The cheese said to tell you....

Everyone, look at the camera, smile pretty, and say, "Faceboookkk!!!"  What?  What happened to cheese?  I bet cheese is pretty pissed about this.  

"Damned Facebook!"

I have left the online social community.  Again.  Don't judge me.  For some of us, it's much like giving up coffee.  Or makeup.  For others, maybe it's a little joining a monastery and taking a vow of silence, especially for those of us who are somewhat averse to ever shutting up.  Essentially, that's what it is - a vow of social silence.  This time my online sobriety is holding out.  I'm 16 days Facebook sober now, and feeling great.  Thanks, group.  Also, rather than deactivate my account, I deleted it this time, so once I hit day 14, there was no going back.  When I turned my account off, the reaction was quick and confused.  Some phone calls, a few texts  - "What happened to you?!"  "Where did you go?"  "Did you die???"  I have to admit, it was a nice change of pace from a poke or a listless "LOL."  I am told my witty remarks and rampant cleverness are missed, but folks, do you really care that I burned the toast?  That I hate pickles?  If the answer is yes, then the question is, "Why?"  And if you do have a valid reason for wondering these things, these and other useless tidbits, call me.  Shoot me an email.  It's ohno7ate9@gmail.com, if your amongst those not already in the know.  Or even if you are in the know, it's still ohno7ate9@gmail.com.  It's not really a conditional email address.

But for all my bluster, I do miss it just a little.  I feel out of the loop, like the whole world is happening around the rock under which I now call home.  And actually, it should be the opposite.  I'm more engaged in the world around me rather than the pretty cyber-scenery people create, a glazed half-life with bright sprinkles (much like a doughnut, really - sweet and fun but full of empty calories with a hole in the middle).

I'll close now with that Gumpism.  Everyone be well, and happy!

I "like" you, but I don't like you

I don't want to "like" cheese.  I just want to enjoy it.  I don't want to play farm. I want to have a garden.  I don't want to feel obligated to wish you a super happy birthday even if you would not notice if I fell of the edge of the world in a few minutes.  In summation, I'm tired of Facebook.  The virtual world isn't the real world.  Yes, it's a great way to keep in touch, find old friends, etc.  I've done that, and I love Facebook for that.  But what else has happened?  I started substituting virtual life for real life somewhere along the way.  Yes, I know that hasn't happened to you, and of course it won't.  But I am flawed, so it happened to me.  (Plus, it's become a total time-suck, a chrono-vampire, which is not nearly as sexy as a Twilight vampire, btw.)


I love thunderstorms.  I love the flash of lightening, the crack-boom of thunder and the super charged air with that ozone smell that rides on the front of every good thunderstorm.  It just feels alive.  Life is like that, rich with sensuality, every smell, sound, taste, sight, touch.  Every emotion.  Life is a broken heart, dirt under your nails, the taste of red wine and dark chocolate.  It's laughter, it's accidentally hanging up in the middle of an important call, it's pedicures and burnt dinner.  Screaming on a roller coaster, ice cream headaches, burnt pizza-mouth.  All of it is a treasure.  


But for me, social media has become like watching the best ever thunderstorm on doppler radar instead of walking out in the downpour.  It's american cheese slices when what I want is Wisconsin cheddar.  And it's what I substituted for life.  I've deactivated my account (a couple times.  It's not easy.) and soon I'll be deleting it altogether.  Hopefully, I can keep in touch with the many, many of you who are so near and dear to me.  There are a lot of you guys.  You can follow my blog, and I have Instagram (haleytoday), so it's not like I'm pulling an online Houdini disappearance.  I even have *gasp!* a telephone and a mailbox.  I'm still ridiculously around.


Goodnight, Seattle!

Sippin' on Zen and juice....

Finding your Zen is one thing. "Oh, look, there's my Zen! It must have fallen out of my pocket when I sat on the couch." Keeping it can be quite another cup of tea. Or juice, maybe, if you don't like tea. It can be like losing your phone, only you can't call your Zen from another phone and hope it rings. It can be a lot like losing your keys. Missing your Zen? Good luck getting anywhere, buddy.

I have this belief that, if I go through life doing the things I'm supposed to do, being true to myself and making choices according to what's right, my life will follow the intended path and good things will happen. Sounds easy enough, doesn't it, Hansel and Gretel? Sometimes, though, those hungry little birds gobble your crumbs right up, and the way becomes a lot less clear. Then you wind up in some nasty witch's oven wishing you could find your keys, or perhaps your cell phone.

"...and then I ate all the crumbs!!!"

But I have come to realize that the way to go is not always going to be clear, or easy, or pretty, or fair. In fact, I wouldn't wish that. The more I'm challenged, the more I grow, the more I learn. Nope, you can't settle for the easy life, or the ennui will set in quickly. Where's the fun in that? Challenge is the spice of life, right? That's why it's fun to cook when you've been drinking.

*Please note, this isn't a sermon, a lecture or even advice. It's just a quick release of thoughts, like a mental sneeze.

If only I had a genie in my pocket...

Wow, big hopes and lots happening right now! If you pray, please pray. If you think happy thoughts, sprinkle me with some mental fairy dust please. Good karma, good juju, good mojo, positive energy... Whatever you can give, I'll take it.

Explain? Sure! First things first, the people in my life that need a little sumpin sumpin:

My friend Jarrod is taking his contractor's licensing exam today and tomorrow. May he pass with flying colors!

My friend Melissa is going on a cruise this week. May her ship not go all Titanic on us, and may she have sunny skies and yummy drinks.

My friend Kristen is currently on a cruise. May she have the time of her life. She deserves it.

My little sister left for Air Force basic training this morning. May she learn and grow and find everything she's looking for.

My friend Andrea and her fiance were in a terrible car accident over the weekend. May they find a speedy recovery and a glass of wine to recover from that experience.

I have another friend who is feeling a little lost and lonely in a new place. May she find her direction and all the happiness life can give.

My sis-in-law/bff is having a spinal tap soon. May it all go well and she have long lasting health.

My grandmother is recovering from recent health problems. May it be a speedy recovery, and may she soon be back to her cantankerous, loving, gardening ways.

My mom and aunt are helping her. May they find some zen in all the madness.

My old choir teacher, youth minister and friend, Chuck Tipton, recently found out he has a brain tumor. May his medical team be wise and skillful, and may he find himself a long, content life from now on.

My cousin and his wife are trying to find the perfect house. May they find all they want and more (and a lady to serve my cousin mediocre fried fish at the buffet).

I am trying to buy a house. May the Deutsche Bank (insert tasteless joke here) accept my offer if that's what is meant for me.

I'm sure I'm missing a lot of mentions of people that I love, and even if life is not big for you right now, living is always big. We could always use a little love our way, so give a little if you can.

Lastly, two more wishes: May AT&T stop calling me every hour to sell me a new phone plan (I don't need one, please consult Target for better marketing advice), and may the lady at Wal-Mart become better at weighing her oranges so that she no longer gets her hair stuck in the produce scale.

*Post-publish edit: May the new bus driver shave his big yellow mustache and shed his grumpy demeanor so that the elementary kids quit getting in trouble for calling him the Lorax.

Nursery Rhymes for Grown Ups: Part 2 of HowevermanyIfeellikewriting

Big Miss Muffet

Big Miss Muffet

Sat on her tuffet

Eating her salad and lean protein.

(Curds and whey are crazy fattening!)

Along came Paula Deen,

Who buttered her beans,

And frightened Miss Muffet into a gym membership.

Nursery Rhymes For Grown Ups: Part 1 of HowevermanyIfeellikewriting

Big Jack Horner

Big Jack Horner sat in a corner (office)

Wearing a corporate tie.

As his ex-wife, Bo Peep,

Drove off in his Jeep,

He thought, "What a boring-ass grown up am I!"

I lost my keys, but I never lost an entire dude...

As usual, this blog has really no cohesive thought process, and it has pretty much nothing to do with anything. Enjoy!

Last night, I took the kids to a friends house for snacks, fun, adult conversation and wine. The latter two on the list were, of course, reserved for me. We were getting ready to go, washed, combed, dressed, all that nonsense involved in looking like you didn't roll out of bed and right out the door. My kids are allowed to pick their own clothes (...with precious few exceptions. Foam cowboy hats and rain boots are really not wedding attire.), and my 4-year-old takes full advantage of my liberal dress code. She did pick a cute little dress and leggings to match, so I left her alone to get dressed. She walked out a short time later wearing mismatched socks, GIANT clip on earrings and a pink scarf knotted around her waist. She was the perfect mishmash of eccentric cuteness. She then announced enthusiastically, "Look mom! Now I look just. like. you!!!" I love how I must look in their eyes.

So I had a nightmare last night. I dreamed that I washed a load of dishes in the dishwasher, and every bowl and cup flipped over and filled with water. After that, I had some dream about a snake. The dishwasher dream bothered me considerably more.

This is how I play Farmville:

Soon it will be time to harvest my beans. Maybe I can

eventually level up enough to get some chickens up in

this hizzay!

Last, but not least, I would like to mention something that is heavy on my mind, sometimes more than others. I see missing people posters, read about people gone missing, and now there's that show about people who just *poof* disappear. Have you seen this person? Probably not. It astounds me. I like to think that if I went missing, somebody would notice. Also, I'd like to think that after they noticed, they would try to find me, whether they thought I wanted to be found or not. Not that I'd disappear. I'd give in, update my status, and all sneakiness would be lost. It bothers me that, in today's "google me" world, people can still vanish. I have a much-loved uncle who did. The people in the posters do. If Forensic Files can solve a murder based on carpet fibers stuck to tape, how are entire people lost?

Going to Wal-Mart... Better put on my for-best!*

*Warning: There are opinions in here.

Ah, this always happens. Too many random thoughts happening all at once. Rather than annoying my friends with a million unrelated status updates, I'd rather set it down in one place. Right here. It'll be like a thought stew. Yum! Not to be confused with a brain stew. Yuck!

First, I'd like to wish my daughter Jenna a very happy birthday. Thank you for being my rainbows, magic and sunshine every day for the last 7 years. My world is more colorful, more beautiful, more amazing because you're in it. March is, in my opinion, the best time for birthdays.

Also, if they didn't want you to push your kids around in shopping carts at the speed of light, why did they put seatbelts in them?

Dear Mitt Romney,

I suspect that the reason you want to do away with planned parenthood is that it was widely unavailable in Michigan in 1946, and that is the reason you were born.

When people go down the drain, they seem to do it rather holistically. You've never heard a report, I bet, that poor people drink too much booze - but boy, do they love yoga!

As a parent, I feel that there is a time to stop measuring your child's age in months. For example:

"This our little Hasoosifus Jr. III..."

"Oh, he's adorable! He looks so like the first 2 Hasoosifus's! How old is he?"

"Well, he's 49 months..."

Um, no. He's 4. In 11 months, he will be 5. When people ask me how old I am, I don't respond, "Oh, well I'm 144 months (again)." There is a point when it just becomes years.

That is all.

Travel - sorta like eating the world...

I LOVE to travel. It's one of my favorite things. I'm applying for my passport soon so I can actually get off this continent and explore some new dirt. I think one thing I want most in life is to see, taste and experience just about everything. Ok, maybe not everything. I mean, you won't find me buying half-cooked mystery meat on a stick from a street vendor at midnight in Bangkok. But I do want to go panning for gold in Asheville, NC and hike to the top of Machu Picchu in Peru. I want to zoom down a zipline in New Zealand and drift along in a gondola in Venice. I want to taste the food, hear the music, see the art because it's all flavor. Don't worry, y'all. I'll post pictures.

Greer, AZ, USA

Sedona, AZ, USA

Durango, CO, USA

Saint Augustine, FL, USA

Chicago, IL, USA

Gulfport, MS, USA

Jemez Springs, NM, USA

Gatlinburg, TN, USA

Eugene, OR, USA

San Antonio, TX, USA

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One of those mornings....

My manic Monday has officially given way to a lethargic and confused Tuesday. As energetic and focused as I was yesterday, that's how lazy and lost I am feeling today. I took my 4-year-old daughter to preschool this morning, walked her in and kissed her goodbye just like always. As soon as I got to my office and sat down in front of the computer, ready to feign a workday, I looked down and realized I was wearing mismatched shoes. And my fly was down. Guards, we have a security breach in Los Pantalones! Everyone at the preschool is so quietly polite, or they are as out of it as me, because nobody seemed to notice. Which is a lot like the day I ran errands all over town with a big hole in the seat of my pants. Got a hole in your pants, a hole in your pants! Lookin' like a fool with a hole in your pants! Ah, some days....

Matrimonial Bliss(ish)

For the record, I secretly loathe wives who dote on their husband's every act of matrimonial duty. It is one thing to appreciate his grilling prowess or his dedication as a patriarch and family breadwinner. I think it's good to let people know you appreciate your spouse. I love that, but please don't make EVERY public waking moment a status update shrine in his honor. It feels insincere. That said, I am now going to now annoy myself and the rest of you by publicly appreciating my marriage.

Last November, my husband and I celebrated our 13th anniversary. Lucky number 13, right? Ha! If there is any such thing as an ideal marriage, then Cinderella and Princess Aurora can officially take that title and suck it. Real marriage is not easy, but the things in life that are worth it never are. Have you ever met a good parent who said, "Oh, motherhood? That sh** is a piece of cake!" or a nobel prize winner who said, "Well, it wasn't really that much work. It was in my inbox when I woke up at 2 pm...."? No, you've never heard that. I'm just happy to say that neither of us has never made a mistake in our marriage. We've never disrespected one another, certainly never *gasp* disagreed. Fought? Not us. I'm not a very good liar, am I? My husband says the same thing, trust me. The truth is, we've been ugly and terrible to each other. Habitually? No. On purpose. Never. Did we ever want to walk away? Sure. Were we justified? We've both been justified in that.

But at the end of the day, it turns out that we are really good for each other. He drives me to be more, accomplish more, and I drive him to the same end. Could have I achieved a great live without him? Of course. But together, we live more life than either of us could achieve on our own, and isn't that the point of a union? I need someone in my life who can match my intensity even if they do it on their own terms. So I am bragging on my husband. Thank you for matching me, for pushing me, for making my life bigger, fuller. We are a good match, and I love you.

Truth in advertising? Psh!

This morning, as I was getting ready for work (yes, I do get dressed and wear makeup even though I work from home), I glanced down, and there was a BIG brown spider glancing up. I screeched (quietly because people were still sleeping and I am considerate), and then remembered, with a flood of relief, that I have State Farm Insurance. I stepped back, scrunched my eyes shut and sang, "Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there..." I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and my State Farm agent was nowhere in sight. I had to smoosh that spider myself. Thanks a lot, State Farm. I wanted to switch to Allstate, so then the spider would at least talk to me in a deep, reassuring voice. They wouldn't insure us, though, because my husband is a "bad driver." He either needs to start driving better or start smashing the creepy crawlies so I don't have to.

Do you have any coupons?

Couponing - the paper-cutting, long check-out, "wth?" answer to the tanking economy. On the show, Extreme Couponing, when the cashier asks, "Do you have any coupons today?" she totally already knows. Who's going to be all like, "Oh, no I don't have any coupons. I just really like to buy hundreds of frozen entrees and mountains of deodorent."? But people get some good deals, some REALLY good deals. After watching so many mavens of savin' clean out supermarkets on TV, I thought, "What the heck? I can do this," and logged on to www.couponmom.com, a great little website for finding local grocery deals and steals. I am now the proud owner of 16 bottles of A1 Steak Sauce (yeah, it's that important), 2 dozen boxes of brownie mix, 14 boxes of Chex cereal and enough Ken's Steakhouse dressing to drown a moose. I didn't have countless hours to devote to couponing, but I did score some good buys. I also scored almost 20 pounds. Wait, what?! Yep, and my husband picked up some discount poundage too. I was saving a lot of money, but I was buying a lot of processed foods we wouldn't normally eat. I've decided that, for my family and for me, couponing is just not the right route. If I did have hours in the day to spare, I think I'd plant a garden and own some chickens and slash my grocery bills that way.

Secrets and Martinis (probably best served in reverse order)

Today, my husband discovered my deepest, darkest secret. One of the fundamental parts of my existence that has yet been uncovered throughout my matrimonial history. The secret is... I have a blog! Shocking, right? Especially since we are on year 4, my friends. So he read a couple of entries, and let's just say, I hope you are all way more interested than he is. Otherwise, wtf are you doing here? Go knit a sweater or something!

But while we are telling secrets, let me reveal to you something I do. I honestly thought, until recently, this was a lot more common. When I want my kids to go to bed early but I'm feeling less than WWE Smackdown energetic, I change the times on all the clocks in the house. 7:15 magically becomes 8:00. Bibbity bobbity bedtime! I've talked to a couple of other moms, and apparently nobody else does this. My only question is why.

I was gonna post something political in this third lucky paragraph, but as it turns out, I get really bored of my own political opinions. It only stands to reason that my readers would be bored at the mere mention of them. Why on earth would you want to read that? Therefore, this paragraph is dedicated to dumb facts. For example, banging your head against the wall consumes a whopping 150 calories an hour. You would only have to bang your head against the wall for just under 5 hours to burn off the calories consumed in one of those gihugant BK breakfast thingies. Not only would you be healthy-ish, the bruise on your forehead would be spectacular! Also, right now, this very second, 70% of the people driving on US highways are speeding. This number would be slightly higher if me and several of my closest friends were meeting for sushi in half an hour. Another dumb fact is that the Mayan calendar is ending this year. This is actually not a dumb fact. It is something that has been documented by historians regarding the calendars of several significant civilizations. Unfortunately, I have already RSVP'd for 2013 and signed up to bring ranch dip and martinis. The world is gonna be bummed if I don't show with cosmos.

How big is your beauty?

As Americans, we truly bask in a culture of extremes. While we purport to embrace the gray areas lost in many cultures, very few of us actually exist there. We are a nation of extremists, and this is in-your-face evident in almost all of our pop culture. It's a world full of Snooki, hoarders, Sarah Palin, Dr. Phil, Jackass, Man vs. Food... The list is long. You get the idea. Kudos to us, America! When we do something, we DO it! The most disturbing societal dysphoria I've noticed lately has to do with body image, particularly in women. Our pinnacle of excellence, our physical paramount weighs roughly 103 pounds. She has jutting hip bones, prominent collar bones and wholly unnatural angles. She probably only weighs 103 pounds because her implants are heavy. The reality is that, as of 2010, approximately 34% of Americans were obese, and that number has been, and is still rising. Right alongside these twiggy media images and miracle diet commercials, there are ads for all kinds of fast food, including such things as Taco Bell's "drive thru diet" and that KFC monstrosity. It is shocking that we thrust such unrealistic ideals upon women when the best place for both health and body image exist in (drumroll please).... that proverbial gray area. Zero isn't a healthy size, it's a warning. So as of today, I'm officially a non-dieter. Healthy eating is great, but skeletal does not equate to health.