Damn Duck Pancakes

I have another secret blog. It's written by a woman I'll call "Elle" and she and I have enough in common you might wonder how she sends me into fits of despair every time I read her posts. It's the things we DON'T have in common that plague me! I only visit her blog when my curiosity gets the best of me --- when I think I've had a particularly sophisticated week and am reasonably sure I could comment on one of her adventures without sounding like we live in different worlds. But we do! Despite the fact that we are both 38 year-old women, both stay-at-home moms, both women of faith - despite all that - I am still the woman who goes out for burgers and she is trying new restaurants that serve DUCK PANCAKES... DUCK FREAKIN' PANCAKES, I tell you!!! --- and she's ENJOYING them!!!

I know this is not my pretty side. No. This is the same side of me that even after ER starting scaring the crap out of me once I had kids, I'd still sneak back occasionally for a glimpse of that irresistible action. Even when my favorite show "Friends" was proven to give me body image insecurities, I couldn't resist because it was just so hilarious! And now, when I falter from time to time about whether my life is really the way I want it, I am guaranteed to come crashing down if I take a look at what Duck Pancake lady is up to.

You should see her! She cooks, she cleans, she takes great photos with her camera! She vacations. Her parents are still married. She decorates. She takes enriching courses to continue her education. And, sadly, because a blog does not reveal the entirety of a life, my imagination fills in the rest: I am CONVINCED that she volunteers evenings with a search and rescue team to save hikers from peril at State Parks; she ran a marathon in under four hours; her husband doesn't pass gas; her children have modeling contracts with Baby Gap and get all their clothes free; she has memorized two of the four gospels and most of the Psalms; her Christmas tree is taller; her accent walls are richer; her sheets have a higher thread count than mine.

And there I have it - a tizzy of inadequacy. But the more I analyze this, the more I realize - I don't have to see her as an enemy in my battle to like myself. She can be a "Positive Role Model" instead of an "Unhealthy High Standard" if I am feeling good about who I am. So I sigh. Spend a minute with Jesus. Make a good choice about dinner. Remind myself that she's human, too - and I don't want a world without the duck pancake people, not really.

Can I tell you about my son?

Joseph turned eight years old today.

I love that little (big) guy. He's just not little these days.

But you don't need to read what I think of him, I'll just gush.

Instead, I'll make a list and hopefully it will tell you a little about him.

About Joseph on His Birthday:

He really looked forward to the party. He doesn't hop or skip around or get hyper. He simply starts notifying us when the party is "two hours away"; "eleven minutes away"; and "people should be here now!"

I'm pretty sure he loved all his gifts. But I'd wager his favorite was the remote control talking parrot. He'll get to the globe, the chemistry set, and the dartboard another day.

There was no parental influence on the guest list. He decided who to invite and it was a treat to see him enjoy his friends. Out of 15, 8 were girls, only 3 others were his age, and very few knew each other.

He went to sleep after reading two more chapters in "Double Fudge" which he has nearly memorized. His birthday balloons, parrot, and stuffed Santa from last Christmas were all close by.

Advertising Advice for Pooper Scooper Businesses

I was out and about this morning and saw a truck advertising "Budget Pooper Scooper Service."

Really? Budget? Is this because there's a wide range of prices for pooper scooping and this guy wanted to make sure to differentiate himself from the "higher-end" pooper scoopers? And what would those guys be named? Elite Pooper Scooper? Regency Pooper Scooper?

Problem with pooper scooper businesses is that NOTHING sounds good in a title that already has the word "poop" in it in any form. For example:

"Ultimate Pooper Scooper" - "Ultimate" sounds good with a fitness company, and electronics place, or a car detailer, even. But when you're reading along and get to "Pooper", it's all over.

Other options just make me laugh, because of how my mind works, and because, let's face it, Poop-scooping just lends itself to comedy.

"Advanced Pooper Scoopers" - as opposed to what? Basic? The Advanced guys not only remove the poop, but provide other services I'm not creative enough to imagine.

"Complete" or "Total" Pooper Scoopers - these guys get WAY more business than "Partial Pooper Scooper."

Do a tiny little internet search, and it is evident that Mr. "Budget Pooper Scooper" needs to take a lesson from some of the more clever scoopers out there. Here are my top faves:
Pooper Trooper
Dooty-Free Lawns
The Poo Crew
Doodie Deeds Done Dirt Cheap Dog Waste Removal

Leftovers

Kevin and I aren't good leftover eaters, but I feel so wasteful hurling large quantities of food down the disposal while it's still warm. Instead I seal it up in plastic storage containers and stack it in the frig to be thrown away another day.

Thanksgiving night leftover inventory:
turkey
cranberry chutney
stuffing
gravy
dried corn

The next night, I admitted I have little desire to eat cranberry chutney except on Thanksgiving, so I tossed it.

Looking around the frig, I couldn't find any mashed potatoes. So I got rid of the gravy.

The dried corn looked downright repulsive in a see-through container 24 hours after Thanksgiving dinner. Gone.

On Saturday, I got rid of the container of egg dish I'd made for breakfast with company Wednesday morning.

My from-scratch mac & cheese was mostly gone, and the remaining half-cup was no longer appetizing. Down the drain.

I cleared out what I thought were all the remaining cluttery odds and ends fully intending to shop today, but it didn't happen. Tonight, desperate for food, therefore observing the frig contents more carefully, I noticed a casserole dish full of my mom's stuffing. Almost a week later. Even under ideal conditions, I don't like stuffing - I wasn't brave enough to yank it out seven days old and dump it. So there it sits. What weird backwardness that the leftovers I actually liked are long gone, but my least favorite dish is still alive and well on the top shelf of my frig. Curious how long it might last in there.

PREPOSTEROUS

I am an unathletic, overweight, over-eating, unmotivated, nearing-forty, poser of a runner. And damned if I don't run a half-marathon this coming March.

Okay, true confessions over. I know those adjectives above aren't true, but they have spent enough time in my head they might as well be. No more! I'm going to run that race. Not just to finish. I'm going to pick a time and try for it and treat myself to future races as well. My life is better for running, so bring it on.

I started my half-marathon "program" on December 1st, compliments of my personal trainer and sister-in-law Rachel. I've been back to running for a year now, since John was 3 months old and I had to drag my butt out of bed after nursing numerous times through the night. But today I did my first day of "Full Body Weights" (as Rachel prescribed) - which translates to "Exercise DVD with 5-pound dumbells" and it was challenging, to say the least. I haven't done that DVD since before I was pregnant with John (about two years ago) and I don't remember the ab work being that hard. Even doing the stuff the chiro/sports medicine guy gave me didn't compare to today's stuff.

I'm mustering all the "positive thinking"; gracious self-talk, and inspiring scripture I can to try to view myself and my life and therefore my running in the best light possible. Yet, last night when I sat talking to Kevin about really doing a half-marathon, I realized I was visualizing starting the race and thinking, "This is PREPOSTEROUS!" --- "Who runs 13 miles in a ROW? - For ANY reason!" Thankfully, I have just enough experience with running and what it's done for me that I think I can tackle that thought and beat it into the asphalt. I'll let you know.

Lifting the Lights

Another great feature of our neighborhood is that every year after Thanksgiving, a guy one street over brings home a big ol' hydraulic lift to share with all the neighbors in order to put up Christmas lights.

Last year, Kevin was interested, but not gutsy enough to ask a complete stranger for the use of heavy equipment.

This year, we have connections! The family at the end of the cul-de-sac had their name on the list so we added ourselves after them.

Shortly before 9:00 p.m., this beast made its way slooooooooooowly down the street to our house.


Here's a picture to prove just how thrilled a guy gets when he is given a piece of HUGE machinery to operate.


After taking lots of rides on the thing, we got down to business. Our friend Mike Nalley hopped on to help Kevin, and Joe and Cayna went up, too. The lights went up quickly.


Satisfied by a job well done, Mike and Kevin headed for the sky. Here is an eerie shot of our house from waaaaaaaaaaayyy up above our driveway.


And, it turns out there is a tremendous view of the Strip from our house - if you can just get above those pesky other houses.


In closing, a warm thanks to the neighbor we don't even know. And to the guardian angels who worked overtime.

Tagged

Vicki tagged me, and since I'm sitting here with Bethanie while she colors, I'm in!

According to the rules, I have to post six things that make me really happy... and pass it on to six more people.

I have to be honest, in my cynical state - I'd rather write a list of "Six People I'd like to be my pallbearers" or "Six things I dislike about Christmas" or "Six things I'd like to replace in my house". But I'll go with the original topic. However, when I tag six of you, please feel free to use any of the four topics.

Six things that make me happy:

1) Blogging (obviously, which is why I do it so much)

2) Spending spontaneous time with friends/neighbors.

3) Finishing the laundry

4) Running. Really.

5) People who know me well enough to know that my husband and children and my relationship with God all make me happy but I don't like to waste space on lists such as these stating the obvious.

6) People who have been to as much therapy as I have, and therefore know that nothing can make a person happy, it comes from within that person. Or from medication. Or denial. Or...

And, the six people:

Laura (I'm curious which list she'll pick)

Heather (because her lists usually make me happy)

Magan (I want to hear her pallbearer list)

Karen (since she doesn't blog enough to make me happy (see #6 above), so I'm giving her a topic)

Beth (I'm so glad she's blogging, I need to encourage it)

Suzie (since she's had lots of good time to reflect on things she's thankful for/things that make her happy)