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audition time

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Well, this is it my friends. Time to see if my one improvisation class has paid off yet. Picture this; stranded woman on highway rescued by mysterious trucker who – gasp – turns out to be a ghost?! Insert shrieks, trembles, sobs and shakey hands here. This is for a legit show too. I need to go practice stat while my kids aren’t home. Somehow I also need to video tape this myself… this could get interesting. Hopefully my neighbors don’t call the police, or see me doing this – period. They already have to think I’m crazy, especially after I bought all those chickens. I’m sure the HOA just love, love, loves me.

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But, in other things exciting we have improve class deuce tonight! I am actually very – very excited. I’ve been practicing all week. Totally bouncing ideas off my three year old. She is so good. I’ll ask her something standard like “O, come over here so I can brush your hair” and she comes back at me with “It’s growing so long because I take my vitamins, it’s going to grow down my back, and out the window, and over the cliff, and over the train tracks, and then the train will just run it over.” Seriously. I can’t make that up. Like I said, she is so good!

I even ordered Whose Line is it Anyway? off Amazon. Going to get myself all pumped up before class, get some ideas and stuff so I can go in fresh. I love getting excited about stuff; like Christmas, and my birthday, and losing 3 lbs after a really bad stomach virus. You know it’s the small stuff that just adds up.

Ok. I gotta go get my scream on. I’ll keep everyone posted, unless I don’t get a call-back then I will never speak of this again. PEACE.

yes, and

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Taking a quick lunch break from my regularly scheduled programming (i.e. work) to update ya’ll on this new adventure I have embarked on. I enrolled in an Improv class last night, and it was AWESOME.

This is my self-proclaimed year of change and I have committed to stop procrastinating and making up excuses and as Nike has so eloquently put it Just Do It. Yea I know, that was so lame, but guess what I don’t even care. I’m running on no sleep, extra caffeine and leftover adrenaline from doing something new, that I love but that also terrifies me. It’s the weirdest thing; I love being in the spotlight but at the same time I get so much gut wrenching anxiety thinking about it. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m like an adrenaline junkie who loves the rush of possibly being awesome and making everyone laugh or totally bombing and looking like the biggest terd, ever.

The teacher was totally fantastic too. She was so Melissa McCarthy. I mean, I laughed just looking at her. (I was also jacked on coffee so I was laughing at everything) Getting there was hard though, it was deep in the city which is a total recipe in my book for a panic attack. I actually got there ok, found parking ok and found the building ok – locked and closed but ok. After pacing the block back and forth looking for a way in a random guy in a fedora walked over let me in the back door. Yes it was sketchy inside and very Alice in Wonderlandish as I then followed a ballerina into a dark stairwell to the theatre in the basement, complete with naked paintings hung on the walls. But the class was so cool and we played all these confidence building games and learned some Improv basics like yes, and. Which means “yes” – you always have to agree with your scene partner “and” – you have to build on what they said with something relevant to continue the conversation.

I felt so Who’s Line is it Anyway? which is by the way such an awesome show if you’ve never scene it. Blah! Had to, sorry. More to come on how I put my foot in my mouth, it always happens.

insanity

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It’s been a rough couple of years child bearing and rearing so I haven’t had the time (uh, energy, emotional or physical wherewithal or just flat out motivation) to step foot in a gym (or go downstairs and workout in my home gym). Excuses range from why would I get in shape when I am just going to wreck my body getting pregnant again? To the actual fact that O cries hysterically every time I even mention going to the gym.

Recently however, I have seen all these transformation posts on Instagram and I’ve decided it’s time to get my pancake butt in gear. So I joined this 21 day fitness challenge group and it’s pretty awesome. We have to report to the group on our workouts so it makes us somewhat accountable, we have to do meal planning and we are all doing the same dvd workout series together so we are all suffering equally. The workout series we’ve been directed to follow is called Insanity and it’s literally named that because you have to be some sort of insane freak of nature to keep up with the people in these videos. It’s a total whirlwind of throwing your body around and jumping and squatting and running and all this other crap that seems easy but at 100mph for the full 45 minutes it’s straight insane. Ahhhhhh-haaaaa. Today’s my fourth day and I am so proud of myself. Although I do it alone now because C was laughing so hard at me during the first video it was a distraction. He said I wasn’t doing anything they were doing. It doesn’t matter though because whatever I was doing was killing me too. During the workouts all I hear is the thumping of my own heart in my ears and I don’t see anything because my eyes are usually closed and I pant harder than an old dog tied to a tree on a hot summer day. But whatever. I am really trying to get looking pre-baby before Memorial Day and at this rate it just might happen. And that is totally insane.

we are so over

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I have a problem; acknowledgement is the first step so I’ve heard. I’ve been conditioned by a big box retailer and I know I’m not the only one. I mean, I’ve seen E-Cards on Pinterest that tout the same phenomenon so it must be an epidemic if it’s made it to an E-Card. We’re talking Target here if you haven’t guessed yet. It’s a quintessential black hole. There is something magical (and by that I mean illegal) pumping out of their ventilation system. I’m convinced of this because no matter how much I tell myself I’m not there to “shop” but to merely restock the toilet paper I inevitably end up redecorating a room in my house by the time I leave, which by the way is usually an easy 5 hours later. How do they do it? They just suck you in, that innocent red and white circle thing beckoning to you from the side of the highway… It reminds me of that all-seeing eye from Lord of the Rings. How can I be so focused on picking up cat litter one minute and the next be totally obsessed, and convinced I need curtains? I can’t even let myself shop there, no self control, it’s depressing! For example, last winter I bought a bikini, I was 8 months pregnant. Who does that?

Things included in my last excursion include; an oversized bean bag (seemed like a good idea at the time) new collar for my dog (WTF??) sunglasses (ehhh) an iPhone wallet (which I haven’t even used!!!) diapers (okay this is totally legit) a topiary (who doesn’t need fake potted grass?)

The only way I am able to curb my spending these days is to totally avoid Target.

Dearest Target, (after today) – wait, let me explain – Easter is this weekend and I NEED some stuff for the girls baskets, but that’s it though, after today our relationship is over. I’m kicking you to the curb, and theres no hard feelings for potentially exposing my credit card information to hackers. But I am done wasting money on you. Don’t call me. Seriously though – don’t call. GoodBye.

and the winner is…

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Preschool shopping has been, quite possibly the number one most emotionally exhausting experience in my life so far. (aside from actual childbirth, or getting pregnant, or being pregnant, I sense a theme here… I digress) So after strenuous hours of research, phone calls, emails, voice messages and yelp reviews I had narrowed the playing field. Please note I have identified decision making as my personal Achilles’ heel, so that and my highly anxious personality really make this fun on all levels.

option one: In home Provider; commuting convenience; 2.1 miles from my home, nice. highly secure; eh, she had a baby gate at the bottom of the steps but I was comfortable the kids weren’t going to be coordinating any prison break-esque escapes with all the toys and activities that were available to them in their space. clean environment; yes. price; amazing. And personal references to boot (my neighbors kids still attend so that’s kind of a big deal). Not a bad deal, but without anything to compare it to….

option two: Elitist School #1; commuting convenience; yes. highly secure; yes. clean environment; yes. price; holey. f-ing. snap. They must be paving their floors in gold because I would need to sell my house to be able to afford part time tuition there. NEXT!

option three; Elitist School #2; okay. I really don’t even know where to begin. We pull up and it’s essentially a monsoon outside. The school is a transformed historic house with a rickety pole fence around the grounds. Inside the yard is a large garden with a life-size, faceless scarecrow mounted in the middle (or as O loudly proclaimed, “oh look it’s a dead-guy!” …thanks Despicable Me for the highly awkward and ironic catch phrase), chicken coops (uh, yea. Hello? how else are the kids going to practice baking without farm fresh eggs on premises), buckets and wheel barrels are strewn everywhere and the yard is nothing but mud and standing water. The front of the orphanage, oops, I mean school, has a large bay window on one side and two single windows on the other. We see all these little faces peering out of the single windows, and in the bay window we see a lone boy watering plants. weird. Inside is a train wreck. The girls who answered the door is in her full blown fish-net best. I kid you not. Her favorite t-shirt must have gotten run over by the lawn mower and instead of bidding adieu she simply knotted all the tears together. Honestly, her shirt could totally pose a strangulation hazard for the children. I would have told her so, or given her some money for a new one but she simply left us in this tiny hallway ridden with boots and raincoats to wander the building at our leisure, how… ahem, safe. We found out rather quickly there wasn’t really anywhere to wander expect the hall, an office and two classrooms, one which was locked (by a deadbolt at the TOP of the door, very horror film-ish if you ask me). So we walked to the other classroom and a young girl opens the door and peers out with her sad eyes, wild hair and spaghetti-O stained face and inquired as to which child we would like to adopt, I mean was ours. Yes, the cat is out of the bag. The entire experience was reminiscent of some French quarter century orphanage visit and we pretty much beat feet out of there as fast as we could and called the daycare mom. They start next week! Woo-Hoo!