band aids in my purse for when I scrape my hand on a chair at Bible study.  Because I am a mom, that is why it is a Dora band aid.  Also, the screw is balancing on my hand in the weirdest position possible because Hosanna was my art director for this shot and this is how she posed me (so we could include the band aid.)(You try to fight an eight year old with artistic vision.)

And finally, to end on a sweet note:

Vegan Strawberry Cobbler, yo.

On Friday night our friends Asako and Derek dropped by to give me ice cream sandwiches, a pineapple, and two pounds of strawberries because they knew I've been sick.  How awesome is that?!  It made me feel soooo loved, and it was all delicious. (I love me some pineapple.) Everyone in my house was super excited to put the strawberries to use in some cobbler. (Because of Hosanna's allergies she can't have fresh strawberries but she can have them cooked.  She is also allergic to milk and eggs so everything we bake is vegan.) I hope you appreciate this picture, because at this point all that's left of that cobbler is the sweet memory.

There ya go.  I think my Wordless Wednesday totally lived up to it's name. Now I'm off to read some blogs.  Have a wonderful day!

In Memory: Gavin David Leong

The blog community is so weird.  When you check in with someone everyday through their blog you feel as if you know them.  You feel invested in their lives.  You care about how they are doing.  They become a part of your life without even meeting them.

One of my favorite blogs is called Chasing Rainbows.  It is written by a woman named Kate Leong, and chronicles her daily joys and struggles concerning her life as she raises two boys. Gavin is a five year old "Superhero Child" who fights every day of his life just to be able to live as normally as possible.  Against odds this kid has learned to eat pureed foods, sit up, grasp small objects, and recently has been able to walk holding his parent's hands. Brian is her miracle baby born about a year and a half after Gavin.  He is a smiley little boy who loves his brother and (like a kid after my own heart) had a long phase pointing out street signs whenever he was out walking.

Kate will tell you time and again that Gavin, not her, is the inspiring one.  That he is the one conquering impossible goals and never giving up.  And Gavin is inspiring.  There are times I've struggled on my runs and thought, "Gavin worked harder than this just to grab a marker for spin art.  Suck it up, Buttercup." But as a mom, Kate has transformed the way I look at parenting.  She is a woman who celebrates everything.  Nothing is too small for a homemade sign and a victory dance.  She is a woman who attacks life through a never ending well of positivity. She deals with every situation with grace.  But mostly she has taught me that in a world where success is often measured by outcome, the way to truly succeed at parenting is to love on your babies like there's no tomorrow.   

It's with a very heavy heart that I share that Gavin died yesterday.  It was Kate's birthday.  He had a series of very unexpected seizures and went into cardiac arrest last week.  He held on in the hospital for several days before more seizures caused  permanent brain damage.  Kate and Ed spent a long time cuddling, singing, and talking to their little boy after he was pronounced officially with brain death.  Gavin is on life support as they wait for the transplant teams to come from around the country to harvest his organs to give the gift of life to other people.  Lives will be saved through Gavin's death.  This is a gift of epic proportions.  

Yesterday Kate posted this on her Facebook page:

Ed and I will be announcing our choices for "in lieu of flowers" donations to honor Gavin in a few days, but today is my birthday and this is all about me. I've come up with a special, totally FREE way to honor my sweet son who could inspire the most profound emotion without ever saying a word. I'm asking you to help someone... document it with words and or a photo... and place it on the Chasing Rainbows Facebook Page. Then be sure to check the page often to get inspired by the outpouring of love. Here are some great ideas for you... Find a special needs classroom in your community. These are usually low funded and always looking for donations. Perhaps you have toys your kids don't play with anymore that could be used in the classroom or during therapy. Random crayons that are laying around. I know we always needed rug gripper to place under Gavin's behind when he sat - that's a good need. Do you know a special needs Mom in your neighborhood? Church? School? Tell her you'd like to make dinner for her family. What night would work? Then tell her the only requirement is they have to give a "cheers toast" to Gavin during dinner. Help someone struggling to unload groceries into their car in the rain. Donate clothes to a women's shelter. Check with your local children's hospital for volunteer opportunities - even if it's just for two hours of your life. Save all of your magazines and bring a big stash to your local hospital. You have no idea how helpful that is to parents who spend days, weeks or months (as I did when Gavin was a baby) sitting in their child's hospital room. These are just some ideas... be creative! And think of Gavin when you do it. Share his story with the person you are blessing. Tell them that Gavin Leong changed the world with little acts of courage, determination and a sweet smile... without ever saying a word. And then ask them to pay it forward to honor his legacy. This would be the best birthday gift you could give me. There is no time frame - you could post something today or a year from now or five years from now. Thank you for helping me to honor my amazing little boy. And feel free to share this anywhere you want!

My heart is breaking for Kate and Ed.  They have been a joy and an inspiration to "know" in the blogosphere.  Today I celebrate the life of Gavin David Leong.

In memory.

Weight Loss in the 21st Century

If you ever visit Disney World, do yourself a favor and travel to Fort Wilderness.  Most people visit the resort for the Chip ’N Dale’s Campfire Sing-a-long, or to experience the Hoop-Dee-Doo Musical Revue, but I'm here to tell you to make your way to the Meadow Swimmin' Pool.

Scene of the crime.  I may or may not have exercised
my mommy bladder here.  But I assure that if that did
happen, it was totally an accident.

Once there, do not get in the water because I peed on the water slide.  Instead, find the women's restroom by the snack shop (totally stop first and eat if you feel like having a Mickey Mouse shaped rice krispies treat)(refuse to share it with your children because *they* have their own snacks and *you* are on vacation).  Also? Make sure you are wearing your bathing suit.

This is of vital importance.

Wearing your bathing suit, with a tummy full of rice krispies treat, step inside the women's restroom, veer to the left, and check yo'self in the mirror.  

This will probably be the most defining moment of your life.

Because.

This is the moment that will chart your course in life.  This is the moment you will question exactly how deep your convictions run.  This is the moment you will count every cost, weighing the importance of your identity and good name against the prospect of getting caught stealing the most flattering mirror in the history of the entire planet Earth and probably the rest of the solar system as well.

You will decide not to steal this mirror, but go ahead and spend fifteen five minutes checking yourself out from every angle.  Check your butt.  Do it.  It looks fly.  Arms?  Sha-zam.  Mama Gut?  No kiddos up in here because you are wearing a "skirted" tankini.  (Like a mom boss.)  Your thighs are soooooo cute.  Adorable, even.  YOU are adorable.  And thin.  Almost tiny.  Pixie-like.  I'm pretty sure you could be Tinkerbell's body double.

You might start to think something like, "Dude.  This is amazing.  I know I don't really look like this but there has to be some scientific reason this mirror works this way.  Something to do with light and reflection and refraction (you are vaguely remembering 7th grade science and also a recent trip to a hand-on museum with the kiddos so some of the vocabulary is still fresh in your mind).  I wonder how hard this would be to duplicate synthetically?  I mean, this is the 21st century.

(Maybe you will take a second to figuratively google 'What century is it in 2013?' because you are in the restroom at Disney and have no literal access to google but can't quite remember if it's the 20th or the 21st.)

Isn't there an app that could make me look like this to other people all the time?  Or an eye implant?  Or I wonder if we could determine the angle of the light and figure out how to move the sun ... no, that would be impossible.  But maybe we could build a dome and position a new fake sun so that it shows us in the skinniest position possible and then we could all move inside the dome and look thin forever.  It would be just like Biodome!  Pauly Shore ... Stephen Baldwin ... Dude, Buuuuuudy."

At this point it may occur to you that living inside a man-made biodome in order to look a tad smaller is probably a lot harder than, say, watching what you eat and exercising.  So you resign yourself to a life of better food choices maybe not on the remainder of your Disney trip and daily working up a sweat, knowing at the very least this mirror exists.  There is a tiny spot of heaven on earth, and it's in central Florida.  By the time you finish up your vacation with one last trip to visit the mirror, you will be convinced of one thing:

Disney *is* the most magical place in the world.

Pretend I have fairy wings.  Just like Tink, amIright?

Case of the Mondays: Blame it on my biological clock

We swap babysitting with a family down the street who have four kids just like us.  This is perfect because they don't freak the heck out at the size of our brood.  The ages of our kids also matches up; our five year old Esther plays well with their five and six year old girlies, and two year old Ezra and their three year old boy fight horribly and steal each others toys whenever possible enjoy the rare opportunity to play with another male.  Their fourth child is an adorable three month old girl, who is smiley and content and sweet smelling and the embodiment of everything that is awesome about babies.

It was our turn to watch the kiddos this Friday night.  Chris and Stacy dropped off their kids and headed out to a wonderful date night while we served up spaghetti a la Prego and then watched the older girls perform an out-of-the-box version of Cinderella, where they utilized every costume from the dress-up bin.  It was 

I spent a fair amount of time cuddling that sweet little bundle of three month old baby, thinking, "There is nothing cuter in the whole world than a little gummy smile!"  So really, you have to expect that today's "Case of the Mondays" post will be full of darling toothless smiles ... 

...on celebrities.

When we up in da club, all eyes on us.

Sorry I'm not sorry.  And you're welcome.

Happy Monday!

I'm Walkin' On Sunshine, OH-OH

And don't it feel good? HEY! ALL RIGHT NOW!

I've been given an award.  And I have it on good authority that it is a Major Award.  You know, of the leg lamp variety.  Katie at Nested has nominated me for the Sunshine Award because she is hilarious and one of my favorite bloggers in the world.  (Not because she nominated me but because she just is.)(And she is doing an incredible give away so you should check it out and follow her.)

“The Sunshine Award is an award given by bloggers to other bloggers. The receivers of the Sunshine Award are bloggers who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogsphere.”

The requirements for this award are to write 7 facts about myself and nominate others for this award.  Because I'm so great at following blogging rules (*sarcasm font*), sit back while I make five facts seem like seven.

Seven Five Facts About Me

1.  Ever since I accidently high-fived another swimmer underwater I'm the most fun swimmer ever. (Yeah, the most fun ever - you wanna go, Grammar?)  One day a guy was swimming towards me in the adjoining pool lane and we both stroked underwater at the same time, resulting in an accidental high-five and it was rad.  We both agreed we were pretty much best friends after that happened, and by "best-friends" I mean we laughed and for real high-fived at the end of our workouts.  At that moment I realized that just because swimming has the reputation of being a loner sport, it doesn't mean you can't communicate with the swimmers around you.  So I spend a fair amount of lap swimming making whale noises to see if anyone can hear me.  I also sometimes sing, but whale noises are much easier, because, you know, I'm swimming underwater.

If there was ever a moment I knew Pinterest would never fail me, it's the moment I discovered this shirt under the section of Humor (thankfully, and not under, you know, Women's Fashions). Pinterest, it's like you know me.

2.  I have super fine body hair.  And not like, "Dayum gurl, that some fine body hair," but like, "Wow, your body hair is super blonde and very small in thickness." This really works in my favor because along with being really fine, it also 'fros out like nobodies business.  In the right light I look like I have an aura about me, but it's really the light reflecting off my standing at attention arm hair.

What I really wanted to find was a
picture of Kid Rock drinking Faygo,
but apparently Kid Rock is mostly
photographed drinking beer. Which
is a bummer for this blog post.

3. I think that my feelings involving 1.the music of Kid Rock and 2. the taste of Faygo pop are going to get me kicked out of Michigan.  Both of these are Michigan staples.  Now, I love me some Better Made potato chips, I drive a Chrysler, Brian drives a Ford, and I happily add an "s" to the end of every place I am going.  (Don't worry if you don't get the pluralization thing.  It's actually a possessive thing, mostly.  No one in Michigan shops at Meijer, we all shop at Meijers.  Or Krogers. I don't get it either.) I'm totally a homegrown girl.  But I want to punch Kid Rock in the face every time I hear All Summer Long.  Or Picture (Sheryl Crow - blech).  I actually like Bawitdaba because I feel personally challenged to scream, "My name is Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid," just as long as he does.  I think he's smart and well spoken, and I would probably vote for him if he ran for any type of government position*, but I just don't like his music.  I'm also feeling really defensive right now. I also hate Faygo pop especially the Red pop and I'm writing this little because them's fighting words in the mitten.

*I heard an interview with Kid Rock on Detroit politics and it was so spot on.  For those of you that are unfamiliar with Kwame Kilpatrick and the Detroit City Council, let me summarize with this:  You know how politicians are known for being slimy, corrupt, evil people?  Normal politicians describe Detroit politicians this way.  Kid Rock fully admits that he is not qualified to serve as mayor of Detroit but did suggest he would run if they created a position for the Czar of Common Sense.  Can I get an AMEN?

(3.5 An interesting fact that has nothing to do with me but is for free?  This is Kid Rock.

This is the lead singer of my favorite band in the whole world, Bear Rinehart of Needtobreathe.

Sometimes I have to look twice at pictures to determine if it's Bear or Kid Rock.)(Which makes me feel like a slacker fan.)(#firstworldproblems.)

Hanging in my kitchen -
Holly Hobbie celebrating
Mother's Day 1974.  Boom.

4. I'm nutso about vintage Holly Hobbie.  My sister wives have gotten me some sweet gifts over the years to start and grow my collection.  Shontaya gave me a vintage book that I was afraid to open for forever and then thought, "This is totally stupid; I'm just wasting this," and so I cut out the pictures and framed them.  Because looking at them makes me happy all you people who just freaked out that I cut up a vintage book.  Rachel gave me decorative plates; Lauren got me a plaque, and Lyndsay got me a plate and made Hosanna a baby doll blanket and baby doll diaper bag out of Holly Hobbie material.  I am so spoiled.

I'd like chocolate cake please, Mrs. Huxtable.

5. My birthday is June 19.  Along with frequently sharing my birthday with Father's Day (every.dang.year.)  I also share a birthday with Paula Abdul.  And Macklemore.  WHAAAA?  Also, Phylicia Rashad, better known as Mrs. Claire Huxtable.  I think this year we all (me and my celebrity birthday twins) need to celebrate together. (I mean, you can totally come, too.)(I just didn't want you to feel obligated like you had to come to my birthday party.)(Just follow me on Bloglovin or Google Friend Connect and that will be gift enough for me.) But Paula, Macklemore, and Mrs. Freaking Huxtable - can you imagine that party?

I am nominating (in no particular order)
1. Stephanie @ That Loud Redhead
2. Kate @ Widgeon Nest
3. Angela @ Honey, I Shrunk the Mom
4. Alma @ Can I Borrow That?
5. Sue @ Limefreckle
6. Sue @ Diapers ... or Wine?
7. Jenn @ Fat Chick 2 Fit Chick

Also, since it's FRIDAY! it's also time for a bit of housekeeping.  I know most of you follow me on Facebook (which I'm really thankful for, YOU are awesome), but I need more followers on Bloglovin or Google Friend Connect.  (Yes, GFC is going to disappear soon, but won't it be nice to add Sublurban Mama to your collection before we all have to move?) So follow me on Bloglovin or GFC - it's totally free and won't take but a second of your time.  Plus you get live, up-to-date notifications whenever I post as long as you check Bloglovin or your reader feed. It's like the gift that keeps on giving. Just click on this fancy button and follow the steps.  Or glance to the right of my blog and click on "Join this Site" with Google Friend Connect.  Boo-ya, done.

It's a sad day when Paula Abdul seems to adequately sum up my life.

Smells like R.Kelly's sheets ... but it was 99 cents!

Lately my gym seems to be going out of their way to play music that sucks. And not just any sucky music - the Greats.  You know, like Billy Joel's "River of Dreams" and Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract."  Normally this wouldn't bother me as I usually plug myself into my iPod, but I've been going au natural due to (ready for it?) double ear infections.  (Although, yes, a doctor already told me it probably wouldn't make a difference if I continued to wear them, but I know how much I sweat when I work out and my ear buds have a tendency to collect the fruit of all my hard work.)(Gross.)(Fun fact for free?  I am the stinkiest sweat-er.)(And not in a Macklemore "Thrift Shop" kind of way.)(The kind of way that's like "guuuuurl, you need to Febreeze yo'self now 'cuz my eyes are waterin' standin' next to you.")(That's why I used to rush through stretching.)(Because it was rude to make someone stand next to me post-workout as I contorted my body into positions that encouraged the stink to permeate further.)(Then I pulled my calf and really value stretching so now I'm all, "Dude, suck it up and just be a mouth breather for a few minutes.  My entire athletic future depends on downward dog.)(Woof.)

Where was I?  Oh, yes.  At my gym, kicking out the late '80's jamz.

(I do a really mean impression of Billy Joel's falsetto part in River of Dreams*.  Not that it's good; it's literally mean/mean-spirited.  It sounds best while I'm in the shower and has caused Brian to rush into the bathroom asking, "Are you okay?  Do you need medical intervention?" and me to reply, "Dude, I'm performing here.")

(*The reason I am so familiar with Billy Joel's "River of Dreams" is because we sang it in my high school choir.  Also? My high school choir was nothing like Glee; I didn't even know being in choir was something most people were embarrassed about until I got to college and majored in ... choir.  Well, I majored in music but was required to be in a choir that met everyday for all four years I was on campus, so yeah, I majored in choir.  In my high school the choir director knew about marketing so she made a lot of the popular kids into choir stars (genius) which made the teenage masses also want to be choir stars.  So our choral program was pretty big.  And not nerdy.  I'm pretty sure.)(I realize this description does nothing to help my case that our choir wasn't for lew-sers.)

I think my glasses and choir uniform are proof enough that choir was *a pretty big deal* in 1991, but just in case you weren't convinced of the level of cool required to sing with a group of 8th graders, please draw your attention to my golden-ish heart necklace with "Kelly" scrawled in wire inside.

Further proof?  Yes.  That *is* a renaissance festival gown I'm wearing because we performed a dinner/concert thing every fall called Wassail Festival.  I was totally on the Royal Court.  Which?  Was awesome.
(And look at me werking it - rocking the over the shoulder pose at 16?  A true prodigy.)

This is probably my greatest moment in performance history (not even being sarcastic now, this is truly my high school legacy - that shizz was GOLD).  We are doing "Love Shack" by the B-52's. I am so, so mad I can't find a picture with Corrie Beth as well.  We were quite the trio.

(Also not loser-y?  I went to music camp the summer before my junior year.  I spent two weeks at Interlochen Center for the Arts wearing the required navy blue shorts, powder blue polo shirt, and yellow socks.)(I lost seven pounds while I was there because I was scared to poop so I didn't eat.)(The bathroom in our cabin had two toilets in the same partition-offed area "room" behind a swinging door that had no latching mechanism.  These two toilets were separated by a single piece of chest high plywood.  You could literally touch knees with the person *going* next to you if you were relaxed enough to actually be able to do any of your business at this point.)

Ok, that was probably the greatest tangent in Sublurban Mama history.  Back to the gym.

I was on the treadmill trying to run five miserable miles while listening to sweet young Paula describe her relationship with MC Skat Kat.  I was suffering.  And not just because of the music it was also because I had runner's trots and you already know how I feel about pooping in public. I was looking at the treadmill every fourteen seconds thinking it had been at least a minute and a half each time and realizing about a mile and a half in that I was not going to be able to finish my run.  My ears hurt.  My chest ached from last week's chest cold.  And darn it, I was just.plain.tired.

I started whining thinking about my upcoming 10k.  I wanted to PR this race because isn't that the goal of every race?  I did my last 10k at the end of triathlon season; I was in my best shape ever.  Now it seems like every time I get some momentum going I get knocked down again.  Pulled calf, no training for five weeks.  Three solid weeks of training, then the flu.  Another solid few weeks and a chest cold and ear infections. "Two steps forward, two steps back."  Dude, Paula, it's like you know me. (Or are mocking me, I haven't decided yet.)

I hobbled through four miles. I incorporated three walk breaks.  It took about 45 minutes to conquer those miles.  I will not be setting a PR at this race.

So, Imma do this 10k even though I don't feel ready mostly because I already paid for it.  It's going to be ugly and not fun, but I heard a rumor there is a medal for finishers and I'm all over that.  My new goal is to finish without walking.  Even if I have to move sloooooooowly. Just keep running.

In closing, to celebrate the most disjointed post I've ever written, I've decided to get imaginary paid for every parenthesis I use.  I'm an imaginary millionaire from this post alone.

Case of the Mondays: Keanu = *Mind Blown*