Summer Fun and Work Stress is NOT Conducive to Creative Blogging

Wow. Two weeks?

Has it really been two weeks since my last post?

I apologize to all the ADORING fans (*ahem* people who read this blog to feel better about their own lives) for the total lack in blog posts. The title of this post pretty much sums it up. I am totally taking advantage of the fact that Officer Bob is temporarily working day shift with every other weekend off by spending every waking moment I can with him - which he totally hates by the way (and I love completely annoying him with pointless stories just because he is home.....and he has no choice but to sit and listen.) I am also working some odd hours at the J.O.B. trying to cram in as much educational opportunity as possible (because the boss says I have to......obviously)

All in all......blogging has not been my most recent Numero Uno priority.

However.......I. Am. Back.

Holla!

Here's what you missed.......

• It pays to know extremely strong, good-looking, studly men to call when completing home projects such as fence-building...BUT in the off-chance that "those men" are not readily available, it also pays to know these guys.

 A HUGE, GINORMOUS, MEXICAN THANKS to Titty Baby, Rink, and Drewbug for taking time away from their busy lives to help construct an incredibly stable and awesome fence in record time. Even though I ended up with more concrete in my hair than in the ground.

 On a positive note, it did serve as a hairspray replacement for the following week.

I owe you boys big time, and I promise I will repay the debt if you ever need any landscaping done yourselves. I was born a professional, ya know.

• Reggie has now destroyed TWO, count 'em 1-2, couches at my house. After daily plea to rid our house of the demon dog, I have finally given up. I will now refer to him as Officer Bob's dog and refuse to throw down any scraps of dinner in his presence. When ya have a tummy full of couch stuffing, I hardly think you need table scraps to wash it down. Obedience training has been written into next year's budget.......correction: Obedience training has been written into Officer Bob's budget. I will be purchasing extra shoes and purses to mourn the loss of my most favoritest couch.

• Working with adults diagnosed with dementia proves to be a daily challenge. A challenge I continue to meet head-on. I pray for patience, compassion, and strength in my abilities to assist with such a terrifying disease.

• I recently took my car to my new favorite auto mechanic for a quick tune-up/oil change and was more than elated with the outcome. Not for the car.....but for my personal quest towards future life events. Officer Bob was less than amused that the attendant combined my first name with his last name on the final receipt, and I failed to correct the poor employee. I, however, found it to be hilarious, highlighted the mistake, and posted it in it's permanent position on the refrigerator. I can dream, can't I?

• I miss my siblings. I realize we are all maturing into fine young adults, but would it kill you chicanos to call a sista?! I put alot of thought into your personalized ringtones, and I would appreciate you making good use of them.

• In case I haven't mentioned it before, MY boyfriend is better than yours. His days off are spent mowing lawn(s), doing dishes, washing, drying, and folding laundry, googling recipes and making culinary masterpieces for dinner, and listening to my crying voice repeatedly state how "bleeping stressed out" I am. Kudos to you for putting up with me, boyfriend. I heart you.

• Mama Dirt is one amazing tower of strength. I envy her and her scooter (flat tire and all) for her courageous efforts in allowing our family to survive. If there is but one thing I can inherit from her, I truly hope it is her will to survive. I am proud of you, Mama. Know that even if we don't say it often, your children are truly thankful for the efforts you've made to ensure we are healthy, happy, and driven for life success.

• Beans Blab - no new update. Baby is maturing well, I hope. (Refer to previous mention of my siblings not calling me......I NEED a jingle, Huracan!)

• Gunther Gab - Baby Gunther/Pebbles is a fiery little jumping bean and mama CareBear is cuter than ever. Thanks to the crew of soon-to-be Aunts and Grandmas, the baby shower invites have been cut, glued, and tied with bows. Favors are almost done and cupcakes have been taste tested. All duties have been designated, and now we just wait for the fun to be had.

• I am going to win the lottery.

• So I can buy my Harley.

• And a side car for Officer Bob.

Next blog will not be a two week wait. Pinky swear.

He Is SO Grounded!

The most recent picture of my

not even one year old,

barely been introduced to a variety of bottom,

pretty damn expensive couch.........

There are no words......

(that are blog appropriate)

If it wasn't confirmed "last time"

it has been confirmed now.

Not only does my dog need valium,

he needs a 9-hour daily sedative.

Official Marathon Training Week #2

I've still got some more weight to lose before running

becomes a comfortable activity.

If you consider feeling like you are slowly suffocating due to lack of oxygen,

scarred thighs from chafing burns,

and back pain from bouncing frontal ornaments

 "comfortable".

I will have you know that running as a sport was NOT created

for hefty, well-endowed, short Mexican women.

FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION.

I still have about 10 more pounds to shed and one more cup size to drop

until I can successfully fit into the modern, hip workout clothes.

Until then,

I'll continue to permanently stain Officer Bob's old t-shirts with my chicana sweat.

Besides, I wouldn't want my running routine to be interrupted

by Matthew McConaughey look-alikes asking for my digits all the time.

My little black book is already full of the Don Vito type.

Must be the baggy t-shirts.

Holla!

I Really Need to Find More Immature Friends

To ALL friends who are buying new houses, getting married, making babies, and engaging in all other activities that signify growing up and all that jazz.......

CONSIDER YOURSELF FOREWARNED.

All gifts for such occasions between the months of June and October will be homemade because I can no longer budget for the ridiculous number of bridal showers, baby showers, weddings, housewarming parties, bachelorette parties etc., etc., etc.

YOU ARE MAKING THIS POOR MEXICAN EVEN POORER!

Don't get me wrong, I am uber excited to celebrate all these monumental milestones in your lives, but if I add one more celebration to "Summer of Negative Balance 2011" I will be digging out of the neighbor's dumpster for next week's dinner. Hope Officer Bob enjoys mac and cheese scraped off the Sunday paper. I'll have to come up with some explanation for the flavor of recycled matter and wood pulp.

However, because you all scheduled "becoming real adults" into your lives at the same exact time, this does not mean that your gifts will be made out of popsicle sticks and glitter glue (though the idea has crossed my mind once or twice after seeing a recent 1/2 price ad for glitter glue at Dollar General). My choice in friends that are WAY more mature than I and making completely grown up decisions has afforded me the opportunity to really delve into the one and only creative bone in my body. I just hope my most recent bone density score is accurate and the one and only creative bone that this 5 foot 4 inch stature is made of will be able to hold up for the torture it is about to endure.

I get it. I am at that age. The age when my surroundings start to fill with the sound of wedding bells and the smell of baby diapers. But really, friends? Why do you have to pick the same months of the same summers to grow up? I am in maturity overload and you all know damn well that doesn't exactly fit me. I mean.....I gotta rep to protect.

But back to the topic at hand.

Attention Friends!

When opening my gift at your special occasion, know that you did NOT register for such item at Target, Kohls, Babies 'R Us, Crate and Barrel, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, or any other retail store. When criticizing the creativity of my gift, I hope you consider the amount of love, sweat, and burnt skin cells from the hot glue gun that went into making such a memorable masterpiece.

Project #1 has officially been completed. Total cost: $11.99. Only an endless amount to go.

I am so proud of and happy for ALL of my amigos who are celebrating such fabulous occasions this summer. I look forward to creating memories with you on the most important days of your lives. It truly makes me happy knowing you are confident in the decisions you have made and are taking the necessary steps to ensure you wake up with a smile every day.

However, with all the maturity sucking the life right out of you, expect me to throw in the inappropriate remarks around Grandma, the vomiting in the parking lot after too many vodka waters (hold the water), and the ridiculously awesome dance moves at the parties of the year.

LET THE SUMMER FUN BEGIN!!!!

Top Two Reasons I Heart Summer

#1. I don't have to cook.

#2. I don't have to cook.

Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for the gift of the GRILL.

It's one of the only reasons I keep Officer Bob around.

Would it be possible to have a seasonal relationship?!

It's Not Sister Bonding Without a Few Tears

What is the best graduation present ever.................

Graduation Picture Frame?

No.

New Clothes?

Nope.

Money?

Not exactly.

45 minutes of torture and permanently fixating a fairly ridiculous Hispanic-themed cartoon on your skin?

ABSOLUTELY!!

A few years ago, I gifted myself (for the second time) with a cute little tattoo on my ankle.

Since doing so, Dancing Queen has been talking non-stop about how amazingly cool I am for doing so. Or maybe that's just what I got out of her endless ranting about wanting the SAME tattoo. So.....being the extremely awesome super fantabulous role model that I am, I gifted her the chance to do so as a wee little graduation present. At her graduation fiesta, I presented Dancing Queen with a date at the tattoo parlor with Roger (an incredibly gracious cowboy boot-wearing, tattoo-covered, giant holes in his ears man).

Officer Bob had made a bet that upon hearing the sound of the pain-inducing needles, Dancing Queen would be in tears and out the door before you could say "Ay chihuahua!" However, with a little reassurance and constant encouragement, Dancing Queen took her seat and endured the pain like a champ.

Well.....kind of like a champ. I had NO feeling in my hand after she squeezed the life out of it and off the record, there may have been one or two droplets of liquid streaming from just one eye.

What made it all worth it? Receiving her goody bag of suckers for being such a good girl and sitting so still. I still don't understand the theory behind rewarding stupidity. But nevertheless, I am so proud.

We have successfully survived another sister bonding moment. We will one day be forced to tell embarrassing stories to our children about how we used poor-decision making skills in our youth. However, if I have to be labeled a poor excuse for a role model, I would only want to be yours, Dancing Queen.

I'm sure we make Mama Dirt so proud! :)

Stupidest.Dream.Ever?

The "multiple" pairs of running shoes have been purchased.

The increase in the water bill for laundering extremely sweat-stained clothes has been budgeted.

The anti-chafe cream has been applied.

The nutrition plan that I will most likely not follow has been written.

And the training schedule has been posted on the fridge.

Three words.

I. Am. Scared.

Three more words?

Stupidest.Idea.Ever

(And yes, people, I am completely aware that stupidest is not proper grammar. But I am still delirious after reviewing what I have ahead of me for the next four months)

I am starting out slow.......

June 7 -   3 miles
June 8 -   3 miles
June 9 -   3 miles
June 10 - rest
June 11 - 6 miles

But then I flash to September.......

Sept. 13 - 5 miles
Sept. 14 - 10 miles
Sept. 15 - 5 miles
Sept. 16 - rest
Sept. 17 - 20 miles


WHAT THE F*&% WAS I THINKING?!

I was awake at 1:30pm (still in shock from staring at the months ahead) when Officer Bob returned home from his strenuous job. After the conversation that followed his arrival, I am 98% sure he also fears the weeks leading up to the bucket list dream from you know where. Running sometime makes me tired. Fatigue sometimes causes an increase in crankiness. An increase in crankiness usually leads to Officer Bob questioning his decision to co-habitate with me.

As sorry as you feel for my stupidity, you should feel even worse for what this man will have to endure during the coming months.

Oh....and then I have to sit and read stories like this sent from fellow runners. (I use the word "fellow" like I would totally fit in with "that" crowd without being totally awkward and giggling when talking about bleeding nipples. HA! Gets me every time!) A fellow runner sent me this article on how a bleepin' eight year old finished a half marathon.

I would like to highlight the parts of the article that totally ruined my self-esteem for the remainder of this week.

1. "I thought it was going to be harder," said Katarina, who averaged a 9:18 mile throughout most of the race before slowing down near the end.
2. So what was the toughest part of the journey? "Trying to get around the people who were blocking my way," she said.

Thank you, Katarina, for making this dream of mine seem like "just another day in the life of your average eight year old girl!" Ridiculous. Would it be unethical to trip a fellow racer if he/she is under the age of 10? I'm gonna need one helluva censor on race day if parents want to keep the marathon PG for their damn prodegy kids.

NOW......I NEED TO CONSISTENTLY REMIND MYSELF.......
After recent family struggles, there is no better and more meaningful time in my life to run this race for such a GREAT CAUSE. Please consider helping me in this dream. I truly looking forward to taking step after step forward. Step after step towards scratching off the bucket list dream of all dreams. Through all the cursing and ranting, please know that I am doing this for a reason. Not only for myself, but also for something deeper.

A Little Pomp And A Little Circumstance

Three cheers for Dancing Queen!

Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!
Hip Hip......Hooray!

Yesterday, Dancing Queen was the last of the siblings to graduate from good 'ol EHS. Number four, the baby, the tail end of the clan.......FINALLY made it! I could not be more proud of her. She is a beautiful, mature adult that I have no doubt will accomplish great things in life!

School was never easy for Dancing Queen. Living with epilepsy made it a little harder, but she is a great advocate for all that can be accomplished. She did NOT let the side effects of the illness and/or medication set her back. Learning in a classroom setting was a difficult task, and she persevered. Epileptic spells and family setbacks did not make senior year easy. I had to witness struggle after struggle, but through it all, I had the opportunity to observe the growth and strength of such an amazing woman. A woman with a contagious personality. A woman who shines in the face of adversity. A woman who's laughter can silence a crowd of a thousand. A woman who dances through life with an unbreakable spirit. And a woman who is not only my sister, but my best friend.

In honor of the "baby" graduating from high school, we each took our turn treating her as such.

Trust me, this girl milks every minute of being the youngest of four. Who wouldn't?

Dancing Queen held true to her name as she exited the ceremony. While all her classmates processed out in a distinguished fashion, Dancing Queen felt it was necessary to make that exit more entertaining. Her poor walking partner was less than amused by her need to jump around in heels.

Despite recent events that challenged this family, we were ALL able to attend this milestone. AND smile for a picture. That in itself, may actually be the proudest moment for us all.

Congratulations again, Dancing Queen! Fortunately for you, you will soon be attending the Alma mater of TWO of your older siblings. We know the best party houses, the shortcuts to class, and the cheapest methods of obtaining a fake ID. BUT I'm sure you won't need any of that information as you will most likely be too focused on your studies.

You are just beginning your journey, Dancing Queen. There will be speed bumps along the way, but know that I am ALWAYS a phone call away. Even at 2:00am. when you are vomiting outside of the Pace because you chose to purchase and consume a late night meal at the hot dog stand after downing several forms of hard alcohol. I love you enough to answer and laugh at such a rookie mistake. Trust me....it will happen.

Even though you were the last to get here, you shine like the first. Love you.

P.S. Another bucket list item checked off! I have been witness to the graduation of all siblings from the same high school halls. I heart my family. Even though they're Mexican.

2011: The Year of Procreation

Could it be possible?

Is this really happening?

I can't even grasp the concept.

My older brother Huracan Ramirez and his woman, Mama B, are having a BABY!

Un BEBE!

Huracan - the man who writes songs about dirty sanchezes and is still fairly incapable of sorting and washing his own laundry is reproducing. GOD HELP US! Is it bad that upon hearing this news, my first thought was to call Mama B and apologize for the future ahead of her? However, I have some good news, Mama B. Mexican babies are SUPER adorable. It's a shame that Huracan takes after the "cracka" side of the family, but I'm sure some of those chicano genes will come out somehow.

Baby Beans will be making his/her presence in early December.


This was my first gift to the happy couple.


I'm already the favorite Aunt. Can ya blame the kid?!

Furthermore, this ridiculous, crazy, can't-even-totally-comprehend-the-news announcement opens up the opportunity for a new segment for the Big Boca Bob blog. Along with Gunther Gab, I will be introducing Beans Blab.

I like babies.

When other people have them, of course.

My four-legged adopted children are enough trouble as it is. And I allow them to eat their own poop. I guess that's morally wrong for humans or something. I've still got some things to learn. Good thing I have nieces/nephews to practice with!

P.S. Surprisingly, Officer Bob is equally as excited (about babysitting for the poop eating kids).

Gunther Gab: Yabba Dabba Doo!

The announcement has been made!

Gunther is..........A GIRL!

That's right. CareBear and Titty Baby will be the loving parents of a bow bearing, tutu twirling, pink powdered little darling. Wait a second.....this is Titty Baby's child we're talking about. Maybe I should say that CareBear and Titty Baby will be the loving parents of a camo wearing, deer hunting, lunchbox chugging little gal. Nevertheless.....it is so sweet to see the rays of excitement bursting from the happy couple.

Here is the exact report I got at dinner tonight.

"The doctor says she is a very healthy girl. Her heart beat was 135. However, she is measuring a little bigger than she should be. Her legs are looking like she is going to be tall. She has a larger than normal head and REALLY big feet."

This got me and Grand Puba  to thinkin'...................

The only thing missing?

Their very own Pebbles.

And soon that dream will come true! And I am MORE than excited for this fabulous couple. No one is more deserving of such a special gift than these two.

Congrats Titty Baby and CareBear!

I can already picture the scene in the delivery room.

When Did I Become An Adult?!

I hate to report that I've been a little down in the dumps lately. The Big Boca Bob family has been dealt some hard hits in the recent weeks, and it's been a struggle to wake up with a smile on my face - which if you ask any of my former roommates, I am annoyingly good at.  We could sure use any of your extra prayers, if you could spare a few.

There are many things in life I don't understand, and several of those questions will forever remain unanswered. This bothers me as I am one who fights for that closure. I try so hard (don't ask me why) to end all aspects of my life with a period (I'm speaking grammar here people, NOT menstruation). And right now I am living one big run-on sentence with LOTS of commas. God must NOT have been an English major. This coming Monday, I will be turning the big 2-5. That is a quarter of a century. And that is also another comma. YIKES. 

Year 24 was very good to me. In that year, I graduated with a M.S. degree in a field that I absolutely love (a bucket list item achieved). I found TWO great jobs in an economy that is currently refusing that right to many people. I purchased my very own home in which I live with the man I am hoping to spend the rest of my life with (ring pending). I rescued another hairy, annoying, four-legged, crack-smoking child that completed my little family of four. I have been witness to the growth and maturity of my siblings, and I have been witness to many historically proud moments for the U.S. of A. I am blessed. I know this. I thank God for every day given to me during my 24th year, and I can only hope that year 25 is just as giving.

However, 25 is not starting on the right foot and I am frightened for what lies ahead. I am a channeler of my emotions. I need an outlet. For many years, that outlet was music (which still sometimes works). More recently that outlet has been running (crazy concept, I know). And now that outlet has become list-making. I have made MANY lists over the last couple of days. Grocery lists (specifically for a fabulous Cinco de Mayo fiesta at Casa de Bob), checklists (for daily items that sometimes get left out), training lists (of miles to be ran if I ever want to accomplish an important goal, and lastly (and completely out of character for me) a bucket list. I realize that 25 is still extremely young in the realm of life. I am still a teen when it comes to life's biggest moments.  BUT, after watching my family continuously struggle to remain a family, I  do realize that turning 25 makes me another year older. Another year checked off another list. Therefore, with commas constantly being thrown into my life, I have decided to start creating my own periods. No.....not periods. More like exclamation points. In the mind of this very young 25 year old, every item checked off that list is a period. An accomplishment. An ending to a dream.

So......here it is. The bucket list. In no particular order.

1. Cross the Atlantic Ocean to visit another country.
2. Go skydiving.
3. Be debt free.
4. Get married.
5. Have my father walk me down the aisle.
6. Become a homeowner.
7. Become fluent in Spanish.
8. Get my motorcycle license.
9. Buy a Harley.
10. Run a marathon.
11. Attend a Super Bowl.
12. Learn how to solve a Rubix Cube.
13. Perform an original song on stage with all of my siblings.
14. Become a Mother
15. Find a hobby that Officer Bob and I can enjoy doing together and actually do it at least once a month for a year.
16. Go bungee jumping.
17. Visit Las Vegas.
18. Be an extra in a movie.
19. Earn an M.S. degree.
20. Go on a cruise.
21. Ride a tandem bike with Officer Bob.
22. Retire.
23. Schedule and attend a girls getaway every year.
24. Help a stranger in need.
25. Sleep under the stars.
26. Get up early to watch the sun rise with my best friends.
27. Walk the stairs to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
28. Bench press my own weight.
29. Fall in love.
30. Attend a Broadway show.
31. Write a letter to someone famous and have them write one back.
32. Bike a century (100 miles in one day)
33. Watch all my siblings graduate from high school.
34. Lose 30 more pounds to reach my goal weight.
35. Accept my own body.
36. Sit in the front row at a music concert.
37. Learn to drive stick shift.
38. Help someone else fulfill a bucket list dream.
39. Get a tattoo.
40. Eat at an underwater restaurant.
41. Organize a fundraiser for a charity I am passionate about.
42. Get a piercing.
43. See my dad be truly happy for a day.
44. Attend a destination wedding.
45. Start my own successful business.
46. Get matching sibling tattoos with the crew I call family.

I have taken the pleasure of crossing off a few items already accomplished! Now THAT does make me smile. The list will only continue to grow, but just recognizing my own dreams gives me hope for years 25 through ??.

After all.............

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.

It's about learning to dance in the rain!

The ONLY Reason I Would Miss My Chance at Conquering the Half Marathon

Before you hear conflicting reports, I would like to give you my statement.

This is how it all happened........

I have been training for the dreaded race for three months. THREE MONTHS! I am only 25 years old. I rarely commit to anything for three months.

However, the dreaded race fell on the same weekend as the 2011 production of the dancing sisters.

I was not worried. I thought I could handle it all.

I thought wrong.

One week prior to running this dreaded race, I found out that after performing in the dance production and commuting to the dreaded race, I would arrive in Champaign at approximately 3:30am. Alarm time for morning of dreaded race? 5:00am.  I wasn't even sure I could run 13.1 miles in the first place. Let alone attempt the dreaded run on 1.5 hours of sleep. Unfortunately, this meant I would have to withdraw from the dreaded race. Keep in mind.....THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME A QUITTER as mentioned by many friends and family. I am a MexiCAN not a MexiCAN'T. I promise you that marathon training is still in full effect. Race Date: October 9th. Please keep checking for ridiculous running updates as I reconsider this choice every day up until then.

Good news! My bib number still saw the finish line. The husband of my friend stepped in at the last minute. After some 007 work on the bib, Jesse became Mario and I couldn't thank him enough for stepping in at the last minute without training. I owe him many many drinks. The text message from him the night before the dreaded race read:

"YOU SUCK! I hope your Mexican clogging goes terribly!"

Well, Mario.....I hate to tell you, but the Mexican clogging went fabulously!

If the following pictures can provide any sort of preview, the ONLY reason I would give up running the dreaded race would be to completely embarrass myself on stage with Dancing Queen in her final show.

You see......I wasn't just goofing off! Dancing is serious business! Without further ado....I give you the final performance of Dancing Queen and Big Boca Bob. (I am officially retiring! - I'm WAY too old for this crap!)

P.S. Keep in mind that ALMOST all falls were intentional. I purposely choreograph those in so when my inability to breathe takes over, I can collapse without losing my dignity. Start the video at 1:38 to avoid the blabbering of the MC.

I apologize for my absence at the dreaded race, but I am thankful for all opportunities to spend quality time with Dancing Queen doing what she does best. She, of course, stole the show and I leave you with photographic proof that this girl is a shining star.

Reader Poll - Mature Audience Only

WARNING: Blog post contains explicit content (nudity).
May not be suitable for children. Parental discretion is advised.

POLL QUESTION:  Is this normal?!

Dog #1:   GILBERT

Dog #2:   REGGIE

This can't be comfortable, right?!


Waking up to the sight of dog genitalia makes me slightly uncomfortable and causes uncontrollable giggling. I am immature. I should have watched more rated R movies as a child. Maybe I would have been better prepared for situations like this. I am now taking any suggestions/tips on how to alter the sleeping habits of my four-legged children.

Thank You.

Dogs Shut Up When You Bark Back

So after a hard day's work at the new job (by the way....I started a new job), I came home to a sink full of dishes, a white tile floor COVERED in muddy paw prints, and a few (about 50) loads of laundry that I let pile up over the past week to be done. When this happens, I usually prioritize. Obviously, only one household chore can be done in a day. Many people think that due to my heritage I have some inherent want to clean, dust, sweep, etc. Ask Officer Bob. This is a lie. After an internal debate (a little bit of eenie meenie miney moe) I landed on dishes. The easiest of the three. Gimme a break. It was my third day on the job and the state inspector showed up. I think that picking the easiest of three chores upon returning home was a step up from my usual habit of consuming an entire bottle of Kahlua.  I will take the time now to tell you that everything you have read thus far is completely irrelevant. I give you the right to click that little red x in the upper right hand corner of your browsing window now to avoid completely wasting another 2 minutes of your life.

If you are still reading........all the previously stated was written to simply inform you that I was tired after this particular day. Not just tired, but HELLA tired. So.....at 9:00pm, I, the 25 year old going on 65 went to bed. I shut my eyes, rolled over, counted goats, rolled over, covered my face with three pillows, and finally, 20 minutes later decided that maybe my body wasn't quite as ready as my mind for sleepy time. This is where this story gets pretty ridiculous. I think I blacked out or something (and there wasn't even any Kahlua involved!)

I got up.
Walked to my dresser.
Put on my running clothes.
Laced up my totally rad running shoes (thanks to Officer Bob)
Strapped on my GPS watch and reflective vest (no comments necessary)
And walked outside.

By the time I was standing in the cold, rainy weather it was too late to retract this decision. And so, I channeled my inner Forrest Gump, and I ran.

And ran.

And got barked at by EVERY flippin dog in this small town.

And ran.

And actually convinced myself that wearing a reflective vest made me an athlete.

And ran.

And looked down at my watch to see I was passing mile 10.

And ran.

And thought to myself that a Mexican runnin' around a small town at 11:00 at night might be slightly suspicious.

And ran.

And cussed.....ALOT. At myself. I honestly can not tell you what happened to me.

And ran.

And totally jammed out to Journey, singing loudly, and making the flippin dogs bark even louder.

And ran.

And looked down at my watch to see the numbers 13.7.

So I stopped.

13.7

As in miles.

End Time?  11:53pm.

(And for all you runners out there (I'm talking to you El Aguila), I realize this time is slow. I get it. But the number to focus on in this manner is 13.7. Miles. That I ran.)

And then?

I was tired.

So I went to bed.

P.S. In case you are wondering, I already ordered a CT scan and set up an appointment with the best psychologist in town. I'm sick. I need help.

Gonna Lay Ya Down By The Fiyah!

If you plan to visit my household within the next ten to fifteen years, please do not dress like an African-American chef. I realize this is quite a demanding request as I personally don't leave the house without my chef hat and chocolate face paint, BUT please do your best to abide by this rule.

Officer Bob has trained my poor dog to be sincerely frightened of all members of the culinary profession. I sincerely apologize to all chefs, bakers, former elementary school cafeteria workers, and the like.

P.S. Officer Bob owned this lovely figurine prior to our house purchase. It will NOT be displayed in the kitchen as requested.

P.S.S. Just add this video to the long list of ridiculous things that keep me entertained. I need to get a life.

If The Mrs. Told You To Jump Off A Bridge, Would You?

I am:  Chicana (aka Mexican-American for all you gringos out there).

I want:  my kids to be bilingual.

I have:  two tattoos and I only regret one of them.

I wish:   for peace of mind.

I hate:  when people take 11 items to the 10 items or less express lane at the grocery store.

I fear:   not living up to people's expectations.

I hear:   my dog chewing on the carpet and I'm too lazy to get up so I just repeatedly scream his name thinking eventually he will just stop.  

I search:   for that one damn missing sock with which the dryer taunts me.

I wonder:  why there are so many different kinds of mustard, but only one kind of ketchup.

I regret:   that I can't answer this with "nothing"

I love:  the smell of freshly cut grass. (please keep racial comments to yourself.)

I ache:  after a really good workout. (and I admit: that I sometimes like it)

I always:   enjoy proving El Aguila wrong.

I usually:   prove El Aguila wrong.

I am not:   African-American. (a question asked often)

I dance:  like Beyonce. No really....in my mind I think I do.

I sing:  a little less like Beyonce.

I never:   turn down free beer.

I sometimes:   turn down free whiskey.

I cry:   when my car catches on fire with every single piece of jewelry I own inside.  

I lose:   my mind trying to lose weight.

I am grateful:   for great people with which to share this crazy thing called life.

I need:   suggestions for a good book to read as I now have more free time to do so.

I should:   spend that free time instead cleaning the house or training for that dreaded race coming up in three weeks.


You're next . . . Laura, Erica, and anyone with absolutely nothing better to do on a Sunday night.

Gunther Gab: Week 15 Update

SPECIAL REPORT: Gunther has officially matured from a lemon to an orange!

ACTUAL SONOGRAM PHOTOS





It is safe to say that one can pretty easily tell that CareBear is pregnant now! It depresses me knowing that I will never look as cute as she does when I decide to bear my own children. At 40 weeks, she might actally reach the same size as my right thigh (the bigger of the two). Must be rough.

Only 25 weeks to go......

Gunther is growing at an amazing rate and looking more like a human every day. Because Gunther's skin is so thin, you are able to see blood vessels through the skin. Lanugo hair covers the baby's body (just like Daddy!), but it will be gone when Gunther is born.  The hair on the eyebrows and head continues to grow. Gunther is also now able to suck his/her thumb. Even though the eyes continue to move to the front of the face, they are still widely separated.  Gunther's ears look like normal ears and continue to develop externally. The bones that have already formed continue to get harder and retain calcium. Gunther is very mobile and flexible at this point. He/she can bend the arms at the elbows and wrists and can also make a fist with his/her hands.

Also.....if the actual sonogram pictures above provide accurate representation, I believe lemon baby Gunther is a boy and there is no question that orange baby Gunther is the offspring of Titty Baby. But then again, you can't really trust hospital technology these days.

We're Not Exactly What You Would Call "Huggers"

Day: Friday, April 1st 2011

Time: 12:30 p.m.

Setting: Mama Dirt's Hospital Room

Text Message Sent To Huracan Ramirez and El Aguila:
"Mom had surgery. They had to remove her gallbladder."

Actual Responses (via text message):

Huracan Ramirez: "Sweet Baby Jesus"

El Aguila: "Damn. Does she get to keep it in a jar? I wanted to name it."

For those of you who actually care more about her welfare than her very own sons, Mama Dirt is recovering from surgery well. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

Reason #38 I Better Get More Than The Boys In The Will