The Creation of a Brat

This post is inspired by the Red Dress Club prompt to describe a villain. I chose to revisit an earlier character that I created named Samantha Celeste. She first entered this world in my post Shock Value, as a surprising, shocking, spoiled, and assuming young artist.

Samantha Celeste scowled at her au pair.

The au pair began, “Sam, you -"

“Samantha,” Samantha clarified sternly.

The au pair sucked in a breath. “Samantha. You really must get your literature work finished. You still aren’t done with your final painting, and I know your mother will be -"

“If YOU would leave me alone, I could get something done. The MOST important thing here is my art, but how am I to focus on anything when I have a nanny hissing in my ear?”

The au pair stood rigidly, exerting all of her self control.

“I will leave you to it then,” she said and walked out, careful to demonstrate restraint and shut the door quietly.

Spoiled, rotten, evil brat, the au pair thought. No one will love her. Ha! She is ugly and nasty and will die alone. Someday, I WILL LEAVE her and this place, and I won’t be the first to leave her sorry ass…

Back inside the room, Samantha took a cleansing breath, shut her eyes, and meditated for a moment to calm her anger, always the anger, so she could begin to put color to the canvas.

People could never understand me, she thought. The pressure, the talent within – I am unlike no other. Someday, someday, everyone will see what is truly inside me.

From a distance, Samantha could hear the distinct clicks of heels approaching. The familiar dread crept in, and she looked around the room, assessing her surroundings.

The door opened so quickly it banged against the wall behind it. Samantha’s mother stood unsteady in the doorway. The cocktail glass, a familiar prop, was half gone in her mother’s hand. She scanned the room before noticing Samantha.

“Where is the painting?” her mother said, already starting to slur a bit between words.

Samantha looked her mother coldly in the eyes. “I’m not done, Mother.”

“Don’t talk to me like that – you think you are something special?! You. You are NOT something special. You are lucky to have even had the last showing. I have made it happen for you. All of this – everything you have – you ungrateful…” she paused as her body swayed from the energy of her yelling.

Her mother stumbled. Her expression changed. She looked confused. She turned swiftly to walk out of the room and slammed the door.

Samantha’s anger swelled inside her. It spread out to all of her limbs in a flash. The anger, always the anger, uncontrollable and just below the surface started to race forward. Samantha was electric with rage as she grabbed the can of paint at her feet and hurled it at the canvas.

A Friendship is Born

I will be linking up to Mama Kat on Thursday for this prompt:
What made them so interesting? Remember a unique classmate from your past. Write about him/her.


At a large high school, it was scary to be like a lone Nemo freshman among all the sharks. Just like in Napoleon Dynamite, you need a Jose. You need protection.

It was very important to always have a partner to walk with from class to class. I had a close friend with me during all the right times, except walking to math class. I needed to find someone to walk with to math class.

I don’t even remember how we began talking, but we did, and I was all set.

She was so confident. If you didn’t have her attention, she would breeze right past you with her head held high. She was usually alone, and fine with it. She was beautiful, with curls in her hair. She was daring, with high heel pumps almost every day. Even through the feminine grace, you could tell that she had an edge. She carried herself as though she chose her own feelings. She carried herself with a hell-be-damned attitude. It was probably a bit of a wall, a bit of a defense against what had hurt her before, but at the time, it just came off as very impressive.

From our “honors,” smart-kid language arts class, we would walk together to our math building. We would chit-chat, make small talk, nothing much of importance.

There was one condition. Upon entering the math building, we would have to stop at her boyfriend’s classroom on our way to our math class.

She was that cool. She even had a boyfriend. He was older. She got to stop everyday and be held and kissed in front of others.

I would hang back and wait, trying not to look like I was watching. But, I found her, and her whole world, so interesting.

At the end of that school year, we never spoke through the rest of high school. We never again had classes together and had no reason to walk together. A friendship had not been born, yet. Her boyfriend was enough for her. I would see her walking, and wonder and marvel…

……………..

Unlike other college students who may turn their noses up at living in a dorm, I was heady with the excitement of living away from home, no matter that I was confined to a small boxy room and a strange roommate. I welcomed the independence and fresh start. I was tired of the labels and confines of the high school social structure and ready to break out of my shell.

One floor below me, she was moving in to the dorms. Gone were the heels, grunge was in style. But the attitude was the same, and her charisma pulled me to her.

We met, again, and a beautiful friendship was born.

Sixteen years later and still going strong. My best friend, Juli, and me.

I Feel Festive and Cozy. Let’s Do Crafts, Read Blogs, and Get Day Drunk!

We are officially entering the holiday season and Fall, beautiful Fall, is in full swing. It seems to get so many of us feeling cozy and creative. Fall really is a muse to so many artists. It is only natural at this time of year, as you enter into winter, to be mindful of the gifts of the previous seasons.

I also start feeling all home-body-like.

I want to harvest the rest of my basil and make fresh pesto to be frozen for use in the winter.

I want to cook delicious dinners, but mostly I want to eat a lot of bread.

The weak afternoon light makes me feel all romantic, and I find myself thinking, “Mmm, let’s sip a little red wine while the maniac naps and get day drunk.”

I peruse crafty blogs and think, “I might actually give that pumpkin doily/fireplace mantel craft a try!”

I start to plan and organize and THINK about gifts for others. The online and retail shopping starts to put crazed thoughts in my head, “Ooh, I could get that for so and so; do I need a new tablecloth; maybe I should buy myself some sweaters too; I better start ordering stuff now!”

As I enter this time, I must remember that festive can soon turn crazy, and I don’t need to be getting all in a bunch about how-many-more-decorations-should-I-buy-at-the-dollar-store.

Just enjoy watching the very last leaf fall. Just enjoy watching the last pile of orange and yellow leaves be swept away, into the gutters.

P.S., Because I am feeling so…gracious, I would like to recommend a couple of posts for you to read.

I was so entertained by Motherhood Uncensored’s labor story post. It is the most unique and AMAZING labor story post I have read yet. Even better than my own! Truly, wow! She JUST had another baby, and her blog is a must read.

Also, Glen’s Life posted about the men’s perspective on women’s body issues. If you are a woman, you should read it if you want to get into a man’s head a little more about what they find attractive (which is pretty much everything, what a relief). If you are a man, you should read it so that you can remember to TELL your woman just how much you love everything about her.

Happy reading!

The First Fight is SPECIAL

Disclaimer: Although the writing that follows is a “memoir” piece, many details may have been…adapted, or created (in my favor) because, at the time, I was quite drunk.

This is a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer Workshop: Write about a fight you once had that you were very passionate about, but now you find it silly.

In the summer of 1998, I was 22 years old and almost engaged to be married. We had picked out the ring and were waiting for it to be made, so really, I pretty much was engaged.

What a romance! When my now-husband and I fell in love, we fell in love hard – with much love and energy and positivity. It was obvious when we met that there were forces beyond our control bringing us together.

We went an entire year after we met in the summer of 1997 before we had any argument. There was not one fight…

Then, one day, we were on vacation.

We were tent camping in Estes Park, Colorado, and having a grand time, enjoying the outdoors, and the little town of Estes Park. One day, we drove into town to find a nice spot for happy hour. We felt like having some drinks before returning to our campsite and campfire.

We found a cute, little Mexican restaurant on the “main strip.” We sat at the bar, ordered our margaritas, and assessed the situation around us.

There was a group at the end of the bar that had possibly been there all day. They were loud and laughing and talking with the outgoing, feisty bartender. Soon, of course, they asked where we were from, and we all began talking and laughing together. Our spirits were high, and it was like we had started to create our own little party.

These people had been travelling all over. They INSISTED that we HAD TO hike in Bryce Canyon and pretty much the entire state of Utah very soon. Our lives depended on it. We shared that we were waiting on a ring to be made before The Proposal occurred. One of the men piped up, “I have an online pastoral certificate! I can marry you right now!”

Hoots and hollers all around!

Richard and I got married right there in this little bar of a Mexican restaurant in Estes Park, Colorado, almost a full year before our “official” I do’s.

The jolly group of people started buying us drinks. There was probably a congratulatory shot.

The woman in their group kept insisting that I MUST have one of the strawberry margaritas because they were the BEST EVER. My life depended on it.

I do not like sweet drinks. I do not have a sweet tooth. I do not even eat chocolate. Hardly ever. The last thing I wanted, at that already very drunk moment, was a strawberry margarita, and I needed it about as much as I needed a hole in my head.

“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine. I bet it is good!” I would tell her every time.

It seemed the group suddenly decided they needed to leave. Our little party dwindled. The gracious bartender told me, “Here, I’ll make you one of those strawberry margaritas on the house!”

I was starting to spin. I had had too much to drink. I was hoping to leave soon after the other group left, but here this bartender just whipped up a strawberry margarita and plopped it down in front of me, expectantly.

Just looking at it made my stomach churn.

I leaned over to whisper in Richard’s ear, “I need to go.”

Richard sat back, looked at me, and with shock and horror hissed, “We can’t leave! You have to drink that drink! She made it SPECIAL for you!”

Here began our first fight ever, and it probably goes down in history as our worst one ever.

Obviously, Richard had forgotten that he was travelling with his future wife (or actual wife, depending on how liberal you are about Mexican bar weddings officiated by a drunk Internet pastor). He must have been mistaking me for his bachelor roommates who consider it “alcohol abuse” (the worst social disgrace) to leave any alcohol behind.

I sternly hissed back, “I DON’T CARE that she made it for me, that was her choice, and I don’t have to drink it. I should be able to say no thank you, and leave. I am too drunk to have anymore!”

He said, “No! That is so rude! You have to drink it!”

I sat there in disbelief. This was my future husband (or husband, depending…) telling me that I HAD TO DRINK something that I DIDN’T WANT TO? That I clearly COULD NOT drink because of the state I was in? Did he not care about my health and well-being?! Why wasn’t he on MY SIDE and letting me do WHATEVER I WANT?!

Richard paid the waitress. We left. We got outside. It was still light outside! We were raving drunk. We could not drive back to our campsite. We saw a park across the street and decided to go sit it out.

As soon as we sat down at a park bench, we started bickering still about The Drink. Our bickering escalated to all out yelling, and then you can probably guess what happened. I started crying. We were a scene. We were fighting with passion, completely convinced that our own side was right, and the other person was VERY WRONG.

In the midst of all this, about 20 feet away, a group of teens from a local church start singing Christian songs for passersby.

In a moment of clarity, we realized what a mess we were. The sun was starting to set. Park people were possibly planning an intervention for us. We started laughing. And then, the laughing didn’t stop. We were so over it. We got up and started walking.

We got back to our campsite and started a fire, and we were back to having a grand ole time, listening to music, roasting marsh mellows, talking, and laughing through the night. (That night is also marked by my eventual falling into a hole in the darkness, and we, literally, rolled on the ground laughing about it.)

This argument is like a historical story now in our relationship. We laugh about it still. At the time we were both, SO MAD and OFFENDED at the other. Truly. And, now? We see it as so silly. There are many times you can hear one of us say, as an inside joke, “But they made it SPECIAL for you!”

Tech Dumb

My friends know that if I don’t care about something, I’m really not going to give it any time. I don’t care about sports. I have no desire to learn about any, watch any, or participate in any in any way. I cannot even act like I care when people talk about sports. I just sit there.

Tech stuff. Don’t really care. I have a phone that does basic functions, and I just recently began texting.

Some of the tech stuff mentioned in blog world, I kind of just glaze over. Learning some of it would take time, and I spend time on things that I truly care about, or are necessary.

I look at some stat stuff, but I don’t really get some of it. I have a Feedburner count, I check my followers, and I look at how many comments my posts are getting.

I tried to install site meter, but I did something wrong, and it doesn’t work, so I have not pursued that any more.

I installed site counter and enjoy checking that about once a month, but like I said, I don’t really “get it.”

I have read many of you out there talking about Google stats and such. I have tried to “google” stuff about this and have no idea what you are talking about.

So, imagine my surprise when I finally discovered by accident the little tab at the top of my Blogger design settings “Stats.” Wow. Right there! DUH!

How much fun was that?! The most interesting thing to me was looking at what my MOST POPULAR POSTS have been. I thought I knew from the comments. I had no idea!

My friends and other bloggers have commented on a very memorable post I wrote – “It’s like a movie!” “It has all the great story elements!” “I think of it often in my own life!” Besides all of those lovely verbal comments, it is the post that has garnered the most comments so far on the blog. Enjoy it again, or for the first time:

Scenes from an Airport, Part 2 (or, Read This to Feel Like a Better Mother)

But, this was not the most popular post on my blog! That would go to:

Shock Value

I am sure that the title has something to do with that. But, honestly, it was so much fun to write, so it must be so much fun to read too! (Thank you, Red Dress Club!)

Then, I just had to chuckle over what was #2 in popularity because my husband was…annoyed…at that post. So, thank you hunny for being great material for us to enjoy!

Daddy Anxiety

I was also happily surprised to see the popularity of A Safe Place, which takes a spot right after the afore-mentioned Scenes from an Airport, Part 2. Yet another story inspired by Red Dress Club, this time memoir-writing about a child I worked with who had a significant emotional disorder.

And, in case you’re wondering, YES! There is a Scenes from an Airport, Part 1 (A Cautionary Tale)! It is fun too, but had to give most of the spotlight over to the drama of Part 2.

I had fun discovering this, so I just wanted to share it all with you again!

Date Night Anxiety

Everyone likes date night right? Everyone looks forward to a little grown-up time sans kids right?

Hmmm. I’m about to discuss something controversial. Every mom blogger knows that the most controversial thing you can write about is anything having to do with your husband.

Well, I am going to venture a guess that I am not alone in date-night-related-anxiety.

Usually, when date night is planned, it is in response to an over-stressed schedule and the recognition that we must remember we love our spouse and need to give them attention too.

So, the date night is put on The Calendar.

Then, my worrying begins. I cannot help it. I know it is irrational. I don’t want it to happen every time, but it does.

Will Parker be ok? Will he get upset or sad or have difficulty going down to bed or give the babysitter problems? Are we even going to have that much fun going out or should we just stay home? Will we stay up too late and be too tired tomorrow? Will it be worth it? Will I have enough energy to go out? What am I going to wear? I don’t buy “going out” clothes anymore. Do I need to wash my hair? Oh my gawd, are we going to have sex later? Have I shaved my legs in the last week? How LATE are we going to be up?

Every time, my husband is surprised by my anxiety (like he hasn’t lived with me for 13 years), and I tell him, “I’ll be fine. As soon as we’re gone, I’ll be fine,” and then I sense that he is put-off that I am not as excited as him about going out, and I worry about that.

I also know that as soon as we are gone, I am fine. Truly. And yet, I still put myself through the same useless anticipation and guilt before-hand as if I have to earn the right to go.

Is it just a natural why-fight-it type of thing that all mothers go through?

I hear some mothers get really excited to go out, look forward to it, do multiple Woo-Hoo’s! in their mind as they get ready to go, but then they get “out” and have a hard time enjoying themselves. The worry and guilt creep in.

I am just the opposite. My anxiety starts a few days before The Date Night and crescendos just at the moment we step out the door. And, as soon as we’re gone…I’m fine. I enjoy myself. It’s all worth it. Parker is good for the babysitter. He goes to bed fine. We stay up late, and we’re tired the next day, and we survive.

Why do I put myself through it? How do you handle date-night-related-anxiety?

Highs and Lows

Ok, people, I’m one post away from having my mother tell me she’s worried about me.

I really am fine, especially after coming to terms with the fact that I probably do need that extra 50 mg of Zoloft. Whatever.

Let me break it down for you. Some highs and lows from the week. It’s been a little all over the place round here.

Let’s start with the “lows,” so we don’t have end on a bad note and go to bed with a box of Kleenex (they really aren't that bad):

-Stomach problems. You really don’t want me to expand. They were my own stomach problems. You know. The kind you get every single time after your toddler has a weekend of throwing up and diarrhea.

-One day this week the devil hijacked my son. He was so rude. Tired, cranky. Had me fantasizing about hotels and stuff.

-Parent teacher conferences at work this week. Damn parents. Nah, I got nothing against parents, seriously, it’s just that it messes up our family’s schedule in a majorly annoying way.

-Feeling down about not losing weight recently. But, one can’t be perfect, huh? I guess I could try and run myself into the ground and continue to get up at 6:00 am to work out before work and then have the mental clarity at 4:00 pm to think, “No, I will not eat any crackers or, say, a bag of chips.” But, I just have not been able to do that this week.

-Work stress in general. All I have to say is that it has nothing with the dear students I work with. Love them.


Now, the “highs!” The stuff that life is made of! Excitement, gratitude, and reminders that “everything is going to be alright:”

-My biopsy result came back negative for cancer. It was an “atypical” mole that needs to be monitored. If it comes back, it will have to be removed again, but there was no cancer!

-The best thing about my biopsy results is that I know so many of you were wondering and care!

-My boy was only hijacked by the devil one day this week. The other days, he has been loving, putting his toys away, sleeping in his own bed, and mostly using his big boy voice.

-My boy gets speech therapy, and his vocabulary has really been increasing lately! For example, just tonight, I have heard him say brand new things like, “Delicious!” and “It’s on the coffee table,” and, “Wake-y, wake-y, hand off snake-y!” Obviously, we are proud parents.

-My husband has arranged a babysitter for tomorrow night. Funny thing is, he didn’t think I was serious when I said that I would like to just go to the babysitter’s empty house and watch a movie. I’m. Totally. Serious.

-My mom sent two of my grandma’s paintings in the mail to me today. I can have a piece of her, look at those beautiful paintings, and hang them with love and care in my home. When I took them out of the package, I told Parker that these paintings were painted by “GG.” He said, “I love GG.”

Great Expectations

Why do you worry
And pick at your finger.
Stop.
Put your hands down
And put them to the keyboard.

Take the load off your shoulders.
Set it down next to you.
Take a look at it,
Assess its mess
Of guilt, expectation, and shame.
Leave it there
To melt into the floor
And walk away.

You will start by walking
Then jogging
And running
With no expectation for how long,
And why can’t I go further?

This moment does not need to be
Perfect.
This moment
Exists for you.
And you can push the breath
Out of your body –
Feel your shoulders relieve
Down.

You will give to yourself
The love that is reserved for others.
Let your heart pour out.
Into your own body
And own the feeling it gives you.
Whatever it is - sadness, loss, joy, or hope -
It will run its course
Through your veins.
And you will still be the same.

A woman,
With hope for healing.

Why the Dead Never Leave Us

Soon after my husband’s dear Grandma Lorenzen passed away, my son provided us a reminder of her.

Grandma Lorenzen had always collected little animal figurines. Years ago, I had given her a small eagle. After her passing, we kept this memento of her. My husband kept it in a little chest in “his” closet. (My husband is assigned the guest room closet for his clothes. I’m sure there are many other homes in which the guest room closet serves as The Husband’s Closet.)

One day, I walked into our bedroom and saw that little eagle sitting on my husband’s night stand by our bed. I kind of gasped, then smiled. I believe in signs, and I thought that was pretty cool. Perhaps Grandma Lorenzen was “saying hi.” I took the eagle and put it back in my husband’s wooden chest and told my husband about it.

That same day, or the next day (I do not remember), there was the eagle again, sitting atop our dresser.

No matter how many times that eagle was put in my husband’s wooden chest, our son, Parker, would get it out again and put it in our room.

It now stays on my husband’s nightstand. Watching us with an eagle eye. And we love every part of what that means.

My own dear Grandma Gourley always had a bowl of hard-shell nuts in her house all year round. As children, we always loved cracking our own nuts and eating them when we visited her house. During the holidays, it is common to see bags of those nuts being sold in the store, but I don’t usually buy any. Even though, years ago, my grandma gave me a brass nutcracker. I keep the nutcracker with our Christmas decorations, and every year I put it up as decoration in our kitchen.

A few weeks ago, as I sat in my grandma’s kitchen after she passed away, I looked around her home. I took in the scent that only belonged to the homes she had. I looked at all the beautiful things she carefully chose and placed throughout her home, and I saw that bowl of hard-shell nuts on her kitchen counter with a couple of simple nutcrackers on top.

A few nights ago, my husband and I sat on the couch watching TV. Parker was playing and rummaging around in the basement as he loves to do sometimes.

He came clambering up the stairs. He walked up to me and said, “Here you go, Mommy.”

He was holding the brass nutcracker. He set it on the couch next to me and went back to the basement.

I looked at my husband. “How in the world did he get this?!” I was astonished. I had a big smile on my face and tears stung my eyes.

“I don’t know!” he said.

You see, this nutcracker is in with big Tupperware containers on storage shelves in a storage room. We don’t get these out until we’re ready for Christmas decorating. You had better believe I’m going to have a bowl of hard-shell nuts out at Christmas time for that nutcracker!

Funny thing, this feeling of connection with others who have passed. It is fleeting. Sometimes you don’t feel them at all, you only feel the loss, and it is the deepest sadness a human can feel. Then, unexpectedly, a little sign, a little “hello,” and you know that they are with you, watching you like an eagle, “crackin your nuts,” and checking in on your child.

This morning, I woke and told my husband that I had dreamt of my grandma last night. I didn’t elaborate, as it was a sad dream.

My husband said, “Funny, I dreamt of all my grandmas last night, too.” (My husband rarely remembers his dreams.)

“Huh,” I said, as I reached in the kitchen cupboard to pull out a coffee cup my grandma used to have and warmed myself with some Sunday morning coffee.

Running Errands with Toddlers, A Savvy Solution

Running errands with a toddler can range from “no big deal” to excruciatingly annoying and painful. Sometimes, you never know what you’re gonna get.

Something as simple as running into a drycleaner to drop off two pairs of pants can become a quite complicated event, as only a mother knows.

You must:

-Get the kid in and out of the car seat.

-Answer questions about what you are doing. Repeatedly.

-Give a pre-lecture in a hiss-yell, “Parker! You STAY WITH MOMMY!”

-Make sure all items are secured in The Toddler’s hands before leaving the car area. (My child is like a Reese monkey and needs to be clutching metal cars in both hands while going ANYWHERE.)

-Go into the drycleaners to conduct what should be a simple one-task affair, but instead you are trying to talk to the salesclerk while keeping one eye glued on The Toddler and anticipate any issue that could occur.

(And believe me, any issue can occur when The Toddler is involved.)

-Then, you must convince this Toddler to leave, help them back into the car seat, make sure all cars and “things” are accounted for, etc. etc. Sounds energizing, right?

So, here is what I did yesterday while on the way home from work. I was dreading dealing with my “simple” errand with The Toddler in tow, and then, wouldn’t you know it? He fell asleep in his car seat and was slumbering peacefully as we got closer to our destination.

I drove up to the store front of the drycleaners and parked the car. I called information and got instantly connected to said drycleaners. I watched as the saleslady inside picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Maggie,” said Maggie.

“Hi, Maggie! I am parked right out front of your store…” I said as she looked out the window.

I waved a friendly wave. She waved back and smiled. (I was glad to see the smile because I didn’t know yet if she would think I was crazy, rude, or pulling a prank.)

I continued, “I was wondering if you could pull my information up on the computer while we’re on the phone, and then when you are ready for my clothes, I can just pop in real quick and set the pants on the counter and run out. I have a toddler in a car seat with me, and I just figured it would be so much easier this way.” (I braced myself.)

“Oh, of course!” Maggie replied, “You wait right there and I’ll come out.”

Wow! Even better!

Maggie was a wonderful woman. She came out and collected my pants and gave me my drycleaning ticket. I thanked her profusely. She was so nice, and it seemed that she understood. Then, we were off. Driving home. Easy schmeasy!

Thank you, Maggies of the world. Thank you for understanding and helping. You made my long day just a little bit easier. I promise I won’t do this all the time, but for that one time, it sure was nice.

“A Case of the Mondays”

Today I am participating with Monday Mahem and the Three Things Meme!

Jazzy Gal has also given me two awards and asked that I write seven things about myself in order to accept. I will assume that the Three Things Meme below will suffice. (I’m a multi-tasker like that.)

You can also check out my previous posts in which I accepted the Beautiful Blogger award and demonstrated how I was a Versatile Blogger!

On with the game.

3 Places I Would Pack My Travel Bag For
1. My bedroom. Pajamas only. Right now, I really need some sleep.
2. Siberia. I really need some alone time. Siberia is good for alone time.
3. Maybe I wouldn’t mind a cabin in the woods. In the deep woods. With a raging fire.

3 On-Screen Characters I Love To Watch
1. That nurse sidekick on Nurse Jackie. She is so awkward and funny. She’s confident but full of blunders.
2. Toni Collette on United States of Tara. She has multiple personalities, so it’s like watching more than one character, really.
3. Laura Linney on The Big C. This is a new show. Wow. I think it is fearless and fabulous. Laura Linney is fearless and fabulous.

3 Moods That Describe Me The Best
1. Reflective
2. Prone to drama. Expressive.
3. Playful. Sometimes.

3 Things I Always Think Of Doing On A Weekend
1. Sleeping
2. Watching crap TV
3. Eating.
(Perhaps my basic needs are not being met Monday through Friday?)

3 Things From My Childhood That I Can't Forget
1. Patton Bernard. Cabbage Patch kid. Birthday November 1.
2. Carrol. My beloved male (yes, male) cat. What a stink eye he had. He was a moody MF. And he only loved me.
3. Our pool. We grew up in Phoenix. We LIVED in the pool. What a great way to spend a childhood.

3 Things I Would Never Say No To
1. Wine.
2. Laying down.
3. Hugging and loving my bub.
(Not exactly in that order. I guess.)

3 Things I Can't Live Without
1. Wine.
2. Sleep.
3. Access to earplugs while I sleep.