Cray cray

May 27, 2014

I had an adventure of the more unusual quality last week.

It was a special week of events for the boy’s unit, which always concludes with a formal dinner. I have gone to this formal here in Tennessee in the past (well, actually in a cornfield in Kentucky), and down in Savannah. Every year I wore the exact same brown dress that I bought on clearance from J. Crew seven or so years ago. It’s nothing special, a bridesmaid dress I believe, but I always thought it was funny to wear it every single year because it’s kind of ugly and I don’t care about dressing up or looking fancy. I also never take pictures at these things. Which is why this is the only photo I can find that ‘shows’ my dress in any capacity. And my friend Stephanie is totally NOT naked in this picture.

Savannah formal fun. The formal part is way drink-ier in Savannah. What a surprise. Ha.

Savannah formal fun. The formal part is way drink-ier in Savannah. What a surprise. Ha.

Anyways, some of my friends ‘encouraged’ me to try something different from this website ‘Rent the Runway’ where you just rent a dress for the night. It’s actually pretty awesome. You pick out a dress you want and they will send it to you in two different sizes the night before your event. Before you ask let me tell you – they are dry-cleaned before they get to you. Then, you wear whatever dress fits you and the next day, stick them all back into a UPS envelope and send them on their merry way. It could NOT be easier. Also, you are seriously only in your dress for three hours TOPS. Totally not worth buying!

I found a dress on this website that I thought had a perfect cut for my body, which is to say there was room to breathe in the shoulders and hips, which is right where I need it. The only thing was… this dress was LOUD. And by that I mean bright pink.

Here’s the deal with pink. I don’t have a problem INHERENTLY with it as a color. But I hate the fact that products, especially in the outdoor industry, are marketed to women by being colored pink. I fucking resent that, actually. Just because I am a female doesn’t mean I need everything in my life to be pink. It’s just dumb. So, at times I definitely go out of my way to avoid pink. But this time, I did not. Also, it helped that it was raging fuschia and therefore better than a pepto-pink or baby girl nursery pink. Barf.

My friend Erika, who knows a thing or two about make-up offered to put some on for me. I thought this was so sweet of her because otherwise I would have only worn mascara, which is the only makeup I have. So she came over to my house and did my hair AND make-up and believe me I was worried because here’s the thing… Yes, I have very visible tattoos. But I am not a tattoo person with weird-colored hair, piercings all over my body, or black eyeliner. I am otherwise pretty suburban-mom looking aside from my arms (well, at least that’s how I view myself without the rug rats screaming in the back seat). And that’s my “look.”

If you can’t believe that even MAIJA has a ‘look’ well, think about it. If you saw me in the winter with long sleeves you wouldn’t think I have another kind of sleeve under that, and that’s EXACTLY the look I’m going for. I was inspired by a tattoo artist in Savannah that always had nice clean-cut hair and clothes. Obviously, he’s not ugly and all my Savannah friends with ink know exactly who I’m talking about.

So, the makeup. Erika promised that I would not look like a $2 whore but I was still very shocked when I saw what I looked like.

All maked-up! I feel weird.

All maked-up! I feel weird.

Erika, I know, did an AWESOME job. So how she did the makeup has nothing to do with the way I felt. Which is like a drag queen. She warned me that I would probably be shocked every time I look in a mirror because I never wear any makeup so it felt VERY dramatic. I was too embarrassed to go into the gas station to get a drink!

By formal time and with the dress on I felt a lot more normal, also because I stopped seeing myself in mirrors. The formal was at a hotel in downtown Nashville. There’s not a lot to say about the formal part except ALWAYS order a double. Especially when they are ‘closing’ the bar to herd people inside. This one guy just filled up a pint glass with vodka and gave me a splash of tonic. Man, he rocks.

Here's what I looked like in my dress. Thank goodness Joel took a picture because some people were very anxious to see this.

Here’s what I looked like in my dress. Thank goodness Joel took a picture because some people were very anxious to see this. Also, Reagan had legs for DAYS in that dress!

After the formal we had to change to go out downtown. I have to laugh at how the boy thinks people who have been drinking will ever be on time for meeting in the lobby. Or even within 30 minutes of said time. But, he is a NS and being on time is VERY important to him. So after almost falling asleep in the lobby we went downtown.

Here’s where shit got weird.

In the first bar some guy came up to me, got all up close and personal (which I don’t do with people I actually LIKE) and proceeded to ask me why I couldn’t put my tattoos in a glass and shake them. He even grabbed my vodka and water glasses to use as props while he pleaded with me to do this. Granted, I was not sober but this guy was completely off his rocker. I thought at first it was just me – being dumb – not understanding what he was talking about, kind of like the song “Turn Down For What”. One of the guys then hauled him away from me and we went back to normal, which is to say loud and annoying as bars tend to be. Oh, I saw that loser get thrown out of the bar shortly thereafter.

We then went to another bar that was also loud and annoying. There was a girl there who only made one smart decision in the previous 8 hours and that was to put on underwear. All her latter decisions were dumb. Like getting high. And then getting drunk. And then practicing her stripper moves and lap dances in the middle of the dance floor to country music with some guy who could not believe his luck. But, hey, at least she had on underwear.

Striped underwear girl proceeded to come up directly to me in a large group of 15+ people to tell me, personally, that her brother and her boyfriend were going to come beat the shit out of me.

Um, OK.

CRAZY! I told her to bring it on and she went out and tried dancing in the middle of Broadway Ave. She then came back inside to tell me how ‘fucking hot’ I was. I stared her down and she told one of the guys standing near me that it was his fault I wasn’t smiling. And I threw in my chips at that point, fully blaming the makeup. Because while it isn’t unusual for me to have others randomly come up and talk to me about my tattoos these crazies were way beyond the norm and I was done. Because of course I can’t even walk up the street at that hour without freakos coming up to ask me ‘what does your fox MEAN???’ Nothing, asshole, I just like foxes.

Yesterday I saw the funniest thing at Publix. This little guy had a brand new Dodge Ram pickup truck. He was so little he couldn’t see very far over the dash and just plowed up onto the curb where the cart return is in the middle of the parking lot. I burst out laughing so goddamn hard. He totally saw me, too. I hope he felt like a jackass because he sure looked like one. I then thought ‘is this why some guys have to drive huge pickup trucks?’ Think about it. You can’t get away with jacking your little Jetta on the curb like that without ruining something underneath. But a truck? No problemo. Just a working theory I have that those guys are HORRIBLE drivers.

Also, totally unrelated. Today I finished up a (self-induced) 30-day rowing challenge. I had to row on my Concept2 as a separate workout every day for 30 days. This was harder than I thought (for many boring reasons I won’t get into here). But I did it! I added up all of my stats this afternoon and discovered that I rowed a total of 237,760 meters over the past 30 days, which is 147.7 miles. I think I need a sticker for my car now.


36 was pretty cool

May 12, 2014

With the turn of the year I always think it’s fun to take a look at all the awesomeness that made up my one chance at being 36 years old.

I learned how to fight.
– There were a lot of firsts that came with me starting MMA training this year including: first time being punched in the face; first time being kicked in the head; first time getting kicked in the liver and having it spasm forcing me to involuntarily make heaving noises like I am about to puke. I think this training has been especially fun for me because it requires reflexes and reactions that can’t be predicted. I can’t turn my brain off at all, which I think I have a greater tendency to do with lots of other forms of exercise (ooops!).

The boy and I sparring on the day after Christmas.

The boy and I sparring on the day after Christmas.

I cracked a rib.
– So this wasn’t awesome (obviously) but now I can say I’ve checked that block. How on earth did it happen? Duh. See point above.

I went to a chiropractor.
– See two points above. I had grown up swearing I would never, EVER go to a chiropractor but when something gets knocked out of place (like a rib) then you just go. And they jam it back in again and again and again. Which leads to:

I taught the boy how to put a rib back in place.
– This was essential at surf camp after a couple wipe-outs where you get tossed around like you’re a rag doll in a washing machine. And also because it’s expensive to go to the chiropractor all the time.

So obviously, kind of gave it away that this year I also learned how to surf!!!
– This was a major highlight of the year. After a cold trip to Canada ice climbing in 2013 I decided I wanted to try something warmer for playtime. So we decided to give surfing a try. I loved it. So much so that I was ready to go back before we were even home the first time. So we went back. And had an even better time, even if I did break a tail fin off the board with my ASS. I hope to get back again this fall because I am making GREAT progress with starting to walk up the board. I love long board surfing and my goal is to walk to the nose some day. And surf in Nicaragua. People love to ask about sharks when you tell them you went surfing. One morning I was out with my instructor and he yelled “shark!” and you wouldn’t believe how fast I had all of my appendages up and balanced on that board. Turns out it was just a rooster fish, but I was glad to know I have a fast reaction time there, too. Plus, there are usually kids in the water and I figure the sharks will go for kids first before trying for the adults. Kind of like how they attack baby seals.

I also finally learned how to walk on my hands this year!

I also finally learned how to walk on my hands this year!

Things are quickly going south right about now...but eventually the ratio of wipeouts to rides starts to turn.

Things are quickly going south right about now…but eventually the ratio of wipeouts to rides starts to turn.

That's when it starts to get really fun.

That’s when it starts to get really fun.

I discovered Athleta.
– This is an accomplishment I am sure the boy wishes would have never happened. I discovered how perfect the Athleta knickers were to many of my sports because they don’t move and keep me nice and covered. Then I discovered how much I like wearing their swim suits to surf in, and skirts, sweat shirts, tank tops, … you get the picture. I am teased incessantly at home for the vast amount of Athleta I now wear in my everyday life but hey as they say, if the “ATHLETA” fits…

I even learned how to pole dance!
– Don’t knock it ’til you try it! I’d seen this class that didn’t look easy and we had a private one of our own with some girls from the gym and trust me, this was a ton of fun. And silly for someone like me – of course – but fun. I mean who doesn’t want to be able to hang upside down hands free on a pole?!?!

The only major downer to 36 was having to say goodbye to my sweet little Beatrice. She taught me a lot about loving unconditionally and even in passing has helped me to grow into a better person.

Beatrice how she mostly was, which is to say sleepy.

Beatrice how she mostly was, which is to say sleepy.

With so many new ‘firsts’ in 36 I wonder how can I top it with 37? But, with a move in a few weeks to another NEW place I’m sure we will have plenty. In fact, we’ve already got the SUP boards in the garage ready for the ‘first time we live on a lake’! Which also makes me realize we will be at least 40 years old before we move again. 40! Crazy how I feel nowhere near that number, as if I am still just 22 but not nearly as dumb as I was then. Seriously dumb.

Anyways, thanks so much to everyone for the birthday wishes (and especially my sister for the funny cat lady T-shirts!), it’s always fun to have a day where you get to feel special like that.

– If you want to train MMA and live in the Clarksville area you must go HERE: SSF Submission Academy.
– If you want to learn to surf you must go HERE: Witch’s Rock Surf Camp (anyone want to join me for some rainy season surf in September???)
– If you want to do CrossFit in Clarksville go HERE: CrossFit Clarksville!


My knife for stabbing people

May 6, 2014

Sometimes I am amazed at the people I cross paths with in my life.

Maybe as I have gotten older I take the time to be aware of these interactions? I don’t know for sure. But, here is an example: a couple of weeks ago our shiny, brand new SUP boards (for the LAKE HOUSE!!!) were delivered. The delivery driver called me as he pulled up and I went down to get on the truck and open the boxes up to make sure they weren’t damaged in transit, as instructed by the company I bought the boards from.

I brought my favorite knife with me to do this, which I affectionately call “my knife for stabbing people.”

This is my knife for stabbing people.

This is my knife for stabbing people.

I am not sure when I acquired this knife, but I have had it for more than a decade in my darkroom for processing, and on every hike and camping trip in case I need to stab someone or something. You never know, truly, when something may need a sharp poke.

Packing in a carry-on to go to Costa Rica is AWESOME but sucks because I can’t bring my knife for stabbing people. Maybe I could risk getting it through but on my way home I hid a bottle of Aloe Vera (it was $11 and I hadn’t used that much of it!) in the middle of my super wet surf clothes in a plastic bag in a Army laundry bag and TOTALLY got busted. I was all “oooops!!!” and that TSA guy was so onto me but was gracious enough to ask me about my tattoos instead.

Anyways. My knife for stabbing people is very special to me. As I cut open the boxes in the truck I set the knife on top of another box. When the driver went to move a box this one slapped against the wall and my (open) knife for stabbing people slid into the abyss.

Well actually it was into a crack along the side of the truck where someone had screwed a piece of wood with about 8 million screws so there was a tiny gap between the wall and this board.

I was obviously distraught at the loss of my precious knife for stabbing people but pretended it was OK. The driver assured me we would retrieve it after we carried the boards up to the house.

Now on this delivery day there was some severe weather predictions here in Tennessee. I mean people were FREAKING OUT. They let schools out early because it was essentially going to be the end of the world. Apocalyptic I tell you!

In fact, while the driver was there his girlfriend called and urged him to hurry up so he could get home before the storms hit.

But he wasn’t going to leave until we got my knife for stabbing people back.

We spent the next 30+ minutes on the floor of that slimy truck with an assortment of sticks and styrofoam boards (to catch the pointy end of the knife) and lift it the 8 inches past the board drilled to the wall. I tried to give up on multiple occasions but he wouldn’t let me. He was going to get that knife if we got picked up in a tornado in that truck while trying to get it. Because maybe then it would slide out!

Finally, FINALLY we got it wedged into a corner and as I pressed it up with two sticks he used a pliers to grab it and save my knife for stabbing people!

And that’s pretty much the end of my story.

But my point is that this guy, whose name I didn’t even get, spent so much time trying to help me retrieve this dumb knife. He didn’t have to, he could have dropped off his shipment and gone on his way well ahead of the storms. But he didn’t. He stayed and played a weird game of fishing for a knife with me instead. I thought that was really nice of him because he didn’t have any idea how much getting that knife for stabbing people back meant to me.

Thank you, delivery guy!


Stop peeing on the seat

April 28, 2014

Ladies. Why do (so many of) you insist on peeing ALL over the seat and floor in a public restroom?

PLEASE help me to understand why you can’t just build a little bird’s nest with TP and sit your ass down.

Some public toilets even make a handy little tissue cover to speed up the bird’s nest build time! All you need to do is pull it out of the box mounted to the wall, and set it on the seat. Even if you are so dumb you can’t use a turn signal in your car, you should at least be able to follow that basic movement pattern, right?

I’ve even been to countries where they have a little fresh plastic cover that you can spin on out by simply pressing a button. A button!

Now obviously, none of these are really necessary if everyone can just SIT their ass down and not spray their pee everywhere.

But it seems that here in the U.S. this is not possible. There are many other countries I have visited that have a better system in place for their women’s public restrooms. It is basically a hole in the floor. There are little spots for you to put your feet and then you just crouch and go. No need to worry about peeing all over the seat because it is simply not possible. Back in the 90s this was definitely the model that the Japanese were using, and quite frankly I think it’s pure genius.

I think maybe they should just take ALL seats off toilets since no-one ever sits on them. Literally, and I mean LITERALLY every public toilet I had the pleasure of using in the last week was covered in urine. And in airports there are people constantly cleaning the bathrooms, so it’s not like it is a neglected hovel, there are just that many people hosing down the toilets.

I think without the seats there would at least be less pee splashing onto the floor where some SUPER gross people set their purse (which will then later sit on top of the table where your FOOD is (and infinitely grosser!!!).

If you really cannot fathom wiping off someone else’s pee and then building a nest to protect your own butt then maybe you should just lift the seat up. Save it for someone who DOES want to sit down. The worst offenders are obviously people who do the spray pee all over the seat in the handicapped stall. There are some people who have no CHOICE but to sit down, and I’m pretty sure they don’t want your nasty pee on their bum.

So women, really. Let’s get it together. I am not even going to get into the other horrors of public bathrooms including: how some people do not know proper ‘flush the toilet’ protocol, or how to dispose of your sanitary products in the provided bin, and why not to leave your half-eaten egg McMuffin on the toilet paper container etc., because frankly, that’s fodder for at least three other blog posts.



April 10, 2014

I am so grateful for all the friends and loves ones that have showed me just how much they care about Beatrice passing away this week. I just got this in the mail from Bea’s veterinarian that cut out all of her cancerous bits in a radical surgery almost 8 years ago. The odds were slim she was going to make it another 2 but she obviously didn’t give a shit about odds.

Death is merely a transition from one phase of “life” to another. She’ll live on in your hearts and minds forever. Congratulations on being chosen by fate to be her companion through life. She gave as good as she got.




March 28, 2014

The other day I saw this image* come through my FB feed.

As accurate as a horoscope, no doubt.

As accurate as the good ‘ol horoscope, no doubt.

Like any bored sucker I started searching.

Now of course most people see touchy-feely words like ‘sweet’ or ‘compassionate’ maybe even ‘thoughtful’ as this was obviously designed for that kind of sentiment.

The first word I saw was ‘wrestle’ followed by ‘wrestles.’

Do you see it? They are right next to each other, as is ‘wrestless’ which I guess could then be ‘restless’ hahaha

WTF is wrong with me!

I swear, forced time off makes me completely MENTAL. I know I am extra cranky when I am not active and doing fun things so I try to keep it in check, but honestly there just isn’t enough vodka for that.

Anyways, I thought it was too funny to not share though.

In grappling related news I am still on the DL when it comes to exercise that involves ‘physical contact’ BUT, I have been given the go-ahead to return to other activities.

Yay! And yayayayayayayayaya!!!!

So I wanted to celebrate by eating donuts. Makes sense. Maybe I will save that for another day, though.

But here’s the annoying thing. The injury (which originated when???? and where?????) necessitated many, many days in the past three weeks of getting my rib shoved back in place which is a very NOT gentle process. This, of course, resulted in a separate injury to another part of the rib cage. OMG. There is not enough milk in the world for me right now, I swear I need ALL THE CALCIUM.

*Image originates from this website


Thanks for the advice

March 24, 2014

As a girl, there are certain things in life that I can never do right.

I mean guys always know better, right?

This is never more true than when we go shoot guns.

This weekend we went to the steel target range which is a bit more fun because it is OK to draw from a holster and shoot in unorthodox positions. You can shoot from a chair, laying on the ground, moving forward, sideways, backwards whatever kind of practice you want.

We took the Glock and the 1911 to shoot with. I really enjoy firing both guns but the Glock holds 15 rounds vs. 8 on the Colt so I was spending a bit more time with the Glock. Shortly after we arrived and I finished a round where I hit 14 of 15 the range safety came over to try and teach me how to “hold” a gun.

Seriously dude, I just hit 14 of them, and they aren’t big targets. They are little saucers, even in the back row, I think I’m doing just fine.

But no, he knew a BETTER way for me to stand, a BETTER way to lock my elbows (which I never do!), a BETTER way to wrap my hands and hell, even which eyeball I should be using.

In fact, he insisted that I try all of this with his BETTER gun (a Sprinfield .45 which we also have, but didn’t even bother to bring on Saturday because the Glock and 1911 are way nicer). Of course I then had a 50% hit rate because he was trying to jack me all up.

And believe me, this isn’t a one-off. Every single time we go to the range some strange guy will come up to give me “advice.”

I really don’t understand what compels them to do this. I’m not a shit show. I may not be 100% all the time, but I think I do pretty good, and am proficient and comfortable with all the bits and pieces of our weapons. Also, I don’t feel like I put off a very friendly vibe so that’s even weirder.

On a somewhat related note, the boy suggested I practice drawing with the safety on and switching it off just before I fire with all 8 rounds in the 1911. I didn’t see the logic in that since when I start firing at someone that is in my house, the safety is not going to be on again until they are on the floor and bleeding. But maybe that’s just me.

I’m super bitchy right now though anyways, mostly because I have an injury that is currently limiting ALL activities to “walking” and I had to seriously negotiate for even that! I’m sure shooting at the range would not be approved either, but we weren’t taking the rifle out.

Anyways, one of my ribs has decided it no longer feels like staying attached to the spinal column. It consistently pops out of place no matter how many times the chiropractor puts it back in. And putting it back in isn’t exactly a gentle thing, either.

I have never really trusted chiropractors (*see explanation below) so I kind of wonder if he is BS-ing me about what I can and can’t do, although there is no doubt that stupid thing keeps coming out because I am now very used to feeling it out, and how jolting it is to go back in.

The more tape, the better - right? That's the working theory here. Also, they take it off every day to re-do it which also takes several layers of skin. I know I'm SUPER whiney.

The more tape, the better – right? That’s the working theory here. Also, they take it off every day to re-do it which also takes several layers of skin. I know I’m SUPER whiney.

Anyways, to test him today I told him my discomfort level was at a mere 2. Who doesn’t walk around all day at a 2 at least somewhere in their body? (Well, people that I know are consistently probably at 2 with all the random sorts of injuries!)

Even at a 2 though he says, “come back Wednesday and we will talk about exercise then…” after he crushed the rib back into the spine.

So instead of spending my mornings working out I now go to the chiropractor. It sucks, although there is some amusement to be had just with the other people in the waiting room and the stories they tell.

One day a woman, who obviously is not at ALL fond of her daughter-in-law, was complaining and complaining about how every Christmas eve the mother of her grandchildren has the audacity to cook meatballs with jelly inside. (I agree, those sound gross, but wow, she was really angry about that and how it has ruined every single Christmas, ever.)

Then, some lady that smells like an ash tray and works there likes to talk on and on about her roller derby and how she’s never broken a bone doing it (she’s like 19??? so probably hasn’t been doing it that long) and really gets insulted when she gets carded for cigarettes. Because of course she’s not even 21 so can’t legally drink yet.

Hahahaha Do you remember when you were that age? Late teens and early 20s and you thought for sure you looked old and mature and like a total grown up? I know I did. Now I laugh at those pictures because I totally look like a kid. As do all those ‘adults’ in that age range to me now.

Man, it’s crazy what a little perspective and life will do for you!

*OK, here’s the deal. When I was a kid I remember being told a story about a man who was younger than my parents that was in a wheelchair after suffering a stroke that was supposedly the result of going to the chiropractor. As an adult, I realize this may not be true. I remember lots of stories from childhood that aren’t true! Another example is that wood ticks burrow under your skin and then start living under there and having babies.

THIS IS WHAT A WOODTICK CAN DO DO YOU!!! Hahaha But really, I haven't even begun to share my story of leprosy. Is that even how you spell it??? Thank goodness it doesn't look (or feel) like this anymore.

 THIS IS WHAT A WOOD TICK CAN DO TO YOU!!! Hahaha, but really I haven’t even begun to share my story of leprosy. Is that even how you spell it??? Thank goodness it doesn’t look (or feel) like this anymore.

Annnnndddd Thank goodness for dirty martinis. Although this one was not super dirty, which I'm OK with because that just means more vodka.

Thank goodness for dirty martinis. Although this one was not super dirty, which I’m OK with because that just means more vodka.