Learn to Swerve.

Swagger.

SOOOOO. My lemmings. My adoring public. Those who come to read my awesome idle prattle hoping I'm falling apart and sharing it with the world wide web. I'm so sorry to disappoint. But I am doing SPLENDID. YEp. You read that correctly. Despite the giant pimple on my chin that makes me look almost like CIndy Crawford, only not hot and fat, and the discovery that my favorite Ed Hardy shirt now smells horribly like BO after wearing it to a 5 mile run at the gym, LIFE. ROCKS.  

I have amazingly cute kids. Who look fantastic in anything. CAse in point. Mullet Mia.  Who we can no longer call mullet mia. Due to the fact that a week ago, I decided Joe dirt wasn't claiming parental rights to my 2'1 27 pound gremlin monkey, and I chopped off her hair with a pair of cutterbees. BEST IDEA EVER. ASide from the one that led me to purchase this tutu for her. I mean Seriously? Even if you arn't a fan of the zebra, (like that's even a reality for anyone. who doesn't dig zebra?) This ensemble alone makes me want at least 2 of her. She's that cute. Oh yeah.  And the second I bust out the camera. She says. Do mia. Do mia. And goes to the tree. Assumes the think pose. And VOILA. If I scrapbooked. THis would be the one I'd do... 

OK. I know. I said I was gonna scrapbook, and I am. I just have. Well. A problem. It's called unpacking. I don't know where to begin? Do I start with the 13 tubs of paper? The 20 of embellishments? The giant tub of nothing but ribbon? Where! I would actually like to hire Laura Vegas, who would probably require an inhaler or 2 if she saw what was happening in there right now, but I just  don't know where to begin. So. I opt for no beginnings.  

SEcondly. I figured out how to use my camera. The new one I purchased 5 months ago? The one that sat in the box begging to be used, the one that cried out every time I reached for my D70 and asked only that give her a chance. I did it. I turned it on. I went for it. I got some cute stuff. I am no Amy Howe, nor will I ever be. But my kids will grow up knowing their mother had an affinity for cute clothes. and posing them in front of trees. I lack creativity. So sue me. 

NExt on my list. I have friends. AMAZING friends. I have known this all along, but sometimes it takes having a breakdown on facebook to cement it. You guys know Cheryl right? The amazingly talented, funny, rockstar channeling mother of the cutest little boy to ever grace the pages of a scrapbook blog? Well. If not. You should. She and I are becoming bosom buds. And it doesn't even bother her that I don't have a bosom! She's that cool. I'm taking one of my "trips" to  her house next month, where we plan to unleash the beasts that have been troubling us all for so long. And maybe I'll even scrapbook. Wha???? I know. It's almost surreal.

SPeaking of Cheryl. She has this cool thing on her blog. One of those Taggy things that I usually try to avoid like fruitcake because my blogging hiatuses usually leave me little time for such things as tag on this vast intranet. But this one. Requires only that you post a photo. Of you. RIght now. I'm pretty sure there were some other rules. No editing. No wearing a towel. no ducking behind a computer screen. Just you. How you are. In the NOW. Well. Here. This is me. In the now.

See the pimple? The one I told you about. AH. It beats me. I cannot stand it. Oh well. Such is the sacrifice one must make. I sweat. Therefore I break out. 

Speaking of sweating. The gym thing? did I mention that I'm actually going? Like. DAILY? I was pretty sure signing a contract at a gym was probably about as pointless as getting birth control, because let's face it. i know me. It's not gonna work. But I was WRONG! It worked. I have been there pretty much everyday. Running. Sweating. Forcing people behind me in the stadium seating to see my cellulite packed cactuses I call thighs rubbing together. And you know what. IT's working! It tends to take me about 15 minutes to put on my pants and button them. as opposed to the usual 25. I didn't even have to lay down today. I'm not sure if that was the weight loss talking or the fact that they had not just come out of the dryer. EIther way. Magic is happening people. 

My kids are thriving in school. I'm talking. Little miss thang, my adorable Aubree who used to say things like. " I don't want to learn my lettahs. I'm pretty. I don't need lettahs"  Is reading. BOOKS. ACTUAL books. Pay no attention to the hair. I'm thinking she too could benefit from the cutterbees. Yikes. either way. they rock. things are starting to fall into place. everytime something happens. I tend to question it to death. And this time. I'm just letting it happen. I don't have to have a reason. Things are going to work somedays. And suck somedays. My face will appear fat in some photos, and dangerously thin in others. (most likely the fat, but you know. just an example).

I will continue to wonder what if about every decision I make. Charity will continue to pretend she has no clue how to pee in the toilet, but can memorize entire sequences of movies after viewing it once. This is life. It's crazy. IT's beautiful. It's mad. It's awesome. It's awful. IT's happy. It's too short. It's not short enough. It's never going to be perfect. And I'm ok with that. For once. In this moment. I. Am ok.

that's all I'm saying...

Hey. Remember me?  The girl with the complex? Yeah. I'm back. Complex as ever. But who's complaining?

Where were we? Besides hell and back? I honestly have no idea. 

November. Wow. That was really awesome of me to stop blogging. And have another nervous breakdown ala Britney Spears, minus the redbull and laxatives. I find redbull makes me vomit, and laxatives, well, they do what they advertise. Neither makes for pretty scenery. AH. Updates. Where should I start...

1. Me. I am back. As back as one can be, when one fights tooth and nail to return. I am living on Fort Campbell again. Accompanied by my 4 lovely children. Remember them? The cute ones, with the hair that appears to house small rodents? The littlest one sports a mullet? At least until I can find the time, and the scissors to cut it. Yeah. We're all here. Dwelling once again in the spider infested houses on this lovely military installation. The good news is, they installed closet bars this time, so we can actually HANG our clothes. I mean, we could. I don't know that I'll  be doing that. I prefer the dig and throw method. Makes getting dressed all that more fun. And I'm convinced it helps my arms. They need all the help they can get...

2. The "scrapbook" situation. Well. Let's see how we can put this. I have to scrapbook. I have no choice. I have invested what could amount to the deficit of a small country into my scrapbook area, and walking away from it, would not only be disastrous in a financial sense. But it would literally take me years to clear it all out. I like scrapbooking. Love it really. It makes me feel like I can do something, besides inspire others to not eat. I get a sense of happiness. A euphoria almost, like that of a diet coke being sipped through a straw, when I create something that I can share. so I'm doing it. as soon as I unpack the 30+ tubs I have sitting in my garage. I'm giving it another go. It doesn't hurt that I subscribed to studio calico, and um.  I think it would inspire Paris to create something publish worthy, and if you've seen Paris scrapbook,  you know that's an amazing feat. 

3. The bangin' body. The one I will have. Come heck or high water. I joined a gym. One that I have to pay for. This alone means I will utilize it's facilities. On a regular basis. That, and they have a movie theater. I never go to the movies. At least I didn't. Now I go 4 times a week. The first 3 days my body revolted and I thought crutches might be necessary. They weren't. 2 days on the couch in the fetal position, and I was immediately returned to my fat, yet feeling fitter shape. I can do this. I will do this. I will keep you all abreast of my situation. Don't you love that word? abreast. Maybe I'm stupid. Most likely, but I fit it into every situation I can. I heart it. 

4. A job. I am currently in the market for one of these. This has nothing to do with my relationship situation, or the economy. It has everything to do with having one kid at home, and feeling the need to bring something to my life. Make me feel like I can bring something to the group. besides the diet products, and love of clothing meant for teenagers half my age. I applied for many postions, one being a security guard. HAHA. Can you see my now? Defending the local gas station in my killer boots and utility belt? It might not pan out, but either way. I tried. And just the thought of it makes me giggle. I need that. Give me that.

5. School. I've enrolled in school. I Ruth Akers, do hereby solemnly swear, to take the classes, the needed classes, to not screw around and waste my tuition. To not find every excuse possible to get out of class, and to finish my degree. I cannot promise straight A's, nor can I promise to not dress like a college freshman who should actually be on her graduate program, I will just do what it takes. I am really excited. I love school. Love people. Love being social. All of it. Fills me with a sensation matched only by a twinkie with no calories. At least it's what I imagine that would feel like, as it has never happened. I'm excited. I'm taking charge of my life. For once. I am doing what I want, because it's what I want. And who can be disappointed by that? 

I would like to thank you all that have checked up on me, bugged me on facebook, ( you know who you are) and kindly prodded me in the direction of keeping my chins up. Yes. I have more than one. I am taking it slow. I don't know what this year holds. I have no clue that I can even do what it takes. But I'm willing to try. And that I'm told is half the battle.