The Preschool Teenager

Apparently I still have a lot to learn about blogging. Not so much the writing part, but the "making my page fancy" part. I came across the blogs of a few people from from high school yesterday, and their pages were on steroids compared to mine. I have no music, no icons or graphics, and no star power. I guess you will have to put up with just my writing until I figure out this thing called "computor". It doesn't help that I seem to be late to the blogging scene, so maybe with a few more years under my belt I will have an acceptable blog.

On to the real topic of this blog....BEAR! She is the only thing I really have to write about other than my husband who probably prefers to stay out of the spotlight unless I am saying good and happy things about him. All the other bloggers my age write mostly about their children, but since I am scared out of my mind of medical bills while having no medical insurance, I have no such children to write about. Bear reminds me of a child in some ways. She is like a preschooler and a teenager all rolled into one. She is a preschooler when she leaves her toys strewn about the house. I always tell her to clean them up with the delusion that some day she will actually do it. She is a teenager in the early morning when I leave for work. She doesn't so much as lift a toe when I pat her and say goodbye. She just keeps her head buried deep within the blanket and continues sleeping. I know most dogs will jump out of bed at the slightest disturbance, but Bear is special that way. In the evenings she becomes a preschooler again as she waits anxiously at the window for her "daddy" to come home. She seems to know exactly when it is time for him to get home. Bear is not the type of dog that barks often, but when Mike comes home she lets loose. I guess it is all the stress from spending most of the day with me, her EVIL STEPMOTHER. I have come to accept the fact that she likes Mike more than me. This is probably due to the fact that I won't roll on the ground with her and let her slobber all over me. Mike is great at that. I love you honey!

Testing The Limits

I have a almost 4-year-old nephew who is just the cutest and most hilarious kid you will ever meet. (Of course I think all five of my nieces and nephews are the cutest kids in the world.) Don't get me wrong, Holden can be a handful. Just ask anyone within a mile radius of Wal-mart the day I was there with him and he didn't stop screaming the ENTIRE TIME. It's funny because I always loathe when I hear kids screaming in the store. But when it is family you seem to have a totally different outlook on the situation. It is still annoying, but much more tolerable. Then there are also the looks that Holden can give. One day I told him he was putting his shoes on the wrong feet and boy was that the wrong thing to say. He gave me a look like he had laser beams in his eyes and he was piercing directly into my heart. It's almost funny because he does it so well but he does it so unexpectedly over innocent comments.

When Holden is in a good mood and not giving piercing looks, he does things like give nicknames to his entire family. One time his dad was "Spiderman" and all day he would say stuff like "Hey Spiderman, can I have a snack?" or "I love you Spiderman." Another time, Holden himself was Harry Potter because he was wearing some fake paper glasses and if you called him Holden he would say,"No! I Harry Water!" That is how he says "Harry Potter" and I almost bust up laughing every time he says it.

Lately, Holden has love/hate relationships with his toys. I was at a store with him and he had a little Astro Boy toy that he was carrying around. Well he decided to put Astro boy in a bin and leave him there because apparently Astro Boy was not being a good friend. We got no more than ten feet away from Astro Boy when Holden went running back and picked him out of the bin and said,"I love you Astro Boy!" It wasn't just the fact that he went back that made me laugh. It was the concern on his face and complete relief when he was reunited with Astro Boy. It was like he made the worse mistake of his life deserting Astro Boy for five seconds and the most thrilling moment of his life when they came back together. Being 3-years-old, it may have been the worse mistake yet, but I think he is just testing the limits of his friendships.

Spooooooky

I had a somewhat scary dream the other night from which I woke up and was afraid to move for a good five minutes. Afraid of what, I am not really sure, but it got me to thinking about ghosts and such. I am a person who believes in ghosts but doesn't want to. What I mean by that is I have never experienced anything I consider to be paranormal, but if I did I would not sleep for DAYS. (This is coming from someone who loves her sleep.) I don't want that, and I'm sure my husband doesn't want that, so it would be better if I could just be in denial about the whole thing. Unfortunately, that is not possible because my parents innocently took me on a ghost tour of the Queen Mary when I was I child and I have never been the same since. That night I couldn't sleep much and spent that non-sleeping time praying for the ghosts to not follow me home. I didn't even want the souvenir I bought after the tour because I thought it might be possessed or something. It is now hilarious to think of a possessed GIANT PENCIL, but it was no laughing matter back then. Even though I now know that the whole tour was nothing but "smoke and mirrors" so to speak, it opened me up to a whole new concept of what ghosts are capable of. I usually have no problem with scary movies because it is not happening to me, not because it is not real. It's like if you see a airplane crash in a movie. You aren't scared because you are not in the plane, not because you wouldn't be scared if you were on the plane. I feel the same way about paranormal activity. If it happened to me I'm pretty sure I would be SCARED OUT OF MY MIND. That's why I have a policy of- don't mess with ghosts and hopefully they won't mess with you. I don't play with Ouija boards, I don't stare into mirrors in the dark, and I sure as heck don't ask them to make their presence known. This way I can stay blissfully ignorant. Let's just keep our fingers crossed that I don't ever move into a haunted house.

Handy Girl

The place where I work has started remodeling and subsequently getting rid of a lot of things. One thing they were throwing out was a floor-length mirror, and being the frugal person that I am I asked if I could have it. What I didn't realize at the time was that this mirror was THE HEAVIEST MIRROR EVER CREATED. I became a body builder while moving it out to my car. Then, as I was sliding it into the back seat, a metal piece on the back of it snagged the seat and ripped it ever so slightly. Horror of horrors! For most people this would be no big deal, and it would be forgotten before they even got into the driver's seat. I am not most people. All I could think about was how that snag would eventually grow until it looked like I keep rabid badgers in the back seat. So upon reaching my house, I whipped out a needle and thread and sewed up the tiny slit. I am not even kidding, because aside from being anal, I am also handy. I know I got the handiness from my dad because HIS DRYER IS OLDER THAN ME. As much as I resisted becoming this way, in the end I was weak and succumbed. I have a irresistible urge to make everything last, which is not necessarily a bad thing (unless we are talking underwear). I really do want to be good to the earth and not be as wasteful as most people, but I also don't want to be the "crazy lady who never throws anything away".

As for being anal, that seems to be a trait created by me since my brothers are the complete opposite. However, I truly believe I was worse when I was a kid. I mean, how many fourth graders do you know who have to have their room clean before bedtime or they will stay up as late as it takes to clean it? Not only that, but everything in the room has a certain place and has to be just right. Drawing a blank? Well I was that child, and as OCD as my husband thinks I am now, I was SUPER OCD back then. I don't really know what changed between now and then except that I got plain tired of doing it. OCD people have amazing energy, so this is the only time I am thankful for not being a high-energy person. Thank God for laziness!

Bear - The Puppy Eater

You remember how I said that we got Bear a new puppy toy for Valentine's Day? Well that lasted all of two seconds. Within a very short period of time she managed to rip a hole in a very inappropriate place and fling bits of fluff through the air as she shook it violently. Bear is really not a violent dog....really. She just LOVES her toys. She has a basket of toys in the front room, and every once in a while she will pick one out of the basket and plop it on your lap and look at you expectantly. If you decide to ignore her, well then you have made a mistake my friend. If you ignore the toy on your lap she will begin to nudge it and chew it while it is still in your lap so that, finally, you throw it out of sheer disgust at the puddle of slobber that has formed in your lap. Then she brings it back and the cycle continues. Well we couldn't just get rid of the puppy toy without replacing it with something else, because when I took the puppy away she looked so sad that I almost burst into tears and gave it back. The only thing that stopped me was the desire to not be picking fluff off the floor for the rest of my life. So my husband and I decided to go to the pet store and get another sheep, because the previous sheep lasted years even in its deformed and mangled state. For some reason, this particular sheep toy is easy to find at almost any pet store. Maybe it is part of some sort of evil plot to rule the world. It is like the creators of this toy thought,"We will make a toy that lasts forever, but it will watch you in your sleep."

The Food We Eat

Recently my husband and I (and Bear) watched the documentary, Food Inc. I do not recommend this movie for anyone who wants to eat food again....ever. The show makes you feel like the only thing safe to eat is maybe something you grew yourself in your backyard. God help you if you ever eat meat from the grocery store or a restaurant. There is a particularly upsetting scene in the movie where some pigs are slaughtered in what I can only describe as "the trash compactor from Star Wars." It was sickening. I don't have a problem with eating meat, but that scene made me seriously consider becoming a vegetarian. I am hesitant to even write this blog at all because the show implied that if you say anything bad about the big food companies they will sue you....and you will not win....unless you are Oprah. This is because a small group of companies monopolize the entire American food system.

The whole documentary started with the creator of the documentary wanting to know where his food came from and finding it hard to get answers because the big food companies don't want you to know. I thought I would be interested in knowing where my food came from but, believe me when I say, YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW. If you still think you want to know, at least be prepared to make drastic changes to your diet. I am in the unfortunate situation of wanting to eat more organic and whole foods, but being unable to afford to do so on my limited budget. The show even mentions that the poorer a person is, the worse they eat because the bad food is the cheap food. In most cases you can get a hamburger for $1 when something like broccoli is more expensive. Even if you do buy a lot of vegetables you aren't necessarily safe because of the pesticides used to treat the plants. If you want to eat meat, good luck finding some that doesn't contain antibiotic resistant bacteria that are created from the overuse of antibiotics in livestock. If you do find something such as a hamburger patty that does not contain bacteria, it is probably because the "meat filler" was sterilized with ammonia. Go ahead and do a double take at that last sentence. AMMONIA USED TO STERILIZE MEAT IN 70% OF ALL HAMBURGERS. That's hard to swallow.

I don't blame all cases of obesity on the food system, but I certainly think the system has a lot to do with why so many Americans are so overweight. I have now vowed to be more conscious of what I buy and consume, even if I am on a limited budget.

Valentine's Excitement

Let me start out by saying that my husband and I are easily pleased. You give us something as small as a bag of gummy bears and we a practically giddy for hours afterward. So it should come as no surprise that when we had a chance to go to The Gateway outdoor mall in Salt Lake City last Saturday it was like Christmas morning for regular people. Never mind that it was a drizzly, gloomy sort of day. Nothing could squash our spirits because we had each other and a bit of money to spend. While at the Gateway we found a new restaurant to try called, Tucanos Brazilian Grill. Anyone who knows our tendency towards excitability when trying new things would have never turned us loose in that restaurant, but as it was we had free range and proceeded to run around like chickens with their heads cut off yelling things like,"Have you tried this one?! Oh my gosh this is so good! This is such a cool restaurant!" Admittedly my husband is more vocal than me, but I'm sure I appear just as dorky. The couple seated next to us were pleasant to us in conversation, but were probably secretly on the verge of filing a restraining order against us. We left with a vow to take every person we know to Tucanos so we can relive the first time again and again through other people.

The day after we went to The Gateway was Valentine's Day. I am somewhat middle-of-the-road when it comes to my Valentine's views. I do believe that it is over commercialized, but I also believe that it is a great idea to have a day to remind the people you love just how much you care for them. About the only thing I expect for Valentine's Day is a card and anything beyond that is just icing on the cake. Of course my husband doesn't think that way. He comes from a long line of people whose motto is "spend money on those you love whether they like it or not." Since it is in his genes I don't blame him for this, but it does mean that on Valentine's Day I wake up to this -

Now this picture does not include the TWO boxes of chocolate or the show tickets he bought for us. Bear even got several Valentine's treats including peanut butter-flavored ice cream made just for dogs and a new plush toy to replace this monstrosity -

She has had this sheep toy for a long time and though she loves it we decided it was finally time to replace it because she had long ago managed to get the squeaker out of it and because it has a gaping hole in it's head. Frankly, the sheep toy scares me. I would get up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and it would be sitting in the hallway just staring at me. We replaced the sheep with a much more friendly-looking puppy. However, Bear has already managed to tear several holes in it and I doubt it will be as freakishly long-lived as the sheep.

Overall it was one of my best Valentine's Days ever. I love you babe.

Joy Incarnate

Yesterday I had the privilege of babysitting my 7-month-old niece, Esme, while my brother and his wife went out for a date night. I say privilege because Ezzie is probably the most happy baby I have ever encountered. Her grin is so huge that you can't possibly be unhappy while looking at her. You find yourself walking around with a perma-grin for hours after seeing her. Sometimes she will just look at you and scream. Not the blood-curdling type of scream, but the kind of scream where it seems like she is so happy she couldn't hold it all in anymore and had to let it out in a joyous shout. Even when she cries it is not like she is crying for herself. It is more like she is crying for the injustices of the world and it makes you want to say,"There there Ezzie. I will end world hunger. Just don't be sad." The only problem with the whole experience was the sudden jealousy that appeared in the other baby...Bear. Let's face it, Bear is spoiled and clearly believes herself to be our baby. So when my husband and I started talking baby talk to some else, she was somewhat confused, and then determined to regain her former glory. She nuzzled and licked constantly as if to say,"Look! I am still here and I am cuter than her!" In the end she seemed resigned to the fact that she is not the only cute creature in the world.

First EVER Blog

Well I guess this is not my first EVER blog if you count various posts on MySpace, mostly about books. But this is my first time attempting to share my thoughts and feelings about life in general in a public form. Be kind.... I basically have no idea what I am doing or what I am in for, but boredom is a compelling force. I believe it is a partner with necessity as "the mother of invention." As of this time, hours at work are few and far between. So to fill in the time I wander haphazardly through the house for most of the day and now....I BLOG! There is also the occasional, ongoing, battle of Plants Vs. Zombies, but who knows when THAT war will end. I know any readers (doubtful, I know) are wondering, "Robin, what are you going to write about if your days are filled with wandering the house and having imaginary conversations with your dog?" There is a very good answer to that, "I don't know." I was inspired by a mommy-blogger in my area named Heather Armstrong. I read her posts religiously (and not just because my husband made her blog our homepage). I first found out about her from stumbling across her book, It Sucked and Then I Cried, at the library. I loved the book, and after reading her blog I began to think," I can do that." Well here I am....doing it. Even if it is clumsy, and amateur, and overall nothing like Heather's blog, I am still giving it a try.

I suppose I should start this blog off right by introducing myself and my family. I am a 28-year-old woman who has lived in Utah most of my life. Although, if anyone asks about any "culture" I may have I refer to my international travels as a a preschooler and kindergartner. Amazing....I know. Currently, I live with my husband of 1 1/2 long years and my dog of as long as I have known my husband, Bear. Bear is the dog, not the husband. My husband's name is Mike or Michael. But if you call him Micheal I may get him confused with my brother who is also Michael or Mike or Mikey Boy or Fuzz. (I recommend you call him the last one.) I am in the process of organizing the "Mikes" of my life. Anyway, my husband and I spend the vast majority of our time being complete goofballs and enjoying life to the best of our ability. We both believe Bear to be a person in dog form because of her ability to say so much just with a look. She is severely addicted to television and moans in agony in response to my flute playing which I practice as little as possible for her sake. She is also the best and cutest dog in the world in my completely unbiased opinion. We don't have any children together, but my husband has a son who is about to turn 18 and conquer the world. Daylen is a great kid and although I cannot claim to have given birth to him at age 10, I would be happy to be called his mother any day.

That about wraps up my first blog since I am so unaccustomed to this thing called "work", all this typing is really wearing me out. I hope you will excuse grammatical and spelling errors and anything in general that you don't like about it. I have not yet hired an editor or a publicist to ensure I appeal to the general public.