Me, according to Will

So while I posted all the things that TJ told me about myself, I didn't tell the things that Will told me about myself (his answers are put in quotes)... so (thanks for the idea, Natalie), here goes nothing:

-What I know about my Mom: My mom is very "funny and smrt" (off to a good start here!). She is "46" inches tall. She weighs "100" pounds (just a little off). She has "blue" eyes. She has "brown" hair. Her favorite color is "rainbow".

-My Mom's favorite food is "pan caks", but she doesn't like "brnt pan caks" (who would?).

-She spends most of her time doing "Tels me to clein the basmint."

-The thing my Mom likes to do for fun is "watch twi lit." (see attached picture... makes it all the better!)

-My Mom always says "clein the basmint" (I'm sensing a pattern here...)

The End.

I need to hire someone to work on my image with my children.

No Stealing!

So here's my idea: and this will only make sense to those of us who have come to develop a NEED for coffee on a regular basis... I'm going to create a coffee delivery service. For those days when you can't get it together enough to get out of the house but YOU REALLY NEED A COFFEE. Not like a cup of whatever-you-can-brew-up-yourself coffee, but the kind that someone makes for you. Always seems to taste better to me anyways.

This won't work in places where around every corner there's a Starbucks (or something like it), and it won't work somewhere where there are a TON of drive-thru coffee shops. Nope. It will only work in places that are like the place that I live. I COULD drive a few extra minutes to get to a Starbucks with a drive thru, but #1, it's out of my way, #2, I'm not ALWAYS wanting Starbucks (hello? I enjoy Caribou more anyways, and while I do know that drive-thru Caribou's exist, there aren't any reasonably close to here) and #3, sometimes even getting all the yahoos (or even one yahoo) in the car is more work than I can handle. Bring on my coffee delivery service: "Joe Mama". Get it? NO STEALING NOW. You read it here first.

I would totally buy into this. I don't have to get dressed? I don't have to get the kids dressed? All I do is go online (easier than having to call someone) and coffee shows up at my door? Totally worth it sometimes. Now, I'll give you the fact that it's a LUXURY. But sometimes life really requires a bit of luxury. So... who wants to invest?

"That's our slogan!"

I'm not trying to be biased, but some people really should try harder at the English language before you go so far as to get a sign for your company truck. It's like the dopey cookie people at the mall... "It's You're Birthday", printed on a giant, takes at least a dozen people to eat it cookie. Yeah, no. If someone were to give me a cookie like that, I would really hope that they got it for free. Or at least noticed that they were telling me it's YOU ARE birthday. What the heck? This really isn't that hard.

And then we get back to the company truck. Granted, this person's first language might not be English. I get that part. But if your business (or should I say you're... aaaggghhh!!!!) is mowing the lawns of primarily English speaking suburbanites, you'd think that you could maybe get someone to do a glance over at your little (or, in this case, big) sign for your truck before someone like me rides around it and thinks, "gosh, I'm not sure I'd hire this company." Because, you know, yardwork requires perfect grammar and skills. This truck says the name of the landscaping company and "Free Estimates". Is this their company slogan? Are they not sure if it's really going to be free? But I guess that would be "free" estimates, with a little ;) at the end.

This is not me saying that everyone should speak English. This is me saying that if you're going to do something in ANY language, please make sure it's correct. Because you just might lose my business because I'm anal about that sort of thing. And I'm sure you're disappointed about that.

Should I really be flattered?

I went clothes shopping today. Without children. That right there means that I actually went shopping, rather than just running into the store, grabbing a few things in my size, paying for them, only to try them on at home to realize that things on a size 0 mannequin in the window don't look nearly the same as they do in my size on me. Shocking, I know. But the THRILL! Shopping without having to wonder which racks the boys are playing in and without having to take a stroller into the dressing room with me? Whoa. I almost didn't know what to do with all the room in there.

So I went dress shopping. I'll confess, it was fun having a saleslady waiting on me. I actually asked her to help me put accessories with this dress... what? Really. Accessories. Not that I bought them, but it was like playing dress up. But here's the strangest part, and maybe it's just me, but... since when do stores not put mirrors INSIDE dressing rooms? So I was forced to go and look in this GIGANTIC mirror outside my fitting room. So, of course, everyone in the store could come oooh and aaaah at my feeble attempt to look fashionable. So I can't help but stand there and realize that I just can't pull off the same type of dress that I did 10 years ago. Even the sales lady said, "you're looking at your knees and arms, not yourself in the dress." And maybe she was right (ok, she was totally right). But there was still something not right about the dress (even without noticing my arms and knees).

Then I try on dress #2, which I really wouldn't have picked out from the window display, but it was a fun dress none the less. Of course, since I have to show the entire store myself in the dress because of the car-sized mirror, a woman came up to me and says, "You have great legs, Young Lady." Well, thanks! I think. Wait... this wasn't some young hot guy, or even someone close to my age... think 40 years older than me. So basically, it's like my grandma telling me I look good. Which I would HOPE that she would do, because honestly, when I'm 70-something, I KNOW that I don't usually look as good as someone half my age, and I'd be happy to tell them that they look nice.

So I don't know. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth? I should be flattered, I know... but we'll see what my kids say later. That's when the real truth comes out: "Mom, WHY are you wearing a DRESS?"

Surprise! My Favorite Food is Salad!

Of course, because I eat salad at least once a week. I'm starting to wonder if my children pay attention to me at all. I mean, I'm sure they do... like occasionally they'll notice if I get my hair cut or if I'm gone for a week or something... but is this really what my kids think of me?

This comes up because T.J., my 7 year old, made one of those books that they make moms for Mother's Day. It's actually really great, but has some very interesting (and little known) facts about me and my relationship with my son in it. For example: "My mom likes to play tennis." Funny. We played once at the park 2 weekends ago and we left after about 15 minutes because the boys couldn't keep the ball even close to our court. So I told them that we'd come back to the park when they can hit the box that I've made on the garage door with their ball 10x in a row. Another example: "My mom is funny when she does a handstand." Huh. I didn't know that I've been doing handstands in front of him (or anywhere, for that matter), but I guess I should do more, because it's amusing. Then there's the whole salad thing. The picture that accompanies this statement is amusing as well, because T.J. (you know it's him because he's chosen to label who is who in the picture, just for clarification) is up near the fridge (with a fork), and I'm sitting at the table with my salad, which looks like enough salad to feed my family its salad quota for the month.

Another example, but this one finally proves that my son does listen to me from time to time: "My mom does not like to yell." Notice this does not say that my mom does not yell, because that would just be a lie. Instead, he's chosen to highlight my statement that I always seem to be saying AFTER the yelling has commenced... "Do you think I LIKE to yell? Well I DON'T!" Ah ha. He's paying attention. Then there's the "My mom is afraid of spiders" statement, which is true as well, but what the picture DOESN'T show is that the only other person in the room with me and the spiders (which, by the way, makes our house look like it could double as a dungeon) is my husband, who is carrying a shoe to save the day. My other children are nowhere in the picture, as they, too, scream like girls when they see a spider. So while this statement is true, it's making me look unnecessarily wussy-ish.

Lastly, "My mom always tells me the news online." Because he's so interested, I guess. At least he's not putting down something like "my mom is always on facebook."

Attempt # 2

At a blog. I have been told umpteen times by many people that I should be blogging. Perhaps I'm a good writer? I doubt I'll be making my millions on this anytime soon. Darn shame, that.

Anyhoo, in all truth, this blog title belongs to my friend Chris, who fooled me into believing it existed already. It should have already existed, because I KNOW there are lots of us out there... you know, women who have a certain image in their heads about how we WANT to look, but then look in the mirror and realize how we DO look... but aren't about to let those calories from our social outings get in the way of having a good time. So we run. We run together so that we hold each other accountable.

I've never called myself a "runner", even though I have the leg length that would certainly suggest that I could be. I ran cross-country in junior high and started in high school, then quit. I'm not very good at keeping the commitment. I have great intentions every Spring, but by the time July comes around, I'm easily coming up with excuses as to why I don't want to run today: it's too hot, too buggy, I need more sleep, there might be a thunderstorm because there are clouds over some sections of the midwest... you get the picture.

So perhaps with the fresh start of a new blog (and a 5k eight days away), I'll actually blog. And oh yeah ...run.