Because it was fun and I have no imagination and can't think of anything to write on my own -
Julie in Florida asks, what is your favorite childhood memory, what is your favorite color, who is your favorite person to meet for coffee and when are you going to write a book? Oh these questions readers are leaving always veer off into the delusional at the end.
I'll start with the last question. I am never going to write a book. The chances of it becoming a best seller are pretty high, which means I would become famous and I've always been a little afraid I would be awful as a famous person, which is why I really never try too hard at anything. The money and fame would go to my head. I would probably start drinking all the time and may even turn into the kind of person who gets on airplanes and spouts off f bombs. It wouldn't be pretty. We're all just better off with me living my life in a pretty anonymous state
What is my favorite color? Green. I find it soothing.
Who is my favorite person to have coffee with? Whoever it is I happen to be meeting that day for coffee is my favorite person to have coffee with. If I had to choose one person to have coffee with it would be my sister. This isn't to take away from all of the other lovely people I have coffee with ( and it suddenly sounds like all I do is have coffee with people all day, everyday) but me and my sister are pretty tight.
What is my favorite childhood memory? This one was hard. When I tried to think of one favorite memory I couldn't come up with one single one. Everything melded together. Little things come to mind, many of them involving my Nana. Picking dandelion greens with her in a field near the DiSiena Furniture store. She used to cook the greens like spinach. I guess this is now considered a fancy meal. My Nana did a lot of things that are now considered fancy and impressive. Too bad facebook wasn't around back then. The time she found an injured bird lying in the road and brought it inside and tried to nurse it back to health. I was a teen when this happened. Nothing much impressed me. This did though. I still remember being mesmerized by the fact that my Nana was doing this. She put it in an open shoe box and wrapped up its broken wing and kept checking on it. I don't even remember if the bird made it or not. Making homemade ravioli with her and having her get mad at me and my sister if we didn't seam those babies up properly. Her praying the rosary in her chair and if you happened to come in when she was in the midst of it she would put her rosary down and talk to you, which always made me feel special. Those are just some of my favorites but I have many more and if I were to sit here and keep writing there is a chance I would never get up and unload the dishwasher, which is what I really need to be doing right now. As an aside, I realize I was extremely blessed to have grown up living so close to my Nana. It does take a lot to impress me and if you want to know why you would have to understand who my Nana was. I'm not sure there is anyone who even comes close to topping her in every single way and if she was sitting here reading this she would smile and say, "you bet your ass my granddaughter."
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Ride
This blog stays mostly empty because I never know what to write about, but then I saw that someone left a comment on my last post and I thought oh this is so exciting, I've always wanted to a get a comment that would let me do this....
A reader in Kentucky asks - Let me ask you ( go ahead reader, ask me anything), are you the type of biker who wears spandex and helmet? I picture you riding your bike in a pair of shorts and tank top, hair up in a pony tail, headphones on, leisurely riding around. I think it's awesome you are doing a 100 mile race. The reader then becomes delusional and says that she is sure I am going to love doing this 100 mile ride and want to do them all the time.
Well I just loved this question because there are so many facets to it and I now have something to write about! Thank you, Kirsten!
No, I am not the type of biker who wears spandex. I'm what you can call plump ( go ahead, call me that, I won't punch you in the face, I promise!) so spandex would make me feel like a sausage stuffed into its casing and I would spend my whole ride uncomfortable and annoyed and my rolls of fat would keep falling out over the waistband and I would have to keep getting off my bike to tuck them back in, and then I would just be unhappy and riding is meant to make me happy so no, no spandex. This is the same reason I refuse to wear those awful things called spanx. I don't care how much thinner they are meant to make you feel, they would have the opposite effect on me. I would constantly be thinking about the fact that I was so fat and flabby that it was now necessary for me to put on special undergarments to hold my fat in and at no point would I be thinking, but I look 4 sizes smaller! What DO I wear on my ride? Usually those workout legging pants that come right below the knee, or on colder days, the ones that come to my ankle. On hot days, I wear cutoff yoga pants. Yes, it does look stupid, but I don't care.
Yes, I most definitely wear a helmet. I used to not wear one because I thought it made me look stupid, but then I realized I would look more stupid dead so I caved in and started using one and now I can't imagine riding without a helmet.
As far picturing me riding around in a pair of shorts and a tank top, with my hair up in a ponytail, leisurely listening to music from my headphones, I like this idea and I hope you are also picturing me weighing about 115 pounds and being about 5'8" with long tan legs and perky breasts filling the tank top. Also, a small nose and long neck. Please, please picture me like that. It's kind of how I hope my husband pictures me. I just know I would look good like that. Not everyone could pull that look off but I'm sure it would suit me well.
The reality, of course, is that I look like an oompa loompa when I ride. I know this because I did a charity ride a few months back and I happened to go online to look at the pictures and sure enough there was this thing in one of the photos and I thought oh, I didn't see any oompa loompas out there riding today, this is very interesting indeed. On closer inspection I realized it was yours truly and I almost became upset but then I remembered that even in my fattened state I had managed to finish the ride quite a bit before several young women who were much more fit than me and who had much nicer bikes, so I went back to feeling smug and managed to convince myself that looking like an oompa loompa isn't such a bad lot in life.
As for how I wear my hair and whether or not I wear headphones; I can't wear a ponytail due to the helmet, but I do wear my headphones when I am riding on the bike path. It makes riding long distances more pleasant. Last week I was on a 65 mile ride and I had a moment of exhaustion and I kind of wanted to get off my bike and lie down in the grass and at that very moment, Bruce came on my ipod and starting singing The Promised Land to me and that was all I needed. I actually started singing, too, and I didn't give two poops who was around to hear me. Music helps me tremendously in every area of my life and it helps me ride better, too, so yes, if I'm on the bike path, they are in. If I'm out in the middle of nowhere on a country road, no, I don't use them.
As for riding at a leisurely pace, if you were to pass me in your car you would probably think I was riding for leisure. I am not fast, although I do try to make every ride count. I spend many, many, many hours a week on my bike ( I can't tell you how many because then you will think I'm neglecting my kids) and I would feel guilty if I didn't make the time count for something, so I go as fast as I can go and I like to feel exhausted when I get off the bike, but the good kind, the kind that makes me want to go out again and again.
What I lack in speed I more than make up for in my love for the bike. I LOVE riding. Riding saved me quite a few years ago when I went through an unpleasant experience in college. I got a summer job at the end of my junior year and saved every penny I made and then my good friend, Eddie, took me up to the bike shop in Clifton Park and helped me pick out a mountain bike and I rode that bike everyday of the summer, all over the place.While I was riding I thought about the kind of life I wanted to have and the kind of person I wanted to be and sometimes I just daydreamed about things I knew would never happen but were still fun to think about. I rode on country roads and I went places I probably shouldn't have gone but I always got off the bike and felt better about everything and the bike still does that for me. I never feel worse. Not even when I fall and nearly knock my teeth out.
Over the weekend I had a moment of panic and thought that my idea to do the century was completely foolish and there was no way I could it. I texted my sister and called my sister and finally after listening to me over and over she sent me a text and said, but you love riding so much and that's all that matters, that's what this ride is about, just calm down. So I did finally and who cares if Greg has to come pick me up in the dark and I don't finish the ride with everyone else. Although I don't know that I'll be doing centuries all the time, I do think Kirsten is right, I do think I will end up loving this particular ride. And Anthony would never let me back out now anyway. He already told me the only way to prove how much I love him and care about him and his diabetes is by doing this ride. Then he told me he was kidding and only trying to motivate me.
Anyway, thanks for the question, Kirsten. You provided me with a material for a post!
Thursday, December 12, 2013
I was never good with the titles so I'm not giving this post one
I keep reading things on the computer about Advent and the need to slow down and listen and relax and get ready for Christmas. Except first we have to go out the day after Thanksgiving, or really the day of Thanksgiving now, and buy as many things as we can. And then we can slow down and relax and get ready for the reason for the season. As an aside, I saw a woman on the news on Thanksgiving Day and she was rushing into the store to buy...a toaster! And I felt sad and looked at my husband and I could tell that he felt sad too, because really, if you are going to charge through the store with herds of people on the day that you should technically be stuffing your face and unbuttoning your pants half way through your meal, it should not be to buy a toaster. There is no toaster on the face of the planet that could lure me away from eating too much stuffing and apple pie.
I'm always worried that during this time of year, when we are told to slow down and savor the meaning of it all, someone is going to take me aside and tell me, Ann Marie, darling, you cannot slow down, you have been slowing down all year and you need to get off your ass and actually do something now. I have a sloth like quality to me and there really isn't any point in the year when I think, oh gee, thank God it's this season, because NOW I can finally slow down. Yes, I have children and yes they annoy me on the daily with all of their never ending wants and needs, but what can I say, I'm a pro at relaxing and nary a day goes by when I don't manage to spend a good portion of it sitting down and doing nothing more than staring off into space, picking my lips. Even my most favorite hobby, bike riding, involves sitting.
Speaking of riding my bike, I'm doing a ride for diabetes in March. Well the ride is not FOR diabetes as no one in their right mind would ride their bike to get diabetes. The ride is meant for raising money to find a cure for diabetes. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to give me money. I'm saving my change and using that for my fundraising. I love riding my bike and I hate diabetes so this ride will be a pleasure. Not a pleasure really, but more a time where I spend the entire day wondering if I will die, with smatterings of panicky texts to my sister about the state of my numb ass and various other complaints. Sister of mine, you have been warned! I suppose if I make it to the finish line and don't die, then there will a moment of pleasure. The ride is a hundred miles, or what is known in the cycling world as a century, but I've always felt like a bit of a poser calling myself a cyclist, so I just call it a hundred mile ride. I'm hoping I can make it through the entire ride without falling and knocking out my teeth for good, although I have had my eye a lovely pair of dentures I found for real cheap on ebay, so who knows, fingers crossed, those babies will be mine real soon.
There is a bit of training that goes along with getting ready to ride a hundred miles and I have decided to bore you with only a little bit of it. It involves riding your bike a certain amount of miles on many days and then on the days when you can't ride too long you are advised to ride as fast as you can, or find hills to ride (nearly impossible in Florida but I do okay). These short and intense bursts of riding are meant to help you increase your speed. So far no good. Speed on the bike will never be my thing. Anyway, after you do all of this long riding and short intense riding you are then advised to gas up on oreos. No, I'm kidding about that part. I wish it were true but it's not.
Speaking of gassing up, that's the term my husband uses to describe a form of eating that entails consuming large quantities of food in a short amount of time and then not eating again for many many hours, sometimes a full twenty four hours. When we started dating, Greg would tell me he had to gas up and when I mistakenly assumed he meant he had to fill his car up with fuel he corrected me and explained the entire concept to me and I thought, gee I wonder if this fellow really is as weird as my parents think he is. You would think someone of my sloth like character would be on board with the concept of gorging, and I am, but I'm not keen on the part where I have to wait many, many hours, sometimes an entire day, to eat again. Anyhow, I've been with Greg for so long now that I do that thing where all of his weirdo behavior suddenly seems normal and the last time I mentioned gassing up to people there was confusion and then laughter when I explained what it was and then I remembered Greg really is kind of weird. I still don't entirely understand the point of gassing up but Greg says it just saves time and frees up his schedule on those days when he doesn't have time to sit down and eat three meals. He is apparently much busier than me.
Well dear reader, I must go now. I don't quite know the point of this post but I haven't written in a bit and I figured I would get some thoughts out. I hope you are finding time in your day to relax and enjoy the season of Advent. If you need any tips on how to go about that, shoot me an email. And in my next post I will regale you with all of the things I have learned about life in the past year. And that post will be all of one sentence long.
Speaking of gassing up, that's the term my husband uses to describe a form of eating that entails consuming large quantities of food in a short amount of time and then not eating again for many many hours, sometimes a full twenty four hours. When we started dating, Greg would tell me he had to gas up and when I mistakenly assumed he meant he had to fill his car up with fuel he corrected me and explained the entire concept to me and I thought, gee I wonder if this fellow really is as weird as my parents think he is. You would think someone of my sloth like character would be on board with the concept of gorging, and I am, but I'm not keen on the part where I have to wait many, many hours, sometimes an entire day, to eat again. Anyhow, I've been with Greg for so long now that I do that thing where all of his weirdo behavior suddenly seems normal and the last time I mentioned gassing up to people there was confusion and then laughter when I explained what it was and then I remembered Greg really is kind of weird. I still don't entirely understand the point of gassing up but Greg says it just saves time and frees up his schedule on those days when he doesn't have time to sit down and eat three meals. He is apparently much busier than me.
Well dear reader, I must go now. I don't quite know the point of this post but I haven't written in a bit and I figured I would get some thoughts out. I hope you are finding time in your day to relax and enjoy the season of Advent. If you need any tips on how to go about that, shoot me an email. And in my next post I will regale you with all of the things I have learned about life in the past year. And that post will be all of one sentence long.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Courage, please
One of my most admirable qualities is my ability to sweep things under the carpet for long stretches of time until they become big problems that can't be ignored, at which point many other people have to become involved in what could have otherwise been an entirely preventable problem if I had addressed it when I should have. I really excel at this. One time when I was in college I got pregnant and ignored it for seven whole months until I lovingly sprang it on my parents one day. Honestly I didn't really spring it on them. It was more like my mom looked at me and said, are you pregnant?! And I said probably. That was fun for everyone! And then there was the time I ran up credit cars bills and just kept hiding it from my husband until one day he came home from work and I said guess what I did - again!? That was also fun for everyone! There have been minor offenses too, like the time I swiped a mailbox when I was a paper carrier and my husband noticed the scratch marks on the side mirror and when he asked me about it I just said, huh, not sure how that got there and then I pretended I need to go poop and I ran inside. Or the time I gained 95 pounds when I was pregnant with Maggie because I refused to look at the scale for my entire pregnancy and even when I got to the point of nearly needing a forklift to get me off the couch I just kept saying, I will deal with this issue later, first I need another sleeve of Oreos. I haven't mastered the art of being a great person yet but I'm trying hard. I really am.
A month or two ago I was riding my bike in Tavares and my front tire caught the railroad tracks the wrong way and I ended up having a scary bike fall that landed me flat on my face. I was mortified of course. I spend half my life assuming everyone is making fun of me and then I give them opportunities like this. I lay on the ground with my head on the pavement a little bit longer than needed because I knew once I rolled over people would be standing over me laughing and pointing at the loser who still hasn't mastered how to ride a bike in a straight line. If you think I'm being hard on myself, I'm really not. This was the second fall I took on Lakeshore Drive in less than a month.
As it turns out people are nicer than I give them credit for and everyone wanted to help me, which made me feel even more stupid. The fire chief happened to be there that day and he came running over and told me I was bleeding from my mouth and asked if I had lost any teeth and I said no, I hadn't, I just cut my lip and that's where all the blood was coming from. He was nice enough to offer me a ride home. When he pulled into our driveway my daughter was outside and saw my bloody face and knees and shoulders and seemed quite upset, but I told her to just go inside and mention this to no one, I was fine, please just stop freaking out.
I took a shower and cleaned myself up pretty good and decided that I would just spend the next few weeks looking down at the ground, hopefully ensuring my fat lip and scraped up chin would go unnoticed by my husband. If he asked me why I was suddenly refusing to direct my gaze upward I would mumble and tell him I was in a pissy mood and he better leave me alone. It was a great plan, except for it only lasted for about two minutes, until I accidentally looked up at him when he walked into the bedroom. Then I had to confess my awful fall and he just kept saying that he couldn't understand why I thought it would be a good idea to keep my accident a secret. Mostly I didn't want to tell him because I knew it would lead to the inevitable talk about my obsession with riding and how I was getting carried away and really why couldn't I ride in safer places. And that is exactly what did happen. He told me he leaves for work everyday and worries I will get hit by a car and he and the kids would be devastated if anything ever happened to me on my bike and I just looked at him and all I could think was, oh wow Greg, how much more selfish could you be, but I figured I would keep my mouth shut and not share that thought with him.
I spent most of the day crying, not because I was in pain from the fall but because it had become clear that my riding needed to be altered and my entire life was now ruined and destroyed and I may as well just throw my bike in the garbage because I would never, ever ride again. I carried on like that for several hours and my husband just kept walking by me saying nothing. It was pissing me off that he wasn't caving into my nonsense and then it occurred to me that after twenty years of marriage he had worked up a complete tolerance for my bs. At some point over the weekend I had a moment of clarity and realized he was right and I decided to switch my routes up to include safer places and I have continued to ride everyday and keep up my miles and life doesn't suck and everything wasn't ruined and my bike never landed in the garbage.
But this story doesn't have an entirely happy ending. It took at least week for my mouth to start feeling normal again and for my lip to really heal and once it did I decided to kind of look at my teeth and touch them again and I noticed that my front teeth are just a teensy weensy bit loose. Nothing that anyone but me would ever notice and honestly it's almost imperceptible, accept for the fact that it is true, they are clearly just a teensy weensy ( very teensy weensy, trust me it's the teensiest of weensiest) bit loose. Do you like how I have reverted to using words that toddlers use? That's because I kind of act like a toddler and so it suits me to speak like one.
This is where denial and sweeping things under the carpet is getting me into some trouble. For weeks now I have been thinking I need to go to the dentist, but I can't make the call. I don't even have the name of a dentist I trust. My older kids go to a good dentist except for he's abrasive. My kids don't mind him because they have great teeth with no issues, but I do have issues, both with my teeth and my person. I cannot tolerate a dentist who is harsh. One time I was at the dentist and he was merely coming toward me with a mirror to show me something and I swiped his hand away. I apologized and he was nice about it but that is the kind of behavior I exhibit while I'm sitting in the dental chair. Maggie has a wonderful pediatric dentist but I'm pretty sure I couldn't fit into his teeny tiny cute whittle chairs, but really this is the sort of dentist I need because he has laughing gas that he gives Maggie and she likes it so much that she routinely asks when her next root canal/tooth pulling will be. I need to find a dentist who makes me that excited about jumping in the chair and getting my gums drilled and pulled and shot up with Novocain, but the truth is, the dentist has always been a source of extreme anxiety for me and my going is usually the result of me being in complete and utter pain.
I wish I could tell you that plans are in the works to call someone today or tomorrow or very soon but honestly I most likely won't take care of this issue until my teeth are dangling like a loose thread and who knows, that could be next week or it could very well be several years from now. Part of me is still convinced that everyone has loose teeth every now and again and they just have to sort of harden up a bit. All I ask now is for you not to leave horror stories in the comment sections. That will not help move me in the right direction at all. Don't even leave a comment telling me I really need to take care of this. I already know I need to take care of it. I mean it. Please do not tell me something horrible. I KNOW this needs to be addressed. Just do me this favor. It's simple really. Just pray that I get some courage. I have no greater fear than going to the dentist and no greater flaw than a complete lack of courage. My problem is always my lack of courage.
PS . To clarify, feel free to leave fawning comments on this post, just not comments related to how I need to call the dentist. To clarify again, I know, I really know I need to call the dentist. Courage! That's all I need. And fawning comments too. I need those too.
A month or two ago I was riding my bike in Tavares and my front tire caught the railroad tracks the wrong way and I ended up having a scary bike fall that landed me flat on my face. I was mortified of course. I spend half my life assuming everyone is making fun of me and then I give them opportunities like this. I lay on the ground with my head on the pavement a little bit longer than needed because I knew once I rolled over people would be standing over me laughing and pointing at the loser who still hasn't mastered how to ride a bike in a straight line. If you think I'm being hard on myself, I'm really not. This was the second fall I took on Lakeshore Drive in less than a month.
As it turns out people are nicer than I give them credit for and everyone wanted to help me, which made me feel even more stupid. The fire chief happened to be there that day and he came running over and told me I was bleeding from my mouth and asked if I had lost any teeth and I said no, I hadn't, I just cut my lip and that's where all the blood was coming from. He was nice enough to offer me a ride home. When he pulled into our driveway my daughter was outside and saw my bloody face and knees and shoulders and seemed quite upset, but I told her to just go inside and mention this to no one, I was fine, please just stop freaking out.
I took a shower and cleaned myself up pretty good and decided that I would just spend the next few weeks looking down at the ground, hopefully ensuring my fat lip and scraped up chin would go unnoticed by my husband. If he asked me why I was suddenly refusing to direct my gaze upward I would mumble and tell him I was in a pissy mood and he better leave me alone. It was a great plan, except for it only lasted for about two minutes, until I accidentally looked up at him when he walked into the bedroom. Then I had to confess my awful fall and he just kept saying that he couldn't understand why I thought it would be a good idea to keep my accident a secret. Mostly I didn't want to tell him because I knew it would lead to the inevitable talk about my obsession with riding and how I was getting carried away and really why couldn't I ride in safer places. And that is exactly what did happen. He told me he leaves for work everyday and worries I will get hit by a car and he and the kids would be devastated if anything ever happened to me on my bike and I just looked at him and all I could think was, oh wow Greg, how much more selfish could you be, but I figured I would keep my mouth shut and not share that thought with him.
I spent most of the day crying, not because I was in pain from the fall but because it had become clear that my riding needed to be altered and my entire life was now ruined and destroyed and I may as well just throw my bike in the garbage because I would never, ever ride again. I carried on like that for several hours and my husband just kept walking by me saying nothing. It was pissing me off that he wasn't caving into my nonsense and then it occurred to me that after twenty years of marriage he had worked up a complete tolerance for my bs. At some point over the weekend I had a moment of clarity and realized he was right and I decided to switch my routes up to include safer places and I have continued to ride everyday and keep up my miles and life doesn't suck and everything wasn't ruined and my bike never landed in the garbage.
But this story doesn't have an entirely happy ending. It took at least week for my mouth to start feeling normal again and for my lip to really heal and once it did I decided to kind of look at my teeth and touch them again and I noticed that my front teeth are just a teensy weensy bit loose. Nothing that anyone but me would ever notice and honestly it's almost imperceptible, accept for the fact that it is true, they are clearly just a teensy weensy ( very teensy weensy, trust me it's the teensiest of weensiest) bit loose. Do you like how I have reverted to using words that toddlers use? That's because I kind of act like a toddler and so it suits me to speak like one.
This is where denial and sweeping things under the carpet is getting me into some trouble. For weeks now I have been thinking I need to go to the dentist, but I can't make the call. I don't even have the name of a dentist I trust. My older kids go to a good dentist except for he's abrasive. My kids don't mind him because they have great teeth with no issues, but I do have issues, both with my teeth and my person. I cannot tolerate a dentist who is harsh. One time I was at the dentist and he was merely coming toward me with a mirror to show me something and I swiped his hand away. I apologized and he was nice about it but that is the kind of behavior I exhibit while I'm sitting in the dental chair. Maggie has a wonderful pediatric dentist but I'm pretty sure I couldn't fit into his teeny tiny cute whittle chairs, but really this is the sort of dentist I need because he has laughing gas that he gives Maggie and she likes it so much that she routinely asks when her next root canal/tooth pulling will be. I need to find a dentist who makes me that excited about jumping in the chair and getting my gums drilled and pulled and shot up with Novocain, but the truth is, the dentist has always been a source of extreme anxiety for me and my going is usually the result of me being in complete and utter pain.
I wish I could tell you that plans are in the works to call someone today or tomorrow or very soon but honestly I most likely won't take care of this issue until my teeth are dangling like a loose thread and who knows, that could be next week or it could very well be several years from now. Part of me is still convinced that everyone has loose teeth every now and again and they just have to sort of harden up a bit. All I ask now is for you not to leave horror stories in the comment sections. That will not help move me in the right direction at all. Don't even leave a comment telling me I really need to take care of this. I already know I need to take care of it. I mean it. Please do not tell me something horrible. I KNOW this needs to be addressed. Just do me this favor. It's simple really. Just pray that I get some courage. I have no greater fear than going to the dentist and no greater flaw than a complete lack of courage. My problem is always my lack of courage.
PS . To clarify, feel free to leave fawning comments on this post, just not comments related to how I need to call the dentist. To clarify again, I know, I really know I need to call the dentist. Courage! That's all I need. And fawning comments too. I need those too.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Thirteen
Anthony turned thirteen yesterday. So here are some random things about him
- He told me yesterday that he thinks Maggie is going to be a feminist because she is bossy and independent and always thinks she is right about everything. A slightly unflattering view of a feminism perhaps, but Anthony meant it as a compliment so I didn't bother saying anything to him other than, good, I hope she stays that way. He does too. He thinks girls who let boys dictate how they live are idiots and he keeps telling his sisters that if they date boys they better not lose who they are.
- At some point during the past year Anthony decided he liked The Grateful Dead. This makes me a little sad because I always associate this particular band with the most obnoxious kids in my high school, but thankfully Anthony isn't like any of them so I will just sit and hope this phase passes.He also wears tie dye just about everyday. He has not started smoking pot yet so that's a plus.
- Last year his endocrinologist told him that now that he was getting into his teen years he would probably be tired a lot more and may even find himself sleepy during the day. So as soon as we got home from that appointment Anthony was suddenly very sleepy and said he needed a nap and he has kept this trend going for the past year. He needs five or six naps a day. At that same appointment the doctor also told him he was old enough to now take responsibility for much of his diabetes care but Anthony didn't hear that part of the conversation and every time I bring it up he says he's pretty sure I'm wrong about that.
- Anthony loves cooking and has become quite good at this year and whenever I tell him this could be a potential career choice for him he says, "Oh I only cook for the love, not for the money." He does have the idea that Mount Dora is lacking in men's thrift stores. According to Anthony, everything in town is geared toward old ladies and he wants to fix that. So who knows, someday soon you may find yourself shopping in a men's thrift store run by my son. If he keeps it anything like he keeps his bedroom you're in for a real treat!
- During a recent youth group meeting the kids were asked to think about what their greatest fears were. They were given some time to consider this and Anthony took it very seriously and of course he decided to be the first to share his thoughts. I can't tell you his fears because they were pretty deep and when he told me I thought wow, worry much Anthony? The rest of the kids said they were afraid they wouldn't get into a good college and then Anthony felt maybe he had "gone too deep with the whole thing and I wish I had said something like I was afraid of snakes, but I'm not afraid of snakes, but you know, maybe I should have kept it lighter." I told him not to worry, his friends were worried about all of the same things he was, they just weren't as comfortable sharing. So then he asked if he should start being less honest and part of me wanted to say, oh yes, for sure you need to be less honest, but instead I just said, I don't know, do what you think is right.
- If you would like to see Anthony really engaging in honesty give him a gift he doesn't like or want because he will not be able to hide in anyway his sheer disappointment and disbelief that you could be so foolish as to think he would like the piece of crap you are trying to give him and if you think it's rude of him not to appreciate it, well you are wrong, you are the jerk who got him a crappy gift and you are the one who should feel bad. I can't hold this too much against him as he inherited this charming quality from me.
I'm sure I could sit here and write all day about Anthony but it's time for math, Anthony's most favorite subject ever! When I just told him to get his math book out he told me he had to take a nap first.
- He told me yesterday that he thinks Maggie is going to be a feminist because she is bossy and independent and always thinks she is right about everything. A slightly unflattering view of a feminism perhaps, but Anthony meant it as a compliment so I didn't bother saying anything to him other than, good, I hope she stays that way. He does too. He thinks girls who let boys dictate how they live are idiots and he keeps telling his sisters that if they date boys they better not lose who they are.
- At some point during the past year Anthony decided he liked The Grateful Dead. This makes me a little sad because I always associate this particular band with the most obnoxious kids in my high school, but thankfully Anthony isn't like any of them so I will just sit and hope this phase passes.He also wears tie dye just about everyday. He has not started smoking pot yet so that's a plus.
- Last year his endocrinologist told him that now that he was getting into his teen years he would probably be tired a lot more and may even find himself sleepy during the day. So as soon as we got home from that appointment Anthony was suddenly very sleepy and said he needed a nap and he has kept this trend going for the past year. He needs five or six naps a day. At that same appointment the doctor also told him he was old enough to now take responsibility for much of his diabetes care but Anthony didn't hear that part of the conversation and every time I bring it up he says he's pretty sure I'm wrong about that.
- Anthony loves cooking and has become quite good at this year and whenever I tell him this could be a potential career choice for him he says, "Oh I only cook for the love, not for the money." He does have the idea that Mount Dora is lacking in men's thrift stores. According to Anthony, everything in town is geared toward old ladies and he wants to fix that. So who knows, someday soon you may find yourself shopping in a men's thrift store run by my son. If he keeps it anything like he keeps his bedroom you're in for a real treat!
- During a recent youth group meeting the kids were asked to think about what their greatest fears were. They were given some time to consider this and Anthony took it very seriously and of course he decided to be the first to share his thoughts. I can't tell you his fears because they were pretty deep and when he told me I thought wow, worry much Anthony? The rest of the kids said they were afraid they wouldn't get into a good college and then Anthony felt maybe he had "gone too deep with the whole thing and I wish I had said something like I was afraid of snakes, but I'm not afraid of snakes, but you know, maybe I should have kept it lighter." I told him not to worry, his friends were worried about all of the same things he was, they just weren't as comfortable sharing. So then he asked if he should start being less honest and part of me wanted to say, oh yes, for sure you need to be less honest, but instead I just said, I don't know, do what you think is right.
- If you would like to see Anthony really engaging in honesty give him a gift he doesn't like or want because he will not be able to hide in anyway his sheer disappointment and disbelief that you could be so foolish as to think he would like the piece of crap you are trying to give him and if you think it's rude of him not to appreciate it, well you are wrong, you are the jerk who got him a crappy gift and you are the one who should feel bad. I can't hold this too much against him as he inherited this charming quality from me.
I'm sure I could sit here and write all day about Anthony but it's time for math, Anthony's most favorite subject ever! When I just told him to get his math book out he told me he had to take a nap first.
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