In My Own Skin

Lovin where I am


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Would you survive a zombie apocalypse?

“Walking Dead” is big in my house. On Sunday night, we all gather around what ever TV we are near at the time (we have so many it’s not in the same room) and prepare ourselves for who will die or survive next. During the course of an hour, with frequent commercial breaks, my family will discuss what they would have done differently, what weapons they would have, how they would collect supplies….blah, blah, blah. I’m thinking…”where am I going to get my roots done?”

Yes, people…I’m thinking about my hair!! Not just my hair, I’m thinking about the fact that these people haven’t bathed in Lord knows when and there isn’t a pimple on their faces. Their teeth are pearly white and you know Darryl has never been to the dentist in his life. But here’s the kicker, do any of these women get their monthly bill? You know what I’m talking about. Yes, it’s a zombie apocalypse but where is Aunt Flow? Did she turn into a zombie? I don’t know about you all but, not having a visit from my dreaded Aunt Flow….that might be my reason to survive a zombie apocalypse!!

As my boys and my husband discuss with great enthusiasm survival tactics, battle strategies and if Terminus is a cannibalistic society, I’m thinking that my family would be eaten in about ten seconds in a zombie world. That might be an unfair estimate. We are soccer players…we could outrun a herd of zombies. But, could we survive?

As we sit in our beautiful warm home, with dinner cooking and everyone’s phone close at hand in case there is an emergency text that the zombie plague has occurred, I laugh to myself. What would these kids do without their phones? I would like to think that we could scrap out a living together. Maybe band together with the neighbors and make a safe haven in our little corner of Washington State. But, would it be enough? Would we all just be happy with being alive?

As a parent, I would fight till my dying breath to keep my children alive. Still, I wonder, would it be enough for my beautiful, pampered children to just survive? Could they carve out a life and find joy and happiness in the things that our society has seemed to have forgotten? A sunrise and a sunset. Reading a good book or building something with their own hands. What about relationships? In this age of email, texts and blogs (yeah, I went there) could we find the beauty and worth in face-to-face interactions again? Instead of sexting, would we write love letters? For every one luxury that we would lose in a post-apocalyptic world, there are so many things that with the gain of these luxuries we have already lost. Will we ever really know and understand what would be lost and gained and would we appreciate what we still have in a world of zombies? I hope I never have to find out…but…I think I’ll make a run to Target…I might need a stash of hair color.

Ciao for now!!


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“Be smart enough to pull off what you’re dumb enough to try”

This is one of my favorite quotes. Don’t ask me who I’m quoting because all I remember is I read it in a magazine interview about some techy millionaire here is Seattle. Clearly, the article and the guy weren’t that interesting but the quote was life changing…for me anyway. I truly hope that someone else got as much out of this quote as myself and the guy who originally quoted it. Still, if we are the only two, I’m in great company.

Why is this life changing? It’s clear, isn’t it? Well, it is to me. As I look back on the unsuccessful moments in my life, I realized that this quote is absolutely true.

“Be smart enough….”

Not to say that I’m not smart. Just not smart enough as to which I was attempting. After I read this quote, I was reborn. I could attempt anything as long as I was smart enough to research, prepare and to have a plan before I made my attempt. Brilliant!! Why didn’t I think of that? If you look back at any successful attempt at anything by anyone, there are years, decades, of research, preparation and planning which was necessary to be successful.

Does a person just wake up one day and become an Olympic champion or a professional athlete or win the Nobel Prize? I’m sure there are those few that are gifted with some freaky super-power that allows them to run faster than anyone in the world or to score goals from the 50 yard line. (Beckam and Rooney to name a couple. My ode to Man U) As much as I want to believe (and I will fight to the bitter end that I have amazing super powers) that my super powers are in abundance. I, reluctantly, admit that they are not always on track with my head or my heart. Which is where the planning part comes in.

Being the self-proclaimed fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl that I am, and this approach has served me well in my almost 46 years mind you, I have been known to go running enthusiastically into situations. This is where my super powers come into play. I have been blessed with the ability to pull off some crazy shit!! The details of my successful antics will definitely be in many more blogs to come. In this blog I will be referring to when my super powers were quashed by whatever kryptonite was around at the time and those moments when ass-flying was oh so unsuccessful…well let’s just admit it…tragic is quite a bit more accurate.

Had I been sitting in whatever waiting room I was in at the time (memory does not serve) and stumbled onto a magazine article, with which has become my mantra, many years earlier, I would have been sitting pretty by now. Not that where I am isn’t more than I could have hoped for. It just might have been a little less cray cray and more living my life to the fullest. I would have understood that my life was all research and I would have paid better attention to the details. I would have fought less with people and their opinions and learned more from them. My plans would have been better and therefore more apt to succeed.

Thankfully, I still have time. I have learned to slow down and take it all in. Details and experience give me the smarts and they don’t always come from a book or the internet. When I feel that ready and smart enough to attempt whatever it is I’m going to try, always…and I mean ALWAYS have a fool-proof plan. (I hate being the fool) So, I try to curb my ass-flying on the important attempts and save it for when I decide to make cupcakes from scratch or when I whack all my hair off. If I fail, my hair grows back and the cupcakes get fed to the dogs.

Ciao for now


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Let’s talk about Facebook shall we?

I agree on every word and syllable with this blog. I do have to admit, for the past year or so, I haven’t been real big on Facebook and for all the reasons written here. Yet, I still haven’t deactivated my page. Why, I wonder? What am I waiting for? Until I figure it out, I’ll keep reading and blogging and a lot less posting.
Ciao for now

Oh for the love of...me

I’ll admit it…I’m a defender of Facebook. I like it. I like seeing pictures of my grandkids and keeping up with what is going on with them. I like keeping up on the lives of my friends and what their grandchildren are doing. I like the positive news items and the helpful way it reaches out to millions of people at a moments notice. I like finding friends from way back when and touching base again…not enough to actually make an effort to get together or anything but I’m nosy…I like knowing what’s going on in the world.

But I’m finding there’s no real “etiquette” when it comes to Facebook. It’s kind of anonymous…but not really. We’re not face to face so you don’t have to see my initial reaction to your post and I have time to think about how I’m going to (or not going to respond). Kind…

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Total eclipse of the heart

Not just a song that I love. It is where my heart is. The death of a family member, the strain between myself and another family member. But, the worst is the non-existent relationship with my daughter. She is my heart and soul and I’m destroyed by her choice to leave her entire family in the wake of her destruction. Like an eclipse, I wait for the dark cold moon to move again. To expose the sun and it’s light to shine and warm the earth and again my heart.


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My kidney belongs to Daddy

That is my next tattoo. Maybe written in French or Italian with scrolling letters to make it look pretty. It’s a tattoo, people!! It will be forever on my body. Now I just need to get the results of the final and most important test of this process. You see when I say that my “kidney” belongs to Daddy that is the most literal statement I have ever made. I’m trying to donate a kidney to my Father.

Sixteen months ago, my father went into renal failure and started dialysis. The sad part is that this was no surprise. My Father had been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes when he turned forty. Instead of making some life changes and taking care of himself, as he should have, at 63 years old, he had less than 10% kidney function. Hereditarily, this runs in his family. Following in the footsteps of both my Grandparents and two of my Father’s siblings who died from diabetic complications because they didn’t change how they lived. Now my Father is living this legacy of diabetes and death….or should I say dying?

When my Step-mother called the kids together for a “family meeting” we knew something was up. We’ve never had a “family meeting” EVER. Of course, they want to have this meeting at a restaurant. What we’re they thinking? As if being in the general population would ever stop anyone in MY family of getting loud, emotional or argumentative. You see, that is how we communicate on my Dad’s side of the family. It’s hard for some to understand but, in all actuality, it is very freeing to be that safe with your family that you can say what you need to in any format and your words are accepted and you aren’t judged. It’s one of my favorite qualities about my family.

As we sit together and make small talk, waiting for the real reason as to why we have been summoned to Sunday brunch and it’s not Easter or Mother’s Day, I’m thinking about my thirteen year old son who is with me. Can he handle what is to come? Can he handle the real life and death situation that is inevitable and still, somehow, have a child-like look toward the future? Then I look at my Father and wonder if he can look to the future with hope?

My Father takes a deep breath and, for the first time in decades, his emotions get the better of him. My Father looks to my Step-Mother for help. I close my eyes for a second and pray…..please God!!

“You’re Father is in kidney failure.”


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Back in the saddle again

It’s been a long time since my last post. Four years actually and a lot has happened. Maybe I should back up a bit…ease into the telling of why I’m writing again. There is a lot to be told as this is my life and it moves fast and furious. Why blow your wad all in one shot? No one likes that.

So, I’m gonna take it slow.

Ciao for now


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No one looks good in skinny jeans!!

Let’s be real people….NO ONE LOOKS GOOD IN SKINNY JEANS!!! AND who thought this was a good look?  I’m just sayin…

Don’t get me wrong, I love my jeans. Usually high-end, designer jeans and if I can find them on sale, all the better. I live in my jeans and have quite a few. So, when I went through my closet recently and got rid of a few old jeans, I had to replace them. SHOPPING TRIP!!!

Big mistake. Every pair of jeans in every store I went into was a skinny pair of jeans. Dark denim, light denim, distressed denim, low-rise, mid rise, capris, modern skinny, slouchy skinny and, the worst of them all, painted-on-like-white-on-rice skinny. Urrrgghhh, they all sucked.

I love the way I look in a great pair of jeans. Let me tell ya, skinny jeans are not a great pair of jeans. For starters, as you all know, I play A LOT of soccer. My thighs are developed and in the wrong pair of jeans (skinny) I look like a frog. Don’t get me wrong, I have great legs. Tan (thanks to my Hawaiian father) and in shape. You would never know it in a pair of skinny jeans.

After trying on about a dozen or so pairs of jeans, I left and indulged myself in a latte and a pedicure. I’ll buy a cute skirt!!!

Ciao for now

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