After yesterday's post regarding my injuries you would think I would learn my lesson.  That I would stop acting like a dumbass and NOT HURT MYSELF.

You would think that.

I blame my husband and kids for what happens next.

I should also tell you that there was ALMOST video of this but I caught my husband and made him stop.

While eating a nice family lunch Codi out of nowhere asked me if I used to be a cheerleader. I told him that, "yes I had been when I was younger."  He then asked me if I used to know how to do the jump splits.  Again, "yes." He then informed me that daddy told him I could do that.  

Which obviously led to Brandon and Codi BEGGING AND PLEADING for mommy to show them how I used to do the "jump splits" when I was younger.

I wanted to be cool.  I wanted my kids to be wowed.  So. 

I did it.

Five times.

I prepped (husband laughed as I got in position and said, "ready OKAY") bent, jumped, landed and then fell backwards onto my ass onto the hardwood.  My husband laughed at me and told me to stop. 

PSH I'm not stopping because I am going to land this bitch.

Jump. Land. Crash onto the hard wood.

Lather rinse repeat.  Once I tried jumping and Charlie tried jumping with me and I almost did a cross between smashing and killing my dog and smashing and killing my face.  I jumped a final time and landed in some kind of messy pile on the floor, THE HARDWOOD FLOOR and finally gave up.  My ass hurts.  My tail bone hurts.  My back really really hurts.

Why don't I learn? 

What would make a thirty year old women think she could still do cheerleading jumps? 

What would make that same girl try to do a herkie jump after trying five jump splits?

I'm just thankful my husband didn't catch any of it on tape.  

So yes, please send bubble wrap.  And some smart pills because clearly I need a dose of intelligence.

Last week while I was cooking dessert for my catering gig while babysitting a dessert called "chocolate decadence" that needed to bake for about eleven hundred hours I decided to do the dishes.  I finished the dishes and the cake was still not done so I decided to put them away.  The very last thing I grabbed was the blade that goes inside the food processor.  

I sliced my pinky finger open.

LIKE WAY OPEN

Like blood dripping all over the kitchen and clean dishes and clean counters.  This is where I should mention that I've never asked my boss where the bandaids were so I was running around with a giant paper towel wrapped around my finger. 

DING.

The cake was done.

This is where I should mention that the cake was one of those things you have to put in a pan, but then put the pan inside a broiler pan full of water to prevent your cake (that was later called exquisite at a party that week) from cracking on top.  So I have my hand wrapped up in a paper towel and my other hand in an oven mitt and I reach in to grab the first pan and the paper toweled hand slips and the next thing I know I've burned my wrist  ON THE OTHER HAND. 

But because that wasn't enough, while I was struggling to get the first pan out of the pan of SCALDING HOT BURNING WATER I burned my finger tips in the water.

Let's recap.

In three minutes I sliced a finger, burned my wrist and burned my finger tips.

Thank god it turned out "exquisite" right?

Two days later I'm sitting at home and my pinky is healing nicely when I notice some dirt on my heavy ass down couch cushion.  I picked it up and went to shake it and to be honest I'm not sure what exactly happened but suddenly the cushion wasn't in my hand anymore and I was bent over trying my hardest not to cry because there was now blood gushing out from UNDER my fingernails.

UNDER THE NAILS.

I had bent them back farther then I knew possible.  It was bad.  I was kind of frozen just thinking.."don't cry, don't cry, don't cry." 

Three days later my fingers are still bruised, sore and the little one starts bleeding if I type too much.

Then today my mom asked me what the bruise on my arm was.  I looked down and I couldn't even answer her.  

(I hate not knowing where a bruise came from)

I laughed about all my owies and said I had no clue.

But tonight in the shower I remembered.  

Last night, walking up the stairs I fell. 

Let's say that again….

I FELL UP THE STAIRS.

My husband laughed at me.  Then looked at me wondering how in the hell I fell up the stairs.  Then when I complained that it really did hurt he laughed more and called me his, "special little girl."  I tried to no avail to show him the scrape (there was a scrape) to prove that I really had gotten hurt.  He didn't believe me.

But today…TODAY!!!! There was a bruise.

So I give up.  I need adult supervision or something.  Or a padded room.  Or….I don't know, but I need to stop.  Because this shit hurts people.  How about you, have any of you had any rad owies lately.  Tell me about them.*

*Unless they involve puss, or things that will make my boobies tingle from reading about your pain…then don't tell me.

Tonight I received an email from Kim.  She heard about the fire in Reno and was worried about me.  When I saw that email, there are no words big enough, or eloquent enough to describe how warm my heart was.

Kim and I have been reading each other since she was on a different blog and I was hosted on Blogger and still a secret to my family and blogging the really juicy details of my life.  I could not believe she took time out to think of me, worry about me, CONTACT ME.

The problem with blogging lately is that we are all lazy.  We read blogs on our phone, or through a reader and we never comment.  Because no one comments, many of us believes that no one is reading us anymore.  I often find myself thinking, "no on is even reading this I should just shut it down, what's the point I'm talking to myself."  

But then an email comes through, from a blog friend I've known over three years and suddenly I didn't feel so invisible anymore.  Someone is still reading me.  Someone still remembers me.  That little email gave me the little nudge I needed to commit to posting again.  I still read all of you.  I try and comment when I can.  I promise to comment more.  I promise to try and write more.  We've been through a lot together and most of us have never met.  We've gone through pregnancies, divorces, miscarriages, infidelity, fights, disabilities, cancers, marriages, and so much more together yet we have all stopped taking the time to stop in and say hello.  

WHY?

You girls mean the world to me.  You have listened to me talk about depression, medication, my kids, my husband, my past.  None of you have judged me.  You have held my hand from a million miles away.  I want you all to know, I'm still here, I still see you and I still appreciate every single one of you.

Kim.  Thank you so much for making my night, for thinking of me and for writing.  Thank you….for making the effort.

I promise to pay it forward!

When your six year old tells people he wants to sing them a song and theb belts out the following Johnnu Cash lyrics, “I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.”. That right there is when you know you’ve won at parenting!

I went to type this on my MacBook Pro but I hadn't plugged it in. I thought of typing it on my iPhone but remembered I had an iPad so I'm typing from that (side note someone please send me a keyboard for this). Today a little part of my life was completed. Our office ordered a Mac Mini. This means my family has owned an original Macintosh, G3, G4, Power PC Mac, iMacs, MacBooks, MacBook pros, original iPod, iPod nano in all sizes, iPod shuffle, iPhone 3, iPhone 4, apple tv, iPad….and now a Mac Mini.

I feel like I'm missing something.

I read Steve Jobs book and what I didn't know was how involved he was with every single aspect of Apple all the way down to hand picking the flooring for the stores. If you take apart an original Macintosh the inside is beautiful. The board was laid out perfectly. No one could open the Mac at that time but he didn't care he wanted everything to be done so pristine that if it was opened people would be wowed by what they saw. When I booted up that little Mac Mini my heart was warm. It started up and I just went right to work.

I cannot imagine a life without Apple.

When I drove to the Apple store today I paid attention to the floor. The color of the walls. All of it. I felt blessed to be a part of something Steve created. I highly recommend his book. He may have been an asshole but he was an asshole who produced amazing user friendly products that I actually love.

If there was a fire after I saved my kids and dog the next thing I would save? EVERY SINGLE APPLE PRODUCT I OWN.

I remembered reading in his book about how Steve was so involved he even designed the packaging to be easily opened and interactive when opened. As I opened the Mini I smiled the whole way. When I lifted it out, under it was a little manual and the words simply read: HELLO How sweet It said hi. It reminded me of the release of the first Mac when Steve said it would introduce its self and suddenly the Mac said, "hello my name is Macintosh."

There aren't a lot of products out there that are designed to make the consumer happy from the moment they receive the box. Steve had incredible work ethic. I took away so much from that book and I think you could too. You would be surprised what you can accomplish if you only allow yourself to believe.

Go, buy this book now. RIGHT NOW Even if you like winblows computers you will still love this book. Especially after reading about what a super douche Gates is.

Go.

Now

Read

Hurry

Grab plastic container of soup out of fridge

Read directions

1. Remove film from container…OMFG this shit doesn't come off.  I think they crazy glued it on.  Try peeling it off from every single angle.  Give up.  Stab knife into center.  Put finger in to peel off.  Cover finger in soup.  Dammit.

2. Place container on microwave safe plate and cover with paper towel…This is dumb I don't need a plate.  Grab paper towel put container in microwave DUMP HALF OF CONTAINER IN MICROWAVE.

ooooooooooooo.  That is why I needed a plate.  

Fine.  Put a plate under soup.  Use paper towel that was going to cover soup to wipe up giant soup mess.  

Start microwave.

Realize I didn't put a new paper towel over it. 

Grab paper towel open microwave to cover soup.

Discover soup already exploded out of container.

Burn hand taking soup out of microwave.

Lick finger to taste soup..OMFG IT TASTE HORRIBLE

FUCK IT ALL FUCKING SOUP.

 

For thos of you wondering this is what the container looks like.  It has that plastic covering under the lid that is impossible to get off.  That is why I stabbed the whore with a knife.

I love reading books.  But there has always been one downside. The end of the book.  I have three reasons for hating the end.

1.  I hate when you are super absorbed in a book.  You are dying to get to the end (ahem, Twilight) and you read and read and read until your whole life is wrapped up in a book and then you get to the end and realize it's over.  Now what?  The fantasy you were stuck in is gone.  There is no part 5.  Suddenly you reach the point where you are torn between reading the last ten pages and finally knowing what happens and NOOOOOO if I read those last ten pages then it's all gone forever and I have to find a new book and I WILL MISS EDWARD TOO MUCH.

2. When you know how it ends and you just don't want to read it.  Example: The Steve Jobs book.  I was totally engrossed in that book.  It is an amazing read and I learned a lot.  I was dying to finish it because it was so interesting BUT, I knew finishing it meant he would die again and I didn't want to go through that again.  I was so torn between getting to the end of the book and finding out the next thing he made and getting to the end and knowing Steve Jobs was really gone.

3. The point where you have read all of your books, there are no new books you really want and you find yourself thinking, "shit, if I finish this book then what am I going to read?"  That happens a lot.  When I realize I'm fresh out of books and these last 20 pages are all I have left until something new and fun comes out.  

I just finished Steve's book.  It was a well written, intense, book.  I felt smarter while reading it.  I learned so much stuff that I never knew and I walked away from it feeling like I could own the world if I wanted.  But now, well now what do I read?  Nothing is going to capture me like that for a while.  Nothing seems as interesting.  And my iPad is just sitting there staring at me like, "dude pick something already."  But what?  I downloaded that new book by Nicholas Sparks called, "The Lucky One," but ten pages in and I'm bored.  I know if I give it a chance I will like it but I need something right now that is going to suck me in on page one.  I think I'll end up waiting for the movie on that book (Zach Effron = Hottie McHotpantsyumyum). So until then WHAT DO I READ.  Suggestions people.  Bios.  Love stories.  Romance.  No horror stories. No mysteries.  I prefer love.  

Help me out people.  I'm stuck in a rut and I need a new love story to draw me in!