Brains are weird.

Sooo, I'm thinking about picking up on the blogging again.  Not that anyone out there has been breathlessly awaiting my next submission.  Although I still get a wee little bit of traffic, mostly to the "origins" post for some reason.  And, it's not like much has really changed here on the homestead...still pretty much kids, bad weather, and my crabby observations about people and things.  Strangely, it is cathartic and therapeutic to journal knowing that strangers are reading about my life, especially since I'm pretty much a practically agoraphobic, want-to-be hermit.  Brains are weird.

8 months and counting.

From yesterday, 8 months and I will be 50 years old.  Someone famously said that life begins at 50, or something like that.  Easy to say when you are 50, but you know when someone says "if you could be any age right now, what would it be?" NO ONE says 50.  Most everybody says 30, I would be 32 which is when I felt the most comfortable in my skin. 

I'm officially starting to struggle with the concept of being 50, not because I feel old, but because I feel young.  Too young to have that awful number assigned to me.  Too young to feel like it's getting too late to have a goal, find my passion, and believe that the best is yet to come.  Is it?  Really?  I'm kind of doubtful but not completely without hope.  One positive thing about being "older" is that I have a better handle on perspective.  I can acknowledge that being older has it's perks, one of which is not that I will have that body I have always dreamed of, that ship sailed a long while ago.  But that for every wonderful, positive, beautiful thing about being 25, there is an equally wonderful, positive, and beautiful thing about being 50 and beyond.  Just in a different way.  So in honor of being one third of the way through my 50th year (49 and holding) I will commence to write a list of lovely things about being old over 50.  ahem...

1.  No more babies.  Wait, that is a terrible thing, I love babies and I wish I could have had more, I miss being pregnant, nursing, smelling and kissing sweet little baby heads.  Ack.  This isn't starting out well. 

2. No more periods.  Wait, I have not reached this point yet.  I'm in the anemic, light-headed, homicidal PMS stage of life where I feel like I'm menstruating more than I am not.  When I'm not menstruating, I'm usually worrying about when I will be again and where I will be when I discover it.

3.  Children raised.  This one really actually makes me laugh so hard I may pee my pants (another lovely thing about being mature).  I currently have 4 children living under my roof, one is 25 and another is 22.  I still have one in high school and I also have an 11 year old.  So, yeah.

4.  Body acceptance..........Um, nope.

Okay, so I really actually intended to compose a list of positive things but I have quickly discovered that 50 is just a number.  It means practically nothing.  I am in no way at a point in my life where being 50 is a positive thing.  I'm just an older, peri-menopausal, kinda squishy, mom.

I think I will wait 5 years or so and try this again. 

Now I Remember.

For the last couple years I have become so disenchanted with politics, I used to be a rabid politic junkie.  Remember "George" magazine?  I had a subscription.  I couldn't wait to get my monthly copy and read amazing columns by Paul Begala, Al Franken, and yes, even Ann Coulter.  Remember the insane covers...Cindy Crawford dressed as George Washington?  Drew Barrymore dressed as Marilyn Monroe?  George Clooney dressed as Thomas Jefferson?  John Kennedy Jr. was a co-creator, they created a magazine that made politics hip, sexy, funny, and relevant.  It addressed domestic and foreign issues in a way that was comprehendable and even entertaining.  It was the adult version of Tiger Beat magazine for me.  In 1997 I even took a trip to Washington D.C. with my best friend, we sought out restaurants where senators and congressman were known to hang out...because we were obsessed and excited about everything political.  We were informed.

I cried the night George W. Bush was elected president the first time.  I was terrified for my children and for our country.  I knew this meant we would be going to war and I could hardly bear the thought of our young men fighting a battle that wasn't ours.  I knew he would blow the budget off the charts with his tax cuts and insane military spending. Of course, no one could foresee 9/11, but I could feel that we were in a lot of trouble.  By his second term election I didn't care anymore.  I was tired, beat down and disillusioned.  I wondered why there were people in this country who would vote for this man... again!  I didn't much like half this country and could not stand to talk politics with anyone as it always turned vitriolic, awkward.

I voted for Hilary Clinton in the 2008 primary, I still believe she would be an amazing President and I hope she chooses to run in 2016.  She has been a brilliant Secretary of State.

I voted for Barack Obama, I was excited and definitely hopeful.  I became a little disillusioned about halfway in.  I wanted our troops to come home.  I wanted my house to be worth more than I paid for it.  I was impatient.  I knew that this was a mess left by our former president, I knew it was a big, stinkin' mess, but I wanted it to go away...Now.   I was naive and idealistic.  President Clinton helped me with that last night.  Cleaning up messes is a lot harder than making them, it takes time and cooperation to get it done quickly.  Unfortunately President Obama was bound by a republican agenda to make sure he was a one term president, they seemed not to care about what was best for the country but what was best for their party.  Heartbreaking.

My zeal, passion, excitement for politics is back in a big way.  I remember why I loved President Clinton, I remembered what I know we can accomplish, I remembered why I love being a democrat.  I remembered that I still have hope. 
 

I'm Alive.

I'm back, did you miss me?  Nothing has changed, for the worse or the better.  Which is good, I guess.  I'm not sure how many kids lived with us a year ago, but now the number is 4.  One 24 year old who pays rent, one 22 year old who not only doesn't pay rent, work, or help out in any way shape or for.  He also snatches any cash that an unfortunate person might leave laying around the house, which is apparently how he makes his living.  He is going to school, that's a plus.  Liv is still at school, Jack and Grace are still going at it and Jack's hormones are still raging.  We still have the dog and the cat, the fish died and we replaced it with a guinea pig, which is a really gross little thing I have to say.  Like a chubby, tail-less rat.  If you're on the fence, I'd recommend you not get one.

June in Seattle is still gawd-awful.  Schools out on Friday the 22nd and we are heading to Boise and then back down to Utah to visit Gramma and Grampa in Arches for the 4th of July.  Yay!  I can't wait to get out of Mossville USA and smell those Russian Oaks.

I wish I could bring all the kids (jk) but it looks like it might just be Grace and Jack.  Even Jack is iffy - he hates car rides and we hate him on car rides as well.  So yeah.

Christmas in July

I haven't really talked about the weather in an out and out 'talking about the weather' kind of way for a while, so I'm going to talk about the weather in this here, short little post.

Disclaimer:  I am FULLY aware that the rest of the country is experiencing sweltering, unbearable, and evenly deadly heat.  I feel awful for them and hope it passes soon.

I, on the other hand, am experiencing the coldest, grayest summer of my life.  Granted, I lived in Southern California for the first 18 years of said life, and summers there are pretty fabulous as a rule.  But, as long as I've lived in the Pacific Northwest the summers have been pretty good.  Occasional rainy periods but always long bouts of sun with temps exceeding 80 degrees for extended periods of time.  Perfect really.  This summer on the other hand, went AWOL.  I'm freezing most of the time.  I have a space heater aimed at myself every morning and evening.  Yesterday it was 83 degrees, the pool was filled and we spent the whole day on the deck basking in what would be a fluke, cuz we are back to the northwest gloom today.  I awoke to booms of thunder and gray skies.  Ack.  It's killing me.  I have SAD (seasonal affective disorder) so I NEED the summer more than anyone else in the whole entire world.  I wait and wait, I anticipate the sun's glorious rays shooing away the darkness in my head.  Not good.  I can't wait to get out of this God-forsaken place in August and head towards warmth, desert, dryness.   If things don't improve soon around here I'm just going to get the Halloween decorations out and call it a lost cause.  Ho-ho-ho.

With my mouth still hanging open...

One of my children, who shall remain nameless because he would kill me if I named him, is about to enter high school.  He is also about to enter puberty, he's a late bloomer.  Anyone who has children of both genders knows that both boys and girls become hormonal messes at this stage in life.  Girls get the bad rap for going crazy during puberty, and again later in life when going through peri and full on menopause.  But, you know what, that's crap.  I have two boys and three girls and I can tell you, my boys cried more and had more breakdowns during this time that all my girls combined.  My friends with boys can attest to this fact. Is this supposed to be some unspoken secret?

Last night I thought I had planned a lovely little summer night outing here in the Arctic Seattle.  We walked down to our local outdoor mall to watch a concert and grab dinner.  This is apparently where things started to go terribly wrong, although I'm not sure why.  First he sits there sullenly with his fingers in his ears because he doesn't approve of the music, I say "hey, why don't you two go into the Apple store and look around while we have a drink and enjoy the music for a while."  Great idea, they head in.  I did not have my cell with me but Mike did.  The "unnamed one" apparently tried calling a million times (twice) but Mike didn't pick up (loud music, duh).  Keep in mind that we never left the place we last saw them, still sitting in the same place and able to see the Apple store from where we are.  Here they come, one looking adorable and perky, the other looking like what I imagine the Menendez brothers looked like just before they murdered their parents.  Really?  Soooo, then I say "let's go get dinner, where do you want to go?"  Grace says buoyantly "Blue C Sushi", I say to the "unnamed one" where would you like to go "unnamed one"?  "I don't care" is the response, still looking like he was born to Satan incarnate.  "Okay, sushi it is"...oops, wrong again.  He sat at the booth glaring at the food as it passed him on the conveyor belt and then occasionally glanced at Satan accusingly.  I say "You know what, it looks like you aren't happy with our choice, we pass McDonald's on the way home, we'll just stop in and get you a burger".  I'm so incredibly nice I can't stand myself.  (I'm tired of using quote marks so I'm going to stop that now)  I bet you can guess what happens next.  We go into McDonald's and the unnamed one isn't hungry, but he's still really mad, about what I'm still not sure.  I'm loosing my cool now and saying some of those evil motherly things that occasionally come from my mouth.    I won't repeat.  Then he says to me that I'm one more word away from him going to live with his father.  Oh, and he isn't going on the road trip with us next month.  Seriously.  Then he runs ahead, over the hill toward home.  It's now dark and I'm pretty sure he is going to pretend that he ran away or something, he'll be hiding somewhere just to teach me a lesson.  As usual, I am correct. He's no where.  I've been a mother for quite some time so I know that the manual states that I am to pretend I'm not concerned.  Turn on the TV and kick back like I don't care. I did that and he did slink in about 15 minutes later, not even a mean looking glance was cast my direction, up the stairs he went and he hasn't spoken to me since.

What the freak just happened?

I ate.

And ate, and ate some more...and gained back the 3 lbs. I lost from my green cleanse.  Oh well.  I'm going back to a low carb diet, which seems to really be the only thing that has ever worked for me.  I've been carrying around this extra 15 pounds for a few years now and I have to either accept and love it, or get rid of it.  Actually, I'm not sure I can ever love it but maybe acceptance?

I toy with the idea of having a surgery to get rid of the part of me that I really hate the most.  My husband really likes this part of me, but I've never been comfortable being a "chesty" girl and I think that if I was better proportioned I would better be able to live with the weight my body wants to be.  One of these days I will make an appointment for a consultation but I'm not quite ready yet.  I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't qualify for an insurance covered procedure, unfortunately.  I do know that I don't want to live the rest of my life struggling to find clothes that fit right or are comfortable and I would love to walk down the street not feeling as though I'm being checked out by every male (and female) that passes by.  I'm sure it's mostly in my head because I'm so self-conscious about it.  Still, it feels real to me.

We have decided on our next road trip, Silverwood and then a loop through Yellowstone.  Silverwood for the kids and Yellowstone for me.  I know they'll love it when they get there, I can't wait!  I've never been and it's been on my list for years.  Mike has a business trip in Wyoming so it works out well.  I wish we had the time and money to head down to Utah as well, maybe it will work out.