Have you seen these?

You must pick one up. Use the money you would have spent on anti wrinkle crème if you must, because this baby is so good, it will take years off your face. No frown lines left at all, seriously. Wonderful chocolate, wrapped around the sweetest, softest caramel ever. I got this one free when the clerk at Walgreens forgot to ask me if I wanted one, then I bought two more. And now I can’t find them anywhere. And I am seriously Jonesin’ over this candy bar. If you see them, will you send me some?

“Slow, Smooth, Straight, Steady, Squeeze”

I finished Shooter on the 11th. I have no idea where this book came from, or how it ended up in my house. But That One saw it and asked to borrow it, and I told him he could have it after I read it, so it moved from “somewhere” in the TBR pile to top position.

This is an interesting book. It opens with some personal life stuff of Gunnery SGT Jack Coughlin and it ends with more personal stuff. A little getcha in the gut for the girlies. And in between all that, we get to see how a marine sniper really works, and also some awesome battle descriptions. Plenty of war for the boys.

I learned quite a few things about men and warriors from this book, because even a war story is a personal story. Soldiers generally aren’t emotionless automatons, they just learn to put that all on hold and get the job done. It’s a trait I greatly admire in men, that ability to shift emotion aside for a bit and deal only with the logic of a situation. I try it sometimes, but I generally come back to the decision my emotions have already made. I’ve noticed that this is not so for men. They will stick with that logical decision, even if it tears them up inside. And usually, you won’t know it even bothered them until later. Such insight is one of the side benefits to having a boy bff. And a….a….umm, other friend.

Those 5 S’s up above are the sniper mantra. One of the things That One says to me is “slow is fast”. We were having a series of discussions on life and complications and overwhelmed-ness. The man is wise, but I couldn’t quite figure out how he got that. I mean, I understood the explanation, but I still didn’t quite “get it” in my gut. Now I do. You prep, you plan, you get the information you need, and then you very methodically set about doing what needs to be done. The same principles that assure accuracy in a sniper also assure accuracy in dealing with life’s more daunting issues. Like dirty houses. And needy children. And stalkers. Make up your mind what you are going to do and then “Slow, Smooth, Straight, Steady, Squeeze”. A well placed round is a well placed round. Some are bullets that kill those who need killing, and some are actions that improve a life or lives. The principle is the same. But you can’t necessarily expect me to remember all that when I am emotional. I’m still a girl after all.

I recommend this book to anyone who wants a realistic account of what really happened in Iraq, instead of that left-wing media crap we were all fed. On the other hand, if the idea that people actually bleed as they die bothers you…read it anyway, because you need to understand the realities of life.

I felt better on the 10th, which was a very good thing, because I had to testify in court. I showered and dressed carefully and put on a fine face. Underneath it all, I wore my most uncomfortable underwear, just for the extra edge of aggravated they would give me, LOL. And I also wore, underneath a very business-like suit of clothes, these:

That’s right, pink socks with heels. Because a girl needs all the courage she can find sometimes.

Everything went well, but let me tell you, shaking like a leaf for a couple hours is a very effective natural fat burner. By the time I was done, I was starving. And who rode to the rescue? Guitar Guy, whose first text after I let him know I was done read “Lunch?”. And the next one read “Mexican?”. Oh yeah, buddy, I was so there!

oooh, two pictures for one day. Don’t be getting used to that!

On the 9th, I spent a good part of the morning in the bathroom. I’m pretty sure I left a portion of my intestines in there. A little colon cleansing diet if you will, only unintended. This is what I look like sick, with no makeup. It was going to be my self portrait of the week, which I didn’t get to for reasons that will become clear later. A life story has to be told in order, you know.

The downside to being sick on my day off is that I didn’t get jack squat accomplished. I am still behind from that over a week later. How does that happen that losing one day messes me up for a month? Of course, thinking back, I actually lost three days that week. The Tuesday I am talking about, Wednesday, and also Saturday. Sunday was pretty much a wash as well. Ok, that makes better sense. I am behind because I lost four days, not one. I’ll try to remember that as I look around the disaster in the living room and get ready to fuss at myself.

Sometimes, a girl just needs a little pick-me-up. For me, that occasionally means socks. I love cute socks. I have a huge drawer full of socks, and yet, I still look at socks in the store. Now, I could say it’s because I have to pass them on the way to the bathroom, but the truth is, I looked at socks before I started working. I mean, come on, new stuff for my feet! Way cheaper than shoes, but still a little bit of a shoe thrill. And you get multiple pairs for one low price. I love socks! And since, I’m not spending money on eczema treatments, I buy them.

It’s the pink that got me with this set. And the little flowers. Of course, one of my little pink flower socks has apparently adhered itself to something else in the washer or dryer, because it’s gone missing. Yep, after one wearing. Why don’t I ever lose plain white socks that way? Nope, always the cute ones or the handknit ones. But I never throw my one socks away, because eventually they turn up. Unlike the kids’ socks. I think they eat theirs.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about a lot of things. One of the pitfalls of depression is that everything just slides out of control on you, because you are overwhelmed with all that needs to happen. The tendency is to retreat, retreat, retreat. And that’s pretty much what I have done for the past couple of years.

Another thing that happens with depression, is that it gets harder to pick out your own true motivations. Recently, I realized that although the depression is lifting, I am still holding on to some rather bad habits, and I set about to explore in my own mind *why*. I mean, while it is true that I am as lazy as the next person, I am generally able to identify a job, make a plan of attack and see it through to the end, but that just wasn’t happening. I looked at my kids and I looked at the house, and I thought that both of them needed some serious reigning in, and why am I not doing that?

What I realized is kinda funny, not in a haha way, but just in a “my mind is weird way”. I am was using the messy house and unruly children as a barrier between myself and what comes next. See, I don’t want to live the rest of my life alone. If you look back to the posts I was writing as my marriage was falling apart, it should be fairly obvious that I still believe in love, I still believe in happily ever after, still believe in forever. But I am soooo not ready for any of that stuff yet. Just. Not. Ready. to be so involved with anyone that they have the power to tear me apart.

Now, I knew that in order to invite a man to be part of my life in any meaningful way, I had to be on my game. Life needed to be in some reasonable kind of order. I mean, life will always be somewhat chaotic with this many children, but chaos needs to be contained. A house that is chronically messy and children who do not listen and take me seriously the first time I speak are pretty good man deterrents, right? And I knew that, have known that for awhile. And yet, I could not make myself bring those areas under control.

But living in a mess undermines everything I need to teach my children about going on with life, and how to take pride in themselves and take care of business. And allowing them to not listen and set their own standards of behavior teaches them that there is no higher authority than their own wicked desires. I’m not bashing my kids here, the Bible tells us that the heart of man is desperately wicked and who can know it. It also tells us that even a child is known by his doings, whether they be good and right. So, here I was, working at cross-purposes to my own life goals: healthy, well adjusted children and a home we can all be comfortable in.

All that is fairly normal, but here was the breakthrough moment: I can get the house under control, and I can spend time with my children, teaching them about loving authority and I can still say I’m just not ready. I just don’t trust myself or anyone else enough right now to move any further in relationships than I already have. This is the very edge of my comfort zone, and I can’t move from here. And I hope that’s ok with you (that’s a general and hypothetical you) because this is where I am, and I am likely to be here for awhile. I can use my mouth to protect myself instead of subverting myself through inaction.

Now, I knew better than to set myself up for failure by tackling the whole house at once. This is going to be about building new habits and creating a new normal for me and the children. One of the main areas of downfall for me was the dishes. That is my job, but I would put it off until it became a major chore, instead of doing them right after supper. And of course, when I did that, everyone else left the kitchen, too and so no one except the designated cook was actually doing their kitchen job. So, on the 6th, after hashing out all this mental stuff with my bossfriend, I came home and washed my dishes. All of them. And I have done the dishes every night since then. Even the day I left half my intestines in the bathroom. Even the day I had to go to court and ended up with a migraine so bad I couldn’t drive. Even the nights I had scouts. Even the nights we had ball practices. Every night for 11 nights so far.

That means I am halfway to the new and improved habit of normalized kitchen maintenance. I am figuring that we as a family will continue to just relearn proper kitchen-ing through the month of March. In April, we’ll continue with our kitchen skills and I will pick another room to relearn for all of us. It will probably take me a year to feel like I have a handle on everything, at least. And if, at the end of that year, I am still not ready to move on to whatever is next, I can still say “I’m not ready”. And that will be ok, cause I will be saying it with an under-control house and wonderful children. It’ll be like mental Fastin, eliminating one self defeating behavior at a time.

Candy that looks as old as the birthday boy himself. I just love retro packaging, don’t you? It makes being a smarty-pants soooooo much easier!

You know, I have often been called funny. And I have often been called sarcastic. These days, I am both funny and sarcastic. I mean, I’m still sweet sometimes, but why just make people smile when you can make them groan *and* smile at the same time? The Bible does tell us that laughter does good like medicine. And when you are stressed, I submit that laughter is better for ya than all the gold coins in the world. Unless of course, you are stressed about money. Then you should grab the money and continue to be sullen and testy.