Fat Vegetarians ROCK their Blood Work!

So, I'm almost a year into my vegetarian lifestyle, and I'm thrilled to report that I'm in the excellent range for all of my stuff.  Stuff = blood sugar, cholesterol, liver function, IRON (for you haters), metabolism, etc.  NOW, if I only I could master the equation that is:

But, for now, I'm healthy, y'all!!  I'm not saying I haven't lost weight, but it's unclear if it's stress or the fact that I'm feasting on more plant-based foods.  If only Oreos and wine weren't accidentally vegan.  Well, most wine.  It's at least vegetarian if not vegan.  And I don't buy Oreos.  (How do my posts always end up with confessions??)

This is all excellent news.  Now for the bad news - for my husband, at least.  The doctor did not test my sanity.  I admit, it is probably not in the "optimal" range...but I urge you to ask yourself, "Would I REALLY like Jennifer if she wasn't bat-shit crazy?"  If you answered "Yes," then maybe you should ask yourself, "Would her blogs be worth reading if she wasn't bat-shit crazy."  I'm guessing that is a 100% "No."  See!  Crazy, but smart like a human!

 

 

There is a logical conclusion to this post coming riiiiiiiiight now.  Since A) I'm a fat vegetarian, and B) I STILL want to be a hipster, I'm going to go design my own ironic t-shirt.  If you want one, just let me know.  Here's my first draft.  I'll probably try to sweet-talk my brother into some fantastic artwork.  Sorry, Barrett.  I can only pay you in hummus. 

 

 

 







Don't copy me!

So it turns out that my four-year-old is a myna bird.  She LOOOOOOVES to mimic people.  I would venture to say it's her favorite thing.  Not only that, but she has an excellent command of the English language, so it is not even funny to throw big words her way. 

The other day, she was "copying" her sister until she was in a screaming fit of seven-year-old rage.  Fearing for my littlest one's life, I intervened.



Me: Stop copying your sister.

Brat: Stop copying your sister.

Me: Stop copying me.

Brat: Stop copying me.

Me: Seriously. I will pull over and leave you on the side of the road, and some stranger will pick you up.  Then you can copy the stranger for the rest of your life because you'll never see me again.

Brat:  Fine.  I'll copy myself.  I'll copy myself.

Me: Excellent idea.

Brat: Yes it is.  Yes it is.  I though of it myself.  I thought of it myself.



How does one get her own reality show, I wonder...?

My tiny therapist

Tonight, we were reading "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss, and the kid had some questions.

"What is a 'lurch'?"

"Why does this book say 'guy' when I'm actually a girl?" (Not much is cuter than hearing my 4-year-old say "actually"...or recognizing that I own a tiny feminist.)

"What is a 'slump'?  Is it like being bummed?"

"Why is he moving a mountain?"

As you can see, it takes us a while to read a single Dr. Seuss book.

Anyway, nights like tonight, I catch myself explaining ideas to this kid.  Tonight it was "climbing (figurative) mountains".  I think, "Why are you doing this?  She thinks you are talking crazy,"  But I just keep talking. 

In my example, I explained that I have "mountains" and one of those mountains is being a good wife. Before I could even get into the "climb" of it all (because why else do we have children if not to have tiny therapists?), she said, "You know what I know?  You are a great mom.  That was a great mountain!  Now let's go to sleep."

Ahh.  It makes me wish I was four.  But if I can't be four, I'm extra-super-delighted that THIS four-year-old is mine!  Oh, the places this kid will go...

Friends

Today was kind of crappy, so I decided to dust off a post that never made it to press.  It reminded me that even on a crappy day, I have so much to be thankful for!

Friends...

No, not the show...the real thing.  I was driving home tonight from an evening of fund-raising and fun when something happened.  I just started crying.  Not because I'm sad or my life is incomplete, but because...just because. 

I suppose some of the tears were for people to whom I wish I could say one more thing - my dad, my first boss, my crazy aunt.  But mostly they were tears of joy.  Maybe, my heart is so full, something had to give. 

I have an amazing, full life.  Really, I do.  And a huge part of my amazing, full life are my awesome friends.  They laugh with me.  They cry with me.  They pray for me.  They even set me straight when I need it.  Some share my twisted sense of humor while others don't "get me" but choose to love me anyway.  A few friends will even wrap the preachers' houses with me.  Some sense when I need a pick-me-up, and others know how to let me down gently.  I can't imagine my life without them. 

To my friends, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

A new tattoo?

I've been contemplating a new tattoo.  I'm not totally sure why, but it sounds like a good idea.  Maybe I'm mid-life and don't know it.  Whatever...that's not the point.  

The point is, I have been talking to my extremely anti-tattoo mom about it.  What to get, where on my body, etc.  I was considering a few things.

Maybe this somewhere on my back:

My (ex) best friend suggested this to cover my entire back (maybe because it looks like her a little...).  

"I think it's sexy.  In a very confident kind of way...for an asshole."  Her words, not mine.

I really REALLY love this, but it would require a flawless, 20-year-old back and about $600.

Anyway, you can vote in the comments if you like, but my mom decided to give her two cents.  She suggested I get a tattoo of a mermaid in honor of my sweet little wannabe Mer-child.  I thought it was a great idea...then I started thinking out loud:

Me:  I COULD do that! She would love it!  But then, I would have to get something for the little one.  Maybe a ballerina?  Or a Mermaid with a tutu?  I KNOW!  A ballerina mermaid with a wand, so it's a fairy princess ballerina mermaid.  That should cover everything...

Mom:  How about you just go buy yourself a nice shirt?

Well played, mom.  Well played. 

Vanity Plate Advice

Some people don't think these things through.  Vanity plates can really affect the rest of your life.  Clever uses of vanity plates include:

"BUGCHIC" if you make a lifetime of driving VWs
"FSTBTCH" if you drive fast or put out on the first date
"TEXNFAN" if you LOVE the Texans
"AGGMOM" if you have a kid at Texas A&M or little kids who aggravate you
"ASSMAN" if you are a proctologist

You get the picture. 

Some other loves/like/habits, though?  Not so much.  Take this guy for example.  I'm sure his wife makes the best, and I'm sure it's delicious, but why advertise that you LOVE LOVE LOVE to eat:

That's a "W" not an "N".  Yes.  It says:

 

Gross, dude.  Gross. 

 

Vacation Week Blog Challenge

Written at 10:00 am in a massage chair:

My vacation week officially started today, so I am challenging myself to one interesting blog per day.  (I'll measure "interesting" by my own amusement level in case you are curious.)

Written at 11:26 pm on my mom's couch:

This was a great-sounding idea at 10 this morning while I was getting a pedicure and (surely) had something clever to tell you all; however, now that it's almost midnight, and my brain has melted from a day of getting my kids ready to go out of town...yeah, I got nothin'. 

But, Hey!  It's tax-free weekend, so I will most definitely have an adventure to tell about tomorrow!  In the meantime, here is a Freaking Mermaids! update.

I thought my plan was golden: have her say goodbye to all of her loved ones and her new kitten.  Drive her to a nice rocky hill (volcano) and then tell her to get out of the car and go live her dream.  My friends did not think that was a "Mom of the Year" type move, so they made lots of suggestions.  A favorite was to dress up like a mermaid myself and embarrass her to death, but they don't make mermaid tails in plus size.  (I know!  I was shocked, too!)  So, I made her a deal.  I told her that I want her to live her dream, but we have to compromise.  If she promises to stay a human until she graduates from high school, then I will take her to this volcanic moon pool (this is not a REAL thing, y'all) and she can jump in.  She TOTALLY AGREED!  Thanks to my friends for their advice!

Here's hoping she grows out of this over the next 11 years.