Tuesday, December 14, 2010

*tap tap* Is this thing on?

So, I haven't written a blog in like, I don't know, half a century and now I am about to write a whiny one.


I'm sure you're so pleased.


Get over it.  =) 

This can't possibly be worse than reading about the political spectrum, the newest tax hike, football player foul up or the newest antics of those Kardashian airheads...  Well... If it is, then I apologize in advance and I'm worse off than I thought.

Today was a hard day.  Well, it's been a hard few weeks.  But, that's not what I'm writing about.

Wait, what am I writing about?  Oh yeah, I'm whining.  Let me get back to it then.

My top 'whines' are:

1. Change.  It's HARD.  Especially for me, a control freak, who likes to play God and position everything in my life just as I like it.  It's so easy for me to have faith when I can see where I am headed or have some grand scheme in mind as I play the chess pieces of my life.  Can I get a "Leave it to Beaver" Mrs. Cleaver reprieve??  No?  OK... Sigh.  FINE! We have a lot of changes coming to the surface in our life right now.  And, don't get me wrong, I can SEE with my control-freaky eyes that these changes are going to be GOOD and that they come from God.  But, what I'm finding is that there are good days where my faith is buoyant and I can rise above the swells of fear and unbelief and then, like today, sometimes there's a need to scrape myself off the floor of despair (with a pampered chef spatula) and pour myself back into some form of faith.  At times that faith is as small as this ( . ) but apparently that's all we need.  I'm believing God.  He is who He says He is.  (My daily mantra)

2. Parenting.  THE HARDEST JOB EVER!  We are in a new phase of parenting.  I don't know what to do with myself.  I'm not ready for this.  Can I lock myself in a closet till they are 45?  No...  right.  That would be weird and totally not ok for me to do... right?  Right.  Ok, moving on.  I feel totally unprepared and a little isolated in this stage of the game.  I NEED a new plan.  The plan that worked when my kids were 0-5 years old is not working anymore.  I find that the older my kids are getting, the more worried I am about them, the more prayers I throw up to ceiling about them, my heart breaks more frequently over them, and I find myself willing the world to slow down and stop spinning so fast so I can enjoy this time and catch a breath with them.  And this is where I'm slowly losing sanity.  I'm thinking of connecting a group of ladies with kids in the same age ranges as my own (6 - 10) and starting an online "support" group.  We could share tactics, prayers, worries, key moments, fresh tools and our own battle worn experience.  Its essential that we share and help each other.  And BOY could I use some fresh perspective right now with my kids.  Thoughts? 

(I'm noticing a pattern with the CAPS key in this post...)

3. Bullies.  This should go under 'whine' #2 but I feel it deserves its own number.  I ABHOR bullies.  Kids/teens/adults that feel like they have the right to pick on someone about the way they look, talk, walk, eat, laugh, or do anything else should be taken out and spanked.  I don't care if you're 92 years old.  If you have such a warped spirit towards others you need a paddle taken to your behind.  T came home today with a note from his teacher that he had gotten a talking to in class about speaking out of turn and acting like a clown.  When I asked him about it, this little tiny voice came out of his normally bold mouth and said, "I was trying to make them laugh and forget about teasing me..."  With a little further prompting, it was discovered that three kids in his class have been whispering about him and teasing him openly in front of his class mates.  About his clothes (which I buy, so I know they are hip), the way he walks (?), and his big eyes (My son is THE handsomest boy in his class.  Really.  I would say so even if I WASN'T his mom.) I wanted to go Kung-Fu panda on these kids and to swoop in and wash their mouths out with soap. I refrained.  Instead, I watched my little boy cry while he told me about it and felt my heart get ripped out and stomped on by some degenerate little 4th grade punks in the second row of room #71 who probably watch MTV and kick puppies for fun. We prayed about it and I gave a sermon on the mount about lies from satan, garbage, knowing who we are, confidence, num-chucks and pepper spray (well, something like that) and T walked away feeling a little better.  I, on the other hand, immediately went and vigorously vacuumed the living room to release some steam.  It didn't work that well (although I was able to get the glitter out of that one spot on the carpet.)  This is going to require some extra fervent prayers and I will definitely have to work on teaching my son how to 'pray for his enemies'.  I'll have to practice for a little while first.   *Ahem

#4. Christmas.  I LOVE Christmas.  I do.  Truly.  I can't wait till July when I have permission from my husband to listen to Christmas music for one day.  Or walk through Hobby Lobby's big "Christmas in July" sale and buy stuff for the upcoming season.  I couldn't wait for Christmas to get here.  I lobbied and picketed for the right to put my Christmas tree up in the middle of November (I lost that battle. Mr. Scrooge promptly saw to that) I lit my Balsam Tree Candle in October and put a bunch of candles around one of my little potted plants to pretend it was a real Christmas tree (ok, I didn't, but I did THINK about doing it).  So, will someone please tell me WHY now that Christmas is almost here and all my festive items are out, the house is bedecked, the crooners are singing away about "Silent Nights' and 'Winter Wonderlands' and I don't feel anything??  Not even a spark of Christmas spirit.  None.  NADA.  Zilch.  I really didn't want to put that out there, I'm afraid I am going to get a lump of coal in my stocking (Or reindeer poop on my pillow).  What in the world is the matter with me? I'm praying and meditating on the Advent and birth of Christ (so as not to get lost in commercialism and materialism) and I can't muster it up.  All those great Christmas crafts I saved in my 'inspiration' folder are just sitting there.  I feel like I'm messing Christmas up for my kids.  I am Ebenezer Scrooges Great Grandmother.  (BTW Don't let your kid watch the new Christmas Carol.  It scared ME so bad I almost peed).  What do you do to get in the Christmas spirit?

#5.  Super Moms.  Oh, you know who I am talking about.  THOSE moms who manage to find time to press their designer duds, manicure their hang-nail free fingertips, take their kids to ballet, football, art-classes, band class, soccer practice, violin practice, piano practice, pottery class, kazoo class, weaving class, finger painting class...  AND still find time to shave their legs.  I don't get it.  I got so busy two weeks ago that laundry piled up and I didn't even notice until my little boy said, "Mom, I really don't have any clean underwear."  You KNOW that's a bad sign coming from a little boy who will wear them inside out to get more wear out of them.  I even forgot to shave my legs until I noticed my jeans were all tented up from the hair poking up and out in the inside leg.  Goodness.  It's a wonder my husband finds me the least bit attractive.  I follow a few blogs (now, don't go looking through them to find out who I am talking about) where these ladies just post the most delightful things, the cleanest rooms, the most sparkling floors, and their latest 15 hour intricate paint by numbers project.  I look at their life and instantly compare mine to theirs and that makes me MAD. I want to throw my computer onto my floor and stomp on it (until I realize that doing so would mean I would have MORE mopping to do.)   I don't want to read a blog about how perfect your life is.  I want to hear the blood and guts and how you're going to lose your mind if one more rice crispie ends up smashed in your sheets or how you got bearded dragon poop stains out of your sons shirt (True story - try dawn dish soap with a little bit of bleach).  I don't want to read about Barbie and Ken in the Mattel mansion.  It's at the point where only truth will do for me.  Fake people creep me out. 

Wheww...  Well, since there were no pictures in this post I'm not even sure if you made it this far.  But, it felt good to cry, laugh, joke and purge.  I need to be more honest in my life and situations.

So if you made it to this line.  Thanks for reading.  I promise I won't wait so long next time and explode all over your google reader.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Mastering Time

Have you ever struggled with one thing?  Every day? Your whole life? 

I struggle with time. 

Time has mastered me.  I, however, have not mastered time. 

This has been a constant source of disgruntlement for me.  And, since I married the man who is late if he's on time... well...  you get the picture. 

It's a character flaw.  My dear sweet hubby pointed this out to me.  Wow.  I'm already known for being hard on myself, and having a "flaw" pointed out by the man who knows and loves me most...  Well, it hurt.  Like spikes through the heart, poking out your designer t-shirt, hurt.  What miffed me more was, it was true. Its been chafing at me since.

Growing up, my parents were very lax with disciplines, boundaries, expectations and most everything else.  They vacillated between being too lax or too stringent.  Once I remember getting "grounded till Jesus comes" and my prior non existent curfew was set for 7:30 pm (on a Friday no less). I was 16 - this was excruciating.  There weren't very many consistent rules in my home.  As I got older, I vowed that I wouldn't make the "mistakes" that my parents did, or parent in the same way.  I was determined that I wouldn't be a product of my environment.

I'm a grown up now - I must take responsibility for my actions.

Fast forward to today and I am a parent myself.  A young parent no less.  I have been striving to raise my kids in a climate that would be opposite of what I was raised in.  In some areas I've excelled and others... well, lets just say I'm breaking habits.  And God is bringing a lot of residue to the surface that needs to be dealt with.  One of these areas is my lack of discipline with time management. 

I'm smart enough to know being late for work is a no-no.  And my kids weren't late to school one time last year (no kidding!).  So, I got those down...  But... anything else?  I can be counted on to be exactly 5-7 minutes late.  Fashionable? Maybe.  Rude? YES!  And the worst part - I KNOW it.  Ugh.

Example: Sunday mornings I will go through the list of what I need to do to get ready as I lay there hitting my snooze.  As I pound the snooze every 10 minutes, I cross something off that list.  5:55 am - Well, I won't curl my hair today.  6:05 am - Ok, I'll wear the shirt that doesn't need to be ironed. 6:15 am - I'll just throw my hair back in a pony tail.  6:25 am - CRAP!   Rush Rush Rush - fly out the door to my family waiting in the car as they watch me hobble with one shoe on, carrying the other shoe in my hand that is clasping a bracelet on my wrist, and buttoning my shirt, all at the same time. It's a bad example.

When I get in the car, 6.45 minutes behind schedule, I enter into the realm of silence.  Nate gives me one disparaging look that says, "You're killing me Smalls. Really."

Want to hear a funny story?  Well, it's funny now.  At the moment it was anything but.

Enter the fairly newly married couple with a newborn baby boy. 

One Sunday morning, as the Wife is racing around to get ready, (after hitting said snooze button multiple times) the Husband decides that he is tired of waiting, and doesn't want to be as late as the Wife is going to make him.  So he hollers up the stairs.  "I'm leaving... see you there!"  The Wife, in her panic to hurry, is in her walk in closet when the Husband says this, and doesn't hear him leave.  True to form, about 7 minutes later, the Wife appears, frantic and harried, but clothed and semi decent, to discover an empty house.  The Wife immediately starts muttering under her breath and stomping around.  Tucking the baby boy into his car seat and nestling his car seat in the back seat of the Expedition, the Wife slams the door, still muttering. 

Now, the fairly newly married couple lived quite a ways from their church, and had to travel a relatively long distance via the highway.  As the Wife guns the gas and merges onto the highway, she notices that in her haste to leave, she left her cell phone at home.  Nice.  The ride is uneventful for a few miles.  That is, until the car started to shudder and quake.  The Wife looks down at her gas gauge as the car gives one final quiver and shuts off.  Out of gas.  On the Highway. Late for Church.  This is the exact moment that precious baby boy wakes up and begins to wail.  At this point, the Wife is snarling mutiny at the Husband (even though she knows she is the one who was late). 

The Wife sits on the side of the highway as cars go zipping down the lanes for about 30 minutes, when she sees flashing lights behind her.  The Wife promptly bursts into tears, rolls down her window and pours her tardy story out to the officer who comes to her rescue.  AAA is called and 45 minutes from start to finish, the Wife gets back on the road and continues her trek. 

While this is going on, unbeknownst to the Husband, he is sitting on the platform, scanning the congregation for the Wife.  He begins to get nervous and slightly worried.  The double doors in the back of the sanctuary burst wide open.  The Wife, hauling a carseat on her hip, diaper bag on her shoulder, hair askew, and eyes swollen, walks in extreme vexation to a seat nearest the back.  The Husband, who knows by now, something bad happened when he left the Wife, feels a storm cloud coming on.  He fervently starts praying...

HA!  Did I learn my lesson?  No... unfortunately, I have made my family late many times since that day.  You'd think I'd get it together.  I'm smart, creative, funny (have I mentioned funny?), polite (mostly) and know better. 

One of my desires is to wake up early.  Church days and non church days.  I need that time alone, house quiet, Word in hand, mind clear, before the bedlam of the day begins.  You know that scripture "The Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."? 

I am a weaksauce snooze button hitting lady

It's time for change. 

So, let this stand as my accountability post. 

I, Janelle Hyatt, a chronically late, hurried, rushed, and stressed mother of two, wife to a prompt man, hereby do solemnly declare that I am going to manage my time better.  I will do my best to get my booty out of bed when the alarm goes off WITHOUT a snooze respite.  I will be a master of my time.  I choose this day to respect the time of those around me.  I will set an example to my children that they can be proud to follow. I will conquer this.

I'm going to try anyways... 

Who's with me?

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Can you hear that?...


Do you hear that? 

The sound of the washer running, the dishwasher rinsing, the floors sparkling and the clean clothes happily folded and put away for the day?? 

It's the sound of the first day of school. 

This summer was a LONG one and a HOT one.  Long and hot days = extreme boredom = restlessness = bickering kids = time out = stressed mom = extra guilt imposed on self by said stressed mom = loong day(s). 

This was, looking back, the most uneventful and somewhat disappointing summer we've had so far.  I'm glad its over, and glad to look forward to cooler days and a schedule.

Wow, I sound like a pessimist.  I'm not. Well, not always anyways.

The plans we had for the summer all went down the toilet after receiving Madeleine's hospital bill (You may remember this post about Maddie getting stung by a scorpion).  We received the bill a few weeks later, and after we had picked up our eye balls from the floor and popped them back in, we had to cancel all plans made for the summer. Ugh.  Frustrating.

So, we stayed home, swam a lot, sweated a lot and had many introspective discoveries this summer.

Some things we discovered were

-kids can start picking on one another as soon as they get out of bed
-Jalepenos are a really good tactic for talking back/sassing/tattling/mean words.  Don't worry, I just rubbed a little piece on a tongue and gave a sermonette about the tongue being the most powerful member of our body. It worked for a few days. If needed, you can just rub and repeat.
-Swimming is a great activity and it's FREE
-Money is stressful. period. enough said.
-There is no possible way for a house to stay clean during summer vacation. IMPOSSIBLE.
-If your children feed a stray cat to get the reward from the neighborhood signs, and the owner ends up being a "no-show" doesn't mean that you get a free cat.  You get a free pest, complete with cat hair. Though it is nice to have a little purring machine sit on your feet while you blog.
-Don't mention the "pound" "Humane Society" in front of your kids regarding the afore mentioned feline. 
-Mint grows like crazy and chokes out all the other herbs you may have planted around it. But is great in lemonade and served with homemade peach sorbet.
-In AZ there is indeed such a thing as butt body water.  I've had sweat in places I never knew about.
-Eating Popsicle's in front of an air conditioner vent and giggling with your kids is timeless entertainment.
-Sometimes God tests you in ways that seem so irritating, but are SO necessary.
-Guilt is never the way to change yourself.
-You can be too hard on yourself (Thanks for the straight words Andrea) Show yourself some grace, you're only human after all.
-Dr. Neil Anderson's book "Freedom from Fear" is a must read.
-When your kids love learning it changes every stigma about school.
-Kids are the best spiritual mirror a parent can have - Good Lord, I have been convicted this summer.
-Mac N Cheese is NOT healthy in any way shape or form... 
-It's lovely when family comes to visit and it's lovely when they leave.
-God is much bigger than a church and can blow your mind in your own living room
-I may have snuck a Starbucks coffee 6x once or twice this summer
-Budgets stink, but are totally necessary (see above)
-Music soothes the savage beast
-My kids are now having a love affair with 'The Golden Oldies" and are known to walk around singing "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife..." and "Yakkity yak - Don't talk back!".
-The library reading program can save your summer.
-Discovering how to be content in what ever state you may be in is a tough test, and once I accomplish that I'll let you know.  In the meantime, I will pray for grace and my 'tude every day. 


The list could go on... and on... and on...

So, I'll stop. 

Oh, one thing I did learn this summer was how to give myself a pedicure (budget again) and do a home facial.

Here was my favorite facial I found over the summer.  My face felt firm and glowed like a light bulb afterwards. Jane Austen would liken it to "incandescence" but I liken it to a light bulb.  Humph.  =)

Asprin Facial

4-6 uncoated asprin tablets
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp honey

(Still taking photos on my iphone - whose lens is smudged - obviously!) WHOOPS!

Place your asprin tablets in a smidge of water - just enough to dissolve them completely but not cover them.
Stir in baking soda and dash of honey. Stir up and let get all foamy. Rub gently onto face (avoid nostrils and eyes) and allow to "set" for 10-15 minutes.  Rinse thoroughly. Voila!  A shiney, clean, soft and firm face. 

Let me know if you try it!

Happy end of summer all!

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


My mom passed away 6 years ago.  It's been a long time, but yet, it feels like yesterday. 

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking, "I need to call Mom and ask her..."  or "Mom will think this is..." or "I miss..." and then I remember - She's gone. 

Tomorrow marks the day that my life changed forever and the relationship that was budding and growing came to a halt.  I can't help but feel regret at losing her at such a young age, but I also understand that she is in a better place. 

Recently, I also see evidence of my mom in my life and in my daughter, who never even knew her Grammy.

For lack of better words right now, I'm going to do a re-post that I wrote about my mom in February.

Our Little Angel

Out of the blue today, while M was sitting at our kitchen table, surrounded by crayons and craft paper, enjoying her snack, she piped up in her little voice, "I think I've seen your Mom and Dad before Mommy..."

Now, understand, we see my Dad, "Poppa" every year or two. We last saw him when we lived in Stockton. So May of 2008 - Madeleine would have been 5 years old. I was suprised when Madeleine seemed to remember him, and asked when we were going to see "Poppa" again. (Hopefully soon!)

And then she said, "Well, I've seen your Mommy too"...

My Mom died of stomach cancer when I was 5 months pregnant with M.

I softly and gently explained that wasn't possible because Grammy went to heaven when M was in my tummy.

M tilted her head to the side, and paused in contemplation for a moment, and then stated, "No Mom! I've seen her. Sometimes, when I'm sleeping she stops by to tell me "Hello".


I'll never forget it - The morning my Mom passed away, she made a point to call each of her kids.

I remember my phone ringing at 6am and seeing on my caller ID that it was my sisters number (my mom chose to stay at my sisters home with the help of Hospice rather than a hospital) and all of a sudden I could hear my heartbeat - a slow, irregular, dreadful pumping with a roaring thundering in my ears.

I answered with a hasty "Hello?"

It was my mom, feeble voiced but on a mission.

I had to strain to hear her words - she seemed hard pressed to finish some sentences, so some of those words that were in her heart never made it to my ears...

But I knew. I knew what she was saying.

She was whispering her goodbyes.

I wish I could recall with clarity everything that was said on that brief phone call. I wish I would have had the foresight to grab a pad of paper and scribble everything down. But I didn't...

I wouldn't understand the magnitude that her passing would have on my life until months, even years later.

This was my first time losing someone I loved.

I listened, crouching on the floor by the corner of my bed, hand pressed to my mouth, trying to contain my emotions.

I don't think I said much.

The beginnings of our conversation are blurred forever, try as I might, I can't recall them,

But this much I remember, My mom, the woman that I loved more than any one person in my life,the one who gave me life, who taught me how to walk and talk, and who prayed incessently over me, the woman, who as a teenager, I battled against, cared for, rolled my eyes at, and silently cursed sometimes

apologized to me....

She said, "I'm sorry if I ever let you down. I'm sorry if I wasn't a good mom to you at times... I love you Janelle and I am so glad you are my daughter and that I got to be your Mom. I love you."

I was horrified! The last conversation with my mom and I didn't expect an apology. I didn't need one.

Hurriedly, I pushed aside her words "No Mom, no apologies. I love you and you were a great mother to me. I love you so much."

Silence on the other end.

I felt sick...

"Mom? Are you still there?"

"Kiss my new granddaughter for me. I wish I could see her..."


That was it. The last conversation I would ever have with the single most important woman in my life. I tried to hit redial but the line was busy.

She was calling my brothers...

I tried the number again, desperate this time. I had so much more to say to her.

Busy... Beep beep beep...

I laid on the floor, and cried.

Beep, beep, beep...

No answer.

I called my husband who had worked the night shift that particular day. He was due home in a few hours.

"I think I just had my last conversation with my mom.. Today is the day - please come home."


I don't remember how long I laid on the floor before I heard T stirring. I heard him in his crib, laughing and babbling, banging something against the railings (trying to get my attention no doubt), and I let him stay there.

I laid with my face buried in the carpet, weeping.

Grieving for moments remembered and moments to come that would now be short one special lady.

Finally, I knew T was getting fussy, I went in and opened the door to the nursery. His little blonde face peering through the rails at me, dimpled mouth all wreathed in smiles "Mamma-mama!"

I picked him up, made a bottle and rocked him for a while, thinking of my mom, with tears streaming down my face, his chubby hand pressed in the crook of my neck.

She passed away a few hours later.

My sister, Kim, was there with her when she passed. Reading her Psalms and singing to her. I am so thankful that Kim was there with my mom when she made the transition into the eternal.

We found out a month after my mother passed that we were expecting a baby girl.

So for M to tell me that Grammy stops in to tell her "Hello" every once in a while...


I believe in God. I believe in angels and I believe in heaven.

Do you?

T and Grammy 3 days before she passed.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Ode to Proverbs 31

The past few days have worn me out... like "face first in the carpet, X's on my eyes, tongue lolling to the side, salivia on my chin" worn out.

I've been really feeling like I need to be more of a Proverbs 31 mom/wife. So, in my morning devotions last week I committed to really studying that particular passage of study and try to live it out the best I could.

It's been a hurculean task...

So here is my own personal ode to the Proverbs 31 woman... please enjoy.

'Hymn to a Good Wife' Proverbs 31:10-31

A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. Her husband trusts her without reserve, and never has reason to regret it.  ---My husband gave me the grocery budget money in cash this pay period. I lost $40 of it (I'm praying that its in the pocket of my jeans that are currently in the washer...). I also spent some of the grocery budget on new mascara, candles and a venti Starbucks. Had to ask my husband to 'spot' me $30. He wasn't too happy about that...

Never spiteful, she treats him generously all her life long. ---When we had our last argument discussion I may have contemplated using his toothbrush to clean the toilet. But, taking a cue from the verse, generously, I refrained.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing. ---I start my sewing classes in May and this is the picture I am taking to my teacher. Have I mentioned how twitterpated I am to learn how to sew?

She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places and brings back exotic surprises. ---I have yet to attempt this one... I can barely go to Target unscathed. Does drinking SB Sumatra coffee count as exotic? Ohh, I know! Those candles I bought were a surprise (Right honey?)... though not exactly an exotic one.

She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast for her family and organizing her day. ---I managed to wake up 5 minutes before the kids the other day. Does that matter? Today, our kids tiptoed in at the crack of dawn and proceeded to have a full fledged pillow fight with their unsuspecting victims. Mom and Dad were rudely jolted out of their slumber with repeated blows to the head. Also, I did write a "To-Do" list for the week. But.... I can't find it. When I do, I am sure that I will be VERY organized and my house will be in tip-top shape.

She looks over a field and buys it, then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden. ---Ok, Well I wish I HAD enough money to put aside. (Don't tell Dave Ramsey that though...) Last Saturday, the kids and I set up everything outside and planted flowers and vegatable seeds for several hours. This reverie came to a screeching halt when my kids started throwing clods of dirt at one another and I got hit in the face. And, if you MUST know, Dr. Kevorkian gave me free reign over plants. Which means everything green I touch instantly turns a mottled shade of brown.  However, I braved the death curse and planted a herb garden (I beg the basil every morning not to die). I'll let you know how the plants fare...

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. ---All my clothes are in the wash. So, this morning I dressed in yesterday's tshirt and a pair of too-tight sweatpants. I might actually still be wearing this ensemble...  Don't hate - I'm saving gallons of water by wearing clothes from yesterday... How GREEN of me!  (That's my excuse, hope I don't wear it out...)

She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. ---I'm determined to make every day count. It's unto me to show my children Jesus everyday and to put forth the effort of raising great kids. This is exhausting emotionally and physically. When the sun sets and the children are tucked in their beds, I am prostrate on the couch snoring within 10 minutes.

She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in homemaking. ---Ok, honestly, this is something that I like to do and am a self proclaimed "home maker". As my kids say, "I got this!" I may or may not have a layer of dust all around, piles of laundry, and be wearing yesterday's clothes, but my house feels like HOME and I know its a place that my family looks forward to coming back to.

She's quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor. ---I am feeling convicted in this area... How am I and my family showing Christ to the world? The lost? The hungry? The hurting? Sometimes the walls of our world are very small and we tend not to see others in need...

She doesn't worry about her family when it snows; their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear. ---Winter, winter, wherefore art thou?  It's been a buck eleven here in AZ the past few days and I'm melting...  Ack. As far as clothes being all mended and ready to wear? If only you would have seen the pile of laundry last week. For a few moments I seriously considered wrapping pillow cases around my family like loincloths as I washed their underwear. 

She makes her own clothing, and dresses in colorful linens and silks. ---If I made my own clothing, I would be wearing a potato sack with three arms and "no sew tacky tape" enclosures (that is, of course, untill I finish my sewing classes...).  I do love color in my wardrobe, but silk? Silk has been outlawed in my closet since the kiddos have been a part of my life.  I can't waste $4.25 on drycleaning - I'd much rather waste that on a cup of STRONG coffee... =)

Her husband is greatly respected when he deliberates with the city fathers. I love AND respect my husband. Even if at times I want to use his toothbrush to clean "unsantitary" areas of the house. =)))  He is my best friend and a big part of anything good I have going on in my life.

She designs gowns and sells them, brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops. Her clothes are well-made and elegant, and she always faces tomorrow with a smile. Well, you know by now that I am not a clothes maker. I'd rather shop sales or consignment - which reminds me - I have a large credit at a consigment shop... Hummm. I can face tomorrow with a smile because I am blessed. I love my family.  God is good to me.  Even when I wake up with lines in my face, drool dried on my cheek, and the sun barely peeking over the horizon when two muchkins decide its time to rise - I can still find a smile.  Give me a good gargle with some Listerine and it might even be a big smile. Give me a big fresh cup of coffee and I might even be as jolly as Ole Saint Nick (minus the un-housebroken reindeer and jelly belly).

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly. Ahhh, well, I have been known to speak my mind (Even when I shouldn't) and I MUST work on this. If Steve Jobs at Apple could invent a "Thought Pad" that would filter all my words and thoughts... I'd, well... I'd happily pawn my neighbors cat and that three armed sweater I made to buy one. My mind is a catch 22, I often get myself in trouble with sassy sarcasm and then on the flip side, often agree with others when I need to stand up and say what I'm really thinking. Maybe my mental filter is on backwards, or expired.  I must look into this. 

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive---It's summer time at the Hyatt house.  I believe I may have a touch of Aspergers as I have written out a detailed schedule of our days.  Some call this anal, I call it brilliant!  When my children get to whining over some point or another, I just point to our blessed list, and we commence with the next activity (Which may or may not include cleaning the toilets) If I lose this list, I may run the risk of losing my mind.  I also saw another brilliant idea - check it out if you have kids who are climbing your curtains with boredom - "The "MOM! I'm bored!!" jar

Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise:  ---Respect must be taught AND caught.  Every day, while I teach my wee ones to respect God, their neighbor (and the neighbors fat cat), figures of authority, animals, belongings, boundaries... ect. I am in turn teaching them to respect me.  That doesn't mean there aren't instances of time outs for sassiness (they get that from Nate's side of the family... HA!) and for disrespect, but again, it's that day to day consistency of respect.  (I heard a tip from a friend that she uses a drop of hot sauce on an offensive tongue...)  My husband is a blessing to me, on low days when I feel my back end is ballooning to the size of a small brontosaurus, or when a zit is threatening to overtake the whole area I used to call my forehead, or when my impetous mouth gets me in a sticky situation, or when my imperfections show in a myraid of other ways, he loves me. Nate feeds my heart with love, praise and affirmation...  Speaking of brontosaurus, I MUST put this pop tart down... yum...

"Many women have done wonderful things, but you've outclassed them all!"Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God. Give her the reward she has earned. Let everything she has done bring praise to her at the city gate. ---At the risk of confusing the Proverbs 31 woman with a stepford wife, I'm so thankful for this last verse.  It's not about perfection... It's not about expense... It's not about beauty or thin, cellulite free thighs... It's not about having a spotless home (though that would be great!)... Or about having the approval of everyone around you. It's about fearing, respecting, reverencing and LOVING our God. As Mary said when she found out she was pregnant, "Be it unto me, according to Your word."  I may spend the rest of my life, till my hair is grey, teeth are false, thankful to even have a working thigh (forget the thin, cellulite free part), working towards emmulating the Proverbs woman.  But, it's up to me, to keep at it every day... Raising my kids for God's kingdom and purpose, delevoping Christ like relationships with the hurting and wounded, keeping my marriage pure and fulfilled. 

I can't do it alone.  I need my Lord and His word. 

*This has been a life study from a "Janelle'isms Bible".

Oh, and... Madeleine decided to give herself a haircut...  sigh - what would the Proverbs woman do with this one?  Weave a carpet out of the shorn hair?

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

She's back!

Hello Blog Land! 

I have crawled out from under my rock and I'm back in the saddle again.  Didjah miss me?

I took some time away from my blog (and the many that I follow) to clear my head, get direction, and cut some static out of my life.

It was a "blogcation".

 My "Blogcation" started over a month ago, when I realized it was time to go get my kids from school and "WHAM" it hit me. I had spent the WHOLE of my day reading about other peoples lives. I wasn't engaging in my own. I was reading about these fabulous women who were doing and creating things in their life and I was sitting at my computer reading about it doing nothing about my own. Now, I don't normally spend a WHOLE day on google reader, but, I did start fudging with the amount of time I was spending on the computer and wasting time as a whole.

So, I "unplugged" and started really doing some mental soul searching.

What do I want to do? What am I good at?
What does God want me to do with the talents that He gave me?

I'm feeling a little more clearheaded and have a general direction for ME.
Not direction for my family, not my marriage, not my duties and ministries at church,
but direction for ME - Janelle Hyatt.

I have allowed who God created me to be individually to be swallowed up by life and circumstances and have become too ok with the thought of "Someday".
 I'm ready to make "someday I'll do ..." become "I am working on..."

I'll write more indepth when I get more than a few moments.

Well, for now I'm heading out out to puruse an antique market place - I'm on a decorating spree again (the inlaws are staying here for 2 weeks - what a motivator!)

I'll leave you with a song my 6 year old wrote and sang to me this morning...

"Good night sweetheart Mom"

You're the sweetest person I know
I wish I could kiss you now.
You're too pretty for your attitude.
I love you more than you love me
And that's ok!

I like everyway you speak
Youre the best in the world
And the flowers make you pop like daisys.

I wish you were true
You make my heart go crazy
Like the sun exploding.

I wish I had a dog, but that is ok
Because I love you anyway.
You make me special in everyway

You're the best in the world and that is ok.
You make the world a better place
Like when you're flying through the
Beauty blue sky.

I love you mom, but that is ok
But if you're always with me
Everything is ok.
Just if you're around you're always ok.

You get cranky, but that is ok.
Because if you're always around
I always love you.
You read me books everyone day.

I love you more than I love daisys and my bed.
I love you to pieces even more than my head.
Because if you're around everything is ok.

I love you mom, my love is full.
Because you're so sweet
You make my toys better.
If we had a dog, he'd lick you to pieces
And I'd laugh all the way home.

Thanks for my new bed and myself
But you are the best in the world
and I love that.
I am 6 and you are 28
But that is ok
Because we are the same.

Till we talk again my sweet friends!

Friday, April 9, 2010

Chicken Wraps with Mango, Basil and Mint: Mmmm, summer is here!

Ok, so summer is always here for us in AZ.  Neener Neener to all you East coasters. =) 

I thought I would share one of my favorite recipes with you that I discovered in Martha Stewarts magazine. She was in jail at the time, so maybe it was her long lost Aunt's recipe... Who knows, who cares? It's good!


Chicken Wraps with Mango, Basil and Mint


1 garlic clove
1/2 shallot
1/4 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves (Fresh from my herb garden! Hope I don't kill it this year)
1 teaspoon extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Freshly ground pepper
2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 12 ounces total)

1/2 shallot
1/2 mango, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
Pinch of cayenne pepper (I like extra spicey, so we add more individually)

4 lavash breads (3 1/2 ounces each)  (we normally use whole wheat tortillas or pitas)
1/2 mango, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch-thick spears
8 fresh basil leaves
8 fresh mint leaves

1.Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Make the chicken: Finely chop garlic and shallot in a food processor. Add basil and oil, and process until mixture forms a coarse paste. Stir in salt and cinnamon, and season with pepper.

Make a few shallow 1/2-inch slits on both sides of chicken; rub all over with the basil mixture. Place on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake chicken until cooked through, 12 to 15 minutes. Let cool completely, then shred into small pieces; set aside.

2.Make the dressing: Finely chop shallot in the clean bowl of the food processor. Add mango, and process until smooth. Add the lime juice and cayenne, and process until combined.

3.Assemble wraps: Spread about 1/4 cup mango dressing in center of each lavash. Top with chicken, mango, and herbs. Roll up diagonally to form a cone. Wraps can be refrigerated, wrapped in parchment and plastic, up to 4 hours

We serve this with brown rice seasoned with a little cinnamon and nutmeg and a lovely spinach salad with basalmic dressing.



Wednesday, March 31, 2010


I have been extremely distracted as of late.

This morning, I poured my creamer into the sugar bowl instead of my coffee cup.  Standing there, staring at the half and half swimming around in the sugar crystals absentmindedly, I picked up my lukewarm coffee cup and turned around to reheat it. Not paying attention I bumped it and spilled it all over the inside of my clean microwave. Really? Come on. I just scoured the microwave yesterday. Sigh.

One friend so kindly told me that "I need coffee before I have my morning coffee..."

The truth of the matter is this - I am feeling restless. Anxious. Expectant. (No, I am NOT pregnant). I get the sense that I am waiting or that I need to be doing something.  Does that make sense?

Go easy if you dont understand this post or if it offends you. (I don't mean to be offensive, just honest).

Recently, my husband and I made a huge life choice to walk away from a very legalistic lifestyle. A way of life that we had both been raised under since birth. One where your outer appearance and dress made all the difference in how you were percieved by others. A society where you were justified by your works and outer trappings as a perception of your personal salvation. Mindsets, habits, wrong patterns of thinking, deceptive judgements, fear, heapings of guilt, unattainable expectations, religious customs and outdated traditions... 

It has been a lot to come out of.

In fact, there are moments where I literally feel like I am physically grappling with my perception of myself and others. I have lived so long in trying to appease 'man' and prove my worth to the 'mob' that I have totally lost sight of myself and what God desires for me. I am found personally guilty of being too caught up in the attention and awareness of others with motives that do not glorify God, but myself.  

In the past 6 months, since our move (in the absolute right direction for us) I have gone through the fight or flight stage (when we left Florida), the honeymoon stage (when we arrived here), the comatose stage (totally emotionally, spiritually and mentally numb), the funky stage (starting to wake up), and I believe now I am in an awareness stage. God is making me aware of the things in my life that I need to change, habits that need to be broken and judgements that need to be removed and the completeness of His love for me.

It's like teaching an old dog new tricks. It sucks. It's necessary.

This journey has been painstakingly slow. I feel overwhelmed at times by mental battles. I am amazed at the way God has shown His face to me in places I didn't expect. I fight with debilitating fear. I struggle to demolish broken down judgements. My attitude can really be awful sometimes. I am pained when I hear comments from "friends" about their concern for my salvation. I am justified by my faith in a loving Creator. I am a new creature in Christ. I attempt to make my prayers from a true heart, free of rhetoric. My heart is learning to love. I am absolutely more introspective and meloncholy than usual (which isn't all that fun for my blog readers). I desire to be complete in Him.

I know without a shadow of doubt that God has placed us here, in this very situation, for a purpose. These struggles and triumphs are with design.  My old life is gone and a new life comes forth.

So here I sit. Weary, restless - but expectant. I feel God calling me to lay down my presumptions and come to Him. To not get sidetracked with things that are unessential to His purpose. To lift my eyes above my present circumstance of this moment so I can see the destination that He created me for.

2 Thessalonians 1:11-12
Because we know that this extraordinary day is just ahead, we pray for you all the time—pray that our God will make you fit for what He's called you to be, pray that He'll fill your good ideas and acts of faith with His own energy so that it all amounts to something. If your life honors the name of Jesus, He will honor you. Grace is behind and through all of this, our God giving Himself freely, the Master, Jesus Christ, giving Himself freely.

Ephesians 1:15-19 (The Message)
That's why, when I heard of the solid trust you have in the Master Jesus and your outpouring of love to all the followers of Jesus, I couldn't stop thanking God for you—every time I prayed, I'd think of you and give thanks. But I do more than thank. I ask—ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing Him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is He is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life He has for His followers, oh, the utter extravagance of His work in us who trust Him—endless energy, boundless strength!

 ~To all you who read my blog, thank you for enduring this with me (second handedly of course) I seem to fluctuate between these very meloncholy, mind puke posts and then the silly ones. I really feel like God is working on me regarding my Blog and writing period.  I'm getting the strip down and learning to be real with myself and with all of you. My prayer is that these thoughts and the trying process will make me a better writer and hone a gift that God has bestowed me. If you glean anything along the way, then that is an added blessing to me.

Thank you for your love, prayers and time in reading.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Breaking through the Clouds...

I never truly intended my very public blog to be about some private areas of my life. 
In hindsight, it's very freeing. 

Like a therapuetic diary. An internet couch as it were. 
My mind enters my blog and puts its feet up on the chaise lounge and tells all. 
(Are you doodling on a yellow legal pad as you read this and physco-analyzing me?)

It's been openly admitted that I have been in a funk... (that post here)

When I flew to TX to surprise my sister, Kim, it was to support her in a very rough patch of her life, and offer her some respite with sisterly companionship and of course, shopping.

In the end, God spoke very clearly to me.

It started on Wednesday when I woke up at the butt crack of dawn (4 am is not an ideal hour) and scrambled to be on time to board my plane. 

Has it been mentioned that I have an unrealistic imagination? I do... It's true.

I had to force myself to stop watching Jack Baur and 24 due to my penchant for searching out the potential terrorists in every place I went, or mapping out an escape route if there were an international disaster in Target, or memorizing license plate numbers just "incase" they were linked to some great mystery.  
(more about my imagination here)

Each time I fly I experience a mini panic attack.  It's like a cross between claustrophobia, imagination overload and fear of heights.  Normally after take-off I settle in and relax.

I found my seat (loathe American Airlines by the way) noticed the particularly shiny, perfectly round, immaculately bald head seated in front of me, had to restrain myself from rubbing my fingers across the scalp to see if it would squeak. (I'm sure it would!) and buckled in. 

Here's where my journey started. 

We took off, my heart beating like a cornered animal. Uneventful.

About 25 minutes into the flight, we hit some very bad turbulence.

I am an admitted control freak. If I feel like I am losing control, I will grasp at straws and try to pull it all together in a way that I feel comfortable and in control again.
(Are you physco-analyzing again? Stop it!) 

My hand flailed to grab the seat cushion in front of me, (I slapped that shiny, bald head accidently- very nice shave job BTW) and my mind hit overdrive. I was convinced that marching up that aisle, shoving aside any airplane personnel and taking control of that plane would be the best option. It felt like my 7 year old was flying that contraption for goodness sake! 

After one particularly sharp drop down, with my tummy doing loop de loops,
I had an impression - "Do you trust Me?"  Again, "Do you trust Me?"

My mind quieted, and I focused in on that question...  Of course I do... right... ?

On that flight, seats rattling, drinks spilling, passengers cursing and stomachs flipping, my heart was directly spoken to. After a few minutes, I came to the conclusion that "No, I couldn't control the plane, the future, or the past, but I could control my trust and faith in God, right then and there". 
Small realization, big results! It was amazing, the calm that infused me. 

Once landing, seeing my precious sister and being introduced to her newly chaotic life with juvenile diabetes, my heart was spoken to again. Catching a glimpse of Kim, cradling her 5 year old little boy, raising his shirt and piercing that soft, chubby belly with a needle filled with insulin, I saw the picture of a mothers trust in God. Watching my nephew, Jax, puncture his scar flecked tiny fingers to check his blood sugar, I saw the beginning of a lifelong trust in a Creator. Going to church that Sunday, hearing a word about trusting God and realizing His timing is perfect, as is His love for us.

It was simple, true and relevant.

Leaving to the airport, rain pelting the windshield, dark ominous clouds covering the horizon, I briefly wondered if my plane would be on time.

Boarding a tiny, one row plane, looking out a window with rain drops streaming down in rivets, I was quiet. Observant. I saw the dark clouds, eyes flickered over the sooty-black horizon, noticing the relentless rain, inspecting the hunched shoulders of the workers trying futilely to stay warm and dry as they went about their duties.  

Our plane ascended into that murky expanse of sky. For some unknown reason, I was drawn in, my nose pressed up against the cold window, wiping away the fog of my breath, and all the while scouring the horizon.

We went right up through the clouds, bumping, knocking and seemingly struggling against the great pressures of the stratosphere. We headed straight into those dark, obscure puffs. And just when it seemed the plane was going to lose its battle against the odds, something miraculous happened.

We broke through the gloom.

I had to clench my eyes closed from the piercing light that shocked my senses. When my sight adjusted I beheld the most amazing view. (Wish I would have thought to grab a photo, but was too mesmerized).

Looking down below, I saw those desolate clouds, shifting and massing, almost thriving in the shadows, overtaking the land and all the people below it. Layered on top of the somber storm were bursts of light, pure white clouds, an ocean of beauty and peace, incandescent rays piercing the murkiness.

A distinct demarcation between light and darkness.

I cried. Tears streaming down my face. I felt a caressing in my heart, my head lifting up, and shoulders squaring back.

 No one could have perceived the beauty crowning the tempest when we sat, idley, on the soupy runway.

Its been a journey, bumping along, almost blindly at times, losing direction, daunted by surroundings, felled by stormy winds, and defeated by darkness.

But, just above the storm, arms of light reach into obscurity, ready to shine down on upturned faces. 

The "funk" is gone.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Welcome my big Sis!!

After flying in and suprising Kim.

Hello Blog friends!

I mentioned that I had some fun suprises up my sleeve and boy oh boy were they fun! 

I flew last Wednesday to Texas to suprise my older sister, Kim, (I won't say how much older, but she was 15 when I was born).  It's been almost 2 years since we last saw each other and a whole slew of changes have occured since then. In two years I have moved from CA to FL and from FL to AZ, and in her world, her little boy, Jax, was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes.   

Now, some things about my sister...

She is the one who named me (apparantly my mom was trying to appease her 15 year old who was embarrassed that I was coming along??), she has bossed me around my whole life, she refused to take me in the mall when I was younger because she was afraid I would be mistaken for her baby (I have since been to a thereapist about this rejection), she has a great sense of style and is a wonderful decorator, she has been a pillar to me in the hardest times of my life, and I love her ability to laugh (someone likened her laugh to Joan Cusack) even when the world comes crashing down around her.

In short, she is the most amazing person I have ever known....

I was busy while I was in Texas -I convinced her to start her own blog - she is an incredible writer and the depth of emotion that she can evoke when she writes is phenominal!

So! Please welcome to the blog world - my big sister - Kim!

If you have a few minutes (and some tissue) go check out her blog and show her some love.

And, in closing - I know she will kill me...


I snuck a few peeks of her amazing home for you all to look at.

This house embodies most every important memory that I posess and I get the warm fuzzies just looking at it.

Living Room

Keeper (Jax' diabetic alert dog)

Kitchen (she might just kill me... HA!)

(I LOVE these fabric panels and want to recreate this idea one day)

My nephew, Logan (who turned 9), my Dad (who turned 72) and Jax

Sisters - notice the bunny ears...

Logan, Me and Jax

Thanks for looking - I have several real posts coming in the next few days. 


Wednesday, March 3, 2010


This week, my good friend, Amy, wrote about "The Ugly" and then another friend, SoShawna, wrote about "Tears..." both talking about the times in our lives that are hard to talk about and to share with others...

These posts got my already active mind churning.


I'm dedicating this post to my Husband... Nate.

I met my husband when I was a freshman in high school (no, he wasn't my husband yet...) and I told my best friend, Jeni, that I was going to marry him someday.

I did.

Looking back over the last 8 years.


It has been a ride.

Like one of those freaky coasters at Six-Flags with the upside down loop de loop that makes you want to pee and throw up at the same time.

Strapped into a small moving vehicle you may experience highs, sharp turns, abrupt, extreme changes, fear, thrills and moments of intense nausea.

(My marriage in a nutshell)

Nathan and I have experienced so much in a short amount of time that sometimes it feels as though our marriage was set on warp speed and we went ahead 40 years.

Babies, diapers, no sleep, poop, immaturity, fears, baggage, cross country moves, emotional affairs, near divorce, reconciliation, loss, pain, fighting, silence, distance, inexperience, selfishness, stubbornness, invisibility, lack of communication, finances, slothfulness, and sometimes just plain stupidity...

Each of those words could be a chapter in the book of my life.


I'm loving the chapter we are in right now.

We've learned to love and laugh.

With God's help, we've made it through some pretty dang tough times and we've had to work through some things that I hope none of you ever have to.

We've seen each others warts, inconsistencies and imperfections in each situation.

He knows I have cellulite (Don't be shocked, I bet you have some too *wink*), he's seen the birth of our two children, he's held my hand in the dark moments, made me laugh like no one can, been my strength and he loves me even though I am an emotional mess sometimes.

Last night, we sat on the couch and watched AI together his arm looped over my waist. N said something to me, I peeked at him over my shoulder laughing at his comment.

In that small moment, my eyes were opened and I saw us.

Friends, lovers, parents and partners.

Working together on the same page.

All the dirt behind us and a future of being stronger ahead of us.

My heart 'bout near stopped it was so full of love.
(I bet he was wondering why I was ogling him with eyes like a tree frog)

We've made it...

Have you ever seen those rowdy teenagers get off the coaster?

Laughing, screaming, slightly green, adrenaline rushing, one puking into a trash can and then turning right around and getting back on line to do it again...


I love the rush of my life. I am getting back in line to ride it again.

Loop-de-loop here I come!

Only real men can wear pink... lol

Our sweet family.

Friday, February 26, 2010


My sweet boy, T, has been getting into so many accidents lately.  For 7 years he has been so cautious, barely ever scraping a knee, or getting hurt... It seems he has broken his cautious streak. Jumping off swingsets, slides, falling off of bikes, skateboards and trees. All normal for a boy his age right?

Lord help my nerves.

My worry is that he has inherited my clumsiness... 

I. am. a. clutz.

Today I was reminded of one of my dumbest shining moments.

My best friend, Jeni, who turned 30 this week, is coming to visit this weekend. So that constitutes cleaning (not too much though - she has seen my house in every possible state). 

Standing in the kitchen, putting away flatware and cutlery from the dishwasher. I reach in, singing, not paying attention, and slice my finger on a steak knife.
(Have I mentioned that the sight of blood makes me dizzy?)

I get a bandaid and some water (to help with the dizziness) and I remembered the last time I cut myself with a knife.


It was right after Christmas (we drove to Texas that year) and I was unpacking all the gifts we had received. T was six months old, and sleeping snugly in his bed ( I miss those days) and Nate was at work.

 Christmas carols playing in the background, the house was a jumble of coats, suitcases and all the great mess that returning home from a trip brings. I was in the kitchen unwrapping a gift from my mom.

It was a gourmet set of cheese knives with a handy little cutting board (Love cheese!). The knives were wrapped in cellophane and nestled into the side of the cutting board. I think a man must have packaged this product - no woman would have put it there...  Therefore, I blame this whole fiasco on a man (ha!).

Poking my fingernail into the cellophane pretty vigorously (I was singing Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is You") and whammo, my finger slides right through the cellophane and right into the blade of this shiney gourmet knife.


Instantly there was blood, so I grab a dishtowel and panic.

Have I mentioned that blood makes me dizzy? Oh yes - Well it does. (I am a little dramatic... I have come to accept this)

Those little fuzzy spots start floating in front of my eyes, and the room spins. I blacked out momentarily.

Getting up from the floor in a panic, still clutching my maimed finger in a dishtowel (which probably wasn't even clean!!!) and I do what I knew best.

I called 911.

Operator: "911, what's your emergency?"
Me: *Panicked, embarassed voice* "This isn't really an emergency. I cut my finger and blacked out. Do I need to hold my arm above my heart?"
Operator: "Ma'am, are you bleeding profusely?"
Me: "Umm, I'm not sure... I have it wrapped in a dish towel and I'm afraid to look."
Operator: "Ma'am, please stay calm, I'll send an emergency vehicle out right away."
Me: *Horrified silence* "Gulp. Ok."

Hang up after a few minutes exchaning information etc...  Oh my word! What do I do?? 

I called Nate. "Babe, don't be worried. I cut myself and 911 is sending an emergency vehicle."  Silence on the other end. He had hung up on me. (He told me later that he just hung up the phone, told his boss I had an accident, and flew to his car.)

Standing there, still clutching this stupid dishrag around my hand ( haven't looked at my finger yet) and gazed at the discombobulated mess that was my house. I started grabbing things with one hand and shoving them into any available closet.

I hear knocking on my door. I answer.

Lo and behold... 3 firemen stood at my threshhold.

They spill into my house with all their equipment and one asks in an authoritative voice.
"Where are you injured maam?"

I held up my dishrag, trembling slightly.

He brings me to the table, sets down this massive bag filled with medical paraphanelia, and unwraps the rag, listening intently as I tell him what happened.

My eyes were closed, so when he laughed, it startled me and I jumped slightly.

Opening my clenched eyes, I look right into a face that was screwed up into hilarious laughter.

He held up my arm for the other men to see - "This is the best call we've had all month!"

At this point in time, the front door, flings open. It was Nate. Poor guy looked winded.

Mr. Fireman held my arm up like a champion prize fighter and jovially said,
 "Don't panic sir! We are going to get your wife a bandaid!"

*Epic Blush*

Yup, all that drama, for a bandaid.

I will never live that one down, and still giggle when I think of it.
 (You should feel some empathy for my Hubs... Look what he has to put up with)

I need to have a serious conversation with T about using his head and avoiding sharp objects.

*This story you have read is true. No names have been changed to protect the innocent. Accounts, views and opinions expressed in this blog do reflect the views of the author... She really is that clutzy."

Monday, February 22, 2010

Pick up lines at the checkout line...

Have you ever heard some really tremdously awful pickup lines?  I have... 

Now, I'm not vain. I know I am no rare beauty. But I am relatively nice looking, I bathe and comb my hair, I smile a lot and look really young, which must be a giant billboard inviting all the wierdos schmoozers to talk to me.

Some of the more memorable ones I've heard ...

In Stockton (at the local SCARY Walmart) I was looking at pasta, when a particularly seedy man comes up to me and said (and I quote), "What you looking for baby? I'm right here!" 

I blushed (which I am prone to do frequently) and didn't quite get the words out that I wanted to... Like "Honestly? Has that line ever worked for you?" or "You smell like beef and cheese, please stand aside and allow me to continue with the penne pasta." or "Speaking of babies, I have pushed 2 out of my body. Still want to talk to me?" 

Instead, I looked blankly at him in befuddled amazement and held up my ring finger not saying a word. He didn't look too worried, just shrugged his shoulders and walked on. (I think he must have had other patrons to terrorize.) I stood there for a moment, grabbed my purse and left my full cart of groceries right in the middle of the aisle. 

Another time, in FL, I was getting a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Standing in line in front of me, an older, harmless looking gentleman smiled at me.  I smiled back - I was in a great mood - caffeine was coming! 

This must have been an open invitation that, of course, I thought he was the most charming man who ever lived.  He proceeded to tell me his entire story, beefing up every part that involved himself (so humble) and then said, "I could take care of you, you know. I'd buy you a house, a car, anything you'd like..." 


Again, I blushed and thought of several pointed things to say, but instead, I grabbed my chai so quickly that it sloshed out over the side, burning my hand, and I said, "Well, that's nice - I should have let you buy my coffee..." I whirled around and hightailed it out of there, ears burning.  

(Looking back, I should've had him buy me 2 venti's after that nonsense)

So keep that all in mind for today's encounter... And the fact that Nate has been out of town for the last few days while I've been home sleeping with every light in the house on and mulling over self defense options if some crazed maniac broke into my house - mace, hand weapons, tazers, Kung-Fu Panda moves, etc. (ok, maybe I am a little paranoid...)

 Ran to the store to grab a few items for dinner (delicious lemon chicken soup), pushed my cart around while chatting with my sister.


At the checkout line, the gentleman behind me, who looked familiar, struck up some small talk with me. No big deal. "What strange weather. What do you think about all this rain..." blah blah.  Smile. Perfunctory nods. Etc. He acted very familiar with me - whatever. Didn't really notice.

As I grabbed my bags and headed out in the rain, I noticed him looking at me strangely. 

My over active imagination immediately went into over drive.I clutched my groceries and made for the door.

I noticed him walking quickly in my direction.  He was looking straight at me!! 

After a quick inventory of the items in my bags that could be used as self defense weapons, I determined that a lemon and the bunch of celery could be used to cause a distraction while I grabbed my purse to retrieve the manicure scissors in my makeup bag. I could wield these close to the attackers eyes and scream for help. If all else failed, I could take off my nine west flats and hit him repeatedly on the head until he was knocked unconscious.

I made it to my car, in record time, as he was closing in behind me. Not saying anything, just holding his bags and walking towards me persistently. 


 Looking over my shoulder several times, I knew he was coming closer.  Infact, he was trying to say something to me now - no doubt trying to lure me to his car to sell me to the black market. 

I shoved everything into my car and was frantically trying to find my keys.

There was knocking on my window - Oh Lord!! It was him!!! 

I was just about to jam my keys into the ignition and speed off when I heard his muffled voice come through the window - "You left one of your bags of groceries."  I looked in the back seat and counted...

Sure enough...

He was holding the bag with the lemons and celery. 


And it turns out he lives two houses down from me...

Poor guy - he's probably thinking "There goes the neighborhood."

(Good thing I didn't tell him he smelled like beef and cheese...)