GIVEAWAY!

I've never done this before!  I'm uber excited to give something away.  Makes me feel important!

I'm gifting you with a sweet handmade headband.  Here's a link to the website. http://rubylovefashions.com/  check it out.

This was my girlfriend, Tara's idea.  She sells them too.  Here's her number  #1-602-373-9682.  Hook it up!  They come in tons of colors.  I've got white, red and teal.  Super cute!

K.  So these headbands are barely starting tro emerge and only those of us with confidence and mad fashion sense can pull them off.

I have it on good authority that Jessica Simpson and Nicole Richie TOTALLY dig this look!

How do you win one?  I'll tell ya!  Leave a comment on my blog and I'll pick someone.  Entertain me!  Don't be shy!  If Cheveux headbands are not for you I'm sure you could think of someone who would LOVE one!

I adore these!  The other day I rolled out of bed and was like, "ugh!  I am SO not doing my hair!  So I grabbed a headband and wrapped it around my bed head and I was out the door.  With an enormous pair of black shades I have to admit I looked supa fly!

Depending on what you wear with them you can go from a funky hip hop look to laid back bohemian.  Totally versatile.

This is the the one I'm giving away.  Hot Pink. 

Alright so for the next 24 hours I'll be accepting comments. Go!

Baby Blessing and Fish Nets

This is my Aunt Leticia.  We are super close.  I love her SOOOOO much.  We've had a
pretty tight bond since we lived in Germany together when I was 3.

Letty endured a terrible trajedy.  Her 3 year old little boy, Moses, was killed in an accident many years ago.  I remember him as a precocious blonde baby in overalls.  The last time I saw him he ran to me a gave me a huge hug, wrapping his chubby arms around my boney knees.  Today would have been his birthday.

The baby she holds is her brand new granddaughter, Evita.  (I LOVE that name.)  Evita was blessed today by my cousin David.  David was Moses' best friend.  He saw the entire accident first hand.

The blessing he bestowed upon her was beauitful.  He blessed her with health and happiness.  He blessed her righteousness and strength.  He blessed her that she might find the love of her life and be with him for eternity.  He blessed her little limbs and organs that they might function properly throughout her life.  That she might walk and not be weary.

Today was emotional for the Duarte family.

But of course after every serious moment we crazy Mexicans must follow it up with lots of food and music.  Party at Letty's!

All the little boys ages 6 and under were entranced by my fish net tights.  I was totally crackin' up!  They just ran their tiny hands up and down my legs.  Then they would leave and bring a friend to do the same.

"OOoooo  leg.... bumpy".  And, "It's like you're caught in a fishing net."

I just sat there and let them do their thing.


Then my crazy cuz Aaron stole my camera when I wasn't looking and took a pic of himself which can ONLY mean he wants to be featured on my blog.  There ya go, Bro! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Sola Road Trip (boredom vids)

Tonight I went to hear one of my fave authors, Elizabeth Gilbert, discuss her new book. She read the first chapter which was cool.  It's always cool to have stuff read by the actual author.  However, I found it to be a bit of a snore.  (Sorry Liz!  I LOVED Eat, Pray, Love.)   She, herself, was quite charming and funny.  I was not drawn in by the book.  I'll give it another shot though.

I bought a copy and had her sign it.  I was gonna stand in line for a pic but nah.  Line was too long.  Fame ain't no thang as far as I'm concerned.  I mean, if I saw Jennifer Lopez walkin' down the street I'd be like, "Hey gurl!  howz Jenny from da block yo?"  and we'd be all tight like that. I wouldn't get all star struck and ridiculous.

So I snored through most of the discussion.  Then I got in the car and took pics of MYSELF with the book. 

THEN I got to driving down the freeway and was bored and uber sick of all the music in my car.  So I made my own.  I also had a discussion with you regarding some serious subjects.  It would behove you to check it out!

(I realize the vids are kinda dark but it's the best i could do in a car on the freeway at night.)

Baby baby baby obsessive love


Discussion of A.I. Barney Girl (I think she rocked!)


disclaimer: No wild pigs were harmed during the shooting of these videos.

Hero?

Today I interviewed my kids.  I asked each one to say 2 words they feel describe me.

Serena:  You're very FUNNY  and CRAZY!

Bella:  You're FUNNYand PRETTY.

Tyson:  You're JOYFULL and you jump out of the closet and scare me sometimes...

Maya:  Happy and Fashion.

So I guess that sums it up.  It's a fun game.  You should do it with YOUR kids (or friends or whatever...).

I have to say I'm pretty pleased with what they came up with.  I dig bein' a funny, happy, joyful, fashion Mama!

Last week I went to Serena's class to visit.  This is what I found on the wall of her classroom.

I didn't cry because I didn't want to humiliate her in front of her friends.  But SERIOUSLY PEOPLE!!!! How AMAZING is THIS?!

I'M somebody's HERO?  WHAT?  I'd like to thank God, Red Bull energy drink and The Academy.

I never in my wildest dreams thought one of my children would say that about me.  It's a daunting role. I don't feel qualified.  I'd like to explain to them I'm hopelessly flawed and they would be better off finding a more suitable hero.  But I can't do that, can I?

My job at the moment is to be the best human being I can be.  I'm being watched VERY closely.  They watch how I eat.  They watch how I speak to others.  They watch how I walk.  (Maya likes to inform me that she too shakes her booty when she walks.  "We just can't stop it," says she.)

It's quite an enormous responsibility to be me.  Super scary.  I hope I don't completely screw them up.

RUN

PART 1   (KEEP SCROLLING DOWN. GRRRRRRRRR *&%^&!)

I spent some time at my parent’s house this weekend. This is their backyard.


Nostalgia hit me hard. Took me back to a time before I was mommy and wife. A time when life was all about me.

I was 18. University of Arizona Freshman. I studied every night until midnight to maintain my 4.0 GPA.

At midnight I came alive. Insomnia has never been far from home.

I put on my running shoes and went outside. The air was crisp and smelled of desert creosote and dust. Clean.

I whistled for my dog. Athena, named for the Greek goddess of war, was a beautiful yellow lab. She always smiled at me. I loved her smile.

“Hey, girl! You ready?”

Her response was a furiously wagging tail and happy bark. And again with the smiling.

“Let’s go!”

And we ran. We ran by the light of the moon and stars. There was nothing but us. Complete liberation from the leashes of the day. Run, baby, run.

Often I tripped on stones I could not see in the dark. I tripped and fell and destroyed my knees. I fell but I always got up. I STILL get up when I fall.

Athena licked my face as if to say, “You’re good! Let’s keep going!” So we did.

I ran with blood dripping down my legs and soaking my socks. My mother looked at me disapprovingly after these episodes and said, “AGAIN?!”

Secretly I know she welled with pride. Tough as nails. I keep reminder scars on my knees as a constant tribute to those runs.

On these desert runs Athena ran elated circles around me and laughed. She then disappeared into the darkness to chase a rabbit.

“Get it girl!”

She always came back to check on me. She checked on me every five minutes and then again disappeared into the night.

Sometimes she barked wildly and explained to me danger was afoot. The rattle of a Diamondback was sharp. A warning. I understood it. It said, “If you respect me I will respect you.” Mad respect, my friend, as I took my run in a different direction.

Athena got in fights with coyotes to protect me on my runs. She scared away packs of smelly, snorting javalina with ferocious snarls. Then she came to me for validation.

“Good girl! You get ’em!”

Water splashed up to my thighs as we ran through washes full of rain water. Athena loved the water. This was her favorite part of our run.

My legs were all muscle and exposed to the elements. Athena’s lean body rippled with every movement. She was a magnificent animal. We connected on a level far above words. Love is touching souls.

Athena, my canine goddess of war, fought for me as only dogs know how. Her complete loyalty and love were mine.

Athena was buried here. After years of chasing wild animals and sustaining rattle snakes bites to the face my friend was called home. The desert required her presence to nourish it’s soil. I’m sure she was happy to oblige. The desert had given her a life dogs and men only dream of fitfully.

I ran today. I ran 6 miles. I could swear I felt her running circles around me. I heard her laughing bark in the desert pushing me forward. “Let’s Go!”

I miss her today.

PART 2

I ran today because my life depends on it.

The sky was dark and cloudy. I ran as if the devil were chasing me. I’m pretty sure he was. The devil loves to chase me. (Or so I’m told.)

I ran from the devil and I ran from doubt and fear. I ran from money and The Man and society and all of it’s demands. I ran from fashion and restrictive shoes. I ran from makeup and hair products. I ran from book clubs and flower arrangements. I ran from long church meetings. I ran from cleaning products and realtors. I ran from school lunches and report cards. And when they thought they were gaining on me I ran faster.

The pace I took made my lungs burn. The voices in my head gently pushed me onward, “Burn, baby, Burn. Don‘t stop. Don‘t ever stop. Run to a different country.  Follow the yellow brick road.  Run to the Emerald City.  We're off to see the wizard.  Oh I wish I had a brain.”.  (The voices in my head get silly sometimes when I'm trying to be poetic...)

My body purged itself of all things negative in the form of sweat. Sweat dripped down my neck and face. The salt stung my eyes. My white tank was soaked with tears of the body. Everything toxic within me escaped my pores in torrents.

My legs were long and reaching. My breath even. Arms and shoulders relaxed. Every stride deliberate and calculated. Control. I was in complete control. There are so many things without my control, but I can control THIS.  My heart beat steady and strong in my chest.

I ran past saguaros with their spiney arms reaching out to me. They represent strength. They whispered to me, “You too are strong.” They represent agelessness and wisdom. They whispered, “You too are ageless.” (I wanted them to say I was wise but who are we kidding?)

I ran and ran and ran. I felt a healing power that only comes of the connection between body, mind and soul. A hawk flew over my head and swooped close to the ground. A rabbit scampered before me and off again. I am part of the whole when I run. I am part of an enormous loving Universe. I, like the animals and plants I saw to day, will fulfill the measure of my creation. Only God knows the greatness and strength of my soul.

Catch me if you can....   RUN.

Harper did it...

"I KNOW it was you."

"No, Mommy!  It wasn't me!  It was Harper!" said Maya this morning.

This is Harper.  She is invisible.  She's from Cancun, Mexico.  She's an orphan and she stowed away in our suitcases last time we went to Cancun.  She has brown skin and long blue hair.

I've made the mistake of introducing her to people as Maya's Imaginary friend.  Maya became angry and said, "She is NOT imaginary! She is RIGHT HERE!  Ugh!  She's IN-VIS-IBLE! Duh, Mom!"  Oh. Pardon me.

Continuing our previous conversation, I said, "Honey, if it was Harper than why did she write YOUR name? Hmmm?"

I'm trying not to smile because I'm loving every second of this.  I often make a special lunch for Harper at Maya's request.  (Harper has a lot of allergies so I must be cautious when feeding her.)  I talk to Harper all the time.  She's very funny and articulate.

"Mom.  Harper is in a bad mood today and she's trying to get ME in trouble!" said Maya.

"Should Harper be punished?" I asked.

Maya began laughing.  "You have never punished any of us in our LIVES!"  She continued to giggle.

"What am i supposed to do about this, Maya?  You are fibbing to me because I KNOW your handwriting.  And Harper wrote on my keyboard.  What should I do about the two of you?"

"Forgive us, Mommy.  That's what Jesus would do."

My heart swells.  All I can think is:

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, BABY.  It's Ok that you fibbed. I understand why you did it.

Instead I say, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, BABY. :)

(This is Harper and Maya 10 minutes ago.  We're gonna go to the park and have lunch in a minute.)

Leg Day Part 2

Leg Day today again.  I LOVE IT!

Ok, so I totally took an upper today.  This is the poison I like to injest sometimes before I lift.  It makes me crazy strong and crazy crazy.   Plus it makes me feel like AHHHHHH I'M GONNA RUN AROUND MY HOUSE A FEW TIMES THEN I'LL RUN AROUND YOUR HOUSE THEN I'LL JUMP UP AND DOWN AND DO A HANDSTAND AND A CARTWHEEL.  THEN I'LL SCRUB ALL THE WALLS IN MY HOUSE WITH A TOOTHBRUSH CUZ YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO CLEAN.  THEN I'LL FLY AND GROW A HORN LIKE A UNICORN....   *gasps for breath*  THEN I'LL....

You catch my drift?  I should SOOO not ever ever take this stuff.  I KNOW this.  It's bad.  YOU should DEFINATELY not take this stuff.  (Unless of course you wanna be as strong as an OX and have tons of energy for the rest of the day and scrub all the walls in your house with a toothbrush and.... I'm doing it again, huh?  Sorry.  I'm slightly amped.  GAAAAAAAAHHH  AHHHHHH  WEEEEEEE BAAAHHHHHHH!!!

I'm fine.  Really.  My eye is twitching a little but I'm good.  (My eye isn't really twitching but I made myself laugh when I wrote that.  It was a maniacal laugh.)

So this is what I wore to the gym.  I like to wear hats to the gym.  I tell ya why.  NO EYE CONTACT! 

Listen to me ladies, if you decide (and I think you SHOULD decide...) to start lifting weights in the free weight area of your gym you should take precautions.  The testosterone in that area is highly tangible. It's like stepping into a testosterone dispensing sauna. Men are LITERALLY PEEING on everything in sight to stake their claim... (Ok so not LITERALLY but I made myself laugh again... maniacally, of course.) 

I have a NO EYE CONTACT policy when I work out.  So I wear a hat LOW so half my face is covered.  I keep a straight face and look kinda mean and totally unapproachable.  I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOU, says my face.  It also says, I AM NOT IMPRESSED!

I'm not saying this because I think I'm THE HOTTEST ticket since Sophia Loren.  I'm saying it because if you're a chick and you walk around acting like you are open for suggestion then suggestions will be made. Most of the people who read this are innocent Mormon Mommies. I feel protective.  In the gym men feel strong and virile. It's all very ME TARZAN, YOU JANE.  Super primal vibe. (If you ARE open to suggestion please disregard this warning.) (If you're a MAN reading this: I got your number, buddy! HAHAHAHAHAHA!) 

DOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!  I'm really funny.  And really hyper.

Last time I talked to my cousin, Aaron, he said, "Hey Bro... What do you squat?"  First off I totally dig he calls me 'Bro'.  Secondly, that sentance is Meathead for 'How much weight do you use when you do squats?'  I'll show ya. 

This is called a leg press. (I do squats but today I used this machine instead.  It has a very similar effect.)

Every big black round weight is called a PLATE.  Each plate is 45lbs.  Today I put 8 plates on the leg press machine. (I'll let you do the math.) I did 4 sets of 10.

In Meathead I would say, 'I repped 4 plates on leg press.  4 sets of 10.' 

The English translation would be 'I put 4 plates on each side of the leg press machine.  Then I pushed the weight with my legs 10 times.  The  I took a 2 minute break.  Then I pushed the weight again.  I repeated the process 4 times.'  

I simply MUST share that there were two men on the leg press next to me who were also using '4 plates' (which actually means 8 plates).  I didn't MEAN to lift the same as them.  I wasn't TRYING to SHOW OFF!  That's what I ALWAYS lift!  Is it my fault they are WEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKK?! BAHAHAHAHHA!

I don't know if you realize this but I'm SHE-RAAAAAAAA! "BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!  I HAVE THE POWWWWEEEERRRRR!"

Immediatly after lifting I always chug a protein shake.  I always feel like it's an emergency!  My muscles WILL NOT respond to all my hard work if I don't FEED them! Protein. Protein. Protein.

P.S.  Tips for leg press.  You must lower weight all the way to your chest.  Push the weight primarily with your heels.  Squeeze your glutes HARD.  Don't forget to breathe.  Exhale on the exertion.  Focus.  Be careful.  You could really hurt yourself.  NO EYE CONTACT!  (Unless of course you WANT eye contact...In which case, I have nothing more to say to you.).

PSS I AM VERY STRONG IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY. I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW I DO IT! :)  (I'm also very humble.)


QUESTIONS ANYONE?

She Loves Me

"Momma?"

"Yes, Tyson?"

"Momma... there is this new girl at school.  Her name is Leah.  And she says she loves me."  He looked really worried.  His six year old freckle face was so concerned it broke my heart.

Immediatly that Beatles song is in my head, "She loves me yeah yeah yeah she loves me..."  Great song!

A child is a human in it's purest form.  When my children speak I listen.  I treat what they have to say as seriously as a heart attack.  I put far more stock into what they say than any adult I come in contact with.

"Well, of course she loves you, honey."  I said seriously.  "Of course."

He smiled broadly and looked relieved.  He relaxed a bit. "Yeah.  She said I'm next in line for her to love."

"How do you feel about that, Sweetheart?"

His brow furrowed.  "If she loves me then I guess I have to love her back."

I looked at him and shook my head slowly.  "No, honey.  You don't HAVE to love anybody.  Do you WANT to love her back?"

"I really like her."

"Ok."

"Yeah... I think I want to really like her a lot."

I smiled.  "Come here, my love.  I need a hug."  He gives the best hugs.

He looked me in the eye and said, "I knew it, Momma.  I just KNEW you would understand.  I just KNEW I could come to you!"

I held back tears.  THIS is what I work for.  THIS is what I LIVE for. THIS is what I give up MY desires for. There is nothing else but LOVE.  All you need is love.  Love is the only thing that matters.  Love is the most powerful force in the Universe.

Then he said, "Please don't tell Dad! Because Mormons are not supposed to date until they are 16.  I don't want him to be upset."

I decided now was a good time to introduce him to a new concept.  "Honey, when you're 6 years old it's Ok to love Leah.  It's not Ok to date.  It's not Ok to kiss her or anything like that...".

"EEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" It was my turn to look relieved. 

He spent the rest of the hour making and coloring a paper heart to give her on Monday.  He held his heart in his hands.  He showed me.  It terrified me.  Love can be SOOOO painful.  But I would never want my baby to miss out on the unparralled elation it can bring either.  Can't win for losin'.

Tonight I sat in the jacuzzi with my friend, D.  I told her my story.  Then she told me one about her daughter, Katie. 

When Katie was 5 there was a little boy named Andrew.  Andrew met Katie and immediatly fell in love.  He tried to hold her hand.  She wasn't having it.  She liked Andrew but she wanted to play.

He went to D in tears.  "Katie won't hold my hand and I LOVE HER!"

D tried to explain that Katie really liked him but that 5 year olds sometimes don't want to hold hands.

He approached Katie again at lunch.

D heard him say,  "Katie,  do you know how all those Disney movies have happy endings?  I CAN GIVE YOU THAT!"

My chest actually hurts at the beauty of this little boy.  His hope for a future happy ending is beyond refreshing.   Happy endings are so rare in our world today I find myself aching at his optimism.  PRICELESS.

D said, "Crystal, that boy SAW HER SOUL! He KNEW he loved her the moment he saw her!"  (She takes children seriously too.) 

Love is touching souls.  It really is.  Children are so innocent and receptive to truth they don't question themselves as adults sometimes do.  Children understand on the purest level that love is all that matters.  Children love without reserve.  Children trust without fear.  Children trust their souls. children are humble.

Jesus said to humble yourself as a little child.  He said to be meek and FULL OF LOVE.  Tonight as I see through the eyes of my son I suddenly understand what it all means. 

Mmmmk.  Enough serious love love blah blah blah...    I was all ready to take a bubble bath and have some Oreos.  (You know how I do...)  But SOMEONE has eaten my Oreos.  So I must now SETTLE for a brownie which just SUCKS.  Multiple Oreos is far more desireable than a single brownie!  Some people say less is more.  In the case of Oreos...MORE IS MORE! Grrrr.

Tucson has THE most amazing sunsets.  I took this while I was pumping gas tonight. Gorge! See how much God loves us?!

Book Group at My Place!!!

I'm pretty wild.  I mean I don't do drugs.  I don't drink.  I don't go out and paint the town red.  BUT I DO HOST A MEAN BOOK CLUB!  Only the coolest peeps are allowed at my book group.  And by coolest peeps I mean Mormon moms with lots of kids who are dying to get out of the house.

I make it my work and my glory to make people laugh.  I totally clown on myself.  And I clown on others.  I'm loud and crazy and I like to push the envelope with my Mormon Mommy friends.  BUTT.  BOOB. And also, BOOB.  BUTT.   I also said, "I don't want to air my dirty panties for everyone to see...".  (I could have said LAUNDRY, but then nobody would have gasped in dismay and where's the fun in THAT?)   Shocking, I know.

The book I chose this month is Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell.  This book was the inspiration for my blog.  If you wanna be good at something you gotta spend a lot of time doin' it.  Malcolm says 10,000 hours.  I wanna write.  I'm working on 10,000 hours.  I'll hit it when I'm 90.  It's cool.  I'm patient.

I made THE most delish fresh, hearty chicken soup on the planet.  Rave reviews.  Perfect on a cold, rainy day.

Lori makes me laugh my cola off.  She LOVES to make fun of me. JAJAJAJAJAJA!  (that's how you say hahahaha! in Spanish.)

I have had a very long, stressful, horrible day.  So I'm not in the mood to relay Lori's funny comments.  (Make me laugh when you read this, Lori.  I need you to disperage me like only you can...).  It's really too bad because Lori and I were damn funny tonight and I laughed until it hurt.  But now I've had to deal with crap I wasn;t expecting to deal with at midnight so BLAH.   (I LOVE keeping you wondering about my sucky current state of affiars... Exciting. isn't it?)

What I WILL do is show you how Lori FORCED me to pose for the camera.  She LOVES to make fun of the fact that I post soooo many pics of myself, which only makes me do it more.  I think it's hysterical.  (Ok, so Lori FORCING me to take pics is a lie.  I actually gave her the camera and said "make me do something funny".)  These pics are the result.

Oh and Lori's very cool sis-in-law, Mindy was there too.  She helped with the photo shoot.  (It was nice to meet you, Mindy! I'd love it if you came to book group regularly!)

Lori:  Ok. Pretend like you're very domestic and you're cooking something.

Lori:  Can you put your leg up on the oven?
Me:  Puh-lease!  I could put my leg up over my head!
(I don't know how sanitary this is though...)

This is where Mindy (whom I'd never met before) said, "Can you lay on the counter?"

To which I responded, "Puh-lease! I think laying on the counter is the coolest. I do it all the time when I'm just bored...".  Then Mindy started PHYSICALLY placing my legs where she thought they should go.  ( I like this chick.)

Lori:  This is where you model next month's book.  Just act natural.
(Tania picked next month's book.  It's all romantical for Valentine's.  Awwww! I'm actually kinda excited to read a sweet novel like that. )

This picture wasn't posed.  After a long and stressful and super crappy, emotionally taxing day I enjoy doing a bit of yoga in my silk jump suit and hot pink stilletos on the granite counter top.  It helps me relax.  Ahhh.  I feel better all ready.

Fresh flowers make me smile in my liver.  Love these.  Red for love and passion.  Yellow for happiness and joy.  Sigh. They just make me happy to look at.

Balla'

When I was a kid I use to play baseball in the street every night with the neighborhood kids.  I never wore shoes and I didn't own a glove.

We would yell, "CAR!"  when one was coming and move to the side of the road.  Then we'd re-assume our positions.  I LOVED baseball.  I was stinkin' fast and hit hard and the boys always wanted me on their team.  (This was BEFORE puberty so they actually wanted me on their team because I was good at BASEBALL and not some ulterior motive.  You catch my drift...).

Today I took my son to hit a few balls.  We hit balls against the fence for an hour.  Then I noticed this sign.

We continued hitting balls against the fence.

I used this as an opportunity to teach him some stuff.

I said, "Did you know words are very very important?"

He said, "I already know all the words."

I laughed, "No, Buddy, you can never know enough words."  Then I sang, "Pitcher has a rubber arm!  Pitcher has a rubber arm!"  I was pitching.  He thought it was funny.

I said, "Another way to say 'pitcher has a rubber arm' is to say 'pitcher is in-ade-quate'. Let's sing it like that now."  So we did.

\














In this pic he swung that bat as hard as his little arms allowed.  As you can see the ball still rests comfortably on the T.  I didn't laugh then... But I'm laughing NOW!!!!!! HAHAHAHA!

I showed him the sign that said not to throw balls at the fence.  I threw a ball at the sign. BULL'S EYE.

"Another word for fence is enclosure, my love.  Say enclosure."

I taught him lots of new words today.

 I love words.  Writing is all I've ever wanted to do.  I've had a pen in my left hand and a notebook in my right since I was eight years old.  I read the dictionary and I think the Thesaurus is the most amazing book ever! Words, words, words.

Sometimes I feel words are all I really have.  I want people to feel me, ya know?  I don't want readers to read my stuff.  I want them to FEEL it.

Stephen King has said, "Never go to the page lightly". Then he repeats himself, "Never go to the page lightly!".  I understand, Mr. King. 

When I write, I write from my soul.  It's like words bubble up from way deep down and present themselves in just the right order.  I often feel like its a gift from God when I write something that perfectly puts my soul on the page. 

My writing is only powerful when I truly FEEL what I'm writing.  My writing can only touch someone if I am being completely honest. I love that about writing!  A reader can tell if it's not genuine.  It must come from the heart to strike a chord.

Think of all the books you've read that have affected you deeply.  If you have felt power when reading you've experienced the gift of words.

Tonight I wrote a very angry e-mail to some people who have hurt me.  It was written from the heart of my feiry soul.  They iz gonna git it!

I explained all of this to T-bone.  He said,  "Uh huh.  Can we have hotdogs for dinner?"

I love these little heart to hearts.

LET IT GO?! (happily cont. by request)

"Isn't that crazy? To still have a broken heart almost two years after a love story ends?"
 
"Darling, I'm southern Brazilian, I can keep a broken heart going for 10 years over a woman I never even kissed."  (Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert p 27)

How silly is it that I feel kind of sad about the lifestyle change I, myself, have decided to make?  VERY.  But then again I'm a pretty silly chick.  I mean, I COULD do something to about it, right?  I always get what I want if I want it badly enough. I'm choosing to LET IT GO! (sorta...I mean, I won't let it go completely...)

 I started pulling out all my heels to photograph them today and I actually began feeling very very guilty.  I've pictured less than half of them here.  I KNOW, RIGHT?  Ugh!  I have a serious PROBLEM! 

So I called my girlfriend, D.

"D, I feel really guilty about all the shoes I've acquired. Conspicuous consumerism is SO not cool anymore! I don't know if I can write this blog."

"Sure you can!  Hey!  You should auction off your shoes on e-bay and then donate the proceeds to help the cause in Haiti!"

I felt like she'd knocked the wind out of me. 

"I don't know if I feel THAT guilty!  I'm going to call a different friend.  You are too highly evolved for my liking.  I'll talk to you later."  I hung up.

That very short convo has got to say something really bad about me!  WHY OH WHY can I not LET IT GO?!  They are JUST SHOES?!

But then another part of me says, "JUST SHOES?! JUST SHOES?! As a little girl with holes in your clothes you never DREAMED you would own even ONE pair of shoes so fabulous.  You used to tromp around in beat up heels from THE PILES in the back parking lot at The GoodWill with a book on your head to practice for when you grew up!  And just look at you NOW!"

I continue talking to myself in my head.  I say this, "You remember every shopping trip you took to make these purchases, don't you?  You remember every detail!  You remember the rush of touching every shoe for the first time.  You can't just LET IT GO!  It may be true you can't continue to shop like this but girl YOU LIVED AND YOU LOVED!"

(These shoes look like green Jolly Rancher candy. I want to lick them. I've never even worn them!)

I have to agree with myself on this.  I LIVED.  Life is nothing if not a series of experiences.  If you don't DO something to differentiate one day from the next how will you know you lived it when you look back?!  How?!  EVERYDAY IS THE SAME!

(These are my fave.  L.A.M.B. by Gwen Stefani... "they can look but know they can't touch... and they can't understand why boys like us so much...". Classic GORGE with mad funk appeal.)

How many people can say that for a time they were completely swept away by this magic I experienced?  Truely?  How many people can say they easily dropped A GRAND in an hour on a pair of red patent leather stilletos and a lipstick? 

How many people can say that once upon a time they TOOK the luxury of throwing caution to the wind.  Baby, I TOOK what life put in front of me and enjoyed every minute of it.  I sucked the marrow out of every delicious second. NO ONE CAN TAKE THAT FROM ME!

As to D's request to sell away what I've acquired I say HELL NO! THEY WON'T GO!

The world is miserable and sad at the moment  There is devastation on high emotional, physical and financial levels everywhere we look..  Here's more Eat, Pray, Love for ya.

A beautiful Brazilian woman says,

"Even in the worst tragedies and crisis, there's no reason to add to everyone's misery by looking miserable yourself.  That's my philosophy.  This is why I always wore makeup and jewelry into the jungle- nothing too extravagant... Just enough enough to show that I still have my self respect(p265)."  

Amen to that my Latina sister.

A change in lifestlye is imminent.  I'm ready. I'm Ok with it.  I can be happy.  But the days all the shop girls knew my name will always be the heart break I cling to.  Those days will be the woman I never even kissed...  (for the record, I've never kissed ANY woman...).

PS  I was terrified I might rip the seams of these leggings.  Oreos and chicken wings.  I'm THICK!  I like it.  Food represents all that is good and sensual and beauitful in life.  Ladies, don't deny yourselves that pleasure!  Eat up!

Wild Horses

If I could be any animal in the world I would be a WILD HORSE. A horse decended from the time of Spanish Conquerors and Cortez.  A horse born of noble blood with a proud and wild heart.   Can you see it?  In my soul I AM a wild horse.

What animal would YOU be?  What animal ARE you?

Tonight my sister texted me.  "I bought you a gift.  I sold my soul to get it.  I love you."

I rushed over to accept the prezzi.  Tears. 

"Oh, Coral!  I love it.  I really love it."

She wore a matching one.

When we were little we shared a bed.  We would talk and talk until one of us fell asleep.

"If you could be any animal in the world what would it be?"

"I'd be a horse."

"Me too!"

"But not the kind people ride and tie up."

"Yeah.  If I were a horse I'd be wild!  And my tail would be super duper long and shiney..."

"Yeah and our manes would fly in the wind when we ran super fast!"

"And we would always be together..."

"Yeah, for sure.  We'd always stay together so I could protect you, " I would say.

"I'd be afraid if you weren't there. I wouldn't want to be a wild horse without you," said she.

Coral and I are connected.  We are wild horses in our hearts and souls.  Love is touching souls. Love is a gift.  Thank you for loving ME as hard as I love YOU. I will always protect you.

PS  This is what I wore to church today.  I found this leather skirt in my closet with the tags still on it! I'd never even worn it!  This look is very sexy Librarian chic. The sweater makes my waist look thicker than it is but that's the allure of Librarian chic, you see.   Had to add red pumps to the emsemble for a dash of color.  :)

LET IT GO!?

A few months ago I spent every Saturday SHOPPING.  I use to think it was SOOOO taxing and stressful!

I would be in Nordstrom's dressing room thinking, "Oooooo WHICH pair of $300 jeans make my butt look hottest???  Perkiest?  This is SOOOOO  hard!  UGH!! I just can't decide!  Forget it!  I'll just take both pairs."

On the way to the register I'd see a red top that spoke to me.  It would say, 'Crys, you KNOW we're soul mates, don't you?  We BELONG together.  We would be amazing! I'd flatter you in just the ways I know you like to be flattered.  Take me home with you.  You won't regret it!"

How could I say no to that?!

Then I'd go to the shoe department and find a pair of stilletos that made my heart race.  Oh where have you BEEN all my life?!  Sheer joy in the form of strappy hot pink leather, calve enhacing, 5 inch, love-of-my-life foot fetish fun. Ahhh. (these are amazing! i ache with desire...)

And of course I couldn't wear new shoes without a fresh pedi, right?!  I hummed and hawwed over what color nail polish would perfectly compliment my new outfit... Taxing, I know!

Now you must understand my man is an amazing provider.  And he always lavishes me with gifts.  I'm his personal Barbie doll.  If I put out my hand there is generally a wad of cash in my palm.

I have recently decided to be nice to my generous man.  I've cut back on spending quite a lot... even when I have the cash burning a hole in my pocket I close my eyes to temptation.  I've realized there is so much more to life than the fleeting satisfaction of a fab purchase.  This is a big step for me.

I'm trying to teach myself to LET IT GO.  When I absolutly FALL IN LOVE with the latest Valentino I do my best to turn a blind eye.

My man bought me THE most amazing Valentino Bag last year.  Red fabric roses everywhere.  I wore it to church.  A lady came over and whispered, "I know what you paid for that... it's fabulous!".  I actually felt embarrassed to own an accessory with a worth capable of feeding a small country.  It just feels selfish!!

But now I pose a question to you...  How does one go about 'LETTING IT GO?'.  Hmmm?  If I wanted to maintain my behavior as a diva princess, I could.  Nothing is impossible!  But I'm choosing to evolve.  Change is always painful.  So how do I go about convincing myself I don't NEED the new sequined gold Coach clutch  (it is SOOOOO cute!)??
Unrequited desire is always painful.  Whether in a romantic sense (like Romeo snd Rosaline) or in the materialistic sense (a la BCBG stilleto ankle booties) not getting what you want HURTS! 

I've been reading a book entitled Eat, Pray, Love.  I highly recommend.  In this book the author is heart broken over the loss of her lover, David.  She knows she cannot be with him.  She speaks to a friend and the friend answers.

"But I love him," she says

"So love him," says the friend.

"But I miss him,"  she says

"So miss him... Then let it go,"  says the wise friend.

Hmmm.  So he's saying I can LOVE the new $700 bag I saw at Electric Lady Land  and I can MISS the days when I would have bought it without blinking an eye.  But ultimately I must LET IT GO.  Got it.

That's all well and good but I'm not letting go completely.  I went to the mall today.  I saw these AMAZING silver liquid leggings and literally gasped!  When I discovered they were on sale for the LOW LOW price of $17.49  I knew I had to have them!  I'll model them for you later. Can't wait! They are HOT HOT HOT! :)

I've decided I don't have to LET IT GO completely.  My heart can still BLEED at the sight of Vogue's latest layout.  I can still experience DESIRE at the memory of that unbelieveable fur coat in that one Vintage store. I can keep these things in my heart and still be happy.

Figure Competition Revisited by Request

I have had several requests to revisit my Figure Competition. These are the pics. The following is the e-mail I sent out to friends and family after the event took place. IT’S CRAZY AND HILARIOUS AND HUMBLING!!! The e-mail is long but worth the read. Trust me! Enjoy!

PS  For the record I never ever want to be this skinny again.  It's UGLY! I prefer soft, feminine CURVES, baby! Bones are for the birds.

Hey there everyone!

I have finally recovered from the self-imposed torture of preparing for my figure competition. I must say, it was the experience of a lifetime! Had I gone even one more day consuming only lean poultry and egg whites, I might have actually sprouted feathers and laid an egg. Luckily, I got through the ordeal fairly unscathed. Below you will find some highlights relating to said competition. I have exaggerated nothing.





The boredom of running 4-5 miles daily on a treadmill drove me to find a sport that would spark my enthusiasm. My thirst for originality was quenched only after meeting the woman who would soon become my personal trainer.



Enter Iryna: One look at her massive shoulders and pectoral muscles informed me she would be the perfect mentor. Iryna, a Russian bodybuilding champion, introduced me to the masochistic and fascinating world of body building and figure competing. Although knowledgeable, she was far from professional. I was daily assaulted by sordid stories regarding the two lovers she juggled expertly. “Would tell you more but you Mormon,” she taunted. Her thick accent rendered her virtually impossible to understand. “Gross!” I grunted between reps. In the beginning I found her honesty refreshing and her personality entertaining. By the end she was, in my mind, unbearably rude and hopelessly crass. (Unprovoked, she once flashed me body piercing I hoped I would never see first hand.) I had, however, set a goal and was determined to succeed.



Iryna trained me so intensely I sometimes hurled my breakfast into the nearest waist basket as evidence of over-exertion. I began to see results quickly. I was shocked by my own strength. My lanky arms soon filled out impressively in the bicep area and a nice cap topped my normally boney shoulders. I loved watching the veins begin to surface as I “pumped up” my muscles. I shamelessly became the gym rat I had always mocked.



While my muscle growth had me grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Iryna was frustrated with my progress. She often encouraged performance enhancement in the form of steroids. “You only will have one injection every week and WOW! Your muscles grow will be HUUUGE! Everyone do the steroids. You not can win without them.” I did not intend to win. I only wanted to accomplish the task at hand. I politely declined her offer and told her I would continue to train naturally.



I visited my doctor in order to verify I was healthy enough to continue my course of action. I mentioned to him my trainer’s suggestion to partake of the forbidden fruit. He scoffed and responded, “By all means, do steroids if your goal is to grow a penis and facial hair.” Hmmm…. Tempting….



Six weeks prior to competition I began the strictest diet known to man. Looking back now, I feel it a miracle to have got through the ordeal. I love food. I was hourly tempted to eat what was forbidden. It was horrendous torture to prepare snacks and meals for my family and not be able to indulge. I discovered a mental strength I had not known existed. I found myself dizzy and weak from hunger multiple times daily. I found that on my high protein diet I felt ill often and even my eye sight suffered. I quite easily could have ended my discomfort, but I never cheated.



In addition to the strict diet and heavy weight lifting, I was told to add two hours of cardio. I woke up early every morning and jumped rope for an hour in my garage. At 11am I met Iryna for serious training. In the evening I battled the Stairmaster for the final insulting hour. By the end of everyday I literally prayed to get through the next five minutes of muscle burning endurance. Five minutes later another prayer followed to the same effect. The exhaustion was like nothing I’d ever experienced.



Five days prior to competition I cut all salt out of my diet. Eighteen hours prior I cut out water. I had truly entered hell.



Competition day I arrived at a beautiful antique theatre in downtown Phoenix armed with two miniscule bathing suits and 5 inch platforms. My competitors were divided by height. I was in the tallest group of women. We were all herded backstage to fend for ourselves by finding our own dressing rooms. (Did I mention my trainer bailed on me the day before, informing me she would not be available to attend? Yeah. ) Being one of the tallest females I was nearly last and found all dressing rooms were already packed with jittery girls in various stages of undress. I finally found a men’s bathroom with a handwritten sign allowing my entrance. Six girls and I shared the converted bathroom for the duration.



Four of the girls were particularly muscular and clearly friends. At one point, an angry looking beefy lady with a gallon of Pro-Tan and a sponge showed up and began smothering these girls. Like the idiot novice I was, I said with a bright smile, “Oh! I didn’t know there would be anyone to help us apply Pro-Tan.” I stood around until one of the girls asked, “Are we in your way?”. “No,” I responded cheerfully. “I am just waiting my turn.”



A snotty brunette retorted, “Are you one of Eddie’s girls?” Dumbly, I asked, “Who’s Eddie?”. The angry beefy lady had just finished the last of Eddie’s Girls. She turned to me meaningfully and said, “So that’s everyone, right?”. I looked down at my skin which was ghostly pale in comparison (even after four coats of tanning product applied earlier.) She turned her back on me to spray Eddie’s Girls with Pam cooking product.



I involuntarily scooted backward in order to be removed from the uncomfortable situation at hand. I found myself literally up against a wall in between two urinals. I felt so confused and out of place. I hung my head slightly to the right and saw that one of the urinals had not been flushed by it’s prior user. I shrugged my shoulders slightly and not knowing what else to do I reached over and sadly flushed the yellow liquid myself. With that action I suddenly realized the hilarity of what had just occurred. I looked down at myself, then left, then right. I was wearing a sparkly purple bikini and heels. My hands and feet were bright orange due to self-tanner. I stood between two urinals. I was on the verge of tears because a few meatheads refused to share with me. I felt as though someone were tickling me mercilessly. I wanted to laugh with wild abandon. I felt insane and elated. I had arrived! There is no crying in Figure!



I befriended the nasty Eddie’s Girls by sharing my Bikini Byte. What’s Bikini Byte, you ask? Bikini Byte is a product used to glue tiny bathing suits to toned bottoms. After I applied Byte to my tush and adhered my suit properly I noticed Eddie’s Girls looking aghast. No one had remembered the bum glue! No need to fret. Mrs. Incredible to the rescue! “You may use my Bikini Byte,” I offered generously. They accepted my offer. After they had all sufficiently secured their suits in place I noticed I had missed a spot and needed to reapply. I realize now the practice of sharing such products may not be sanitary. In the moment it felt like the honorable thing to do… Turn the other cheek, if you will. J



My number was called to stand in line with my competitors. I began to notice how enormous many of them were. I was David among the Philistines. I busily sprayed myself down with Pam cooking spray. A girl with shoulders larger than those of most men asked if she could borrow my Pam. We made small talk and began discussing our training routines. “I only meet with my trainer once a week,” she said. Bells went off in my head. I remembered Iryna’s thick Russian accent trying to convince me to get injections “one time only every week and WOW!”. I had entered a competition with the word “Natural” in the title. I had not understood the term was actually short for “naturally steroids are allowed”.



I decided that given the circumstances I would not win but I would enjoy my moment of glory. I stepped out on stage swinging my hips like the brilliant Salsa dancer I am. I winked at the judges, flashed sassy smiles all around and waved to the cheering crowd. I heard my name screamed wildly. The moment was everything I hoped it would be. As I flexed for the judges my muscles shook like leaves on a tree. I was dizzy, dehydrated, starving and exhausted but I had never felt better.



Would I consider doing it again? ….Only if I could join the ranks of Eddie’s Girls. But I hear they are quite exclusive…

Sugar Makes You Ugly (and other stuff)

So there's this older black lady at the gym who HATES me.  She wears a turban and carries a large walking stick.  And she always looks at me like she wants to kill me. 

Once she brought a weight lifting book to the gym and some guys I know were lookin at it.  I was like, "Hey guys, what ya got there?"  and she said,  "DON'T SHOW HER!".  Then she snatched the book from the guys and gave me a nasty look and walked off.  I seriously don't know what I did!

I saw her at the grocery store tonight.  SCARY!

Veggies are pretty.  Pretty people eat veggies because they have anti-oxidants and lots of vitamins.  Radishes are especially good for you.  And these leafy greens are yum and help enhance brain function.  When your fridge is full of whole, clean foods it's pretty.  I think YOU'RE pretty!

I use a lot of extra virgin olive oil and balsalmic vinegar on my salads.  Good fats make your skin glow.  Fat is good and essential as long as its a good fat.  Avacados are BOMB.

Like you shouldn't eat powdered doughnuts because sugar makes you ugly. It really does!  If I don't get a handle on my sweet tooth I'm gonna get real ugly real quick.  Refined sugar literally leeches collagen from the skin which makes it look old and saggy.  Yeah.  Makes ya think twice about that Oreo you were gonna injest, huh? (On the other hand, we're all rotting as we speak so you might as well enjoy the cookie.  You're gonna get ugly eventually.  I hope to die first... I'D RATHER BE DEAD THAN UGLY... you can quote me on that.)

I'm only eating these here to show you what NOT to do.  It was a HUGE sacrifice to eat them.  I didn't enjoy it at all.  I was just takin one for the team.  You're welcome.

After I got a sick stomach from eating a vast amount of mini-doughnuts I sat on the couch to watch TV.  TV watching rots the brain but as I mentioned before we're all rotting anyway.  Doughnuts make me feel yucky and lethargic. 

The kids are all about my blog now and fight over the camera.  "Sing something Mama!  I'll record you!"  SO I SANG SOMETHING.

Then I pulled out my crappy little guitar (I have a better one) and messed around.  And my son put his cowboy hat on my enormous head. 

Then my son wrote his first song.  I'm so proud.  PANTS ON THE GROUND.  He is THE coolest kid ever.  Hilarious!  He's rockin a karate uniform with a bare chest and a cowboy hat.  LOVE IT!

Adios, Cleaning Ladies!

WAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!  I HAD TO CLEAN MY OWN HOUSE ALLLLL BY MYSELF TODAY!!!! I CLEANED FOR 12 HOURS STRAIGHT!!!!!

Ok.  Tantrum complete. I'm done. Venting calmly now.

I can't afford cleaning ladies anymore.  I feel like a basic human right is being denied me.  I scrubbed FOUR toilets today!  Me!  Ugh!  Remember  my glove fetish?  I've added a new pair to my collection.

Before I go any further let's discuss my Scrubbing Day outfit.  I chose white for two reasons:  a) bleach spots don't show up. 2) when I'm all done cleaning I'll have smudges all over my clothes and everyone will see how hard I worked.  III) I look really good in white. (I wanted to say angelic but who are we kidding?!...)  I also wore my fake red glasses all day to convince myself this was serious business. 

As you can see from my reflection, my booty says PINK.  So at least I'm sporting VIX as I slave.  (I forced my bro-in-law to take pics of me.  I was like, "I need to look natural...".)

I didn't use to be such a princess. Really.

I grew up with no money.  I use to say, "I could care less about money."  And I made sure to date the most destitute guys I could find in order to prove my point.  Daddy HATED that about me.  He HATED every guy I ever brought home.  Then I'd say, "But Daddy, who needs money when one has LOVE? Love is all you need!" (I still believe that, by the way.) 

Then I found my husband and trust me, I'm no gold digger. He was flunking out of a community college and working as an asphalt labor.  Yeah.  You know the guys that make the roads?  That was him.

After we got married I did what all good women should do and I pushed him to be a better man.  I insisted he get a college education.  I didn't care we were starving students!  Love is all you need.  (Love and an education, of course.)  He kicked and screamed his way to a diploma and cursed my name every time he opened a text book.  Thanks to me he is the FIRST member of his family to get a Bachelor's degree.  (Pardon me while I pat myself on the back.)

 I was financially poor growing up and still had no dough for a lot of years after I got married.  We hit a pot of gold a couple years ago, which was awesome!  I had a good run.  I've got a closet full of boots, bags and designer jeans to show for it. But now the economy sucks and I HAVE TO CLEAN MY OWN HOUSE! (I'm actually happy to have the house with four toilets because I'm told pretty soon I'll lose the house along with the cleaning ladies... It's kinda like throwing the baby out with the bath water... Whatever.  It's just a house.)

Back to my cleaning story.

So I'm scrubbing toilet number three when Maya comes in and says, "What are you DOING?!"

"I'm cleaning the bathroom, baby."

"WHY?  WHERE'S NORMA and those other ladies?".  Her eyes were huge with disbelief.

"I don't have money to pay Norma, honey, " I say.

"Well, just GO TO THE BANK!" says she.

Ah.  The innocence of youth.  Would that it were so simple.

When the older kids got home they too could not believe what they were seeing.

"You got RID of the cleaning ladies?!... Like... FOREVER?"  says Bella.

So I say, "Yup.  I AM the cleaning ladies." My children just stand in front of me with their mouths agape.

I am the cleaning ladies.

Today I cleaned for 12 hours without stopping.  I even forgot to eat. (I'm very goal oriented.) I cleaned bathrooms, dusted furniture, swept, mopped, changed linens, laundry, bathed children, climbed up on a ladder to dust ceiling fans and made fresh tomato soup for dinner.  Phew.  I'm just gonna go ahead and say it:

I AM A GOOD WOMAN! That man of mine is damn lucky.

Now my kids are down and my house is spotless.  (See those fab drapes?  I sewed those with own two hands.  I know, right?!  I'm pretty amazing...)   I deserve an Oreo Reeses PB Cup Dinner.  And a bubble bath... my tub is super duper clean.  Guess how I know?  'CAUSE I'M THE CLEANING LADIES!

Mess

So earlier this week I was in my bathroom blow drying my hair.   And my sister, Coral, was sitting at the edge of my tub and we were talking.  We talked about Love, heartbreak and pain.

My 6 year old son comes in and says, "Hey Mama, I need you to take me to the park right now."

"Honey, I'm not ready to go to the park right now.  Maybe later,"  I reply.

"But I'm bored!" said T-bone.

"Well. You have a room full of toys.  Go play with some."

"But Mama!  Everything I want to play involves making a mess!"

I was overjoyed he used the word 'involves'.  My children are quite articulate and it makes my heart soar.  I love words.

When he said "everything I want to play involves making a mess"  I was also thinking about my convo with lil sis.  A deep thought came to mind.

"This life is all about making messes and cleaning them up, my love.  Go play with your army men and put them away when you're done.  I love you!"

"I love you too, Mama."

Coral said, "Wow.  That was really poignant.  It's so true!  Life IS about making messes and cleaning them up!  You're quick.  Are you EVER going to put clothes on?"

Are you impressed with my pearls of wisdom?  I'm not gonna lie.  I'm pretty impressed with MYSELF.:)

Life is messy.  We all make messes.  We are all trying to figure out this game of life.   We are all trying to figure out what makes us truly happy.  We are all trying to figure out what we want.

What do YOU want?

I made a mess when I was car dancing and killed an enormous javalina.  I made a mess on the road and I made a mess of my car.  Here is the dent to prove it.  Guess what though?  It's ok.  It's just a car.  And this little piggy has gone to a better place. 

I made a mess when I finally took down the Christmas stuff today. Pine needles flew in my eyes and down my shirt.  Very pokey!

I found this doll with a bra on.  That's a mess.

Messes are a necessary part of life.  Sometimes you gotta break a few eggs if you want to make an omlet.

The WORST thing we can do in life is give up.  Some messes are worth making.  Some messes teach us who we are.  Some messes are not messes at all.

Despite all of my mess making, I still feel I have the right to say, "Take a chance on me...".

CONFESSION!!!

CLICK HERE TO WATCH DARK CAR DANCE OF DEATH #1

CLICK HERE TO WATCH CAR DANCE OF DEATH #2


I should go to bed.  It's 3:17am.  But I simply cannot sleep until I confess my sin.  It's a doozy.  (I took this pic tonight but I'm too upset to discuss it.  More tomorrow...)

Here we go. (Deep breath)  I just can't keep secrets from you!  I mean, you totally LOVE me!  Or you at least really like me... OR you're just curious what else I'm gonna come up with...  whatever the reason you read this I must be honest with you.

I'm just going to say this fast.  Tear off the band aid quick...  IWASCARDANCINGANDIKILLEDAWILDPIG!!!!!!

Did you get that? 

Sydni and I drove to Phoenix to get our hair did tonight.  (I'll give you a full report tomorrow when I've fully recovered from the shock...It's highly entertaining, I assure you. Took lots of great pics of MEEEE which I will post on Myspace and FB in a minute... check me out.)

On the way back I thought it would be brilliant to car dance and have Sydni video me being ridiculous.  There were no cars whatever on the freeway. But when I least expected it a HUGE javalina was right in front of me and BLAM!!!! GAME OVER!!!! Bump bump. Gone.

I totally cried.  (Ok... I didn't actually cry because I'm all cried out lately but I kinda whimpered...)

I was like, "oh no!  I'm so sorry I killed you because I was car dancing!  I'm so sorry!"

I kept saying I was sorry to the dead pig. I turned the car around to make sure it was dead.  Horrible to see the results of my carelessness.

Then I said, "Sydni, this is our little secret.  I will feel sooooo bad if anyone finds out about this!!!

That's all I have to say tonight.  I hope you still love me after this.  (Or at least like me or at least are curious about what I might say next because not even the angels in heaven know what's gonna come outta my mouth next.  Your guess is as good as mine.)

Enjoy the video.  I have blood on my hands.  And now... so do you.

BTW, I DO NOT THINK THIS IS FUNNY BUT IF I DON'T LAUGH I'LL CRY.  I felt really reallt bad and awful and I still do... Don't car dance and drive.

Om Namah Shivaya

Om Namah Shivaya.  I honor the divinity that resides within me.

Yoga tonight.  Interesting how when I'm standing on my head suddenly things don't look so upside down.

I need God tonight.  I need Him every night but tonight I feel alone.  Do you ever find yourself surrounded by people yet still you feel all alone?

As I practiced yoga I felt Him.  I prayed as I practiced.  I thanked Him for my healthy body and for every muscle I stretched.  I thanked Him for His Love. I thanked Him for the Love I feel from the people who are important to me.  I thanked Him for the deep Love I'm able to render others.

At one point my right leg was completely wrapped around my right shoulder and I was balancing my entire body on my hands.  I giggled to myself and prayed, "I'm so grateful to be a human pretzle right now.  Thank you!"

I watched a mother with a small baby yesterday.  I love babies.  Babies are my favorite thing in the world.  I could have 10 babies and never tire of them.  When I have a baby in my arms I'm truly happy.

The baby I watched cried.  She was hungry.  She could not understand the pain she felt in her tiny tummy.  She thought the world would end with this hunger she felt.  She screamed until her face turned red.  She flailed her little hands and feet in frustration.

Her mother had a calm smile on her face as she fixed the child a bottle.  The mother understood her baby would be Ok.  Her baby would be fed and this trial that seemed so big to the tiny one would pass.  She would be satiated and drift off in peaceful slumber.

When I was upside down tonight I wondered why there is so much suffering in the world.  I thought about the very recent earthquake that destroyed an entire capital.  I thought about my two beautiful aunts that have lost their sons.  Why are people we love taken from us?  I thought about the things I face that hurt me.  Why does God allow our hearts to bleed?

Then I thought of that mother and her baby.  She understood on a higher level that this too shall pass.  She smiled down on her screaming baby lovingly and gave her what she needed when she needed it.

I imagine God very much the same.  We kick and scream and our hearts bleed at times.  We think our trials are the end of the world.  But He understands that this life is just a blip on the radar of our eternal journey.  He can see all of us.  He knows us intimately. He can see those of us who are living and he can see those who have passed on. It doesn't matter where in the wolrd we are.  Our race and the amount of money in our accounts don't matter.  There is no difference to him.  We are all alive and progressing in His eyes. 

I'm told this life is a test.  Sometimes I feel I'll fail.  A big fat "F-" on the report card of my life.  Sometimes I hope I can squeak by with a "C".  I never feel like I excell.  There is always more I can do.

Tonight I feel alone and helpless to the trials I face.  I've written before that we are never alone. I've written He is always with us.  I write it again to remind myself.  (Every writer has a recurring theme... this is mine.)

I'm told the Love of God is beyond our comprehension.  I think of the love I have for my own children.  I would die for them gladly.  If His Love is far beyond what I feel for them, it is truly great indeed.

My little Maya cried today because she wanted us to dress like twins.  She wanted us both to wear our black tu-tu dresses.  Hers was in the laundry.  She was heartbroken  Her trial was small to me.  Easily fixed.  I smiled lovingly at her enormous tears and washed the dress.  All was well.

Our trials are enormous to us.  The end of the world.  We flail our legs and arms and we cry.  This is where He encircles us in the arms of His eternal Love. Our trials are small to Him but because He loves us he answers when we call.  When I'm hungry He feeds me what I need when I need it.  He does the same for you.

Namaste    I honor the divine in you.

Now If you'll pardon me, I have an Oreo Bubble Bath screaming my name... (I'm so thankful for chocolate cookies with a creamy middle and for my enormous bath tub.)  :)

Leg Day

Just talking on my banana phone...HELLO?  Bananas have lots of potassium and are super yummy!

LEG DAY!  WOO HOOOOO!

I have not been to the gym since mid-October.  I took a cold weather, sleepy cruise along the coast of Canada and came back dazed and confused.  Then the holidays hit and who wants to workout during the holidays?

So today I hit legs HARD!  Walking lunges, leg press, squats, dead lifts, leg curl, calf raises and some serious abs.  AHHHHHHH! I feel like a million bucks! I will not be able to walk tomorrow.  So worth it!  It's like this:

There is one chick in the free weight area.  It's me.  I pull my hat low over my eyes.  Meat heads try to make eye contact.  I'm Queen of ignoring.  Queen of the ignoramouses.  If I look up and a sweaty monkey boy catches my eye I stare right through Mr. Monkey man and look away.  SILLY RABBIT! TRICKS ARE FOR HOOCHIES! I'm here to work.

There is nothing but me, the weight and Biggie Smalls singin in my ear.  Biggie Biggie Biggie oh can't you see?  Sometimes your words just hypnotise me. 

 I can think of nothing but pushing the pounds.  Focus on my breath.  Exhale on exertion.  Muscles burn and ache and scream but I continue to push.  When I can take it no longer I hit two more reps. PUNISH YOUR MACHINE!

I love to punish my machine.  When my muscles scream for mercy I scream back.  YOU GOT THIS!  YOU GOT THIS!

I love imagining my muscles taking shape.  I'm sculpting them with every repetition.  I focus my mind and shut everything else out.  I'm not a mom or a wife or a sister or a daughter.  I'm a machine.  Pain is nothing.

OK.  I'm all done being poetic.  I have been asked by lots and lots of women for help on their diets and excercise programs.  I've decided to add some tips and eat-clean recipes every once in a while to my blog.

Wanna know how much I weigh??  Mmmmk. I'll tell you.  130lbs.  Some people think that's a lot.  In fact, when I confess my weight most women say I'm telling a falsehood to make them feel better.  Nope.  130 lbs.  I've been a hard core weight lifter for almost 5 years.  Muscle is heavy.  Here are a few tips for ya:

First off.  WATER. WATER. WATER.  I always (and I mean ALWAYS) carry a water bottle with me.  I drink probably a gallon and a half every day.  Your body and brain are mostly water.  Beautiful, intelligent people drink lots of H2O.  Stay hydrated. 

Next:  PROTEIN. PROTEIN. PROTEIN. For a gorgeous bod you need gorgeous muscles to shape that bod!  The more muscle you have the faster your metabolism.  IT'S TRUE!  Those muscles of yours are begging to be fed.  Protein helps builds muscle. 

 I drink 2 protein shakes every day.  I generally add bananas or frozen fruit and ice.  I happen to love them.  Protein powder is THE BEST!  I add it to my oatmeal or whole wheat pancakes for breakfast and suddenly I've created a balanced meal.

Every meal should include a portion of lean protein.  I don't want to stress you out but you should be eating 6 small meals a day.  I'll get more specific at a later date.

Last:  Ladies LISTEN UP!  Lifting weights will not bulk you up!  Lifting weights will not make you look like a man!  What it WILL do is give you a nice, round, firm tush and tight legs.  If you lift shoulders (which happens to be my fave)  you will discover a V-taper you never knew you had!  Trust me!

Don't be afraid of the the free weight area!  It's not scary.  I promise.  You wear the weights!  Don't let the weights wear YOU!

If you're a dude and reading this GET THEE TO A GYM!  Chicks are expected to look all hot and tight.  No fair not measuring up.  Lift heavy.  Lift hard.

Ok.  I'll leave it at that for now. 

Stupid Little White Girl

I was five.  I was swinging at my Abuelita's house underneath a lush lemon tree.  I was chattering to my cousin (we'll call her Maria) in Spanish.  Maria was six.  I was happy.  Birds were chirping.

Maria said, "Why don't you just shut up!"

"Shut up? Why?"

"Because you shouldn't be speaking Spanish.  Your dad is WHITE!  You're not even Mexican!"

My dad was WHITE?!  OH NO!  I had no idea!  I was contemplating how best to process this new information when BLAM!  I TOOK A BASEBALL BAT TO THE HEAD!

Yeah.  Little 100% Mexican Maria was so disgusted that I was white and speaking Spanish and swinging happily under a lemon tree that she cracked me in the skull with a bat.  I saw stars.  I don't remember crying but I'm sure I did.

I don't think I cried because of the physical assult though.  I cried because suddenly I realized I was different.  I was deficient in some way.  I didn't want to be white!  I was MEXICAN!  But the more I thought about my daddy and his thick southern accent and green eyes the more I realized Maria had spoken the truth.  I was white.  I was broken hearted.

That was my first experience with racism.  I'll tell ya a few more.

I was 15.  I had a boyfriend named Alejandro.  His sisters hated me.  Guess why?  I. WAS. WHITE. 

I walked down the hall at church.  Alejandro's sister, Claudia, leaned against a wall with 6 of her cousins and said (in Spanish, of course),  "Look at her!  She thinks she's so great because she's a gringa.  She's just playing with my brother.  She doesn't want him!  She wants a rich white boy.  She looks so stupid with those long giraffe legs."

Then she looked at me with her good eye (she had lost an eye as a child which made her even scarier), "Just because you dance like a Mexican does not make you Mexican!  You're just a stupid little white girl!"

Ouch!  I heard that insult a lot.  Stupid little white girl.  When I was a teenager and out partying with my Mexican cousins I actually found myself using that phrase.

If a small blonde girl was dating a hot brown boy I would say, "She's just a stupid little white girl!  She's got water running through her viens.  That boy needs a hot Latina!" 

When I said 'stupid little white girl' I always felt like I was betraying myself.  And I was.  I wanted so badly to fit in I sold out. 

When I was 16 I saw a nasty gang fight in which one guy stabbed another guy with a pair of sissors at my high school.

My parents moved us to the White People Side of Town. 

I was a fish out of water.  I didn't speak this language of  "OMG!  Whatever!  Those are soooo last season!"

I had always shopped at Salvation Army or Good Will.  Everything is 'last season' there!

I had a hard time making friends because I learned too late that these sweet little blonde girls would smile to my face and say mean things behind my back.  On Tucson's South Side, girls said what they thought of you to your face.  They slapped you around and pulled your hair but you always knew where you stood.  These sneaky white chicks spun me like a top.

And the little white boys had no idea what to do with a feisty DD Latina.  I scared them to death.  I said what I thought right out loud.  I wasn't coy or shy.  I had to learn to play their games.  It took some time and serious study of the girls around me. (Couldn't get rid of those enormous boobs though...they stuck out like... I was gonna say a sore thumb but the truth is... they stuck out like enormous boobs.)

I eventually figuered out who I was.  I eventually came to terms with the fact that I was different than anyone I came in contact with.  I couldn't be wrapped up neatly with a pretty bow and stacked up next to a group of Mexican girls with gold bracelts up to their elbows.  And I couldn't be stacked up next to a group of white girls with their fancy cars and daddy's credit card.

I stood alone.

There is something to be said for standing alone.  When I found I could not identify with any one race or group I had to discover who I was as a person.  I've learned who I am has nothing to do with race or color.  I have developed a thousand different talents.  People are drawn to me because I've learned how to communicate with people of any race, socio-economic background, age or sex. 

I never knew as a confused half-breed trying to survive in two opposite worlds that didn't want me, one day I would emerge triumphant.  I didn't realize that one day I would become a strong, confident woman.  Those experiences taught me the importance of tolerance, charity and acceptance.

 I'm glad I was a stupid little white girl.  I wouldn't have it any other way!

ALIAS

Random strangers come up to me and say, "Hey!  You look like that chick from Alias!".  I get it ALL the time.  That chick from Alias happens to have a name.  It's Jennifer Garner.

 Sydni says, "Whatever, Crys!  You are SO much hotter than her!"  So either way I'm sitting pretty, I guess.  (Personally, I don't see it.  But do you... see it?  I mean, I don't think I look like a gorgeous celebrity but if YOU do then....  Do I?  Huh?)

I was thinkin' about aliases.  I was also thinkin' about the voices in my head.  Do you have those?  You do argue with yourself?  I'm ALWAYS arguing with myself.

I have an alias.  We'll call her Lola.  Lola and I disagree ALL the time!  We fight over what I should wear.  We fight over how I should behave and even what I ought to write.  Lola is the wild me.  Lola wins a lot.  Like if I write BUTT or BOOB or anything remotely suggestive... that's Lola.  (I'm quite suggestive privately but Lola has no cuth.)

Lola picked out the outfit I'm wearing in the pic above.  Do you see what I mean?  Slutty!!!!  I would have picked something.... well... actually... Lola and I agreed on this one.  Nevermind.  But NORMALLY we disagree...

For instance, every once in a while I try to quit Diet Coke.  But to me quiting Diet Coke is like a mistress quiting an amazing lover.  I don't want to but I know I should.  It goes something like this:

CRYS:  I'm giving up the Diet Coke.  It's getting bad.  I had a powdered doughnut and a can of D.C.  for breakfast.    (That IS actually what I had for breakfast this morning.... I have a problem.)
 
LOLA:   Nope.  Not gonna happen.  You're MORMON!  It's the only real vice you have. 

CRYS:  It's really not healthy.  I'll probably get a Diet Coke related cancer in a few years...

LOLA:   So?!  Everybody has got to die sometime!  Only the good die young, baby!

CRYS:   I just really want to stop.  Shut it down.  It's not good for me.

LOLA:   Oh please!  You don't want to stop!  You LOVE it.  You love that sweet burn sliding down your throat.  You love the calorie free indulgence. No guilt!   Diet Coke is your FRIEND!

This where my will begins to weaken.

CRYS:  Well, maybe just one can a day won't hurt...

LOLA:  That's my girl!  Let's take a little drive to the convenience store right now, shall we?

CRYS:  But it's 3am!

LOLA:  There is no time like the present...

So I sit here sipping a D.C. Draft like a champ. 

What is YOUR alias' name?  Maybe you have more than one.  I admit to having a few.  Lola was just one example.

I have the me that is all sweet and lovely and pious for the ladies at church.  Then there's the me that don't take no crap from no one.  There's the bleeding heart me and the uber sensitive, loving me.  There's the boisterous, loud, obnoxious me. There's the naughty me.  There's a very spiritual me.  And the generous me and the selfish me.  I could go on forever.

IT'S VERY NOISY IN MY HEAD!

Is it noisy in YOUR head?  What do you argue with yourself about?  Do you blame your alias for your actions?  Sometimes I do.  Sometimes I think, 'Lola did that.  Not me.'  No responsibility whatever.

DID I SAY IT'S VERY NOISY IN MY HEAD???  HUH?  WHAT DID YOU SAY?  Oh that was Lola.  She said to tell you not to blame your aliases and to take responsibility for your own thoughts and actions.  ( I'm sorry she's so RUDE!)

Individual Worth

WATCH ME MAKE OUT W A REAL MAN

Do you know your worth?  It can't be measured and terms of cash or phsysical wealth.  Individual Worth is very real.  It inspires us to accept that we are Fresh to Def, baybay! It is who we are deep down.  The positive attributes divinely given to all.  We all have divine gifts but it is up to us to wear those gifts with pride.  To allow ourselves confidence for CONFIDENCE IS EVERYTHING!

I'm so secure in the knowledge of my worth I don't mind making a video of myself being licked to death by an enormous Rocky.  (Rocky is my 5th child.  When I look into his big brown eyes I see that he is actually quite human...)  The knowledge of my worth draws people toward me and inspires them to achieve.  I must say I like it.

I have a superiority complex.  I tend to gravitate toward people who also enjoy warming rays of a Superioriy Complex.  I enjoy people who are not needy.  When I enjoy the company of a secure person I can say, "alright!  Enough about me.  Let's talk about YOU! What do you think about ME?

I like myself quite a bit.  I'll say it right out loud.  I can cook and clean and sew all the bedding and drapes in my home.  I can sing and dance in two languages.  I'm fairly attractive. I'm fun fun fun. I'm super generous and go out of my way to serve others.  I'm a voracious reader, which means I can discuss classic lit with a quick tongue.  I'm avid fitness freak. The list goes on and on.... I've got a lot to offer...(uh...i'm not actually offering anything...I'm just sayin.)   I have a way with words.

Think about your own individual worth.  Ask yourself, what am I worth?  Don't be modest. Be honest. Cling to those gifts and own the world around you.

I'm so confident of my very high Individual Worth I enjoy posting pictures of mostly myself on this blog.  Today I thought, 'Hey if a picture is worth a thousand words what's a VIDEO worth? And who cares if I'm slightly offkey at times?  We're having fun here!

 So I made a few videos for my own entertainment.  I have invited you to join me in enjoying the random crap I recorded.  My point is this:  Confidence is EVERYTHING.  Putting up videos is quite scary (a humbling brand of nudity) at times but I'm up for the challenge.  Cause I think I'm pretty great.

I'll tell ya a secret.... you're pretty great too!!

lately my obssesion has been the Phantom of the Opera sound track.  Maya and I drive around for hours belting music from deep within our souls.  We have decided that our favorite song from Phantom is Think Of Me.

I decided to sing one verse super serious as a heart attack.  When I decided to do another verse on it's own Maya could not help but make lots noise.  She too is aware of her immense worth.  She is confident, sassy and in-control.  Not bad for a five year old.  My children will rule the world with confidence for it stems from a knowledge of their Divine gifts.

I do realize I;ve hit some sharp notes here and there.  It's cool.  We're having fun! You get the idea... :)


SINGING PITCHY THINK OF ME... DEAD SERIOUS.

Joy in Simple Pleasures

As a nation we often measure happiness in terms of monetary wealth.  We envy those with boats and fancy cars.  We covet the latest "It" bag and shoe.  We dream of a time when we will have more money to.... (this is where you fill in the blank... i'm sure you're just as guilty as I.).  We got our minds on our money and our money on our minds.  We become obssessed.

But deep down we know cash ain't the cure all.  If we slow down for a moment and enjoy the journey of life joy will seep in unexpectedly.

Have you ever noticed how that happens?  One moment you're upset and stressed about Whatever It May Be.  Then suddenly you find yourself eating Oreos in your bathtub full of bubbles and you realize, "Hey!  Wait a minute here!  I'm happy!  Right this very minute... I'm HAPPY!".

I like to try to focus on the simple pleasures of life.  They take the focus off of the big yucky stuff I find so depressing.

Three of my favorite simple pleasures are 1)MUSIC  2) PHYSICAL BEAUTY 3)FOOD

MUSIC

Today I asked my little Maya what she wanted to do.

"Can we just drive and listen to Phantom of the Opera?" she asked.  My heart took flight.  She's five and appreciates Phantom!  I must be doing SOMETHING right!

"Of course, my love. " I responded.

We got in the car and cranked the music as loud as it would go.  We drove nowhere.  And we sang.

The lyrics to Think Of Me are amazing.  Heartbreaking.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we said goodbye.  Remember me once in a while Please promise me you'll try....   Think of all the things we've shared and seen.  Dont think about the way things might have been... Recall those days, look back on all those times... think of those things we'll never do.  There will never be a day when I won't think of you."

I was so engulfed by the beauty of the music and my child singing at my side tears streamed down my face. 

Joy is found in music.

PHYSICAL BEAUTY

I couldn't think of a better term for 'painting my nails'  but that's what I meant by 'physical beauty'.  I find joy in painting my nails.  Today I painted my nails Emerald City Green while I was at the park watching my little ones run around.  The tips of my fingers look like jewels (or those shiney green bugs that make a ton of noise...). 

Joy is found in Emerald City Green nail polish.

Also, Maya wanted us to be twinners today so we dressed alike.  We are so super sassy it's not fair.  It's not fair to all the other mommies and Mayas that can't hang with our sassy selves.  It's just wrong, really. (I painted her nails also cause she's down with the E.C.G. nail polish too.)

FOOD

I like to cook.  I'm good at it.  Tonight I made The Best Tomato and Roasted Red Pepper Soup Ever! Fresh to DEF!  The cayenne pepper gives it a kick. BLAM! Party in your mouth. (I also made grilled cheese to go with... ooey gooey carbs... mmmmm.)

I totally dig wearing aprons.  This one was a gift from my sis Sydni.  It has red roses (which are my fave flower)  and skulls and cross bones (which means I'm totally hard core).  When I wear this apron I feel like little Molly Homemaker With An Edge.

Joy is found in hot soup on a cold day.

When I'm done here I'm gonna sit in my bathtub full of Lavender scented stuff and then I'm gonna devour an unforetold number of Oreos with milk.  Who's that kid with the Oreo cookie?  MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!  (Well actually it's a naked mama with an Oreo cookie but that would mess up the lyrics cause it doesn't rhyme...)  O-R-E-O!

Joy is an Oreo bubble bath.

WHATEVER!!!!!!!

"Mom!  GET UP!  GET UP RIGHT NOW AND MAKE ME BREAKFAST!" said one child.

Another child said, "YOU HAVE TO BATHE ME!"

Yet another little one exclaimed, "WHERE'S MY PURPLE SHOE?"

I stumbled out of bed.  Ran the bath water, made some toast and found the blasted purple shoe.

I took the kids to school and was super cheerful. (For me 'super cheerful' first thing in the morning means no one died that day.)  So as I was saying,  I was super cheerful as I dropped the lil ones off at their various destinations.

I went back home and put my gym clothes on. 

I went on a cruise in October and something happened to my brain.  I have not been able to function properly.  I've been on cruise control ever since.  Have not lifted a barbell or stepped on a treadmill.  (Shocking, I know.)

So I went home with the intention of hitting the gym.  As I said, I put on my gym clothes. 

Then I crawled back in bed.  I put a blanket over my head until I had to pick up the first child from pre-school.

You're probably thinking I should be ashamed of my behavior, huh?  I should have done something productive with my morning.  Right?  Wrong.

I'M ANGRY.  You're asking why, aren't you?  I'll tell ya.  Because I want the best of every world and I can't have it.

"The Man"  says, "Hey everybody!  It's January!  A time of new beginnings!  Throw away the leftover pecan pie and hit the gym!  Create new goals!  Better yourself!  Clean out the attic!  Take your Christmas stuff down!"

I'd like to tell "The Man" to shove it up his ASS!  I don't WANT to better myself!  I'm gonna finish the pie all alone!  And my dead Christmas tree will stay up til July if I want it to!

Society tells us what to do and we just do it.  Don't we?  Nobody questions how things are.  Like a herd of cattle we head to the gym in January.  It's pretty funny if you pay attention.  People who have not set foot on an eliptical since LAST January are huffing and puffing.  Lumpy women are running on the side of the road, all red faced and miserable.  (I want to pull over and offer them a ride to Mcdonald's... you KNOW that's where they'd rather be!)

(I HATE McDonald's food.  It's highly toxic and should not even be considered edible.)

Today I decided to wear my gym clothes for my nap.  I didn't workout and I didn't change my clothes all day.

Instead, I had a dance party with my kids.  I read a book under a tree at the park.  And I ate a NASTY FAT-BOMB-DELUXE-ANGUS-BACON-AND-CHEESE-HEART-ATTACK with fries. 

I didn't even wait to get home to eat the fries.  (I tend to forget to feed myself so at 6pm it was first thing I'd eaten.)  McDonald's fries are disgusting if you wait til they've cooled.  It's like chewing a mouthful of ill-flavored sticks.  But when they're hot the toxins are disguised by the sizzling grease.  MMmmmmmmm.  Delish.   I shoved a handful in my mouth and thought, 'blog pic!'. 

Then later I had 2 enormous doughnuts.  And when I'm done here I'm gonna have another one.

"The Man"  that wants to control when I clean up my diet and take down my christmas tree can kiss my half-breed-Mexi colita.

Here are a couple videos of the dance party at my place today.  I'm the only one dancing because the kids fight over who gets to hold the camera.  I let them kill each other and whoever bleeds first gets to hold the camera.  It's a pretty fair system, I think... 

They also like to boss me around.  I'm very obedient.  I just do as I'm told.  "Happiness is what counts with children... happiness and harmony...".  (That was said by Veruca Salt's mother in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.   Veruca was an enormous brat.  My children are angels.)

CLICK HERE FOR:    DANCIN MAMA (SUPER SILLY!)

The Gloves Are Off!

Have you ever loved something SOOOOOO much that you imagined it loved you back?  That's how I feel about GLOVES! 

I wore these gloves all day today.  Funky.  I cooked dinner with these gloves on.  I went to the grocery store with these gloves on.  I went to the park with the gloves on.  I rocked them all over town.

I just keep this look on my face that says, "yeah.  so?  I've got super hot  gloves on.  so?"  I get a little bit of an attitude. 

All gloves come with a different vibe.  Some gloves are sweet and demure.  Others are sassy.  Some are downright Trashy.  These gloves make me feel like I can take on the world.  I love how these gloves are tough but have a big bow on the wrist.  They say, "I'm a lady but if you push me too far I WILL take you down!" 

The thought of picking a fist fight in the Wal*Mart parking lot appeals to me today.  BRING IT ON!

I dig how these gloves are missing the tips of the fingas.  I messed with my keyboard with these on and I'm not gonna lie... I looked REALLY COOL.

I don't have anything of import to say tonight.  Everything is pretty chill and cool and great so I'm just gonna talk about gloves.

I like purple nail polish.  It's purple-y.  When I look at my fingers I think, "Ooooo pretty color."

I thought I'd also showcase my red gloves.  Red is my favorite color so I REALLY love these gloves.  (I'm pretty sure they love me back...because Red is far more passionate than Black.)  :)

I'm gonna go take a bubble bath and eat Oreos now.

PS  I just noticed someone needs to wipe down the mirror and it ain't gonna be ME! (well actually it IS gonna be me... but i ain't doin it TONIGHT!... well actually, i probably will... cause it'll just bug me if i don't...)

CAGED

Took the kids to the zoo last week.  I have always loved the zoo.

This particular morning found me overly tired and lacking energy.  So I drank a couple Red Bulls.  AHHHHHHHHHHH!  I FELT ZIPPY.  YOU SHOULD SAY ZIPPY.  SAY IT.. ZIP PY.  REALLY POP YOUR LIPS ON THE PP.  ZIPP PY!

I was in rare form.  Mommy of the year.  I was like, "HEY KIDS! LOOK AT THE RHINOS!  THEY HAVE BIG HORNS.  THEY'RE HORNY!."  (I didn't really say that...)

But I was like, "HEY KIDS!  LOOK AT THE RHINOS!"  (Then I thought the rest and giggled to myself.)

We saw giraffes.  And monkeys.  And tigers. And bears. OH MY!

Then we got to the Mandrill.  I stared at him and he stared at me. And we stared at each other.  We just stood there eyeballin' each other.

Then it hit me.  'HEY!  HE'S IN A CAGE!'

So I looked at my kids and said, "HEY!  HE'S IN A CAGE!  HE CAN'T GET OUT!  HE'LL NEVER GET OUT!  EVER!"  I felt panic stricken.

Maya looked at me and shook her head and rolled her eyes.

Then Tyson said, "He was born in captivity.  So he's Ok, Mom."

And I was like, "WOAH!  WAIT! WAIT A MINUTE HERE!  SO YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE HE HAS NEVER HAD FREEDOM HE NEVER SHOULD?"

I like to debate things with my kids.  It helps them think for themselves.

So Serena was like, "He's safer here, Mom.  He has never known anything else.  He would get eaten in the wild."

I felt wild.  "SO HE HAS TO LIVE IN A BOX SO HE WON'T GET EATEN!?  HE STARES AT ME AND I STARE AT HIM AND I GET TO GO AND HE HAS TO STAY.  HOW IS THAT FAIR?"

Then Bella (who is my gypsy-soul-tender-heart) said, "I don't think it's fair at all, Mom.  I think captivity is wrong.  He was never given a choice."

So I say, "YEAH! HE WAS NEVER GIVEN A CHOICE!  HE WAS STUCK IN A CAGE AT BIRTH AND NOW HE CAN'T SURVIVE ANY OTHER WAY!"

Maya gave me her scarf and said, "Hold this."

So I wrapped it around my head and rocked it like that.  I hate these jeans.  I hate this whole outfit.  The jeans are 'The boyfriend' cut.  Totally unflattering.  They are supposed to be super hip.  I look like a potato sack w no shape.  YUCK!  I hate baggy jeans.  And I'm all like, 'ooo I think I'll wear a purple shirt and purple vans.'  I'm so disappointed in myself over this.  It's upsetting.  It really is.  Anywho...

Once I put the scarf on my head I felt like a vigilante.  I heard the animals in the cages speaking to me.  They said, "Break me outta here, sister!"

I asked the kids if they would help me set all the birds free in the aviary.  I said it in front of a lot of people thinking maybe they would offer their assistance in this noble endevor.

I said, "IF ONE OF YOU HOLDS ONE DOOR OPEN AND ANOTHER ONE OF YOU HOLDS THE OTHER DOOR OPEN  I'LL RUN ABOUT THE AVIARY SHOOING THEM OUT!  I'LL JUST WAVE MY ARMS AROUND AND THEY'LL FLY OUT!"  I looked around for support.  People were actually shielding their children's eyes so they couldn't see me.  I was confused.

So I said, "A GRAVE INJUSTICE IS BEING COMMITED BEFORE OUR EYES!  THESE ANIMALS ARE CAGED!  STUCK! DO YOU SEE THE DULLNESS OF THEIR EYES?!  WHO WILL HELP ME RIGHT THIS WRONG?"

I looked around.

Serena said, "You're really embarrassing me."

So I said, "OH. SORRY.  WHO WANTS A SNOW CONE?"

 

Then we saw the Zebra. One of the kids took this picture.  I thought, 'HERE IS ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF DESIRES THAT ARE BEING IGNORED.'

THE END.

Insomnia

I've been at the keyboard for hours tonight.  it usually puts me in a good mood.  not tonight. this pic was taken on a cruise i took recently.  there was a lot of old folks on the cruise. the highlight of that trip were the chicken wings i ate every night.  pretty exciting stuff.  snore.

can't sleep. can't sleep.  can't sleep. it's probably because i'm a highly evolved and creative. yeah. right.  im also in a foul mood.

 i took a bubble bath w a scowl.  then i painted my nails.  i hate the color i chose. gold glitter.  ew. i prefer black. or blood red.  or deep, dark purple.  too irritated to redo though.

i hate everything tonight.  why cant i have what i want? all the time?  is that too much to ask?!  sometimes i ask the universe for stuff and then i feel like it might happen for me.  like i might be thrown a bone.  but then... nope. im ignored.

This is a rare occurance.  grumpy grumpy grumpy grrr.  thats all i have to say.

\

Advice for the New Decade

*    Be Brave.  Take a chance.

*     Dance in your bare feet everyday. 

*     Love Hard.

*     Comment on My Blog.

*     Buy Less Crap


*     Eat more CARBS.  (I mean, I won't because then I'll get fat...!  But YOU totally SHOULD!  Mmmmmm... bread.)

*     Pick on someone smaller than you.

*     Contact someone who loves you.
       (Grandma?  Mom?  That weird old guy at the gym that wears shiney spandex and says, "love ya, darlin'."... on second thought... maybe you shouldn't encourage that...)

*     Don't go on a diet!  (Sheesh!  It'll never take!)

*     Think positively.  (Like if you decide to go on a diet...)

*     Accept who you are.

*     Whatever you do... DON'T accept who you are!  EVOLVE.

*      Take more pictures of yourself  and post them on your blog.

*     Learn something new everyday.

*     Don't be so selfish. (The world does not revolve around you.)

*     Be more selfish.  (It's wonderful for the skin.)

*     Make me laugh.  ( I could really use it.)

South Paw

Once when I was in third grade my teacher smacked my left hand and said, "Your handwriting is a MESS! You really need to practice more!"  I felt bad about my crappy handwriting.  I was the only lefty in the class.  I felt like maybe there was something wrong with me.

My handwriting is STILL a mess.  But now I embrace it.

I'm left handed.  I'm pretty proud of that fact.  So tonight I did a little research regarding lefties, in order to decipher how truly gifted and special I am.

I realize very few of you are left handed.  I write to a small audience of lefties.  Let's see... My dad is left handed (Hi DAD!) and my cousin Kim is left handed (I'm not sure that she's speaking to me after the Halloween fiasco... long story).  And there might be one or two of you that unbenownst to me are also left handed.

There are only 10% of us in the world!

So like I mentioned I did a little research to see what I might find regarding my own kind.  This is what I found:

In many parts of the world the left hand is considered "unclean".  Some cultures use the left hand to clean themselves with water after they have defecated. 

WHAT?!  Gross. 

In Hebrew the left hand symbolized the power to shame society and was used as a metaphor for misfortune or natural evil.  A punishment from the Gods.

Shame shame I know your name.

Modern English "left" came from an Old English word that means "weak".

Weak weak don't make a Squeak  (I'm rhyming)

Among children with Autism and other developmental disabilities  there is a higher proportion of left handers  than in the population as a whole.

Wrong!!!!!!!!!!! That's not true at ALL.  I only accept favorable statistics regarding lefties.  Liars.

As I read I came to understand that we South Paws are disadvantaged.  We should get our own Left handed parking spots and food stamps or something.  We are a minority and our needs are not being met!

It is said of Lefties that we die years sooner than right handed people.  We DIE sooner?!  Wha???  So I thought, wow, I wonder what disease would be responsibe  for that statistc.  No disease at all!  In fact  lefties die at the hand of power tools made for a right handed person.  Now, I have no need for power tools so I am  not at risk.  But for those of you who use power tools often BE CAREFUL!  Just a word to the wise.

There are all kinds of stuff that messes us lefties up.  For instance, most video cameras have the strap on the right side of the camera which leads to shakey video capturing.  How much does THAT suck?  You're trying to capture little Johnny's first baseball game and your hand is shakin like an alchohlic in need of a fix.

Do you SEE the injustice that has been wrought up our people?  I say something MUST be done!

Another slight on our kind are Bull Pop rifles.  Get this!  If the gun is not reconfigured for a lefty, empty shells would be ejected fast and straight into the shooter's face and cheek!  Yeah!  Lefties get shot in the face just because they are lefties!  Appalling.

Positive view of South Paws:

In Ireland left handedness is called a "ciotogach"  (kitt-OGH-och) in the Irish language.  Ex.  "She gave him a slap of the ciotogach after he insulted her."

I like it.  I will use it often.  CIOTOGACH is my new fave word.  When my children try to drink my Diet coke I'll just give them a slap of the old ciotogach!  Classy.

Here is a list of smarty pants that were lefties:

Albert Einstein,  Beethoven, Benjamin Franklin,  Joan of Arc,  Julius Ceasar, Leonardo da Vinci, Mark Twain, Michelangelo, Napolean, Pablo Picasso, Queen Victoria.

And we cannot leave out the genuis that is PAUL McCARTNEY!!!!!

I think I could totally chill with this group of over acheivers.  I'd fit right in...

Chris McManus of University of College London says left handers are responsible for a huge leap in advances in mathematical, sporting and artisitic geniuses.


Left handed men are said to be 15% richer than right handed men for those who attended college and 26% richer if they graduated.

Homosexual individuals are somewhat more likely to be left handed than heterosexual individuals. Interesting.

That's all the bits and pieces I found noteworthy.  I choose to accept all the positive statistics as facts.  Anything that paints lefties as subpar I consider superflous information.

Which means to say, I am creative and I excel at mathematics and my verbal skills are above average.  All in all I'm pretty amazing.  I'm totally gonna PEACOCK for a minute 'cause I deserve it!  I mean, as a repressed lefty who was abused as a child for the very thing that now raises me above the masses of right handed wanna-bes  I am overwhelmed with pride.

Talk Nerdy To Me, Baby

Have you ever dated a gorgeous moron?  I have.

When I was in college I found a boy with such a sweet face I suffered from chronic toothache.  He was beautiful to look at.  He was a lean, 6 foot 4 inch Polynesian athlete.  I could stare at him all the day long.

The problem was whenever he opened his mouth to speak I literally winced.  Doh! It pained me so.  I was always tempted to say, "Shhhh.  Just sit there and look pretty for me...". 

I didn't know how to introduce him to my sister.  I knew what the verdict would be.

When he walked in the room she muttered, "Pretty."  As soon as he began to speak she scoffed under her breath, "Sell out."

Yeah.  I sold out.

Whenever we went to social gatherings he would inevitably pull out his dizzying arsenal of "Yo Mama" jokes which he delivered with gusto, pride and loud laughter. 

Now, I like 'Yo Mama' jokes as much as the next ghetto child, but they must be original and off the cuff to impress me.  His were the same tired lines every time.

"Yo mama's so white, you don't need a night light."  Groan.

"Yo mama's so stupid, she spent 20 minutes looking at an orange juice box because it said 'concentrate'." Ugh.

"You mama's so so fat, her belly button has an echo."

"Yo mama's so fat, she's on both sides of the family."

Ok, so the last two are pretty stinkin' funny.  But imagine hearing them at every social gathering for months! 

Poor thing.  It's all he had to work with.  He even gave himself a tatoo of the Nike symbol on his bicep and applied it backwards. 

The unfortunate lad fell in love with me and even asked me to marry him.  He also asked if I could use small words when I spoke to him because it made him feel bad when I said "all those big, long college words" he didn't know.

Alas, I cut him loose.  Gave him his walking papers.  I felt it such a shame throwing away a perfectly good pretty boy like that.

I had to be honest with myself.  (As I always am.) I realized that one day gravity and the Dunkin Doughnuts he loved would take hold and his looks would go.  Then what?  Once his physical beauty was gone I'd be stuck with a protruding belly and an unlimited supply of 'Yo Mama' jokes.  Could YOU live with that??

I'm not saying I'm some sort of genius.  But there is a lot to be said for mental stimulation.

The people I spend the most time with are those that stimlate my mind.  I get a thrill from a fast paced, intelligent convo.  Banter is fun.  The quick-witted always perk my attention.

My siblings are the best when it comes to intellectual banter.  We are all TOTAL book nerds.  We rip each other to threads (all in good fun, of course).

I constantly devour book after book in order to remain a worthy opponent.  They do the same.  The first question on any of our lips is always, "What are you reading right now?".  On your mark! Get set!  Go!

These are the books on my bedside table this very moment.  I carry at least two books in my purse at all times and pull them out at stoplights because I can't stand to be idle.

I love to learn.  Learning and discussing new and exciting ideas is a huge turn on.  I also enjoy discussing old and classic ideas.  I try to learn something new everyday.  Since the glory of God is intelligence I focus on the constant expansion of my mind.

In lieu of 'Yo Mama' humor throw me a little Plato, Dante, Bronte, Shakespeare or the newly popular Malcolm Gladwell.  Rather than potty humor let's discuss good music, current events, thought provoking art, Theology, or Greek Mythology (one of my FAVE subjects).

Wanna know what I learned today?

 The University of Wisconsin did some research on REM sleep.  It's said  that people can actually master the art of shaping their own dreams!  Cool, huh?  Also, if you're not sure if you're awake or dreaming you should look for a mirror.  If you are dreaming, your reflection will always be different than you expect.

This is my best nerd look.  I don't actually wear glasses.  Well, I guess that statement isn't entirely accurate, is it? I mean clearly the glasses are on my face.  What I mean to say is the lenses are benign.  These glasses are a prop. I wore them all day today.  I think I look extra super smart.

PS  Yo mama so stupid she got on an elevator and thought it was a mobile home. 

Charity

Jason asked, "Hey, Crystal, can I have these truffles?  They're my favorite!"

Internally I thought, 'Nooooooooooo!  I was totally gonna devour those later!"

Externally I said, "Of course!  Go for it!"

Syndi said, "Crys, you dont have to give them to him.  We know you'd give us the shirt off your back."

I laughed, "I'd give you the shirt off my back only to give you a little peep show of what's UNDERNEATH the shirt!  It's impressive, I assure you."

We all laughed.  HA HA HA.  I never saw the truffles again...

Sydni paid me an ENORMOUS compliment today.  I haven't stopped thinking about it.  I feel so validated yet humbled that someone would voice those words about me.

I've tried to decipher why I have a generous spirit.  I believe it's a case of Nature VS Nurture with a pinch of selfishness.

I'll start with the selfishness.  I am hopelessly flawed.  God knows my heart.  I cannot lie to God. He knows my every thought and desire.  He knows every sinful thought that enters my mind. (Not sure how fair that is, but whatever...)

I want God to view me in a good light despite my monsterously human flaws.  So sometimes I serve others in order to win brownie points with The Man upstairs.  Maybe my good deeds will cancel out my bad ones.  Just a thought.

Nurture.  I'll tell ya a story.

When I was 10 years old I had a very good friend named Anna.  Anna had a little sister, Angalee, who was best friends with Coral (my little sister).  The four of us played together often.

One day, 8 year old Angalee came to Coral in tears.  Her step brother had just returned home on leave from the military.  He had taken the opportunity to sexually abuse little Angalee.  He had been doing it to Anna for years but no one ever knew.

Coral and I learned about lewd sexual acts at very young ages.  They were explained thouroughly in child-like detail. 

The man was a monster.

Coral ran straight to my Mom.  Mom ran straight to their home to find their step-mother naked in her living room giving herself a bikini wax.  Emotions ran high as step-mother refused to believe her son could do such a thing.  "Those girls are Liars!,' she said.

Without another word my mother stormed into their house and grabbed as many of the girl's clothes and shoes as she could.  She then informed the woman she would be keeping Anna and Angalee until further notice.

Those girls lived with us for two years.  They were our sisters.  We shared clothes and beds.  We laughed and fought.  We loved each other.  They eventually went to live with a grandmother in California.

My mother never thought twice about how having two extra children would inconvenience her. She saw a need and she filled it.  Enough said. (This is just one of the MANY good deeds wrought by my mother.)

My mother has been generous enough to bail out family members from incarceration and generous enough to pay people's mortgage until they can pay themselves. 

My mother is the most charitable person I know.

So, clearly my generousity has been learned.  Nurture is the prime componant here.  Monkey see, monkey do.

However, Nature is interesting.  Since I was a child I have always understood my role in life is to care for everyone around me, both physically and emotionally.  I'm blessed to have such an enormous capacity to Love.  I'm also blessed to be patient and strong mentally so I can assist in lifting what the weak cannot.

I understand that "charity beareth all things, hopeth all things and endureth all things."  I constantly find myself trying to make the burdens of others lighter. By making my own burdens heavier I can forget the things that ail me. 

I understand that, "charity vaunteth not itself and is not puffed up." With charity I get to practice humility (which is tough for me!)  Altthough today in church I was TOTALLY coveting Becca Madsen's satin red stilletos!  Ahhhh.  It was a spiritual experience for me, I assure you.

The bottom line here is this:  I am helplessly flawed.  Only God in heaven knows just how flawed I am.  Given that information, I try to find as many opportunities to excercise charity toward others.  It just feels GOOD! 

It's said that of faith, hope and charity; charity is the greatest.  It stands to reason, does it not?  Charity has everything to do with the people around us daily.  Charity is the Pure Love of Christ.  Pure Love.

When I serve others or open my home to family members in need I am experiencing Pure Love.

Who wouldn't want to experience Pure Love?

I'm a chronic sinner.  I desire what I should not.  I kick against the pricks.  I'm (at times) a doubting Thomas.  I plead to my Heavenly Father to look upon the good I do for others when taking into account what sort of person I am.

I'm told to strive for perfection.  Perfection to me is a lighthouse that can only be seen intermitantly for I am on the angry sea.  I will reach it eventually.  But not without a fight.

Post Traumatic Christmas Disorder

CLICK HERE:  Pete's Dragon: It's Not Easy


I don't know about the YOU but I'm experiencing a bit of P.T.C.D.  You know?  The after Christmas let down?  We are all familiar.  Are we not?

I find singing helps.  I'm always always singing.  I was straightening Maya's hair and Bella said, "Can I record you singing?"  She loves to play with the camera.

So there we were straightening, singin and filmin.  Then my husband comes in and scoffes, "Wow! You sure are in love with yourself, aren't you!"  Hmmmm.  I could take offense I suppose.  Instead I use it as a teaching tool. 

"Of course I love myself!  You little girls should love yourselves too!  It feels good to love yourself! There is no one better than YOU, my loves!"

Ha. There.  Lesson learned. Confident little girls become confident women who will rule the world!  Damn straight, I love myself!

Tonight two my girl friends came over with three little girls.  There were 4 cackling women, 6 little girls, 2 dogs, 1 little boy and a partridge in a pear tree running amuck in my home. 

The ladies and I got to talkin about Post Traumatic Christmas Disorder.  One of them said, "I'm on the freeway of Death."  (She's a hypochondriac and is always dying of something...At the moment she is sure there are several tumors in her ear and neck. I've known her for many years and she has not yet died despite her fear, so that's good.)  When she wraps a scarf around her head it means she's probably for sure dying of an unknown cause.  P.T.C.D. strikes again.

Here's the thing.  I have spent all the cash I had in the spirit of giving.  Now I have NONE.  It had not occured to me that the day after Christmas would also mean NO DOUGH.

Kids are like, "Mom! Let's go to the movies!"  and I'm like, "Hey kids!  I ain't got no dough!"  They then stare at me blankly as if to say "no comprendo". 

Having no dough SUCKS! It's a huge downer.  Especially when there are such FAB shoe sales to be enjoyed!  However, 40% off is also the equivalent of 60%  ON.  You see? You still have to pay 60%!  It's crazy how retailers trick us like that!

Months ago I was at the gym in a bathroom stall.  I did my thing.  Then turned around to flush.  In my haste I dropped my keys into the toilet.  OH NO!  A mighty flush sent them to the grave of so many sad little goldfish.  I crouched down before the mighty throne and peered into the water hoping my keys might magically appear.  They did not.  I was disappointed because my swarovski crystal skull and cross bones keychain was attached.  NOOOOOO!

I continued staring into the tiolet, grieving the loss of my beautiful keychain. And a scripture popped into my head, "For where you treasure is, there will your heart be also...".  Hmmmmm.  Well, if my treasure was in the poopy sewer, my heart must be ??   Heeeeeyyyyy!  Wait a minute!  Wait just one cotton pickin minute!  I've had an epiphany.

Maybe.  Just maybe... if the object can be flushed away maybe I should not consider it a treasure...

I thought long and hard about this.  What is really important in life?

Love.  Friends.  Family. People.  Relationships. Cultivating positive relationships.  Coming closer to one another.  CALLING each other on the phone more.  COMMUNICATION is key.

My treasure is PEOPLE.  Quality experiences that will shape who I am as a person for the better. Experiences that remind me I'm ALIVE!  I'm not dead yet!  Experiences that will help me shape who others are for the better.

I generally inspire my friends to behave like lunatics.  They love it.  Tonight "D" was the director of a skit.  I was the STAR (of course).   It all has to do with combatting this P.T.C.D. which looms over us like a dark  cloud.  Quite beneficial for the psychy to act the fool.

My husband thought this video was overtly suggestive.  Pish Posh!  We are all adults here.  Are we not!  A cupcake with frothy frosting is just that...  No innuendo to be had.. ;)  Ignore that wink.  It was a typo.  Ahem.  Pardon the mishap...

As the days of winter grow shorter so do our fuses.  People feel phsycally yucky because they have been mistreating their bodies by consuming vast amounts of processed, high fat, high calorie foods.  They do this to reward themselves... Hmmmm.  People also suffer from lack of cash.  No funds, No Fun.   Generosity does have it's down side, I suppose, if one is stupidly giving.  I am stupidly giving.  Major character flaw.

Have you noticed more road rage?  Did you see that guy out there yesterday honking his horn and shouting "MERRY $%^& CHRISTMAS @SS(*&^!".    I didn't either but I'm sure he was out there. 

Fuses are short.  Emotions run high. People feel fat.  People feel saddness and loss more accutely.  The skies become dark and so do we.

My remedy to combat these blues is to sing.  Act the fool.  Make people smile even when I'm sad inside.  Serve others in every way I know how.  Hold a baby and play Peek-a-boo.  Invite far too many children to sleep at my home.  Skip cleaning and snuggle with my little ones. Let my lil ones destroy the place as I laugh with good friends.   Eat cookie dough and apple pie crust until vertigo.  (I seriously get dizzy when I eat too much! Sooo worth it.)

Service is the best way to fight off P.T.C.D.  (Also making a non-suggestive video including a cupcake helps.  I'm just sayin...)

Have you done any good in the world today?  Have you helped anyone in need? Have you cheered up the sad or made someone feel glad?  If not you have failed indeed.

Smiling is my Favorite

Elf is my favorite movie EV-ER!  I can't help literally laughing out loud multiple times when I watch that flick.  I've seen it a hundred-million times.  Still funny.  Watched it tonight with the fam.

A couple years ago Coral came upon a t-shirt that made my heart soar.  It had a pic of Will Ferrel as Buddy the Elf with the words "Smiling is my favorite" across the front.  I wear this Tee to the gym in December OR July if I need a lift.  (Not a boob lift, you see.  A lift in SPIRIT.  Just wanted to make that clear... ).

When I wear the shirt I make myself laugh internally by not cracking a smile.  People read the words across my bosom and then look at my face.  The two are not a match.  I'm stoic as a rock.  Not friendly or approachable in the least. 

The hilarious thing about this joke is that I'M the only one in on it! (Those are the best kinds of jokes really... because they are genuine and soley for MY entertainment.  I think I'm worth it... I make myself laugh CONSTANTLY.  The people in my head are HILARIOUS!! What?  Huh?  Did you say something?  Oh nevermind. That was just the voices in my head again.  SHHHHH! $^^%^%$#@.  See?  I'm totally loling. Sigh. You're not sure if there really ARE voices in my head, are you?  HAHAHAHA!!   Mmmk. Forward march...)

 























See?  No Elfish grin HERE! (I do have my hair in my mouth though. ??)

I took this picture tonight.  I couldn't find my shirt at first and I tore my closet to bits.  Then I confronted my girls.  "Which one of you took my Elf shirt?!  This is VERY important.  STEALING IS WRONG!" 

I sent them to their rooms until one of them (I won't say which one) emerged with my shirt.  I'm sure the emotional trauma I incurred tonight is totally worth it in order to write this blog for you.

 When I was a kid and stole stuff my mom would tell me the devil was sleeping in my bed.  Then she'd turn out the light and leave.  Mmmmk? Mmmmmk.

 I didn't really send them to their rooms.  I just suggested the devil might sleep with them if my Elf shirt didn't turn up SOON.  HAHAHAHA!  I'm totally laughing cause you don't know WHAT to believe, do you? Man!  I'm drunk on pecan pie and oreos. 

If I ever told my kids to go to their rooms they'd laugh at me.  I'm not a good disciplinarian.  I'm like, "Yes!" and they're like, "No!"  then I'm like, "Ok.".  

The shirt was crumpled under a bed and smells really iffy.  It could be anything, really.

I know you're wounded I refuse to smile for you in my shirt.  Ugh.  Ok, ok, ok.   Fine.  I'll make an acception for you.  But just because it's YOU.  I wouldn't do this for anyone else.  I'll flash ya a toothy grin against my will.

I think everything one needs to know about life can be learned from Buddy the Elf. 

Like when he sniffs out a fake Santa at the mall and says, "YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES!" In my mind it's always important to seek out truth in every given situation.

Or when he falls in love with Jovie who is dressed as an Elf but has a very bad attitude regarding Christmas.
He asks her out like this:

"I wanted to see you and I think you're really pretty.  I feel really warm when I am around you.  And my tongue swells up...".

What warm blooded woman could resist THAT?!  NOOOTTTT MEEEE!  If I were Jovie I'd run off and have lots of little Elfin babies post haste. (Which she did. Smart girl.)

Buddy knows the four basic food groups are Candy, Candy Canes,  Candy CORNS and Syrup.  Sounds right.

Enough about Buddy!  Let's talk about ME.  Check out the shoes Sydni and Jason gave me! (I'm wearing my 9 year old's dress.  She owes me for stealing my Elf shirt without permission...)  Also, Annie gave me the sweet gold cuff on my right arm.  Yay for people who love me!!!!!!! This includes YOU! ;)

My little T-bone had sooo much fun with the toy rifle Santa brought.  He kept saying, "Mama! Take a picture of me with my rifle!  Ok.  Now take another one!  ....One more....".

 I am REALLY going to have to discuss how vanity is not an attractive quality.  I mean, WHERE would he get the idea taking so many pics of HIMSELF is kosher?! Psh. Not Ok.

No Christmas is complete until a remote contrtrol Jeep rams into the tree and breaks an ornament.  "Mama!  Take a picture of me with the ornament I broke.  It's for your blog...".

Ohhhhhhhhhh.... so thaaaatttt's why....

I am so SICK of EATING!  I have not stopped eating for 48 hours.  And as soon as I polish off a piece of chocolate cake and some more chips and dip, I AM SO DONE!  Gotta have my cake and eat it too.  (You'd think I could come up with something less obvious but no... I'll stick with the cake and eat it too... Lame. Let me know if you come up with something better...).

May you recover from the holidays fairly unscathed.

Duarte

My Abuelito's name was Manuel Duarte.  People just called him Duarte.  He's gone now.  But his name lives on in his children and grandchildren.  There are almost 100 grandchildren and a ga-billion great-grandchildren..  We are all beautiful, vibrant, intelligent, fun, extremely loving and supportive of each other.  I thought I'd introduce you to just a few.

We get together for major holidays and children's birthday pinatas fairly often. 

Tonight we dined on Menudo, tamales and the best saladito salad EVER. 

I had a rough day and spent most of  today in tears.  Since I'm not afraid to share my emotions with all of you  I'll share this pic.  (I mean we're all super tight like that, right?  We all have bad days sometimes, right?  We are all human.)  Plus this pic is super cool for the next dark fiction I write... :).  There is an up side to EVERYTHING!

I pulled myself together and walked into my uncle Benny's house.  I was immediatly greeted by a hundred family members with hugs and kisses.  Exactly what I needed!!!

I sat with my Aunt Leticia.  Letty makes me laugh because she insults me constantly and she tells filthy jokes.  I love telling filthy jokes too.  So between the two of us we are dirty dirty girls.  We are inappropriate and way too loud. BLAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Letty said, "Pareces una muneca, Crystal!"  You look like a doll.

I said, "Ah.  Gracias."

Letty said, "Una muneca FEA! HAHAHAHA!"  An ugly doll...hahahaha.

She really liked that joke and repeated it a myriad of times.  Funny!  I really needed someone to tell me I looked like an ugly doll tonight.  She also tells me she hates my hair cut and why is it short in the back and long in the front?  Then She asks my 6 year old if he cut his mom's hair.  She just keeps asking him until he runs away.  Again, funny.

My other aunt Veronica is Mexican Barbie Genius.  She has a microbiology degree and never ceases to amaze me with her wit in English or Spanish.  Sharp as a tack!  Plus we always talk fashion which I LOVE.

Victoria is Vero's daughter.  Gorgeous and super sweet.  I said a few dirty jokes in front of her and she laughed, "Ugh.  Stop!"  Awww.  How refreshing.  We talked fashion which I LOVE. "I totally wear booties with dresses too!!  Forever 21 has the BEST prices on hot stuff!  I know, right?"

Rosalina and I are tight like that.  She always texts me her love life problems at 1am and I do my best to console her.  Love is a tough subject!  She has a new man lately, so that's cool.

Angelica and I grew up together and used to play naughty with our Barbie's when we were little.  She is far more mature than I now.  She would never play naughty with Barbies now.  Whereas I might were I given the oppotunity.  I'm just sayin...

The boys in my fam a SO much fun!  I have uber hot cousins.  We like to talk lifting which makes me feel super cool.  Most chicks have no idea what a deadlift is or how many grams of protien per body weight are necessary for muscle growth. I DOOOOO!!  I'm like the circus strong man.  Seriously.  People trip over how much I can lift.  So David and Aaron and I discuss protein, squats and bench press.  I'm all over it!

This is my "little" cuz Aaron.

This is my other "little" cuz, Gary.  He belongs to crazy Letty but somehow has emerged totally normal and cool. :)  Good job, man!  I look teeny next to him!  ( I'm really not that teeny...)

.

This is Alex.  He is super smart and sweet and soft spoken.  I used to babysit him when he was a baby, which is just WEIRD!

So that's all I got for ya tonight.  It is SO nice to be around people that love me and hug me and make me laugh and think I'm the BEE'S KNEES!  I can't imagine what life would be like without such an amazing support system!

Now I gotta get ready for Santa to come.  This is his plate of cookies.  I ate 9 of them.  I think Christmas cookies make the world go round.

Keepin' Up With the Smith's

Babies are my favorite thing in the world!  If I have a baby in my arms I'm happy happy happy!  Maybe I'll get knocked up again a few times.  What's another rug rat more or less when I've got a house full?

Last night was the Smith Family Christmas Party.  I got my baby fix with tiny Devon (my brother's lil man).  He and I are tight like that.  We played Peek-a-Boo for over an hour.  I love that game.  I eat up how surprised babies get every time I uncover my face and say "boo!".  Genuine shock.  Devon's like, "Oh!  There you are!"  He smiles with all his teeth.  Then we do it again 500 times in succession.  :)  I'm totally in love with this tiny man.  He melts my heart away.  Sigh.

I took advantage of the opportunity to play my parent's piano.  Ahh!  The sound that comes out of that instrument warms my soul. "Pa rum pa pum pum on my drum...".  Christmas sing alongs are the BEST!

This is baby sis.  Michelle.  She just got her poetry published by an Ivy League college.  Princeton? I think.  Whatever.  I'm uber proud!!! I have a see through white boob.  Hmmm. Black bra next time...

Coral, Joe and I are extremely jovial at all times.  Black is the new Christmas red. (Joe, please remember you begrudgingly gave me permission to put this up.  I realize you're a computer genius but please don't dismantle my blog. Thanks.)

We had a wholesome discussion about the possibility of a perverted mall Santa Claus.  He's the guy that doesn't belt out, "HOHOHO WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS!"  Instead he whispers, "Can you keep a secret little boy? "  EEEWWW!  HAHAHAHA!

Santa brought the Smith's a pool table for Christmas this year.  FUN!

My Daddy's got mad skills at the pool table.  He's a good ol' southern boy.  That's why.  CRACK!

Grandaddy had a heck of a time putting to together the car track he bought for T-bone. 

Merry Christmas Er'body!!!!!

El Indio, el Sol y el Viento (I Love You)

I say 'I love you' a lot.  But only when I feel it.  When I do feel it, I feel it hard.  I love without reserve. I can't help it.

When I was growing up we didn't verbalize 'I love you'.  It felt awkward and far too humbling.  I had to convince myself it was Ok to say those three simple words.  Took some getting use to.  It was scary at first.

I've said it a lot lately.  My sister's kids are staying at my place this week.  I've missed them.  I can't stop hugging and kissing them and telling them I love them.

"I love you, Grant. I'm so glad you're back.  What are you thinking?  Here's your hot chocolate, honey."

"You are so GORGE, Toby!  Your make up looks great! You look like a big kid.  I love you, missy."

My house is a zoo.  8 little monkeys and ME.  I seriously love it!

I went to bed last night at 3am.  The kids were asleep so I cleaned like a madman. 

I woke up at noon today (yay for no school!).  I heard the kids wreaking havoc at 7am but I put a pillow over my head and let them go nuts.  When I finally emerged from slumber with bleary eyes I found disaster.  DISASTER!  They had fed themselves.  There were syrup and gooey Eggo waffles absolutely everywhere.  There was paint on every visible surface along with craft supplies.  The children looked like street urchins and were running races down the hall in pajamas with chocolate on their laughing faces.

Did I start cleaning immediatly?  Did I put my foot down?  Nope. I was happy to see them happy.  I didn't want to see the mess.  I wanted to play. I put on a baseball hat and said, "Let's walk to the park guys!".

And we did.

I was the Pied Piper as I walked down the street with 8 rowdy children in tow. I was the rowdiest of all.

Serena said, "Mom, you're soooo crazy!"

Grant said, "I like it.  You make me laugh."  I love to make Grant laugh.  He's a tough crowd sometimes. :)

Often I'm told I let my kids (and my sister's kids) 'step all over' me.  I'm told to be more firm and forceful to inspire good behavior.  Whatever.  That's not how I operate.

My Abuelito (grandfather) used to tell a story he lived by. 

Sun and Wind saw a young indian boy traveling on foot.  He carried with him a colorful blanket which he wrapped around his shoulders.

"I have the power to take the blanket from that boy!" said the Wind. "I am strong and powerful! I am stronger than you."

The Sun smiled, "I believe I can cause the boy to surrender his beautiful blanket."

The gauntlet had been thrown.

Wind blew fiercely and ferociously.  Wind blew with all her might. She whipped about the boy. Sand blinded him.  He could barely continue walking so strong was the force of the bitter Wind.

In response to the sting of Wind and chill the boy held onto his blanket with all his strength.  The harder Wind blew the harder he held on.  He used the blanket as a shield against Wind. He wrapped his head and body in the colorful blanket.  His knuckles were white and his hands numb as he continued grasping tightly. She spun around him with no mercy.  Still he did not let go.

Wind became exhausted and frustrated.  "Well!  Good luck with that!  If I cannot force the boy to release the blanket you certainly have no chance."

She screamed in frustration and swooped down one last time in the hopes of taking the colorful possession into the sky with her.  The boy held fast.

Sun smiled again.  He said nothing.  Instead he waited for Wind to die down.  When all was calm Sun sent down his golden rays with a kiss.  He warmed the boy.

Within moments the boy slowly relaxed his grip.  His body was soothed. He sighed deeply. He stood erect and walked for another few moments.  Sun continued to dispense warmth upon the boy.  The boy turned his face to Sun.  He smiled slightly and removed the blanket from about his shoulders.

My Abuelito believed in soft Love.  He understood Love cannot be forced.  He understood the gentle warmth of Sun is far more powerful than the sting of bitter Wind.  My Abuelito's Love always felt like sunlight.  Gentle.  Warm.  Selfless.

I try to love like he did.  I understand that Love cannot be forced.  Love responds to warmth.

When McCartney (named after THE Paul McCartney) says, "Crystal!  I HATE this ham sandwich!  Can I have pb&j instead?"  I smile.  I give him what he wants.  A pb&j made with Love.

As I fullfil Mack's special request I watch my 8 beautiful babies eat and laugh and fight and throw food.

"Mom! Tyson put his carrots in my drink!"

I sigh.  I love you.

Love is Not Logic

When I was 17 I fell in Love with the wrong man.

I had known him since I was a child.  He never minded me bathing in the creek in front of his house in my Strawberry Shortcake panties with his sisters when I was five.  I never minded him snoring from across the room as lay in a tiny bed sardine style con la Blanca y la Thelmita.

He taught me how to shoe a horse.  I taught him bad words in English.

Santos Santa Cruz is my second cousin.  People who know I loved him wrinkle their noses.  I don't care.  My grandparents were cousins.  Love is not Logic.

The summer I turned 17 I spent a lot of time in Turicachi.  I loved it there.  I loved milking cows and running barefoot through the wash con la Blanca.  I loved watching Tia Lupita make fresh tortillas on a wood burning, cast iron stove. The smell was intoxicating.  I loved watching Santos and his brothers break wild ponies.  I loved the dances at night.  I felt I could fly.

Santos took notice of me that summer.  And suddenly I saw him in a different light.  We danced and laughed and looked at one another in wonder.  Could this be happening?

Love had sauntered into my presence when I wasn't looking.  She surprised me (as she always does).  She danced along side me.  She was content and at peace.

Love is always different.  She is moody and ever changing.  She has greeted me with fiery passion and unquenchable fire.  Other times she has smiled softly upon me and her presence was calming.  Love is not Logic.  Love is Love.  She cannot be explained away.  Love cannot be forced into submission or coerced. Love cannot be controled.  Love is either there or she is not.  She can cross the vast expanse of oceans, mountains and valleys without stopping for breath. Love can be euphoric and Love can be bitter.  Love can be frustrated, controlling and angry.  You never know with Love.  Above all Love is beautiful.  Love is the most powerful force in the Universe.

When it came to Santos she was soft, calm and innocent.  Love did not care he spoke no English.  Love did not care his home had dirt floors.  Love did not care he was not educated.  Love did not care he was not religious.  She wrapped her arms around us and radiated the sweetest warmth I'd ever known.

Santos, Love and I rode horses into the sierra.  My long black hair flew behind me and I flew behind him.  He kissed me under an enormous Alamo tree.  He smelled of Earth and Passion.  His hands were rough but his touch was gentle.  Away from the norms and rules of society the three of us knew joy.   

Logic and my grandmother told me Love could not stay.  My abuelita had clawed her way out of this tiny town where time stood still.  She would die before allowing her beautiful, white granddaughter to end up with what she had worked so hard to escape.  Mexican families are matriachal.  Respect is required above all else.  She hated the sight of me with him.

He hoped to keep me forever.

I broke his heart.  Love did not leave me.  I betrayed her.  She stood before me with tears in her eyes.  "I'm still here," she said.  "I'm still here."

"It cannot be, Love.  Our worlds are too different," I replied.  My heart ached.  I knew Love would stay by my side and cause me insurmountable pain but I stood my ground.

Logic stepped in.  He was calculating and robotic.  He wore a suit and tie and shiney black shoes.  Love and Logic had a face off.  Love was fire and fury.  Logic was ice.  When ice melts water takes its place.  Water extinguishes even the most uncontained of fires. 

"Mi amor!" said Santos.  My Love.

"Lo siento."  I replied.  I'm sorry.  I ran because I knew I must.  Our worlds were too different. 

How sad it is when Love is banished because of social norms, money, religion and other such nonsense.  All Love wants is a chance to take flight.  Over and again I've seen Love banished for these very reasons.  Over and over Logic wins.  Some would say there is nobility in letting Logic win.  Perhaps this is true.  Often when Love wins the hearts of the innocent let blood.

I saw Santos recently at the funeral of his father.  We did not speak. Our eyes met. He saw tears on my face as I said goodbye to a man we both adored.  I recognised the heartbreak on his face.  Love was there again but she was different.  She was not romantic.  Love was charity and sorrow.

Love is always with me now.  She manifests herself in so many ways.  But she is always in my presence.  When she suffers, I suffer.  When she feels joy I feel it accutely.  When she laughs I laugh.  When she's helpless so am I.  I'm grateful for her presence.  Love reminds me I'm alive.  Love is not Logic.   

Santa Baby Take 2 AND 3

So I was all stupidly euphoric about my sexy Santa Baby video.  I really thought, "Wow.  I'm pretty amazing."

This morning I recieved a text from my brother who had seen my illustrious video.  He typed one word.  "WHY?"

I responded, "For Fun"

He replied, "If I were a mean brother I would tell you to make more..."

Ouch.  Truth hurts sometimes, doesn't it?

It's cool though. I CAN TAKE IT...

He was kind enough to say, "Youtube doesn't do your voice justice at all."  He also said, "You look like you're trying too hard."

I love that he can be BRUTALLY honest.  It's like ripping off a bandaid.  It only smarts for a sec.

Mmmmmk.  Reality check.  Not sure what I was thinking here.  In my mind I was funny and charming and DELIGHTFUL.  So I attempted a redo.  I really wanted to capture who I TRULY am.  Here it is:

SANTA BABY BLOOPER #1

SANTA BABY BLOOPER #2



Moral of the story:  NEVER TAKE YOURSELF TOO SERIOUSLY.  (I know I never do...) :)

Santa Baby

THIS DRESS WAS $40 AT TARGET!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

God is Love

Five years ago I found myself facing the worst depression of my life.  I felt utterly alone and heartbroken.  I felt misunderstood and taken for granted.  I had faith in nothing.

What is it with creative people and depression?  You hear about it all the time.  The most creative contibuters of music, poetry and art are often the most tortured by inner demons.  To add to my creativity I'm also a lefty which is said to mean I have above average intelligence.  Often people with above average intelligence suffer from severe bouts of depression.  Why IS that?  Can only the dim-witted be truly happy?  Perhaps.  Ignorance is bliss.

Anyway, five years ago I found myself in my kitchen with tears of doubt and frustration streaming down my face.  The existential dilemma loomed over me like a storm.  All the saddness and disappointment in the world at large and in my own personal world crashed in on me like a violent tsunami.

As I cried I emptied my dishwasher.  As I cried I emptied my dishwasher and I prayed. I prayed that I might not feel so alone.  I prayed that my broken heart would mend.  I prayed that the pain would stop.  I prayed for the darkness to vanish.  I prayed for the strength to smile for my children.  Smiling was an effort.

I prayed so fervently I did not notice my eighteen-month old son at my feet.  The tears in my eyes prevented me from seeing the sharp knife he had extracted from the open dishwasher.  The blackness of my heart blocked him from my view as he pointed the knife directly at his eye and toddled away.

I was jolted from my prayer by the sudden blare of the fire alarm.  I spun around to find not a fire or even smoke.  Instead I saw my baby running with an enormous knife.  He giggled and thought it was a game as I deflty flew over my couch and dove toward him.  I snatched the knife from his hand immediatly before he lost his balance and fell on his face. 

The fire alarm stopped.

The fire alarm had never gone off before and it never went off again while we lived in that house.  What happened?  Why would I be shaken from my sorrow in time to prevent my son's untimely death?

I suppose some might say it was a coincidence. 

I happen to believe it was a miracle.  I happen to believe in my darkest hour I was shown I am not alone.  I often have to remind myself of that fact. 

I don't care what religion you subscribe to.  I don't care if you think religion as a whole is crap.  You're not alone on this Earth.

We are each loved and watched over by a Supreme Being.  I call Him my Heavenly Father.  Other cultures have other names for Him.

Love is the most powerful force in the Universe.

In his  Divine Comedy, Dante came face to face with God.  He wrote God was l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle...
      "The love that moves the sun and the other stars"...

God is LOVE.

God moves the Sun and the other stars and He moves me.  When I feel the most alone, misunderstood and unloved I turn to Him.  No one loves me more.  I can feel it.  No one understands my heart as He does.  I can feel it.  I am never alone.

Happy Birthday, Syd!

This is what I wore tonight.  Check it out.  Total 80s Madonna throwback.  I found the skirt at Buffalo today for $8!!  The vest was another $8!!!  I KNOW, RIGHT!! *screams*  Love it!  I haven't worn these yellow shoes in quite sometime but they make me happy. WEE!  And hot pink screams 'LOOK AT MEEEEE!' And we ALLLL know how I love THAT! 

I stole the plastic bangles from my five year old.

Maya said, "Mom!  Come here!"

"Yes Maya?"

"Mom?  Did I SAY you could borrow my bracelets?"

"Well... no..."

"You have to ask me FIRST!"

I was kinda scared she'd say no.  "Maya?  Can I borrow your braceletes tonight?"

"Sure!!"

Next subject:

Have you seen Public Enemies?  It's a true story about gangster John Dillinger played by Johnny Dep (oh la la).  I watched it tonight.  The love story KILLS me!

Johnny meets a beautiful brunnette.  They dance once and he knows.  LOVE.  Ah.  Her name is the last word on his dying lips.  He was a criminal for a living but true love did not elude him.  Beautiful. Sigh.  It's like a fairy tale.  He didn't need to take her on several dates or live with her to try it out.  He just KNEW.  I'm beside myself....  Next subject:

This blog is about SYDNI!!!  Today we celebrated her 29th birthday. (Girl, you gettin OLLLLDDDDDD! HAHAHAHA!)

Sydni is married to my brother-in-law, Jason.  They lived in Las Vegas 2 months ago.  Thanks to a crappy economy they now get to live with ME! Yay!

When people discover I have in-laws living in my house they often lower their voices and lean in as if I might share a nasty secret.

"How is it really with in-laws in your house?" they ask.

"I LOVE IT!" I respond.

And I do! When I was a child my mom always allowed people to crash with us.  She also took in every stray dog or cat within a 10 mile radius.  I learned through her example true happiness is helping others.  True happiness is really giving of yourself.  Even when it isn't easy.

My husband's sister, Darci, lived with us for over two years.  I miss her like crazy!!!

Having Syd and J live here is a HUGE blessing.  I'm so happy to have them and I tell them often!

It's always a party at my place.  There are always kids and dogs and adults everywhere.  It's loud and crazy.  I'm loud and crazy.  Perfect combo.

Sydni and I laugh constantly.  We share clothes and BOOTS!  My wardrobe has doubled!  She helps me with the kids.  They adore her.  What's not to love?  She's my sister.  I can't imagine ever having a real disagreement with her.  (She might tell me I look fat in my pants but she'd be doing me a favor... honesty is key with fat pants.)

Tonight we went to dinner with our men.  Syd and I eat like piglets.  I had bread and butter, fried calamari, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach swimming in cheese, an enormous ribeye (I even ate the fat) and then at home I had half a bag of gummy bears and 10 oreos with milk.  Oink. 

Jason said, "I fart a lot when I eat too much sugar.  I've been eating two boxes of hot tamales every night!"

Sydni said, "It's true!  He farts a lot when he eats sugar.  Especially in his sleep!"

Jason said, "You fart SO much in your sleep, Sydni!"

"Yeah but it doesn't count when I'm sleeping.  We do NOT fart in our house because then we'll have kids that think farting is Ok.  And it's NOT!"

I laughed until it hurt.  They are delightful.

After dinner we went home.

I said, "OOO lets have a pajama party!  We can take birthday pics for my blog!  We'll both wear white."

She said, "Ok!  And lets put big gold bows in our hair so we look like Christmas presents!"

Me:  "Totally!"

And we did.

Look Mom! No hands!

My little T-bone said, "Mama, can I take some pictures of stuff?"

I hadn't really heard the question but nodded anyway.  "Uh huh...".

I had forgotten he had used the camera until I came upon this:

BOO BOX

BOO BOX

I went to visit my sister at work today.  That's her reflection in the mirror.  She was feelin a little blue.  A delivery person entered the store with an enormous box. 

Coral said, "I want to get inside that box so bad it hurts!"

Sadly, she could not get inside the box.  Buffalo Exchange is very strict about employees climbing into enormous boxes on the job. 

Coral began to laugh and said, "It would be funny if someone got into that box and jumped out and scared Sam!"

I'm a very loving sister and wanted to turn Coral's frown upside down. Buffalo has no restrictions regarding siblings of employees climbing into enormous boxes.

I climbed in. I tried not to giggle too loudly as I waited for Sam.  I felt giddy!   It got a little stuffy in there.

From within my cardboard cave I heard Coral say, " Hey Sam, why don't you help me move this box?"

When I felt the box jostle I jumped out suddenly.

"AAHHHAAAAA!"

Sam convulsed with fear for a second.  She composed herself quickly.  Too late!!!  Coral and I were a heap on the floor.  Tears streamed down our faces.

Poor Sam.  I had only met her once before and now I was hysterical at her expense.  Ah well.  We're fast friends now!  Or maybe she destests me... Who knows?  It was worth it!

CUTTER (Very dark fiction)

She had been very productive that morning.  Children had been sent off to school with healthy lunches in hand.  Her husband had been sent off to work with a kiss.  She had taken freshly baked bread to the nursing home as she did every Tuesday.  Her house sparkled and smelled of furniture polish and vanilla.  Laundry was folded.  Chicken breast thawed in the sink for that night's dinner.  Yes.  She had accomplished a lot.

She always accomplished a lot.  She gave service everywhere she saw it was needed.  People knew they could count on her.  She could never say no.

She always had a smile frozen on her face for all to see.  She certainly wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable by frowning.  What good would frowning do her? 

She had always done what was expected.  She was a good girl.  She always did the right thing.  She walked the tight rope before her and never faltered.

People always saw her as perfect. She liked that.

When she was finally done with her duties for the morning The Darkness swallowed her.  It always swallowed her whole without apology.  No one knew about The Darkness.  From childhood The Darkness would envelope her when she least expected.  She was afraid of the dark because of The Darkness that continually sought her destruction.

She smiled for the world so no one would see her fear.

With The Darkness came pain and demons flew about her head and laughed loudly.  They taunted her and willed her to fall from her tight rope.  They reminded her of the wild heart that beat frantically in her chest.  They instilled in her a longing to be free from the retraints of society and religion and family.  Pain was often unbearable.  She silently screamed the whole day long. She silently screamed as she baked bread and made lunches and kissed her husband goodbye.

Love was slippery in her hands.  Love seemed to elude her grasp at every turn.  She ached to hold onto Love but Love can be a flighty sprite.  The Darkness chased Love from her view and it was gone.  She searched high and low for Love but Love would melt away like a snowflake on her tongue.

The Darkness made her feel heavy and slow.  She staggered under the weight of the yoke about her neck.  Her limbs were cement appendages, almost impossible to lift.  The demons spun in her mind and Pain was lightening in her hollow breast.

She prided herself on always having sharp knives in her kitchen.  It made cooking so much easier.  She only bought the very best knives and sharpened them herself on the most quality wetstone available.

She found herself in her kitchen that morning in need of that sharpness.  Pain overcame her until she could bear it no longer.

She removed her favorite knife from it's sheath.  She neatly placed a fluffy red hand towel from Nordstrom's on her spotless kitchen floor and sat down gingerly upon it. 

She wore a light cotton skirt in emerald green. Green was said to be a soothing color.  It had yet to soothe her.  She gently lifted her skirt up to expose her smooth, firm thighs.

She took the knife in her left hand and firmily and easily sliced the center of her right thigh.  The relief was immediate.  She breathed a sigh as she watched warm red liquid fill the gash and run down her perfect leg onto the fluffy red hand towel from Nordstrom's.  Red was her favorite color.

The fiery burn of her self-inflicted wound sent Pain from her chest away.  When she concentrated on her leg The Darkness was no longer a cloud surrounding her.  The moment steel met flesh the demons were pacified.  All was quiet and still.  The racing of her wild heart slowed and she felt whole.

Again she sighed relief.  She bled Love and thought, "I bleed Love for all of you."  She thought of her children and husband.  She thought of her parents and siblings and their families.  She thought of the ladies at church that held her on a pedistle.  She thought of the community at large and all those within that knew she could be counted on.  She bled Love for all of them.     

She had come to understand that only by bleeding Love could she quell her desire to fall from her tight rope.  When she bled Love it was no longer cold and slippery but warm and within her grasp.  She could control the Love she bled.  She liked that.

When enough red Love had seeped into the fluffy hand towel from Nordstrom's she gently pressed the towel to her thigh.  She sat there a moment enjoying The Throb. She was grateful for The Throb that took away The Darkness and Pain.

When Love stopped it's flow she stood up carefully.  She adjusted her skirt and rinsed the stained knife in the sink.  She always cleaned up after herself.

At noon she had an appointment with the president of the P.T.O. to discuss the upcoming cookie dough fundraiser.  She hoped she could contribute her services and make this the best year ever.

TA DAAAAA!

I rarely say no to my children.  I spoil them rotton. I'm told I do them a great disservice by giving them everything they want in life.  WHATEVER!  Life sucks.  When they grow up they can experience the cold hard world telling them NO everyday.  While they are in my care I say YES YES YES!

If Maya wants a Barbie on a Tuesday and I have an extra $10.  I say YES!  If T-bone needs a G.I. Joe because he had a bad Thursday I say YES!  If I need a pair of thigh-high boots to feel extra sassy for no reason I say YES! HA!

I realize we're in a ressession.  I'm doing my part to stimulate the economy.  You would be wise to do the same...

What happens to all the toys my children accumulate?  PLAYROOM.  I let them go nuts in the playroom.  I just chuck the toys that wander out right back in and I shut the door.  There are always at least a dozen children at my place.  I often banish them to Toy Heaven.

Every once in a while I must purge Toy Heaven.  It's quite an ordeal.  I acquire emotional attatchments to the toys and hate to give any of them up. 

The playroom gets completely insane if I don't step in once and a while.  Do you see how one of my little ones left bread and butter on the bed?!  (Ok... so I totally staged that.  But I really do find the weirdest stuff when I clean the playroom.  Rotton apple cores, crushed Fruit Loops, stale crackers, sippy cups with curdled milk.... the list goes on.)

I tied my hair up Auntie Jemima style, which means I'm serious. (Plus I thought it would be cute for my blog pics...it totally works, don'tcha think?)

I armed myself with diet Coke and a friendly yellow Tee shirt.  (You'd be surprised how many people say "hello" to me when I wear this shirt.  Old men especially... SO sweet!  They must really like the color yellow...)

I slaved for HOURS in this pig pen.  Tore a hole in the knee of my jeans from crawling around for so long.

You would not BELIEVE how many naked Barbies I found!  There must have been 30!  Naked as a jay bird! 

Some moms don't let their daughters play with Barbies because of the negative body image they portray.  I can see their point.  Barbie has got a ROCKIN bod!  Her BOOBS are perky and her BUTT is solid!  (Just filling my boob and butt quota for the day... Don't want to disappoint my fans ;). )

One of these days I'll write a blog entitled "Why Barbie is Bad".  Until then I'll do my best to emulate her perfect physique.

The picture below is where I realize that in order to take cute pics of me cleaning the playroom I must actually clean the playroom...  I felt defeated before I began.

While having my pity party on the floor I came in contact with this Incredible Hulk fist.  When I punch something it says, "DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY! YOU WON'T LIKE ME WHEN I'M ANGRY!"  Perfect.  I can conquer this mountain!

 

This is all the crap I'm getting rid of!  Gonna sell it to Buffalo kids tomorrow.  I'll make a small fortune.

TAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Birthday Blizzard

 Me:      "I'M WISHING..."
Maya:      "I'm wishing..."
Me:      "FOR THE ONE I LOVE..."
Maya:    "For the one I love..."
Me:        "TO FIND ME..."
Maya:     "To find me..."
Me:       "TODAY."
Maya:     "Today."

Do you know that Snow White song?  My Snow White impression is pretty amazing so I sing it often.  I even do that  high pitched little run at the end.  I'm teaching Maya to sing like Snow White too.

This week we sang that song a lot.  Why?  I'll tell ya.  It's a good story.

Maya turned 5 on Monday.  Her only wish was to go to Flagstaff and meet Santa on the Polar Express. 

We loaded up the car. Pulled kids out of school and drove three hours before we were stopped.

BLIZZARD.

Cars were lined up for miles waiting for roads to be cleared.  There was no going forward and no going back.

We never made it to see Santa.  All my girls began wailing at the same time when we heard the news.  WAAAHWAAAHHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I WAS SOOOO EXCITED ABOUT MEETING SANTA AND SLEEPING IN A HOTEL AND NOW WE ARE STUCK IN THE STUPID CAAAAARRRRRRR! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

I was very nurturing and tried to make them feel better.  I felt helpless.  I HATE feeling helpless.  I always want to fix it.

I imagined myself transforming into a Super Hero and lifting our car up off the ground.  I carried it straight to Santa's door.  Then Santa looked at me.  He belly laughed and said, "Crystal, you really ARE a pistol!".

I responded humbly, "Just doing my job, Sir."

I have a VERY vivid imagination.

I awoke from my daydream and said,  "I'm so sorry, baby!  If I could fix it, I would.  Let's sing a song..."

We then spent the next 7 HOURS stuck in the car with no food or potties.  Maya turned 5 in my Toyota Sequoia.

I really can't say I hated being stuck in the car like that.  It was kinda nice actually.

Maya opened her birthday presents in the car.  There was wrapping paper and toys up to the ceiling.

I climbed into the back seat with my 4 little  monsters and watched movies.  Labrynth is my FAVE!  I love David Bowie as the Goblin King.  His tights are super hot.  I sang along to all the songs.

"MY BABY'S LOVE HAD GONE AND LEFT MY BABY BLUE... NOBODY KNEW..."

"YOU REMIND ME OF THE BABE... WHAT BABE? THE BABE WITH THE POWER.  WHAT POWER?  THE POWER OF VOO DOO... WHO DO? YOU DO!"

Seriously awesome!  I have that whole movie memorized.  I'll recite it for you sometime.

My children got restless and climbed all over the car.  I was kicked in the head by each child at least twice.  Totally not exaggerating here.  My husband was like,

"Hey you kids!  You quit kicking Mama in the head! It's not funny!"

Then I totally started laughing which completely encouraged them to AIM for my head with their grubby little feet. 

What was the highlight of the trip?

Well I'd have to say the highlight was when I kicked my husband out of the car into the snow so I could pee in a 44oz cup. TMI?  Whatever.  When ya gotta go ya gotta go.  And I would SO never let a man watch me do my thing.  (What's up with married couples thinking it's cool to do their private BIZ-NESS in front of each other?  Ick!  How can you feel amorous toward a person that relieves himself in front of you?!  Talk about killing the mood!  That's a blog in and of itself!... I digress...)

When the girls heard the call of nature I said,  "If Mama can pee in a cup so can you...".  They urinated brilliantly.  No spills.  ( I want to say NO SPILLS NO THRILLS but it doesn't apply here...)


I loved cuddling with my babies and singing Disney songs to them.  I also read them the first chapter of Dickens' A Christmas Carol.  Surprisingly, they enjoyed it!

After seven hours of being cooped up we were turned around and sent packing.  Road conditions were too dangerous.

Maya was very brave.  We celebrated her birthday at home the next day at Peter Piper Pizza which doesn't hold a candle to Santa and the Magic of the Bell but she'll survive.  It'll put hair on her chest.  And isn't that what we ALL want for our children?

Book Group Photo Shoot

I was going to wait until morning to write this but I'm amped on chocolate cake and laughter.

I am an omnivorous reader.  I'll read anything.  I love words.  I love books.  A good way to piss me off is to deface a book in my presence.

I started a book group 5 years ago.  It is still going strong!  I'm really quite proud.  We meet every month and take turns hosting.  We discuss the book and life.  We eat and laugh sometimes even cry.  Sometimes there are heated battles which totally cracks me up.

Tonight was our annual gift exchange. I brought my camera because now I have a blog and I must be prepared at all times.  (People are actually reading this!  It's amazing when random people quote me to me!  Love that!)

All the chicks in my book group are Mormon.  (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)  I'm really kind of a Mormon Wild Card.  I scare myself when I'm around these civilized people because I never know what is going to come out of my mouth.  I try to behave myself but I find it difficult.

We had our lovely gift exchange. Then I said, "Hey I brought my camera to take some pictures for my blog."

Lori takes this as a perfect opportunity to advertise my blog to those who have not read it yet.

"Crystal's blog is really funny because she likes to say boob and butt."

Crickets chirped.  Some Mormon women find "boobs" and "butts"  highly offensive.  Everyone looked a little nervous and a couple girls frowned.

I couldn't help myself.  I said, "I NEVER say BOOB or BUTT!  BOOBS are highly offensive!  I think joking about anatomy is BASE and WRONG.  I mean, I might call someone a BOOB if they were a BOOB but I wouldn't tell you about my own personal BOOBS! And I certainly wouldn't show you one!"

Lori and I laughed hysterically.  Several women looked at the floor disapprovingly.

Lori said,  "I love your blog because you totally take pictures of yourself.  It's like 'HEY LOOK AT ME I'M CRYSTAL AND I'M COMFORTABLE IN MY SKIN.  I'M POSING FOR A LOT OF PICTURES!'  It's like there's 96 pitures of you then one tiny picture of Tyson in a wig! HAHAHAHA!  That is SOOOO you.  People that don't know you would think you're so stuck on yourself! HAHAHAHA!

Lori makes me laugh til it literally hurts. Then I gasp, "It hurts! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Lori says, "You always come unglued around me.  People think you're all glamourous and I make you turn into a total goof!"  It's true.  People do think I'm glamourous. :p

I sat on Lori's lap and dug my BUTT bone into her THIGH (not sure why I capped thigh). 

Lori said, "Act like we're really having a good time."

Then Lori directed a photo shoot.  I snapped pics with the craziest girls in book group.  The rest of the women remained calm and controlled and had civilzed discussions regarding pregnancy and Relief Society.

At one point they caught my attention by discussing CONCUBINES in the bible.

Someone said, "How do you explain CONCUBINE to a child?"

Lori said, "Tell them it's like a fancy PORCUPINE with a pretty dress on." 

Blahahaha! I love rhyming!  Porcupine and concubine?  Awesome!

Harmony and I were beside ourselves with glee as we posed for photos.


I said, "Suicide by poinsetta..  They are poisonous if you eat them so I'll just lick one and see what happens."

Lori said, "Ok Harmony you pretend you're the sweet little lamb and Crystal, you be the dominatrix whore.  HAHAHA!  Those roles are so perfect for you two!"

Lori said, "Harmony, you be the sweet little kitty and crystal, you be the tiger."

 

We did sound effects.  "Meow".   "Roar".

Harmony said, "We're like Salt'n Peppa!"

I had my phone with me in case it rang.  It didn't.  We used it as a prop.

"Pretend something got run over."

Then I enlisted Taylor to join in the fun.


"Crystal. pretend you got a shocking text."

Then Taylor said, "Haha even your hair looks shocked!"

Yeah.  My hair is totally wiggin.  It gets all curly and crazy when I'm overly excited.

"Pretend you're pulling your hair out."

I like to keep my cell phone in my bra when I don't have pockets, in case it rings.  See?  Peek-a-boo.

It was the BEST book group I've ever been to! I laughed with wild abandon. I threw caution to the wind.  My face hurt with the laughter.  I have no need to work my abs tomorrow.  They got a stellar workout tonight!

Laundry Day

I hate doing laundry.  HATE IT!!!!!!  I know I oughtta be grateful that I have soap and a washing machine and that my children are clothed.  BLAH BLAH BLAH! 

My mom likes to tell me about how in Mexico she had to break the ice in the river to wash clothes.  Yeah, yeah...  Sounds chilly.  (I'm such a brat today!!!)

I do laundry once a week... sort of.  I'm actually constantly washing stuff and leaving it in the laudry room until I'm ready to fold and put away.  Otherwise the house would totally reek of piss and feet. Ew.  It piles up until I'm literally kicking it out of the way.  Then I break down and begin the folding process.

I must always have a Diet Coke on hand or I will kill someone.

Folding laundry for a family of 6 makes me feel TRAPPED!  The piles grow and grow until I'm a tiny elf behind them.  They teeter and totter and sometimes (if the pile is too high) they fall. TIIIMMMBER!  Then I say a few choice words and play pick-up-the-panties.  Do you know that game?  It's fun.  Lemme tell ya.

Inevitably, a child will approach their pile of rapidly growing folded clothing and say  "I need my purple tee shirt with the roses on it.  I HAVE to wear that tomorrow."  Then the child in question will spot the offending purple tee at the bottom of her pile and PULL.  Ok...Crys... deep breath... 1...2....3.... don't trip... it's all good... 4....5...  I'm fine.  Really.

When I fold laundry all hell breaks loose because there is no one manning the offspring.  Today they decided an art project would be fun while Mama folded clothes.  I watched them paint themselves, the dogs, the kitchen counters and the so-called project helplessly from behind an ever-growing pile of towels.

I'm still not done with my chore for the day.  I thought I'd take a break and vent.  Maybe I'll get CRAZY and leave it 'til tomorrow.  OOOOOOOO.  That's totally livin on the WILD side for me.  I like things in order.  My house is generally spotless (except for the laundry room but I just shut the door and it disappears).  I'm a cleaning Nazi.  So if I just leave it I'll be rebeling against the system.    I'm totally gonna do it.  I'm gonna get nuts and finish it tomorrow.

Mmmmmk.  I thought about it and I just can't do it.  I can't have it laughing at me all night.  It will taunt me mercilessly.  I won't have it!  I won't have piles of towels MOCKING me! I can conquer this mountain!

No, but seriously, guys.  I hate folding laundry. GGGRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chicken Clown

I needed a break from reality.  So I packed my crap (forgot a toothbrush and underwear).  I showed up at 10pm at my parent's door.

"Well hey, baby!" Dad said.  "You doin Ok?"

"Yeah! I'm great!  Mind if I spend the night?  What do you have to eat in this house?  I'm starving."

"Clearly you're not ok, Crys."  He hugged me.  I smiled. 

"I'm totally fine.  Just need a little break."

Mom pulled out tortillas, fresh salsa, beans, grilled chicken and peppers and a Diet Coke.  I ate until I thought I might hurl.  Then I had ice cream.  (I don't even like ice cream. It's cold and hard. I'm warm and soft. We don't mesh well.)  Something about being w my folks made feel completely at peace and ravenous.  I haven't eaten like that in a month. Or two.

I sat and watched my parents argue about a myriad of different things.  Par for the course. Felt like home.

I slept like a baby that night.

The next day I had big plans to go the mall and get a mani/pedi.  I went downstairs to discover my parents madly chopping food..  They had been enlisted to provide dinner for the church Christmas party.  Mom refused help from anyone. Instead she enlisted Daddy.  He looked trapped and miserable as he slowly sliced chicken breasts.  Mom was wild-eyed and frantic.

Here was my thought process:

'I want to go to the mall.  I don't want to chop some stupid chicken.  They got themselves into this mess.  Not my fault!  ... Yeah but they look crazed.  Don't be a selfish jerk!  You can't just LEAVE!  That's MEAN!  Grrrrrrr!  But the maaaallllllll is calling your name!  Crap. Sigh.'

I always do the right thing no matter how much it sucks.  It still counts even if I'm swearing in my brain.

"Alright dad.  Hand me a knife."  He looked like he might cry.

The party had begun!!!  I began to make up songs about chicken and peppers.  I was a wild chicken chopper.  I was FAST! BLAM! BLAM! THANK YOU MA'AM! NEXT!  I rapped and talked to the food.

"You goin DOWWWNNN chicken CLOWN!"

I do a mean Snow White impression.  I can sound just like her.  It's almost scary.  She was my chicken chopping persona.

"Whistle while you work" and "I'm wishing... I'm wishing.. for the one I love...".  Then I'd look at dad and say, "Oh Dopey!"  Then I laughed hysterically.  I love to make my parents laugh.  I love to lift their spirits.  Lifting others lifts me.

"Ama!! Dame mas pollo!"  (Ma, give me more chicken.)

"Te vas a lastimar!"  (You're going to hurt yourself.)  She was concerned I might chop off a finger.  I have a lot of fingers so what's one more or less?  (It would be cool if I could grow an extra finger!  Like the 6 fingered man in The Princess Bride.  I'd have custom gloves made.  HOT!  I have a serious glove fetish.)

Then I sang "Mexico Lindo Y Querido, si muero lejos de tiiiiiiiiiiii...." with lots of expression and verbrato.  Being Mexican ROCKS 'cause then I'm all mysterious and sexy. And I can wear a red rose in my hair just 'cause.  Arriba!  Be jealous!

When it was all done daddy said, "Thank you SO much!  We never would have made it without you!"

The moral of the story is:
If your parents are chopping 50 lbs of chicken you should forego a manicure 'cause then you'll feel all warm and fuzzy like the Good Samaritan.  ( The Bible doesn't SAY he felt all warm and fuzzy but I'm sure he did.)

I was gone two days.  When I got home today my babies screamed, "Maaaamaaaaa!"  and charged me with hugs and sloppy kisses.

"You smell good, Mama! You always smell good."

"I wiped my bum with the shower curtain.  There was no toilet paper."

"Can I sit on your lap when you sit down?"

"What did you buy me?"

"If you didn't come home soon I was gonna cry."

My man embraced me roughly.  "I'm a lucky lucky man." (I'm lucky too.)

Hmmmmm.  Mama gets appreciated when she leaves.  I see more breaks in the near future! ( Now about that shower curtain...)


P.S.  I'm going to The Grand Canyon tomorrow to ride The Polar Express with the fam.  We get to meet SANTA!!!!!!!! *SCREAMS*  I can't wait! 

My little one turns five tomorrow!  I bought her a pair of red boots.  I'm grooming her for the future.  Boots. Boots. Boots.

I'll continue blogging upon my return. :)
 

Buffalo is Bangin'!

I had no money as a kid and teenager.  I loved clothes and shoes.  What was a girl to do?

I frequented Salvation Army, Savers, Good Will and Buffalo Exchange.  I learned to sew so I could taylor my finds to my body.  (I was a VERY curvy 14 year old.)

Now days I have a bit more cash to play with but I still love second hand stores. 

Tonight my sis and I spent hours pouring over the racks of Buffalo Exchange.  We then had our own fashion show in the dressing room.


"That skirt is huge on you. Pass."

"Those boots are sic!"

"Your legs are SO white!  Wear some tights or something."

I ended up with a sweet vintage leather jacket with fringe. 

I love love love finding hot vintage stuff!  'Cause then women stop me in the street and ask, "Where did you get that amazing dress?".  I smugly reply, "Oh, it's vintage."  In other words,  I'm unique and so is my dress and you can't have it because this is the only one like it the world, PUNK!  (Ok, so maybe the 'punk' was a bit harsh... but the rest is true.)

Once I found a very form fitting, black, vintage cocktail dress for $8!  I tried it on and it fit like a freaking GLOVE!  Whenever I wear that dress I look bangin' and feel bangin'.  It's like KA-ZOW BOOM BANG!  Ya know?  Priceless.

Coral is a Buffalo employee and model.  She is currently featured in advertisements across the country.  The ads reads, "Guilt Free Fashion".  Guilt free, indeed.  My sis rocks a super cute outfit and flashes us her amazing, dimpled grin.  She is gorge!  (I'm still soooo much prettier though...)  ;)  Super proud.

Coral traded an enormous bag full of clothes she doesn't wear anymore for a pair of sexy pink cowboy boots.  (We are forever trading our clothes in order to acquire more.)

I wore a plastic tiara all day today.  When I woke up I thought, "I really need a tiara."  People kept asking, "Why the tiara?"  I responded with,  "I just needed it." 

The chick that rung me tonight up said, "I didn't even notice you were wearing it!  You are totally rockin that thing!"  Why, thank you!

The Buffalo employees dress CRAZY!  They have brightly colored hair, lots of tats and multiple piercings.  Making friends with those people gives me mad street cred.  When one of them compliments my style I feel crazy, sexy, cool.

Buffalo keeps me grounded.  I don't mind the wierd smell or that someone may have died in the fab coat I just purchased.  I'm not afraid of ghosts and I own a washing machine.

Crazy Pants Crys

I bought some crazy pants.  They light me up from within like a Christmas tree. (Yes. I realize in this pic my tank is inside out and I have deoderant on it.  All the cool kids wear their tanks in like fashion.  In addition, this is NOT about my tank.  FOCUS, PEOPLE!)

There's this new store called PH8 (fate... get it? clever.).  In the window of PH8 was an enormous picture of a gorgeous brunette wearing some very sparkly M.C. Hammer pants.  I must admit I salivated.  OOOOOO SHINEY! I swear I was a circus monkey in another life.

I couldn't help going into the store and chatting with the sales girl.

"Do you have those pants in an extra small?  I LOVE them!"

"Yes!  I was actually eyeing those pants myself.  Sooo cute!"

Panic set in.  MINE!

"I'll take them."

"Do you want to try them on first?"

I never try anything on.  I'm very connected to the size of my thighs and the strut of my butt. (I'm rhyming here...) What rhymes with boobs?  tubes? cubes? dubes?  That last one isn't even a word...  You catch my drift.

"No.  I'll just take them home."

I tried not to lose my cool.  The excitement was almost too much to bear.  I watched her wrap them in white tissue paper and gently place them in the shopping bag.  I couldn't help saying,

"I am seriously SO excited about these pants."  Then I squealed.  I couldn't help it.  It just came out.  Unbidden.  Ah well.

I wore the pants the next day.  I was very interested to see people's reactions.  I never mind wearing crazy things people hate.  At least I'm not boring.  'Cause boring is the greatest sin of all...  These are some of the reactions I got:

My daughter Serena said, "I HATE those pants! They are so weird and ugly. You look like you're wearing a diaper!"

My bro-in-law, Jason said, "Those are BOMB! Super cool!"

My man said, "You look good in everything, honey."  (Still not sure what he thought of the pants...)

My sis, Coral said, "Hot.  Sequins are SO in this season."

My girlfriend, Dottie said, "I'm on the fence with those.  You either love them or you hate them."  (She's a southern belle.  That's her way of saying she hated them.)

I had the BEST day going out in public with my sparkly pants.  Everybody stared.  Everybody.  Sometimes I looked them straight in the eye with a serious expression.  Like, "What?!  You never seen a full grown woman in very shiney  harem pants before?"  Other times I'd just grin like the lights were on but nobody home.  Ya know?  Fun, fun, fun for everyone!

What do YOU think of my pants?  (Not that I care... I was just being polite.)

Smiley Christmas Choir

MY CHILD IS THE RADIANT ONE SINGING THE SOLO. SHE WAS STUPENDOUS!

Superstar!

I've had a monsterously crappy day.  I've had a lot of days like that lately.  So I went for a drive.  I listened to Phantom of the Opera and cried.  It was quite cleansing.  But then I realized I had not eaten in a while.  I stopped at Taco Bell (it's the only thing open at 11pm). 

Do you ever feel humialiated when ordering food?  I felt completely foolish when I said,

"I'd like 2 cheesy gordita crunches and a nachos bell grande please." (I ate all of it. Quite tasty.)

I cringe at the very memory.  Say cheesy gordita crunch aloud and see if you don't feel like a complete moron.  Ugh.  All my pride went out the window.

So then I got home and had a post-crying headache. 

There is only one thing that can rememdy a day riddled with tears and humiliation.

SUPERSTAR!!!!!!!

Mary-Katherine Gallagher had a few bad days in her time.  She handled those tough times with grace and class.

Did she crumble when her classmates called her PANTY STAIN?! No.  Did she fall apart at being refered to as a NIPPLE HAIR? No.  Did she do a shame spiral when a nun caught her tongue kissing an Oak Tree? Again, a resounding negatory good buddy.

She took lemons and made lemonade.  A weaker woman would lose her poise when called a hyminally challenged dog.  Instead, she stuck her hands in her arm pits and took a good strong sniff to clear her mind.  I do that sometimes.  It really helps.  The smell of stinky pits is very distracting.  I highly recommend.

I'll admit I'm very curious what it would feel like to make out with a stop sign.  She makes it look so appealing!  Next time I have a bad day I'll try it.

I'm in the market for some enormous, baggy, white panties to wear underneath a plaid, pleated skirt.  I'd like to get all tangled up in a pile of metal folding chairs and expose said panties.  I'd end with a confident SUPERSTAR! Ta da!!!!

When Mary cups her breasts while looking in the mirror and makes one of them the mommy and the other the baby (they are different sizes), nothing else in the world exists.  Every negative thought flies when her boobs have a conversation with one another in a high pitched voice. 

Thank you, Mary-Katherine!  You're my hero!   SUPERSTAAAHHHHH!

Nutcracker is Ball Busting

It's Nutcracker week.  Nutcracker week is ball busting.  The cast and crew spend loooong hours everyday in preparation. 

I love to be on stage.  I've done it my whole life.  There is nothing like stage make-up and costumes and the roar of an appreciative audience. 

I've also recently discovered I love to be backstage.  I am STAGE MOM extraordinare.  I was asked to dance a small part in the show but if I can't be the star I'm SO not interested.  Instead, I'm back stage applying make up, stripping and dressing dancers and chatting it up with all the other stage moms.

There was serious drama backstage today.  I LOVE IT!! I never get into altercations.  I'm docile as a lamb. BAAAAAA.   But when someone else does I eat it up. Muahahahaha...

One of the dance teachers yelled at a child.  The stage mother belonging to said child started WWIII backstage.  There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  So exciting!  I wore my most concerned expression and did all I could to squeeze out every delicious detail.  It happens every year. Fun!

Also, there was a child who was told no glasses are allowed on stage.  She removed her vision aids and blindly danced herself right off the stage.  She flew into the railing below and was wisked off to the hospital.  It's really not funny. HAHAHAHAHA! (The child was fine.  It'll put hair on her chest.)

I spend a great deal of time in the dressing room.  A sign on the door reads "NO MEN.  NO DRINKS.  NO FOOD."  No men? No drinks? No food?  What else is there?!  Of course I jest!  (Sort of...)  To entertain myself and others I brought music tonight.  Lady Gaga inspired many a tu-tued behind to boogey to the beat. 

I'm told tomorrow a mom will sneak in tequila for the stage mommies.  This I have to see!

I find it extremely impressive dancers who are so beautiful and poised on stage can emit such strong and unpleasant odors.  The dressing room is a veritable Bog of Eternal Stench.  Sweaty feet and pits and heaven knows what else bring me to the point of tears for sheer potency alone.  Blough.

Being a stage mom means I get yelled at regularly.  "HURRY! ZIP ME! I'M ON IN 30 SECONDS!"  It means I rub elbows with teenaged girls and listen to what makes them tick.  "I would sooo never wear shoulder pads. Eww."  And I laugh and tell dirty jokes with other moms, "with men it's always tit for tat. Or tat for tit.  Or tit for tit." ;) (You'd have to be there, I guess.)

I'm having fun!

LOOK AT ME!

I like attention.  I'm not gonna lie.  Maybe all those years on stage are the culpret. I was always front and center whether I was dancing, singing or acting.  Or maybe I was just born this way.  Who knows?

Do you like attention?  If you would dance it up on an empty dance floor with an old couple it means you like attention.  If you like to be on stage then it means you like attention.  If you like leadership postitions it means you like attention.  If you laugh really loud at parties and crack a lot of jokes it means you like attention.  If you have your very own blog with pictures of mostly yourself it means you like attention.  It's really Ok.  It'll be our little secret.  You're not a bad person. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

Like I said, I was always the star of every show I was in.  From the time I could play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the piano until the last time I was asked to sing Santa Baby at a Christmas party (last year).  I wouldn't have it any other way.  I was recently asked to dance a small part in a production of The Nutcracker Ballet.  I couldn't do it.  Why?  I just told you!  It was a SMALL part.  If I'm not the star I'm not interested.

You're totally judging me aren't you?  Try pulling the mote out of your own eye, buddy. You're the star in your own life.  Right?  You're the main character. The protagonist.  Everyone else plays a supporting role in production of your life.  Whether you are reserved or boisterous the world is your stage. 

The world is certainly MY stage.  I give a stellar performance every waking moment.  In my mind there is nothing worse than being boring.  I entertain myself and others constantly with my crazy antics.  I'm not afraid to be an everyday artist.  I wear wild clothes because if I'm on stage I should have a costume.  The star of my show wouldn't be caught dead in mom jeans and a baggy sweatshirt.  If I wear sweats you can bet your sweet booty they are gonna say PINK in huge sparkly letters across my backside.  And I don't wear jeans unless they are so tight and skinny they cut off the circulation to my brain.  (I'm far too smart for my own good anyway.)

It's funny when I watch people perform on a stage.  Quite often they think very highly of themselves.  I can understand that.  When an adoring audience claps and cheers it's virtually impossible to stay humble.  My head is enormous.  I can very rarely find hats that fit right.  (Seriously, guys, I have a really big noggin.  It's wierd.)

Confidence is everything.  I'll say that again.  CONFIDENCE IS EVERYTHING.  Confidence draws people in.  A confident woman (whether she is beautiful or not) will turn heads.  Everyone (I don't care who you are)  has something to be confident about.  I don't perform on a stage very often anymore, but I know I got mad skills, YO.  So I walk into a room with my head held high.  I know I've got a lot to offer.  So do you!

It's very irritating to me when people talk negatively about themselves.  Why talk like that?  Who wants to hear:

"I'm fat."

"I'm ugly."

"I have a small penis."

I know I don't wanna hear it!  Rock what your momma gave you, son!  It's not about size... (well, actually, it kinda is but you still shouldn't get down on yourself.)  It's about owning who you are and what you got.  It's about screaming, "LOOK AT MEEEEEE!" and being poud of what people see.

I realize I'm not the most beautiful woman on the planet. I'm not the most talented woman on the planet either.  (I can't bring myself to say I'm not the smartest chick on Earth though...) I know I am hopelessly flawed.  So what?! I don't have to be the very best at everything.  I just have to be confident Crys.  So I rock to the beat of my own drum.  I ride my own melt, baby. Nobody can eat 50 eggs.

Contemplating the Stage of Life

Daddy's Baby

I'm a daddy's girl. 

Whenever I see my daddy he always hugs me.  Then he says, "Hey Crys.  You doin' Ok, Baby?".

I automatically become a five year old.  I get a lump in my throat.  I think of all the things I could tell him that break my heart or ail me at the moment.  I'm the oldest though.  I'm a giver.  I'm a pleaser.  It's my calling in life to make people smile.  So I swallow the lump down to my toes and grin.

"Hey Daddy.  I'm GREAT. Happy Thanksgiving!"

Nobody makes me feel as safe as my daddy.  He's not a very athletic, muscular type guy. Instead,  he's gentle and loving.  I know my heart is safe with him.

He sings like an angel.  His voice is the most soothing sound I can think of.  When I'm with him all is right with the world.  When I'm with him I know I am loved unconditionally.  There is nothing I could do to make him stop supporting me.

 I could rob a bank and he would say, "Well, baby, it's a tough economy.  I understand."

I could do horrible, unspeakable things and it would hurt him because he loves me.  But I would never see his pain.  His children can do no wrong. 

The day I got married he was sick the whole day.  He stayed in bed.  He didn't want to hand me over to anyone else.  He knew how difficult marriage can be.  He never wants anything to be difficult on me.  I was never upset he hid on my wedding day.  I've always understood how much he loves me.

My daddy and I are a lot alike.  We both make monkey faces behind people's back.  We both hold in how we really feel and smile to make others comfy.  We both sing the same wrong lyrics to the same songs.  We both sing constantly.  We have the same high cheek bones and long legs.   We are both left handed.  We both love people as hard as we can.

When Daddy's soft southern drawl asks, "You doin Ok, Baby?" my heart melts.  In that moment I AM Ok.  He's happy if I'm happy.

Daddy, I will always always be your baby.  I love you!

Suddenly I'm crying.  Somebody should call me a WAAAA-MBULANCE.

Stiring the Pot

My Girls

Dear Coral,

Thanks for hanging out with me today. I had a great time. I'm glad your minor freeze-out is over and I'm no longer cut off from the presence of her majesty, Queen of the Emerald City. ? huh? (I'm making my stupid face.)

I appreciate that you took pictures of me in my new sequined M.C. Hammer pants. I plan to use the pics for a blog in the very near future.

I'm glad you're so hot 'cause if you weren't I would be TOE UP! My stock would plummet. As it is I find you a beneficial accessory... a nice addition to my little garden... So thanks for that. You're a great wing man. Need I remind you that I'm SOOOOOO much prettier than you?... :)

I'd also like to thank you for wearing a tiara to Target today at my request. It took some of the attention off my sparkly pants. (I love these pants. I look like a holiday. And we both know how I adore holidays.)

I hope that mop we picked out is sufficient for your needs.

Ross had some gonga deals today. You can get so much for so little. I like Ross. Remember that time he wore leather pants? Or when he had Marcel the monkey? Ross is my fave.

I know you're laughing your scrawny ass off at this letter. No one else would get it. (Don't worry. No one reads this blog but me anyway.)

I'm glad you and all your Buffalo peeps think I'm a good Christian and that I'll go to Heaven for sure. I'm not all judgey judgerson. I get you, girl. I love you very very very much.

I'll see you tomorrow for Turkey Day. I wouldn't miss it! (said in the voice of The Little Mermaid seagull.) This is this and that is that. Seagull?! You went up to surface again, didn't you? ....DADDY I LOVE HIM! Have you lost your senses completely? He's a human your a mermaid!!... I DON'T CARE...

Oh now I'm laughing out loud. Man, I crack myself up!!!

Love,

Crys

PS I only wrote this so I could put up the pics we took of us today.

Eat Up!

Victoria's Secret is hot hot hot. I've been perusing the Christmas 2009 catalog tonight. I'll take one of each, please.

I've decided to gain some weight. I am going to put some serious effort into thickening my thighs and booty. It's crazy right? Most women are dying to shed a few pounds. Well. I've lost a few in the last couple weeks and I hate it.

If I could choose any image to portray it would be BOMBSHELL. Think Marlyn Monroe or Sophia Lauren. If I were a street sign I would want to read "Caution: curves ahead".

My sisters would think I was nuts if they read this. They pride themselves on being long and lean. In high school, my kid sis actually strapped her boobs down with multiple sports bras in order to portray a slim, boyish figure. She's really into that Audrey Hepurn "I'm so cute" mentality. I don't wanna be cute.

I have a really good friend in her 60's. She is one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Her hair is silver. Her eyes are brilliant blue. Her skin is smooth and flawless. Recently my friend lost about 20 lbs. Suddenly her skin has lost it's perfection. Suddenly she looked older. It saddens me.

I'm sure my friend feels accomplished in her weight loss. Women always feel accomplished when they lose weight. Even if they look awful. I know I've fallen victim to that flawed perspective. I don't want women to think they are better than me because they are skinnier. So I starve. Then I realize I've become skeletal. YUCK! No man wants a skeleton in the closet.

Victoria's Secret models are smokin, baby. Guess why? 'Cause they've got curves. Their faces are soft. Their stomachs are soft. Their tushies are round. I wanna look like THAT!

High fashion mags feature stick straight models. Those women are all angles and sunken eye sockets. When I look at Vogue or Elle I rarely think, 'OOOO I wanna look like that super boney model'. I usually just think, 'OOOO I wonder if I could get that outfit in MY size'.

Here's another argument for weight gain: I'm happiest when I'm eating. Seriously. I get positively silly when faced with a tantalizing dinner of chicken wings (I'm just getting started), baked potato with everything, salad with lots of ranch dressing, a juicy steak (med rare) and chocolate cake. Woah mama! Anyone who knows me is well aware I become completely slap happy after a meal like that. I cannot be contained.

Thanksgiving is right around the corner. It couldn't have come at a better time. I'm a slave to mashed potatoes, rolls with real butter, stuffing, pineapple ham, and pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Sigh. I plan to eat with wild abandon. I give you permission to do the same.

I can't be sure but maybe Victoria's secret is: Don't skip dessert...

P.S. My favorite color is red if you feel the need to hook me up with some V.S. I'm easy to please... :)

GO EAT SOMETHING!!!!!

Neverland

I just ate 14 oreos with milk. 14! It means I had a rough day. Sometimes life as an adult can be quite disappointing.

I don't want to be an adult. I want Tinker Bell to sprinkle pixie dust on my head. Then I would think happy thoughts like "pussy willows, Christmas, a good sneeze... These are a few of my favorite things." I would fly off to Neverland and live with the lost boys. I would torment Captain Hook, swim with mermaids and save Princess Tiger Lilly from certain death.

Unfortunately, Tink is fresh out of pixie dust. So the next best thing is chillin with my boy, T-bone. He is my green-eyed angel. When we play together I AM in Neverland. I'm a 6 year old and he's a 6 year old. We make believe and run and swing really high up to touch the sky. We play on the monkey bars and try to top each other's tricks. We hang upside down side by side.

My T is the coolest boy you'll ever meet. Today I let him play hookey from school so I could take him to the park.

"I'm ready, Mama" he said.

He wore an enormous afro wig and a straight face.

"You rockin that wig, T?" I asked.

"Yup. I'm rockin this wig."

"Cool."

Neither of us batted an eye or cracked a smile.

We had a picnic lunch of hot dogs and root beer. He rocked that wig.

We swang super dee duper high on the swings. He rocked the wig.

We hung upside down on the monkey bars. He rocked the wig.

"K, Mama. Now you rock this wig. You'll look like a hobo."

So I did.

"Yup. You look just like a crazy crazy hobo, Mama."

I enjoyed looking like a crazy crazy hobo. Sometimes looking like a crazy crazy hobo is just the medicine I need.

When we tired of the wig we dug a huge hole in the sand. T-bone stood in the hole. Then we buried him up to his waist. We dumped water in the sand to see if he would get wet. He didn't.

"I'm really short 'cause I'm standing in this hole," he said. "Pull me out."

We had buried him good! It was hard work pulling him outta that hole.

When people discover I have four children they usually click their tongues sympathetically and say, "Wow. You sure have your hands full. That's tough!"

It's not tough though. My babies are my escape from reality. My children are my Neverland.

Zoom A zoom zoom

At midnight last night I found myself heading down I-10 in the wrong direction in a black silk dress with a sugar waffer stickin outta my mouth like a cigar. Pussy Cat Dolls blared from my stereo. Yo baby! Yo baby! Sing! "When I grow up I wanna be a star...".

ROAD TRIP!

Lori, Dani and I went to see Phantom of the Opera in Phoenix. The show was stellar. I was consumed by the music of the night.

After the show as we walked back to our car with a large group of friends. I belted out, "Think of me. Think of me fondly...". (I have that singing tick, ya know.)

One girl turned to me and said, "oh, are you a singer?"

"Well I..."

Lori responded for me. "Yeah. She sings Santa Baby every Christmas. Don't you, Crystal? HAHAHAHAHA! She wears a Santa hat and shakes her hips and lays on top of the piano. HAHAHAHA!"

I DO NOT lay on the piano! But I must sheepishly admit the rest is true. I was asked to sing a song for a Christmas party one year. Santa Baby. I became a legend in the greater Tucson area. I just couldn't say no to all subsequent invitations. Embarrassing.

I have known Lori since I was a snot-nosed kid. She knows lots of embarrassing things about me. Whenever we hang out she loves to share those stories with everyone in the vicinity. For instance:

"In college Crystal used to wear this tight baby Tee that said ZOOM in big sparkly letters across her chest. All the guys called her ZOOM after that. She's got a nice rack. HAHAHAHAHA! Right, Zoom?"

Or

"Remember when I had a huge crush on Mila Fanua and he kissed YOU? And you got really mad at him? I wish he had kissed me!"

Do you have a friend like Lori? I enjoy her company because she constantly makes fun of me. I love it! Usually in a social environment I'm the center of attention because I'm loud and wild. But when Lori is around I can sit back and laugh at myself. I let her entertain me by clowning on... me.

Last night Lori said a few things that made me laugh or blush... or both.

"Hey everyone! Watch those guys checking Crystal out! She's totally oblivious. HAHAHAHA! They are falling all over themselves and she totally ignores them! I love to sit back and watch this!!" *ugh blush*

"Crystal's getting her second wind. She acts like a drunk after 10 pm. Just do your thing, Zoom." *laugh*

She doesn't take me seriously but she doesn't take herself seriously either.

Lori: "Crystal was always the hot one and I was always the funny one with personality." *blush and laugh*

Me: "Hey! I'm funny!"

Lori: "Um... yeah, ok... keep telling yourself that...".

When Lori and I hang out we are completely obnxious. We laugh loud and hard. We laugh at everyone and everything. Nothing is safe from ridicule. Not even you.

Last night we shared a huge bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos (I LOVE those!) and some Sugar waffers. We car danced. When we were done my silk dress was covered in multi-colored crumbs and my face hurt from laughing.

I told her I had written a blog entitled "Puss in Boots".

"That is SO YOU!" she said.

It's cool when you have a friend that can say that. That is SO you. It means they get what you dig, ya dig?

I'm a crappy friend to Lori. I rarely return phone calls, never check e-vites and only return half of my e-mails. For some strange reason she thinks I'm worth the trouble anyway. I continue to play hard to get and she continues to keep our friendship alive.

Thanks girl! Don't give up on me!!!!

ZOOM A ZOOM ZOOM AND A BOOM BOOM!!!! JUST SHAKE YA RUMP!!!!!

My Addictions

Tonight I watched Ghost. I love that movie. The Demi and Whoopi hook up is kinda strange but the flick provokes serious thought. I adore that love exists beyond the grave with your one soul mate. Also, I find it interesting Ghost touches on addiction after life.

Do you remember the scene in the train station with the crazy, ugly guy? "GET OFF MY TRAIN!" He can break windows with the power of his mind. He shatters the glass of a cigarette vending machine.

"Oh! What I wouldn't give for a drag!" he says as he picks up a pack of smokes.

Freaky dead man is still a nicotine addict after death! He craves something he allowed his body to consume regularly. Now without a body he is helpless and desires what he cannot have.

I have addictions. Diet Coke. Oreos at night. Shopping. These are my vices. What are yours? I once heard my mother-in-law say she was addicted to sour cream and butter. My sister had a serious addiction to Ambien. Some people are addicted to midget porn. I don't judge. We all have our trials.

DIET COKE:
I would be a shell of a human being without the toxic drink. I wake up every morning and choke down a protein shake knowing I will reward myself with a D.C. draft chaser. Mmmmm.

Mormons are not supposed to drink coffee or tea. Many also exclude caffinated cola from their diets. Not me! Nowhere in our books of scripture does it say , "Thou shalt not consume Diet Coke".

I NEED it like Hugh Hefner needs multiple platinum blondes. I'm a better person when I'm over-caffinated. I'm funnier. Crazier. Happier. Physically stronger. I talk really fast and laugh really loud. I'm postively delightful on the stuff. I realize the chemicals I take in daily may cause me to grow a third eye in the future. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

OREOS:
I must have at least two Oreo cookies every night with milk. (Sometimes I have 8 or 10.)

Night is when my creative juices flow. I write this silly blog you read. I write stories the world is not yet ready for. I play my guitar or keyboard. Sometimes I just sit and let my imagination run wild. (I also waste a great deal of time playing on FaceBook but I won't get into that tonight.)

Oreos are a huge part of the creative process. Double stuff, please. The sugar spike spins the wheels in my brain. Suddenly my mind overflows with images of cats in boots, vampires and cotton candy clouds.

Oreos separate Crystal The Mommy and Wife from Crystal The Pistol Who Shoots from the Hip. BANG! BANG! On the door Baby! BANG! BANG! Oreos Rock this Mama's world.

SHOPPING:
Oh lust of all lusts!

I know you'll be shocked to discover I am vain. I really care what I look like. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Luckily, I'm not completely unfortunate in the looks department. I find it necessary to up my social stock by accenuating my features with the new and daring.

Confidence is everything. When I am adorned in the latest trend I cannot be intimidated. When I feel feirce in my clothes and 4 inch stilettos I walk into a room as if I own it and everyone in within.

I catch a lot of flack for my shopping disease. I realize we are in a recession. The thought depresses me. I go shopping to alleviate the sadness. Do you see the genius here? I am actually HELPING to jump start our economy! I keep the Nordstrom shoe depatment in business. Imagine how many jobs I am responsble for saving! I deserve a Medal of Honor.

When I have an item of desire in my mind I must find a way to acquire said object. The next purchase I make will be red leather gloves. Red is my favorite color and gloves are just SEXY.


So there you have it. I have confessed the obssessions of my mind. I believe when we die we are still the same exact person minus a tabernacle of clay. If we lusted in the flesh will we lust in spirit. We are on this Earth to be tested. Self-control is key. Addictions should be tempered. You would be wise to heed this advice.

I am not wise. I, personally, see no need to go ridding myself of guilty pleasures. When I die my spirit will roam the Earth in search of the latest Jimmy Choos. My soul will long for the fizzy burn of a calorie-free beverage. I will jones for even a crumb of chocolate goodness. So while I have the chance I will indulge. I will have my Oreo and eat it too.

Random Thoughts

Been staring at this screen forever. Too many thoughts to sort out.

I'm left handed which I believe makes me crazier. Only 10% of the population is a lefty.

I've been wearing yoga clothes all day. Didn't go to yoga.

My bro's name is Joe. He got mad at me for spending money on thigh-high boots.

Coral said "you're skinny today"

I need Oreos and we're out. Grrrr.

I was a well behaved kid but sometimes I ran away or stole stuff.

Brutal honesty is brutal.

Today was rough.

I wish I were a mermaid and wore sea shells and had long pink hair.

There should have been a smutty Smurf.

Ate spagetti with mom and dad tonight. I always feel so safe when it's just us three. I may move back in.

Mom went to Wendy's and ordered a Whopper. She got upset Wendy's doesn't have Whoppers. (Burger King does.)

If I were a vampire I'd only eat the bad guys. Vampires are cold.

I like warewolves better because they are hot to the touch. And they are wild beasts. I'd totally hook up with one if I were single.

I'm starving and all I want is Oreos. Seriously tempted to do an Oreo run.

I'm gonna be insomniac extraordinaire tonight. Awesome.

Blue Black Lips and Sis

I woke up today with a hole in my heart. It ached. I was missing something. Someone. I needed the hole filled.

I wore blue-black lips. Nobody speaks Vogue and Harper's Bazzarre like we do. Did you see that leopard print Dior pencil dress this month? So chic. I'm SO into the sequined Givenchy pant by Ricardo Tisci! Hot. Love your belt. I got the BCBG thigh-highs. Jealous.

I haven't seen her in a month.

"Ahhhh! I missed you sooo much!" I say.

She hugs me. "You look so HOT! Love the lips!"

"YOU look hot! Your boots are supa fly!"

We're both giddy. We talk a mile a minute. I hug her again.

"Ugh! I just love you so MUCH!" I say. "I've NEEDED you!"

"I've been hiding out," she says. "I have stuff to tell you."

"I have stuff to tell you too," I reply.

We tell each other our stuff. Serious stuff. Stupid stuff. Fashion stuff. Our faces are inches apart and we barely stop for breath.

"Howz Grant?"

"How are Syd and J?"

"Who knows about this?"

"You're so dumb. I love you."

"You're retarded. I love you too."

A woman walks by. "Are you twins?"

"No. We get that a lot."

When we were kids we were inseparable. The Smith sisters. Big sis, Lil sis. Las Crystales. Which one are you? Crystal and Coral.

We slept in the same bed and sang each other to sleep.

I lied for her. She stole for me.

She lied for me. I stole for her.

Have you ever loved anyone so much it hurts? I love her like that.

When she cries my heart bleeds. When she's down I'm down. When she's up I'm up.

Once a large fat girl told her to shut up. I was a senior in high school. I took off my jewelry and put my face two inches from Fatty. She was big and tall and strong. I looked up at her with fire in my eyes. "I. Will. Kill. You." I said. Fat girl was sorry.

I never fought for myself. Only for her.

"You're going to be mad at me," she says today.

"No I won't, Coral. I get you."

"No you don't."

"Yes. I really do. I love you. There is nothing you can do that will upset me."

We've shared clothes and lipstick and boyfriends.

"Are you done with him?"

"Yeah."

"K. 'Cause I like him. Is he a good kisser?"

"He's ok. Have at it."

We've shared every heartbreak and every triumph.

She was in the room when Maya was born.

Nobody can make me laugh like she can. Nobody.

Nobody knows me like she does. Nobody.

I knew her before she knew herself.

When we sing together it's magic. Our voices blend in perfect harmony. Gives me chills sometimes.

"I'm bluer than blue. Sadder than sad. You're the only life this empty room has ever had. Life without you is gonna be... bluer than blue..."

She painted a picture so beautiful and relevent I sobbed for half an hour.

"I can feel you when I look at this," I said.

When I'm with her I'm completely understood. No judgement is passed. There is only brutal honesty.

"Your ass looks fat in those pants."

"You are WAY too skinny right now."

"My heart is broken. What do I do?"

In Paris we tried to walk to the Eiffel Tower and got lost. We sang on the street in the dark.

As children we laughed and ran and played and fought.

Now we must put away childish things. As adults we hold each other up and tell each other it's all going to be ok. Hearts break and heal. Love is lost and found and falters.

"I need to rock the new black lip," she says.

"K. But we can't do it on the same day. Call me first."

Gypsy Soul (Ciao Bella)

Once when I went to Rome my sister and I were swarmed by a hoard of filthy, barefoot children. Gypsies. They came upon upon us from out of nowhere and they all spoke at once. It was a whirlwind of Italian and laughter. Their hands were all over us. In our pockets. On our heads. And at our feet. Then they were gone.

We saw them run to a very large woman with a thick black braid and colorful long skirts. She sternly held out her hand to the children. They rewarded her with money.

We were later told these children make a living on the streets of Rome. They swarm those who don't expect it and pick their pockets for cash and credit cards.

I've often daydreamed about what it would be like to be a gypsy. For Halloween this year my daughter, Bella, and I wore matching costumes. She decided we would be the gypsy Esmarelda from the Hunchback of Notredame. "We kind of look like gypsies, Mama. Because we are both kinda brown." she says. "I wish we were gypsies," I reply.

I had a day dream today.

I run about ancient Rome in long skirts and bare feet. My face is smudged and eyes are bright. I have no problem stealing as long as I'm stealing from the rich. (As a gypsy my moral ethics suffer a bit.)

I am with Bella because she is my brown child and has a gypsy soul, like me. I teach her how to survive and be happy with no material wealth.

There are no schedules. There are no expectations. I don't care if I am educated because ignorance is bliss. There is only survival. There is only now. No past. The future is full of possibility. The basic hierarchy of needs. All else is superfluous.

When money is low I play my guitar on the street and Bella sings. She holds a cup for donations. The clink of coins makes her smile.

I sleep under the night's sky and dream about delicious food and angels.

Everything is simple.

My daydream is simple. What's yours?

We live in a society of constant hustle. Our days are full and at the end we can barely remember what was accomplished that made a difference. We rush to jobs and stores and we buy buy buy. And like busy little bees we work work work. In a consumer society we must keep up with Mr. and Mrs. Jones.

What daydream or memory do you cling to when things get hard? You MUST have one! The imagination is sometimes the only escape from what can be cold hard reality. When you are overwhelmed with those things you HAVE to do you must have a place of retreat in your mind. A fantasy land that makes your heart slow and face relax. Take a deep breath and go there.

One of my favorite past times is sitting alone in a room and staring at nothing. I let my thoughts run wild. I entertain myself with ideas and stories and memories. I rarely have the opportunity to just stare.

As a gypsy I can stare all day long. I can sit and watch the world go by and watch the world go buy. I can peel an orange I acquired with my five finger discount and give half to Bella. The juice dribbles down her little chin and we smile. Simple. Simple. Simple.

I realize there are downsides to being a gypsy but I won't think about those tonight.

Instead I'll take my Bella by the hand and walk. I will point out the beauty of the city and teach her gypsy magic. I will tell fortunes and read palms. Bella also has the gift. Local people know us and appreciate what we represent. Freedom.

We love Rome. But Rome doesn't own us. We travel on foot and we hitch rides. And we see new places and meet new people. I keep a sharp knife in my skirts for protection. I've been known to use it.

We bathe in fountains when no one is watching. We splash each other and laugh.

I am brought back to reality by the fact I must awake early in the morning to turn my children over to the State. School. There are so many things I have to do. My vision of gypsy freedom and cobble stone streets drifts away as I remind myself to go to the dry cleaners and the market.

So for now, I must surrender my fantasy...

My Bella

Conversation Capital

So guess what??!! Something super exciting happened to me today! I FAINTED!!!!

I'll give you the play by play. I know you're all dying for details.

I've been suffering from a little virus as of late. Food cannot entice me. I've tried all my faves including chocolate cake and chicken wings. Just can't choke 'em down. So I've thought to myself. Well. Self. The Holidays are coming up and you always tend to pork up a bit. Losin a few pounds preemptively might not be a bad idea.

I actually haven't minded I can see a few more ribs than normal. No big deal.

So this morning I'm getting getting ready to hop in the shower. I'm admiring my newly exposed ribs and suddenly my stomach churns like a cave full of startled bats. The room gets very hazy and BLAM!! Next thing I know I'm face down on the bathroom floor.

Everytime I try to open my eyes the room spins wildly out of control. I lay there in a cold sweat for quite sometime. I finally try to lift my head and discover I am lying in a small puddle of my own blood. Brilliantly, I have managed to smash my face against the corner of the cabinet.

Eventually I am able to crawl to my phone and call my husband for an emergency grilled cheese sandwich.

Now that you know the facts I'll tell you how truly messed up my head is. Ready? After I came to and the world was still a whirlwind of shapes and colors I thought, "Cool. I can write about this." I couldn't even lift my head up yet! I can write about this?! Lunacy.

I'd like to introduce you to a concept called Conversation Capital. (There is an entire book about it but I have no interest in reading so my definition may vary.) Conversation Capital is anything that people are interested in talking about. If you have something cool to tell your peeps in Conversation it is Capital. Got it?

For instance, tomorrow is my book group and when I'm asked why my face is defaced I can sorrowfully respond, "I fainted yesterday." But I secretly won't be sorrowful at all! I'm actually very pleased something so noteworthy had occured. I have conversation capital! Then everyone will ooo and ahhhhhh and click their tongues. Then it's someone else's turn to offer their Capital. (But I'm pretty sure it won't be nearly so cool as what I brought to the table...)It's kinda like show and tell.

Some people travel to distant lands and acquire multiple academic degrees in order to feel they have adequate conversational capital. I have no need for such a pompous and excessive show. Not me! Give me a black eye or a fractured knee-cap any day! Capital idea. Jolly good. Cheerio.

Simple Folks Sing

I had a very crappy day today. Thanks for asking.

When I have an especially poopy day I do my best to pull myself out of the ugly dark cloud that envelopes me. I'm not by any means a moody person. I love to be happy and chill and drama-free. Unfortunately, sometimes there are circumstances without my control that inevitably put a damper on my shiny, happy, people persona.

I have the classic movie, Camalot, memorized. (I'm a complete dork, I know...) In the movie King Aurthur comes to the realization his bride is having intimate relations with the hunky Lancelot. Talk about a bad day! Aurthur sings a little ditty. "what do the simple folks do? To cheer up the heart when they're blue?" Every verse in the song addresses a different method of pulling ones self out of the proverbial dumps.

He sings, "Once upon a time I came upon a lad SINGING IN A VOICE THREE TIMES HIS SIZE. And when I asked him why he told me he was sad and singing always helped his spirits RISE. So that's what simple folks do."

By 'simple' the King of Camalot did not infer his people were retarded or slow witted by any definition. He meant to say they lived simple lives. They were the poor and needy. They had no wordly treasure so music became their haven. The trials faced by the destitute were far greater than the problem Aurthor faced. These simple folks were plagued with REAL dilemmas, such as feeding their starving children, keeping warm in the dead of winter and mourning the loss of yet another newborn.

I've mentioned before how I love to sing. Every since I was a small child I would sit at my daddy's feet as he played his accoustic guitar. I would sing until his fingers ached. Then I'd beg for one more song. I still enjoy sitting with my old man and singing. Very little in this world makes me happier.

So given that today was such a sh&tty day I decided to sing. Guess what? It worked!!! For the short time while I was engaged in song nothing else in the world mattered. I sang everything that came to mind. Here are some of my selections (I'll write a lyric and see if you know the reference... it'll be fun!):

"Three little birds sat by my window and they told me I don't need to worry."

"Don't worry be happy now"

"No Woman No Cry No No Woman No Cry"

"well I thought I'd seen beauty in far away places til I looked upon them Houston faces.."

"Im breakin dishes up in here..."

"On a warm summer's evenin on a train bound for no where I met up with a gambler..."

"Mexico Lindo Y querido, si meuro lejos de ti..."

"If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life never make a pretty woman your wife. From my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you..".



I push a grocery cart and my heart feels heavy until I belt out, "He's a tramp! But they love him...". The lady in the isle looks up at me nervously. I smile and keep singing, "Breaks a new heart" reach for the pasta sauce "everyday...". I pause. My peripheral vision sees her relax. "He's a TRAMP THEY ADORE HIM...". She pushes away her cart as though the devil were after her. I smiled wickedly.

I know the devil wasn't out for her! The devil is out for me!

Once when I was little I stole a doll shoe from my best friend, Kim. she said, "you stole my shoe."

"Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh! You stole my dolly shoe!"

"Why would i steal just ONE stupid doll shoe? I don't even HAVE that doll at home!"

Why, indeed. (I was a cleptomaniac throughout elementary school... more on that at another time)

I went home with stolen shoe snuggly tucked away in my pocket.

Kim's big, scary daddy came banging on our door.

"My Kimmy says Crystal stole her doll shoe." What a tattle tale!

Iknew my goose was cooked. So I confessed.

"Coral (my sister) took the shoe!! I saw her do it!"

Kim's dad left with the precious shoe in hand. Coral got the beating of her young life as I watched. After my mother was exhausted from the physical labor of discipline I humbly said, "I was the one who stole the shoe."

Mother was spent. She rose and pointed to our bed.

"Go to bed! Now! And Coral, don't worry. The devil will be sleeping with Crystal tonight."

She shut the door.

Coral began to cry.

"But I share a bed with you so that means the devil will sleep with meee tooooo! Waaaaaaaaahhhhh!!"

I held her hand and sang to her. Then we sang together. Our spirits rose. We sounded like punished little angels, all humility and hiccups.

I could talk about the powers of singing all day but I'm sure you catch my drift. Singing lifts the soul. Even if your singing voice is subpar, SING! (Just don't do it around me, please...).

I've decided to post a short video of me doin a bit of the lalalala. The camera people will be given a pay cut as will the editors, but you catch my drift, right? Think of a song. Any song! And sing. (But seriously, if you really suck at it you should only sing in private 'cause it's noise pollution. And no one wants that.)

Puss in Boots

Tonight I read my children a bedtime story entitled "Puss in Boots". For those of you not familiar I'll give you the run down. Puss in Boots is a very old European folk tale. The best known version is recounted by Charles Perrault in his 1697 collection of Mother Goose.

Once upon a time there was a poor miller who kicked the bucket. He screwed his youngest son out of any fortune except the family cat. The son was pissed about this turn of events and thought he may as well eat the cat since he had no money for food. Suddenly, the cat began to speak!!! He told the son if he would have a pair of boots especially made for the cat they would never have financial woes again.

In designer boots this cat becomes a very sly and crafty sorta cat. He's the cat's meow, if you will. He tricks a King and Princess and against all odds convinces an evil Ogre to turn into a mouse. He eats the mouse. Keeps the Ogre's castle and lands. Lives a luxious life with the Miller's son for the rest of his days.

I have always loved this story. I like magical happy endings. I like the prospect of animals conversing with humans. I like the idea of a bully being tricked and then gobbled alive. All these things I enjoy. But I LOVE the idea of a cat in boots. This cat was a Slick Rick and could have asked for anything. He could have begged a hat or a coat or comfy pair of trainers. He only desired BOOTS!

I have a confession to make. My name is Crystal Pistol and I am a boot whore. Collecting boots is an addiction I've struggled with for years now. When I see a beautiful pair in the department store my heart races a bit and I become short of breath. I hold them and carress them. I smell them. I examine them from top to bottom. I smile at them a little as if to say, "Don't worry. You can come home with me."

Sometimes I'm strong, and although I've carressed and fondled said boot, I step away. Even though I've whispered sweet nothings and imagined us together forever, I exihibit self-control. I have a family to feed! I can't... Yeah... but kids in America are getting more and more obese daily. I should really feed my kids LESS. If I spend grocery money on boots instead of food I'll be doing everyone a favor! I'm very good at making beans and rice. Beans and rice are cheap! That's all people EVER eat in Mexico and they're GRATEFUL for it!!! My kids need to be more grateful.

"I'll take these," I say to the handsome, gay shoe salesman. I smile triumphantly.

"Giiirrl! Those boots look so HOOOOOT on you! MMM mmm! Not everybody can pull them off," he says. We're good pals. He always compliments my fashion sense and then we talk about all the fashion emergencies walking about the store. We scoff. Then we laugh. Then I pay. These particular boots were 30% OFF! Can you BELIEVE IT?!! (I realize it means 70% ON, but whatev.)

Yesterday I was feeling a bit down so I decided to visit La Encantada. It's my Tiffany's. "Nothing really bad could ever happen there." I thought I heard someone calling my name. So I followed the sound. I listened very carefully and soon I was face to face with the most spectacular boots I had ever laid eyes upon. They whispered to me. I put them on. OH OH OH! I HAD TO HAVE THEM!! All my troubles slipped away and it was just me and them. Thigh-high black leather with 3 1/2 inch skinny heels.

When I wear a great pair of boots I feel like Puss in Boots from our story. Without the boots I'm just a regular garden variety cat who coughs up hairballs and lazes in the sun. With boots ON I am Cat Woman. Every super power at my disposal. I can leap buildings in a single bound! I'm faster than a speeding bullet! I'm elasta-girl! I'm Wonder Woman! My intelligence is heightened by 1000% ! My powers of persuasion are unmatched!(I wouldn't want to become invisible 'cause then no one would see my fab new foot gear.) But I am SHE-RA!!!!! By THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!! I HAVE THE POOOWWWWEERRRRR!!!!!!

Whew. It can be a bit overwhelming, which is why I wear flip flops a great deal as well...

It is my belief that Puss the cat had no special powers until he saw the opportunity of a life time. He could not speak until he uttered the words, "Do not worry my good master. You have only to have a pair of boots made for me, and you shall see that your portion is not so bad as you imagine it to be." Without those fabulous, handmade boots, Puss would have been a mediocre lap pet.

I hope I am making myself clear to you people. I want you to understand that I don't just like boots. Purchasing them is a serious task that cannot be taken lightly. Without them I am Samson with a hair cut. Without them I am Puss with no boots. Without them I am just like everyone else.