Just alike and totally different

I’ve been asked so many times if my big girls are twins. Until recently, they were rather identical-ish. They have a lot of the same interests and both are leggy and leanish. And both my big girls are smarties. At least for now. They are rocking little kid school – but I don’t want to brag because who knows what kind of stress calculus will bring later. And their brains could fall out – so I just say they are smart for today. Tomorrow is a wild card.

That said, one of my big girls is way dang nerdier than the other. And one of my big girls is significantly more mischevious (in a cute way.) Knowing those two facts is the easiest way to tell them apart. Here is a snippet of my morning.

Abby – Mama. Is it cheating if I do Maddie’s math for her but she is out of time to do it for herself?

Mama – Seriously? You tell me.

Abby – It doesn’t FEEL like cheating.

Mama – It is.

Abby – And it makes me sad.

Mama – You are sad you are not cheating?

Abby – I’m sad because I really like doing math problems and I miss doing that kind.

Mama – You are your father’s daughter. I’ve never missed doing a math problem a day in my life.

Maddie (oblivious to this conversation and hollering at Abs from another room) – Abs you can go ahead and solve that first problem and just tell me the answer. Don’t wait for me.

Picture me sighing.

Update – Now they are arguing because Maddie figured out how to do the problems on her own and Abby says Mads isn’t letting her see the math problems and work them out for fun. Abby is srsly nerdy. 

The Book Bash

For the first time in many years, I did not make a New Year’s Resolution to read more.

Of course, I didn’t resolve to do anything except to try to do less.

(You can check out my commitment to laziness at the link below.)

http://hillishilarity.wordpress.com/2012/01/22/resolution-to-be-a-bum/

It has been such a lovely year so far.

And, perhaps as a side effect of resolving to do less, I find I’m reading a great deal more than usual. And I’m often asked what I am reading. Of course, it’s usually strange, potentially-homeless people who ask me this question while I’m in the park letting the pooch run, but still, I thought I’d share what I’ve read since January 1st in case it helps anyone else.

I’ll use my standard rating system of 1-5 miniMormons. Five miniMormons basically means you could very well swoon when reading this book. One miniMormon means it’s possibly not worth your time – but do not mistake that with meaning that one actual, breathing miniMorrmon (like my kiddos) is also not worth one’s time. A single miniMormon on my 1-5 scale is referring entirely to the eyestrain to pleasure ratio. And folks, if the rating low – I’m sorry. Not every written word is going to be a classic. Stinky, but true.

You might be asking who am I to judge these authors and these works. I’m kind of no one important but still, I have a lot of big opinions and I do know how to use book tape AND how to tell the difference between Fantasy and Sci Fi.

So let the ratings begin. Because I just loooooove judging things.

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

3.7 miniMormons

This book came highly recommended by Oprah’s staff and that might have been my first clue that something would be off. I find a lot of their endorsements sort of hyperbolic. It is the story of two friends vying for – and how one will stop at nothing to get – “the boy.” It does have a Fitzgerald-y sort of feel to it and I loved the clarity with which it was written. But it felt like there was an expectation that you would be “bettered” in some way for having spent time with these characters and I was not. Some characters were richly developed and others weren’t and all in all, the story was not satisfying although I feel like the writing was quite brilliant. It was concise in a poetic way and masterfully written, but not developed to a relatable level. Sadly, I kept waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop in the plot and it didn’t. And I do so enjoy a well-dropped shoe.

The Fifth Child by Doris Lessing

4 miniMormons

Oh, did I get sucked into this one. The blurb on the book paints this as a horror story. To me,  it is not so horrific, so don’t go to the Stephen King kind of place in your mind. Think more psychological thriller with a side of a mother’s love and a crumbling family thrown in for good measure. An idyllic family is thrown for a loop with the birth of their fifth, and largely unlovable, child. The story really made me think about families around me that are going through difficult times in raising not-so-typical children. Without being too verbose or preachy, the author giftedly explored how difficult parenting situations affect family relationships and what can turn paradise into hell. A compelling rainy-day read, for sure.

Not My Daughter by Barbara Delinsky

3.25 miniMormons

I’m not sure how I ended up selecting this book to read but I do remember reading it as the new year was starting. To me, it was a sufficient less-than-drivel-but-not-going-to-make-you-a-Rhodes-Scholar read. Perfect for vacations. The story recounts a fictionalized teen pregnancy pact between friends. While is takes an ancillary view of how it affects the girls (in my opinion), the author does a more thorough job of exploring how the adult parents – and friends – of these girls get through the trial. To me, it wasn’t formulaic, but you could see the big turns coming. I did enjoy the examination of how teen pregnancy and decisions affect parents and families, but I could have lived without the knitting talk. I wanted to enjoy it more, but eventually, my brain needed something greater to chew on…which is why I turned to my next read….my favorite go-to-novel….

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

5 miniMormons (and a big side of DUH – what else would it earn?)

I needed to be reminded that a good story that is written well exists. Ergo, I re-read Pride and Prejudice. I’m not typically a mushy-love-story kind of girl. But I do love the olde English countryside (at least the one that exists in my mind.) And I love the father with these tons of daughters (hello.) And best of all I love to love and then hate Mr. Wickham and then hate and then love Mr. Darcy. And the quotes – oh the memorable quotes. I find myself laughing out loud throughout the book.

As much as I miss the characters when it is all over, I’ve never been able to bring myself to read another Pride and Prejudice-esque knock off. Although that Pride and Prejudice and Zombies keeps catching my eye, I must admit. If it makes it to my eReader, I’ll probably not let you know as I’ll be dying a thousand deaths of mortification. Or maybe I will let you know as I have no pride.  (Although I do, apparently, have a prejudice against zombies. Who’dda thunk?)

UnOrthodox by Deborah Feldman

4.35 miniMormons

I love that the Mormon is rating this Jewish tale. This autobiographical account (and as an aside, I am in complete love with almost all things auto- and bio-graphical) feels like it is set in the 1950s and you will need to keep reminding yourself that Deborah Feldman is a beautiful young woman in her twenties. It has a fast pace and just as you are reminding yourself that this is a modern tale, you will also have to remind yourself it is non-fiction.

Deborah tells of her life as a Hasidic Jew in the Williamsburg section of New York. Her observations and the rich (and juicy!) details she provides about her life are absolutely compelling. I finished the book in just a few sittings and found myself shushing the children so I could focus on the book (a true testament to a well-written read – shushing the children!) At the end of the book, I found myself wanting to call Deborah up and trying to be her BFF. Just sayin.

The Heretic’s Daughter by Kathleen Kent

3.75 miniMormons

Maybe it’s the weirdness of being Mormon, but I do love a good religious-y tale to relate to. And while I couldn’t exactly “relate” to Martha and Sarah Carrier of Salem, Massachusetts, (and how hard is it to spell Massachusetts when one is sleepy?) I did find myself captivated.

Author Kathleen Kent is a descendant of Martha Carrier – a woman accused, tried, and hanged as a witch. The story is of strength and determination even in the face of death and how one family deals with the trial on many different levels. Another fabulous rainy-day read, be prepared to grab a happy pick-me-up book upon its completion. The story is told well although the actual writing can be a little jarring at moments. I suspect it is purposely underdeveloped in parts as its from a child’s point of view, so I had to manage some expectations throughout. It will definitely leave you haunted by the tragedies of Salem and wondering why this was ever allowed to become the standard for American Puritanicalism in the first place. (OK, I don’t think Puritanicalism is really a word, but go with me on that one. Puritanism. Ohhh – I think the correct word is Puritanism. That just looks better – but is significantly less fun to say.)

Here, Have a Husband by Heather Gean

3 miniMormons

Again, this isn’t the kind of book that will help you become a Rhodes Scholar, but it was fast and happy and easy to skim when the RV ride was bumpy and I’d lose my place. It starts with a fascinating supposition that I wish had been explored in greater detail. Basically, given the high divorce rate, society has allowed for an option for couples to be “matched” by the government. And right there I could have told you things would be wonked on up – the government was involved. (he he he) Sadly, there wasn’t much compelling after the hook. The story was painfully chick-lit (so not my thing for the most part) and I didn’t find the characters relatable, but the premise kept me coming back for more. I can see this book becoming a movie and if you need something to read by the pool – this won’t hurt your brain too much. Emphasis on the “too much.”

Chasing Rainbows by Kathleen Long

2 miniMormons

Ummm, it was bad. This one did, in fact, hurt my brain.

The over-the-top main character is having a really rough time. Her father passed away, her hubby left her for a not-even-hotter-or-better model (for shame!), her dog is a loser and her best friend is preggers and 41 and in a cruddy relationship. While I suspect the book is supposed to be insightful about life and love and relationships, I found myself skimming skimming skimming. The characters were unbelievable and had no depth to them to make them relatable (the hunky neighbor she abuses can solve her every life’s problem – her dog is really a genius disguised as a obedience school drop out – that sort of thing.) The plot was formulaic. I did enjoy the examination of how the death/illness of a child can shape a family – but even that I felt was unintentionally trivialized. Eh. At least it was free or cheap or something on my Kindle.

Currently, I am reading First You Try Everything by Jane McCafferty and I’m so in love with it. I do enjoy a well-constructed story that examines mental breakdowns or illness. I’m not entirely sure where we are headed but I adore the characters and found myself missing them today when I was unpacking from a little vacation. I’ll keep you posted!

Another diss by a miniMormon

Annie – Mama, what does minf mean?

Moi - In English, nothing. If it’s a word in another language, I don’t know that either.

Annie – (audible sigh)

Moi – Did you just sigh at ME?

Annie – Mama. It’s not your fault that Daddy knows everything, but are you trying your best? I don’t know many things, but I still try my best. I don’t know if you still try your best.

Moi – You caught me. You better just ask Daddy. He’s a much harder try-er than myself.

For the record, I used to make stuff up to answer questions like that to stop similar lines of argumentation, but they caught on. (Someone telling them that the condensation on their bedroom windows was NOT, indeed, monster sneezes ruined that fun.)  Now, I just tell the truth, but I still suffer their indignation. Lose-lose.

Resolution to be a bum

Ahhh, January. The month that helps me swirl my self-esteem around the emotional toilet bowl. The month of resolutions, new Weight Watchers spokespeople, and

worst of all

introspection.

Whose idea was it to get all introspective-y in January? S/he is dead to me.

Every January I revisit my worry that Abby will not be prepared for life and that I only have 6.5 years of her left at home for me to shove it all in her brain. Every January, I re-worry that my relationship with Shawn could crumble at any moment if I don’t buck it up and that the little girls are going to become delinquents if I don’t focus on them more. Every January, my mind is flooded with all the things I have yet to do in life and the thought that if I don’t get a-cracka-lackin, I will never do them….which reminds me that all of the women in my mother’s side of the family die very young…

so I better REALLY get a-cracka-lackin.

And probably schedule a check up. You know, for some kind of health-ish resolution.

Exhausting.

So once again, like many Januaries before this, I’ve thoroughly examined my neruoses of failure and a wasted life. Initially, I was making my goal-y list and checking it twice. I had a meaty list covering a range of topics that would no doubt save my soul, better my family, and have me without a wasted moment until 2013. I was proud of my goals, but scared, too. They were laudable ambitions, but just reading them, I felt drained.

Additionally, I realized yet again, I am sorely lacking in actual abilities or talents – thereby making most of my goals a lot harder for me than I imagine them to be for my friends. Hard to learn to sew when your brain has no crafty ability, ya know? Being perky and (reasonably) friendly – basically, my two lone “talents” if you will – aren’t really the kinds of things you build your New Year’s Resolutions on. Being friendly and taking time for others isn’t going to save my soul, marriage, and family.

Or will it? It’s hard to say when I always seem to be stuffing that part of myself down to get everything else done.

I have noticed that through the past few years, I haven’t had much time to be a friend to others. I’ve been racing around like a wild woman. After every major calling at church, the completion of classes, or at the end of my crazy crack jobs I’ve thought,”I will now focus on the relationships around me – my people need love.” But instead of relationship building, I seem to get sucked into some other project of monumental proportions that weighs me down and makes me too exhausted to see straight.

Which brings me to a conversation I had with my wonderful friend who said her best year ever was the year she decided to be more relaxed. To do less.

Bingo.

BINGO!

So this year, that is my resolution. To do less. Less rigidity about working out – more flexibility to be there for a friend. Less worry about helping around the community – more time to listen. Less on the official family calendar – so that more can be slid in when we want with whom we want – and that will meet the needs of that day.

We’ll see.

But I am pretty excited to do less. It’s been a great week or two of doing less so far. As I have been less focused on what I HAVE to do every day, I actually feel inspired to do more. Crazy how that works.

Thank goodness for the wisdom of friends (Emily!)

Here’s to doing less. I posted this after taking a nap this morning. I think I’m already rocking some success.

Math musings

Annie: Mama, I hate regrouping.

Me: Whhhyyyyyy? Regrouping is like a tiny little math party happening on your paper. Everyone is all moving around – talking to new numbers – changing their outfits.

Annie: 0_0

Annie: Mama. Regrouping is not a math party.

Me: Is too.

Annie: OK. Then it’s a math party where one of the party numbers dies right before it was supposed to do the big entertaining show of the party. And now everyone is sad. And cry-babying.

Score

Annie:1

Mama:0

 

My tale (tail?) of woe

Rate this sin: How bad is it to ask your 12-year-old to rub your bum? Is it less sinful, more sinful, or equally as sinful to ask your 7-year-old? (And we all know there is no way anyone would ask my 10-year-old. That one has no sympathy for my pain.)

Perhaps, pre-judgement, I should start at the very beginning.

And for what it’s worth, I just heard several of you hum, “A very good place to start.”

So, this summer, I was so stressed I lost 15 pounds. In other words, it was a great summer.

But now, I’m more relaxed. And a content Amy is a chubby Amy. Sure, I might look cuter skinnier, but, when thin, I’m a miserable shrew who is jonesing all the time for pie. (I really should work on that.) But I know my health is better thinner, so, to that end, I’ve been taking my chunky self to the gym with new resolve.

Sadly, resolve + gym action is not nearly as effective for my weight loss program as STRESS, but still, I do what I can.

Yesterday, it was YOGA time at the gym. YOGA. I don’t like to brag, but I totally rock at yoga. I have horrible form doing weights. I run like a git. But you say “Downward Dog” and I say  ”Pffft – how long?”

So I yoga-ed. Score. I was feeling all bad to the bone while everyone toppled over and I stood tall. And that pride lead to my debacle. The teacher announced that there would be cardio strength class. I used to totally do cardio strength class at least 3-4 times a week. Of course, that was back when I was Sorta-Skinny-But-Highly- Shrewlike-Amy. I knew this teacher was a complete and merciless nutter, but as I had so mastered his yoga, I figured I’d give it a whirl.

90 jump squats, 80 lumberjacks with a 25 lb. weight and who the monkey knows what else, I was limp with pain. My legs were wobbling.

Even my eyelids hurt.

I came home and willed my cells to heal themselves. (I don’t know if that is good science, but there’s no need to correct me when I’m already down.)

They did not. In fact, they were crying in agony. I tried to sit as little as possible as my recently-squatted-bummy-was on fire…and there was no relief a full 10 hours later. Rather, hour by hour, the pain was ramping up.

This morning, I hobbled about the home, still dying. After the excruciating labor it was to reach the medicine cabinet and open it, I did manage to stuff some pain meds down. My glutes were hot to the touch and felt like little (sigh…large) gluteus rock-euses. I met my match in that sadistic, post-yoga class.

And that’s when I did it. The unthinkable. I begged Abby to deep tissue massage my bummy and thighs. Begged. Sure, that wasn’t her vision of how home school life would be, but I am weak and desperate.

And sadly, still chunky. (Didn’t lose a pound yesterday but I did have a tasty enchilada and a half for dinner.)

Abby said no. She was pretty firm with me. I guess I needed that. She said we’re past the point in our lives where that is OK. I didn’t know there had ever been a time when it was OK. Which got me to thinking – would it be OK to make Annie do it? She is little and doesn’t think I’m nearly as sick-nast as the other two do.

So, gentle reader, that is my saga. My tale of woe. Make that, my tail of woe.

And yes, I worked out again today. Stair machine AND spin. Yes, my bummy still hurts like the heart of poor Kris Kardashian, I mean, Humphries.

Now is your chance to voice your opinion. Come on. You know you want to judge me. It’s easy to do and you won’t have to lift a muscle.

Roots that hit an aquifer

Ever have a vision for you life?

And then your life rocks on and you think, “OK, that vision isn’t working out yet, but it will someday?”

And then your life rocks on past even that and you come to realize…

….good, bad, or other…

…your life isn’t going to look like that vision. The time has past. Ship sailed.

And you’d be OK with it, if you weren’t still sort of attached to the vision.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have a dang good life.

And I know that. And I also know

NO ONE

wants to hear about people with dang good lives all crying and whining that they want better.

It’s like the person who goes on the cruise to Europe that you’ve always dreamed of going on and when she comes home, she only complains the food wasn’t as good as it could have been. All the while, you believe you would have been satisfied with even a tour of the ship. No one wants to be that girl.

But I’m sort of in that girl’s place right now. And by “right now” I mean, I’ve been there a while and it is

oh

so

unattractive.

For some time, I’ve been reflecting on the fact that I never ever no never thought I’d STILL be living in Central Florida. I missed my chance to travel and see the world in high school and college by thinking that, as poor as I was then, someday I’d have more money and would go and live in fascinating places. I had big plans for my life. I had hoped we’d move and move and move and that I’d finally escape Florida and get to see the world. Is it a big problem to never get to move and see the world? No. Is it a deal breaker in a marriage? Heavens no. Is it my dream to live in East Orlando until I die? Uhhh, sorry friends that I adore – but no. I’d love to, ohhhh, see a mountain or hike a trail that doesn’t have palmetto bushes on it or live where parks include gorges. Even desert life is sounding good about now. A super bonus would be living where there is a rich side of history and culture that I don’t already know all about from having lived here a long, long time.

Is this a real conundrum? Again, I say no. Things like cancer and job loss and poverty, those count as conundrums. This counts as maybe – a heartache? A really smallish one, if that. But I often feel like I bring nothing to the table in terms of conversation about cultures and places. I’ve been in Florida since I was born. I know Florida. And no one cares what I know about here – until they are coming on vacation. And being an expert in Mickey Mouse wasn’t exactly the vision I had for my life. I am not well-traveled and erudite. I don’t have the frames of reference that others do. When my friends leave all summer for (what always sound like fun and CHEAP) destinations and they stay with their families for weeks at a time, escaping the oppressive heat, I stay home and look those places up on the internet. Lame but that is totally for realzers. I got no place to go to. And (not that I don’t love her, but) staying with my mom all summer isn’t going to be super exciting as she lives on the other side of my same town.

WOE IS ME!

OK, so that said, for whatever reason, that has been seriously bugging the living tar out of me lately. It gets worse every year, but it’s kind of fiercely bad the past few years. Shawn gets job calls sometimes and you should see me practically salivate at the thought of moving anywhere. I am downright ridiculous. And always, we stay. And I feel just a little less refined. A little less traveled. A lot uncultured. A lot home-marmie. (Is that a word? It should be.) This past few weeks, I’ve felt really ridiculously low about it and even prayed to just not be such a grump about living in a beautiful home in a beautiful area with my beautiful family and friends. Because even I know this is NOT a problem. Still, my heart seems to think otherwise. In a lot of ways, I have a really adventurous heart trapped in a very 1950s style life.

Go ahead. Roll your eyes. I roll them at myself. It’s OK. Now stop the eye rolling so you can read.

Fast forward to Stake Conference this weekend. I prayed in sincerity just to have some relief in feeling so inadequate and so simple. I prayed for other stuff too – you know, things that really matter – but that was my little side prayer of personal greediness.  I am ashamed to utter it now, although I wasn’t ashamed to pray it because 1. I really did pray for important stuff and 2.I know God totally gets how much I wish I could just put a toe over the FL/GA line. And seeing as He made the rest of the world, I’m betting He wants me to see it.

We had several wonderful speakers for Stake Conference including Elder Anderson. His humility makes him so endearing and he often mentioned that, in the past, he enjoyed living in Florida. He had lived here for a long time in Tampa and I believe his wife is a native Floridian. I enjoyed his comments about relationships and the gospel in the parameters of eternity and I felt like I was learning a lot. But I continued feeling really sad, as I almost always am, that I will never live in Salt Lake or Europe or any of the other cool places he mentioned.

And yes, even I am sick of myself when I am like this. But hold on!

So, his wife stood up to speak and she asked him, before doing so, if he had anything he wanted her to address. I bet she was thinking he’d go with a topic like “salvation” or “missionary work” – something good and religious-y. I mean, this was a religious conference. Instead, he said to her, “Talk about Florida.”

Immediately, I went to my 0_0 place. She was just going to speak off the cuff about Florida? I was intrigued and skeptical that this was going to do me a fat lot of good.

And then she said that it was a great privilege to be from Florida. She lives in Utah now, but she values her upbringing here. She went on to say that values she feels strongly about were established in her because she is from Florida. She mentioned that her testimonies of her leaders came from being taught and lead by people right here in Florida.

As she spoke, her sentiment about the Florida LDS lifestyle resonated with me.

Rightly or wrongly, my Mormon-ness and my Mama-ness comes not only from how I how I was raised and have lived, but from how I was raised and have lived….in Florida. What I find important are things I learned here. What I value, I value because people here taught it to me. What I’ve been exposed to  - and not exposed to – have made me who I am. What I treasure and what I like – those tastes and even dislikes were formed from a life right here. And especially how I feel about my religion and gospel, those are the product of leaders and teachers and friends here in plain

ole

flat

touristy

Florida.

I know who I am in the gospel and what I want to be, because of my Florida experiences. The lessons I have learned were taught to me at the hands of Florida dwellers. Both in finer moments and in ones like these where I’ve been whining, I’m a testament to what the LDS population in Florida can produce. Today, in hearing this woman speak, I felt a lot less inadequate and a lot more like I need to value wherever I am and see what I can learn. It’s that old Bloom Where You’re Planted and I’m planted here. Guess I better start blooming. It’s not a bad place to grow.

Today’s bright idea brought to you by – Annie

Today, like many days in their lives, the sisters had sisterly drama.

And Annie, like many days in her life, bore the brunt of the sisterly drama.

So begins another Annie/Mama conversation.

Annie: Mama, we got to get them outta here.

Me: I know, darling. But I think we are stuck with those two.

Annie: Not if we run away. Remember how we always were being saying we would run away to Disney World?

Me: Yes Nan. But I don’t really think they will let us live in that castle.

Annie: (sigh) Pleaaaaaaase can me, you, and Daddy run away? To a fun land?

Me: Sure Annie. You arrange it and I’ll run away with you.

Annie: OK (long pause) WAIT A MINUTE MAMA! I have a better-er idea.

Me: Oh yeah?

Annie: If we run away, the big girls will stay here, right? And get the dog and the good beds?

Me: Yup. That’s why we have to run away someplace really stylish.

Annie: I have a better-er idea! (Now whispering) Let’s put them in the car

and not tell them nothing

and drive them to an ORPHANAGE!

Come on Mama! Let’s go right now!

Me: Uhhhh, Annie…

Annie: (again whispering) Is orphanage a word I’m not supposed to know? I want them gone, though and I already know about orphanages.

Me: Would you like some ice cream?

Wherefore art thou, employment?

Last year, after having 2  (outside of the home) jobs and living the life of crazed neuroses that accompanied it, I knew I had to call that bunch of shenanigans quits.

So, I’m currently unemployed.

I was so relaxed for a day or two, but now I’m going just the

teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeensiest

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeensiest

bit

insane

from the boredom.

Just saying.

So, I thought I’d check out Craigslist for jobs for people like me – that is to say…

perky people with very few marketable skills.

Once on the site, I quickly zoomed past all those skill-related jobs. Sure, I could totally weld, work on cars, or clean your teeth and am qualified in my own sort-of way to do so. But I find I’m more about re-creating myself in some new, untested manner. So I thought I’d leave those opportunities there for other, more strictly-regimented folks and I, myself, would scroll on down to the land of subsections notated as

PART TIME and – even better!! – ETC (short for etcetera, I hope.)

My new friend had just told me about this gem of an area on Craigslist – a veritable goldmine of goodness, if one will. I popped on the site this morning and am enjoying it, but I can hardly narrow down where to apply first. Sure there are listings like, Responsible Administrative Assistant Needed and Delivery Driver Wanted but those are hardly going to keep my interest. Ho hum. Been there, done that. I’m looking for a life-altering-extreme job. Hence, my attraction to…

FIRE HOSE TESTER

Hello!  Now we’re talking. Picture it – Me, on the side of the road, in those giant yellow fireman pants with an awesomely huge helmet tucked under my arm. Surveying the neighborhood. I wave with my massive-gloved hand to some kids passing by on bikes.  The plump, boy-child in the biking group asks,

“Hey FireLady – whatcha doing?”

“I’m keeping you safe kids. I’m the Fire Hose TESTER.”

The kids ooooo and ahhhhhh. And I’m totally their hero. Especially when I turn that hose on and let their dog drink from it.

Now, that job is great. But could it compare to

PARTY BUS DRIVER?

Again, I’d be a hero. And I think I look good in pointy party cone hats (not to brag.)

Of course, being Mormon, I don’t drink, so this job seems like an obvious choice for me. And I bet I could help those party busers see that a good time could be had without booze. Ever gotten blindfolded, spun around three times, and played “Tape-the-nametag-on-the-missionary?” So dang fun. And I’d let them play it WHILE the bus was moving. “Why should safety patrols be the only ones allowed to walk around on buses?” I always say.

Now, these jobs are enjoyable and important (in their own ways), but I also have my eye on a really great job that is all about beautification.

That’s right

HAIR EXTENSION TECHNICIAN

While I have no actual knowledge on how to apply even one hair extension – much less to do so technically –  I am a girl who has a plan. I am going to dovetail my Hair Extension time with my other great Craigslist job find

HOOKAH BAR EMPLOYEE

Winning.

Those folks will be so high on Hookah Happy, they won’t notice I ignored their feather extension request and gave them Heidi braids instead. I’ll load all my Hookah friends in my Party Bus, sober them up, and show them my firehose. On our rides about town, we might pick up the men who responded to the Craigslist ad that involves testing Propecia. I think those hair-lite boys could probably use some perking up AND my extensions. My friend spotted some ads for surrogates. We might pick them up, too. I want the party bus to be about giving back to the community. Ergo, the surrogates will ride for free.

Sure, I’ll be busy, but that is how I like my life – a crazed ride of unskilled wonky. Thank you Craigslist for helping me realize my untapped potential.

And the children shall rise up against the mama

Me: Dang it!

Abs: What, Mama?

Me: I have what is probably my last great tan of the year and I have bug bites on my legs ruining it. Argh.

Abs: 0_0

Me: What?

Abs: Yeah, you have real big problems. Those people who lived through tsunamis have nothing on you.

Me: 0_0

Abs: People who eat dirt for dinner, they don’t have problems. You and your tan with bug bites – THAT is a problem.

Children these days. They turn on you so young now.

sigh