Swallowing my Pride and Going Indie

 It’s taken me a while to find the guts to write this post. For so many reasons, friends. One being I’m Facebook friends with my previous publisher as well as my previous editor and the truth is I would hate for them to read this post and feel dissed. I would hate for them to read this and think that I’m not grateful for the investment they made in me.

Because I am.

But the truth is I wasn’t happy under their direction. It was partly my fault, it was partly theirs. They’re a small startup company with few connections and a learning staff. Guess what, I’m pretty much a startup myself. So no judgments. I knew something needed to change, but I was in denial and then my third book came out. Roses Don’t Have to be Red. (Is that not the longest title on the planet?) Honestly, I can’t even remember the exact date—because I wasn’t excited. 

How horridly ridiculous is that? I had worked my tail off and produced a pretty fabulous novel, and I wasn’t excited on release day? 

I couldn’t deny what I had to do any longer. 

And really, the only thing getting in my way at that point was my pride. My stupid, too big for my britches: PRIDE.

I had made a pros and cons list, I had talked to my closest confidants, I had prayed… and prayed… and prayed… all concerning this choice. 

The truth is I knew what I had to do, long before Roses came out. But my darn pride kept saying—“Really, Jen? Really? After publishing three books with and ACTUAL publisher you’re going to go rogue? You’re going to SELF-publish? Yikes.”

I dreaded the day someone asked- “So, you published this yourself?” Because they’d asked before. Many times. It’s hard to find a publisher willing to invest in you and each and every time someone asked that question my pride happily answered- “Of course not. I have a publisher.” I would no longer be able to say that. I would have to own up and say- “That’s right. Boo-ya! I sure did.”

Here’s the other thing, I have friends who are self-published and I feel so happy for them, so excited for them, so in awe at their talent. My pride never ripped them to shreds, only myself.

Why is that? Why do we do that? 

No matter what your “self-published” case is, why do we look at our amazing accomplishments and say to ourselves- It’s just not good enough. When in fact it is! It’s pretty awesome, in fact. 

So, as a side note to this: why I ditched the publisher post, I want to say—STOP IT. Look at your amazingness and smile, don’t find every flaw on the planet in your project. And go with your gut. Deep down you know what you want, find the path that leads you there. If you need to swallow that pride like the great whale swallowed Jonah, do it!

When that first copy of Untouched showed up on my doorstep I cried. Then I laughed and with all the giddiness of a seven year old little girl on the day she finally gets to ride a flying unicorn through a sky filled with rainbows I made a live Facebook video. (Something that scares the pants off of me.) But I had to share with the small world following me what had come. I spent countless hours writing and editing, I had hired a content editor, worked with two amazing proofers, worked with a gifted friend for the cover, hired someone to help with the blurb, and found other author’s to review. And I HAD to share my baby.

It was right. It had the right title, the right cover, the right blurb, the right reviews, and the right sweat, blood, and tears woven into its pages. It wasn’t perfect—it still isn’t. But for all of my knowledge and effort and work—it was beautiful. And I found myself right where I needed to be, I had worked my tail off and it had been worth it.

Would I love to be published by a major publisher? Umm, yeah. Do I still have hopes for that one day? You bet. 

But for now, I am happy doing this work the best way I know how. And I’m happy to not be settling for something that isn’t quite right for me.

Hi, I’m Jen. I have three chick-lit proper love stories published with a nice little publishing house based just outside of Las Vegas. I also have one (and one on the way) Young Adult fantasy romance that’s indie published. 

And that’s pretty awesome. 

20 years later... it's called the Non-Traditional Student

Twenty years ago at this time I was finishing up my first semester ever of college. I was attending the University of Wyoming and I lived with my best friend, Kris. We had more fun than any two college kids ever had--ever. We were good and silly and had blast dating every boy we could.

I was studying Special Education. I remember I had to take "Overview of Special Ed" and it was a terrible class! I was terrified... I remember thinking, This is an overview of my MAJOR and I hate it! Turns out it was just a crappy class, the rest of my Special Ed. classes were pretty awesome.

I met my dear friend Bridgette because of our matching majors. Bridgette became my other BFF and my roommate year 2.

It was really pretty great--all of it. I had so much fun and I was so focused and intent on what I wanted to do. People left and right were changing majors again and again and I never did. I just knew exactly what I wanted to do. However, the start of my Senior year I had a baby and I never finished. And I don't regret that. I could never regret staying home and taking care of my baby boy.

 

 

20 years later, today, I just finished up my first semester back in school, this time as a non-traditional student. I'm officially no longer 18... I suppose officially I was no longer 18 twenty years ago. I'm not quite as focused--at least in the major department. I have too many things I would like to do. So, I'm still figuring that out. But that's okay. I'm learning a lot, and a lot less worried about dating--except for my husband, but we go on a date almost every Friday. :)

 

I can honestly say I had no idea, zero, zip, zilch, nope, no idea at all how much crazier it would feel this time around. I only took 6 credits, with a household to run, 4 kids to raise, a husband to date and books to write. I was sure 6 measly credits would not disrupt my life so wholly. But I was wrong. It totally threw everything in my life for a loop. When I finally got used to the new schedule and my daily life though, I loved it. I loved learning new things and using those things. And I think the classes I chose to take were very much inspired as they broke this non-traditional student in well. I truly enjoyed each class and the work I did. I'm not so sure about next semester, {Biology}. YIKES! However, I do have faith that I can do it, now.

These girls were in my tech class, they helped me settle back in and find a place nicely. I love them!

Okay... so it wasn't yesterday...

I fed 18 college women soccer players tonight. (Yes, I'm a little crazy--and I get to do it again tomorrow night with the men's soccer team!!) A handful of the girls stayed behind after the rest had eaten and left and we looked through my old albums and talked--about their handsome coach :) :) :) about their boyfriends and dogs and homes and aches.
It was fun.

It was also eye opening for me. I always always feel like my kids were babies yesterday, Jeff and I started this life journey yesterday. I honestly feel baffled at times when I think about 18 years of marriage and an almost 17 year old son... Shouldn't that be someone else's life?? I should have tiny babies and still be a newlywed.

But I'm not.
And that was never more evident then when looking through pictures of my wedding, an event that happened before many of these girl's births! It not only looked like a life time ago, it felt like another life.
So crazy.

And yet not.
It happens.
Just life.
Real, honest, good life.
Time.

Time is such a blessing and a curse. But really, time pulling along my happy life is a treasure. Being allowed to live it a gift. And filing through all the memories and lessons, the good times and the hard ones is something I'm so thankful to be able to do.

It may not have been yesterday... not even a hundred yesterdays ago, but it's still mine.

 

Sometimes I See Her

So, it might sound a little bit crazy, but lately I see her, my mother.

I've been making sack lunches for school for 11 years... the process hasn't changed much, only lately I cut my son's pb and h sandwich in half and it reminds me of her and how she used to do it.

I cut up a banana almost every morning, the slices fall on top of a piece of toast--something I don't ever remember Mom eating, but again the way I slice the banana's in the air and let them fall on top of the bread... I haven't thought about the process--but I do it, and I see her precise hand using the knife.

Working in my kitchen with my baby girl alongside of me, I sang at the top of my lungs --You are my Sunshine-- and Little Miss joined in whenever she could. We put our clean dishes away, signing and laughing. And more than ever I saw Mom. She had me at the same age I had Little Miss. I have distinct memories of holding Mom's hands, our knotted fists swinging between us while she vacuumed. All the while singing that exact same song, her voice carrying above the hum of the vacuum. 

I don't feel like I've changed how I do things or where and when I do them. But lately I see her in myself as I do them. Maybe it's just that she's always on my mind, but then that isn't new either. I just don't remember seeing her so often in myself.

It's a happy sight.

Running by the most nonathletic, uncoordinated girl around

I don't run {normally}.

I don't like running {normally}.

I like chocolate...

And movies...

And playing board games with my kids...

But I also have a desire to be healthy--while I eat chocolate.

My girlfriend told me about this app-->

And I decided to give it a try.

You run/walk 3 days a week. They have it all worked out for you and by week 8 your endurance should be built up to run a 5K.

Today was day 3.

I like it.

I sort of like it.

So, here's my advice for nonathletic/uncoordinated/why am I doing this to myself runners--like me. :)

1. Don't worry about the passing cars or people. They aren't staring at you. And if they are they will end up running you over and then you've got bigger troubles.

2. Stop looking at your shoes. (I tried this today!) There's scenery out there and it's way more interesting than your shoes.

3. Don't kill yourself. I love the app--the lady tells me when to start walking and when to start running. She's the boss and I listen to her. But she isn't allowed to kill me. The first day I only completed 2/3's of "Workout 1", the next day I did better. Just do better  or at least as good as you did the workout before. 

And now... some lovely pictures proving that I'm doing it!! :)

I really dislike my socks--sock suggestions anyone?

Also, these are my friends shoes... my shoes are fifteen years old and from Walmart--do I need better shoes?

Come on people who aren't the nonathletic, uncoordinated, why am I doing this to myself kind of runners--give me a clue! :)

Love my Life

I'm 37 today.

I've done a few things in 37 years.

I went to college.

I got married.

I had a baby boy

and then another

and another. :)

I wrote a few children's books

and three novels.

I buried my sweet mother.

I had a baby girl--who helped heal my broken heart.

I started teaching special needs adults.

I went to my first writer's conference.

I signed a contract to have one of my books published.

I sent another book off to my publisher.

And then, ya know, just a few things in between all that. :)

I don't have a perfect life.

But I do have a wonderful life.

New Bio

Way back in the 3^rd grade Jen Atkinson was the only student in her class asked to participate in a new program for Wyoming: Young Authors. Maybe it was because she so often declared that she would be a writer one day. She wrote a sixteen page fictional children’s story that year. Since then she’s worked on multiple children’s books and a few women’s fiction novels. She loves reading a good love story, as well as those addictive Young Adult dystopians. Jen lives next to one of Wyoming’s many mountains with her darling husband, three sweet sons and trusty writing partner—her baby girl. LIKE HOME is her debut novel.

You can follow Jen at jenatkinsonwrites.blogspot.com

Proms gone Wrong--> Yep mine. It must be: more than you wanted to know about Jen day.

I'm not sure what it is about this blog that posses me to embarrass myself, but here ya go:

For some girls Prom is the high light of their High School years.

Most girls hope and wish to go to an oober dreamy prom.

Some don't care either way--> the smart ones.

Prom is dandy, don't get me wrong.

But I'm sort of partial to the group date, not so serious kind of Prom. Or the who cares we weren't asked, let's have a girls night, night.

I did go to Prom.

Twice.

And neither were all that.

In fact one was even kind of scary.

Scary Gary.

That wasn't my Prom dates name, just something we say at this house.

Scary.

Gary.

Prom #1

The scariest thing about this Prom was me.

Yikes.

My dress.

My hair.

My nails.

I had this thing on my neck... I don't know what it's called, maybe a scary gary band. I don't know. But it wasn't pretty. Even for the 90's. And then my hair. I went to the salon and paid good money to have a scary gary hair-do. I hated it. Seriously. Hated. And the ladies at the Salon insisted that bright-red-not-Jen-at-all nails would be perfect. 

My date on the other hand- super nice friend of mine. We went with another couple...

So, it could have been great... had I gone as myself rather than scary gary girl.

Prom #2

This is the scary one.

Pretty much all of it.

And here we go:

1. I went with a boy who liked me, it was just the two of us, all day and all night--which made the day/night more awkward than friendly and fun.

2. Because my last prom dress was so blah. I had my talented mom make my dress. I didn't realize the pattern we picked had a large chunk cut out in the back. Let's add a little more awkwardness to this night. I was horribly self-conscience and feeling immodest most of the night. Especially when the skinny section at the top that latched the dress together came UNLATCHED. And he had a to clip it closed for me. Scary. Gary.

3. When my date went on and on and on and on and on about how stinking expensive corsages are.

Yes, those were all scary gary moments, but I think the best/worst was when:

4. My date picked up a hitch hiker who looked what I imagine a clothed cave man might look like.

Scary. Gary.

And then of course the picture. 

Yikes.

Here's the moral to my story. 

I think as lousy as prom(s) ended up being for me they also taught me a great lesson.

The importance of being yourself.

There were so many things about my Proms that were sooo not me. And I'm guessing they would have been way more fun with a few more friends and a whole lot more me.

You're so Vain....

Sing it Carly!

So, it feels strange and yes, almost vain as I stare at pictures of myself, trying to decide which to use for the back of this book.

So I'm thinking maybe you should decide...
go vote... over there --->

#1

#2

#3

But don't stare too long or you will start to point out all my flaws... at least that's what I am doing.

And I can't leave this post without saying that Danielle Rainy, my photographer is just, well, awesome!

Check her out on facebook here

Bwahhh

Yes, Bwahh is the title of this post.

See, I am getting head shots for the back of the book taken this week.

Bwahh.

I don't know what that means... it's just sort of a sound my throat seems to make whenever I think about it.

See, I am normally the one behind the camera. Christmas. Birthdays. Family get togethers... I take the pictures... I am in very VERY few of them.

And when I am, I sort of get this frozen grin and through gritted teeth I chant, "take it, take it, take it".

So, a "Jen" photo shoot just sounds a little scary awful puky complicated.

My girlfriend/photographer friend is taking them... so it should be fairly painless, right??

It'll be more painful for her--probably. I can't imagine I'll be the best subject.

I just need to channel my inner 5 year old... I was a great photo subject at 5. At least that's what my dad tells me.

Because I'm pretty sure this selfie:

Isn't going to cut it.



Author Bio

I found this one of the strangest and most difficult things to write. I don't have a dozen degrees--err any degree to prove how awesome I am. I don't have a mountain of accomplishments to brag about. I am a fairly simple girl.

I have four beautiful children.

The best man in the world at my side.

And a happy little home.

Those accomplishments aren't exactly what you usually read about in someone's Bio, but I wouldn't trade any of them for a world of accomplishments or a million degrees.

Still writing the bio... not so easy. Can't someone else do it for me?? 

Anyway, here is my attempt at a semi-lame Bio.

Putting yourself out there--

It's never easy.

The first book I completed (I had half a dozen started in high school) is called:

Am I 30 Yet?

I wrote it the year I turned 30. It took me only 6 months. And one day when I am done re-writing it {it needs more than editing!} I'll try to publish it too.

Anyway, having people read what I wrote up to that point had been an ooober scary thing.

As I was writing this book I told my very good friend Samantha about it. She wanted to read it. Now, I am not even kidding when I tell you this. I would have her come to my house and watch her every single minute while she read each and every chapter. Seriously, I'd stare at her.

Sorry about that Sam.

But she read every word and when she said she loved it, it was a huge high. I had always wanted to be published, in fact I sent my first children's story off to a publisher (not having a clue how to go about it correctly) when I was just 13.

I guess my point is this, I put my heart on my sleeve and it paid off.

Now, that same book I had another gal read and she hated it. In fact she only made it through about 3 chapters... I think I offended her. She was a 30-something unmarried gal. And my book was about an almost 30-something unmarried gal.

Anywhoo-- the high I'd felt was worth the risk and I gave my manuscript to another friend, my buddy, Amy.--who by the way also love it. :)

Err, or they love me. Hmmm... well, their "likes" always felt sincere.

Today, while cleaning out our storage room I found a box full of my college notebooks. Hahahaha. Yes, I'll be needing all that jazz soon. Err--not.

But there was one notebook in there, a book of poems I'd written in High School. So, I decided to put myself out there again and share one with you. I'll tell you up front I am a pretty sucky poet.

No, seriously, suck-yy!

I can write a 300 page novel easier than a poem.

But this one, I actually liked. It had inside meaning for me.

And my BFF and college roommate Kristina really did love it. She hung it up in our dorm room and then one day she gave it away to a gal she visit taught. I haven't seen it since the day she gave it away.

Today, I found a copy! :)

I don't know that it's as great as I remember, but here ya go.

And this ends my career as a poet. :)

But my point today is that it's okay to put yourself out there.

In fact it's good for us.

A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS....

THIS TIME OF YEAR...

Right on Time

None of my kids came when I would have planned.

Thank goodness there is someone smarter than me with a plan.

Thank goodness I'm not the one in charge.

All of my kid's came in His time.

They came when I needed them.

There's:

#1

L

The Sherriff

and

Little Miss

They are my favorite people... on the planet!

They are special.

They are beautiful.

They are mine.

They're mine because He gave them to me. Heavenly Father has blessed me with an abundance of things I don't deserve, but the greatest of these blessings are my children.

 Now, back to how/when they came.

 

#1

That boy came just a year and a half after the hubby and I were married. It wasn't exactly how we'd planned it. We'd only been married 7 months when we found out we were pregnant. I remember distinctly the two of us staring at those two pink lines, giving us the positive answer and then looking up and saying, "Now what?"

#1 was born in September. The very month that I should have started my Senior year of college. Graduating has always been very important to me, but when I held that baby boy I knew I wouldn't go back. I couldn't leave him to get a degree I knew I wouldn't be using right away. I could not miss a minute of his precious little life. He felt like a missing piece. One I didn't even know was lost.

 

L

Even after a horrendous first birth, the hubby and I were excited to make #1 a big brother. We planned, we saved, we tried... but nothing happened. Not for--what felt like forever. But in fact ended up being a little less than 2 years. I could not understand why we were having so much trouble, #1 came so easily!!

I questioned so many things:

Weren't we good parents?

Was I doing enough?

But God has a reason for everything.

And as difficult as I thought those couple years were, they taught me a lot. They gave me great empathy for couples with fertility problems. I quickly learned that my less-than-two years was nothing compared to what some couples go through.

And now I am so very grateful for the lesson, as well as the beautiful boy--he was well worth the wait.

 

The Sheriff

Learning that I wasn't oh-so-fertile as we once thought and the fact that I was nursing, made us... well, not-so-super careful.

And so, just 12 months after the birth of L, I found out I was pregnant with the sheriff. Honestly, it scared the pants off of me. I was just getting the hang of 2 littles, throwing a third one into the mix when I still very much felt like I had a "baby" was frightening.

But again, the boy came when we needed him as well.

L seemed to be a born big brother and none of us could imagine our lives without the new boss of the house, our little Sheriff.

 

And finally

Little Miss

When I got pregnant with Little Miss the Sheriff was 5 years old--soon to be 6 years old.

We were done.

Family complete.

Well, if I'm being honest, I never did have that "complete" feeling until Little Miss was born. I always felt like somebody else might be up there waiting for us to get our act together.

But then the Sheriff turned 5 and everyone was pretty self-sufficient. So, I thought for about a minute, maybe we are done.

And then my mom got sick.

Really sick.

It came so fast and it took her down hard.

We were trying so hard to figure out a way to get her better that we hardly took time to consider losing her.

And then she was gone.

And my heart was broken.

I pretended to smile and laugh for my kids, but I wasn't very good at it. I tried to make dinner and spend time with friends. I tried to listen as other people talked about their lives and problems.

But I really didn't care.

9 months after mom died I knew I had to change. I had to do something. I was falling to pieces and my family was suffering because of it. That's when I turned my pain over to God. I have always been a religious/spiritual person. And I've always been grateful for a loving Heavenly Father's comfort and mercy. But this was too much for me. Every night I would beg for him to take it away. Some nights I couldn't speak and I would just lay there on my knees. So, when I got to this point I stopped asking Him to take it all away and instead I passed it over to Him. I still felt pain and anguish and loss, but I'd given Him my burden, He carried it for me. And I could feel the difference in every way.

That's when I got pregnant with Little Miss.

She wasn't discussed or planned.

But if I am being honest I absolutely knew she was coming.

I felt it.

And I knew she was a girl.

Some people think that's because after 3 sons I was dying to have a daughter. But really I adore my boys, I would have been happy to have another. I just knew this little one, this blessing, this gift was bringing part of my momma back to me.

I can just see the two of them sitting together in the heavens. My mom loving on her like she did all of her grandbabies. I can see her telling Little Miss to be a good girl and bring a smile back to her mom, me.

And she did.



Just about the most ridiculous way to pop out a rib...

I've gotten pretty good at hurting myself in comical, bizarre ways.

This past week has been some-what of a doozy.

Saturday after saving two infant otters from drowning I was accosted by a brown bear...

Okay, that's what I thought of telling people...

Actually, Saturday I held my hands above my head and braided two rows down my head. {Yes braiding my hair.} I felt a sharp pain and was abnormally uncomfortable--but I kept going. As the day went on the pain just got worse and worse. And by Monday I thought I'd morphed into someone else's body. I couldn't imagine where this crazy pain was coming from.

By one o' clock I was in the Doctor's office, courtesy of being a Doctor's wife's friend. :)

Long story-short, I had a pinched a nerve in my neck and popped a rib out of place.

Ouch.

I came home attempted to be some-what of a mom and went outside with my 2 year old, Little Miss.

There I turned... not sharply, not strangely, just wrong. And my knee cap dislocated. So, rib out, neck pinched and I went down to the ground--hard.

Double-Ouch.

Needless to say I fell apart--body and emotions.

{my poor children!}

But really this post isn't about having all of you say:

O you poor thing.

{Thank you in advance-btw.}

But more to say- Listen to you body!

That first braid did not feel right and yet I kept going. I could have saved myself a whole lot of grief if only I'd listened to myself!

Our bodies are amazing, they can do and recover from so much. But that doesn't mean we should abuse them.

Love your body! It's the only one you've got!

Where are you Jill Love?

Have you heard Brad Paisley's song "Then"

{Yes, more about Brad... I promise I'm not obsessed}

It's "our" song, mine and the hubby's.

I love it.

And I'll admit when he sang it at his concert, I teared up.

 

When Jeff and I were engaged his lovely mom said to him:

You think you love Jen now, but just wait. In 20 years you're going to love her so much more.

 

Well, it's only been 15 years, but she was right. I knew she was right after only a couple years though. Every year I'm surprised that I love him even more than I did the year before.

 

Okay, so now let me explain my title. When Jeff and I were first married I had this college friend, Jill Love. We were both education majors and had a couple classes together. She was a newly wed as well. I think we were married a week apart or something like that.

 

Sweet Jill was having a hard time and she would ask me how Jeff and I were doing so well. We had our troubles too. I don't really know any newly weds who don't. {Why don't people ever mention that??} We always talk about the wonderful times and forget to mention that it's A-OK to have hard times too. Marriage is hard! And the first year? Well, for a lot of people it's the hardest... it was for us. Good, but not easy.

 

Anyway, Jill didn't see our hard times, she just saw us... happy.

So, when she asked me. I told her the truth. It wasn't always easy, but we, Jeff and I, had one great thing in common, one thing that kept us on the same train track.

Our Faith.

I shared a Book of Mormon with her a week or two later.

Then I got pregnant with my oldest and didn't go back for my senior year of college.

Jill and I lost touch and I often wonder: What happen to my friend Jill Love?

I hope she's happy. I hope she's in love. I hope she and her husband made it through those hard times, finding their path.

I hope they can say, "And I thought I loved you then."

Truth or Dare

With my kids...

Good or bad idea?

Good...

Well, mostly. :)

 

Yes, we played some good ol' truth or dare tonight. Me and my boys.

 

We're Mormon's... I didn't really have to worry about anything inappropriate coming out... unless you count {fart} as inappropriate.

 

All around it was mostly "dares", things like: Go out into the front yard and yell- GOOD MORNING AMERICA!

So, the first time I picked truth my middle boy asked me: Have you ever kissed a boy that wasn't a relative, a boy who wasn't dad?!

 

I sat there looking at my 3 sweet sons and I felt almost guilty telling them, Yep, I have.

 

There were some gasps and shocked faces.

I explained that it was a very long time ago, long before I knew daddy I had another boyfriend. That was as detailed as I got.

Just a few silly kisses.

And they got over there shocked-ness by making me run outside yelling Halleluiah!

Still, there sweet innocent little gasps-- yeah they made me a bit self-conscience, but they made me happy too.

They are good. And innocent. And I love that.

And they're right, kisses are special and should be saved for special people.

Like daddy. :)  

My job's cooler than your job :)

Okay... well, I don't actually know what "you" do, so I probably shouldn't be bragging. :)

Mostly, I just really love my job.

First of all I should say I still very much so consider myself a stay-at-home mom. I still have one of four kiddos at home and I really do enjoy being able to be home with Little Miss, as well as helping at the big boys schools.

 

So, what is this oober cool job you ask?

{...Ask, if you didn't. :)}

 

Twice a week I get to teach disabled adults life skills.

Both groups lasts for only one hour, so that plus prep time at home, I work about 4 hours a week. --Sometimes more, sometimes less.

I love the people I work with. They are beautiful and amazing and sweet.

 

I find almost every lesson we have I end up coming home and giving my kids a not-so-impromptu replica of the lesson I just gave.

 

Really, it's stuff every human being should be reminded of.

We talk about knowing what you're feeling, how to react to those feelings, self esteem builders, what to do when you want something that isn't yours... okay, I won't tell you every topic, you'll stop reading my blog... it would take way too long.

Still, simple life lessons--they're good.

 

A few months ago I taught a lesson on appropriate affection. We talked about how it's okay for good friends to hug--as long as both parties feel comfortable. I think every single person hugged me that day before I left. :)

 

Once I got invited to Hawaii--well, as long as I left my hubby at home. Haha.

 

Yes, I laugh on a regular basis.

See how cool my job is?? :)

Getting too excited in my Patriotic pants... yes, there's a picture...

This is so not a picture I would normally post...

but in the end it was just too funny and I had to share.

I found these pants on sale this week. I thought- Oh, fun! and patriotic! and a sale!

Then, this morning, I put them on...

and I thought, umm... obnoxious!

Still, I bought them, I had to wear them. I went out too, I did not hide in my house. I went to the store, in my yard... and then to the frozen yogurt shop.

 

That's when I got a little too excited in my Patriotic pants.

See, a dear friend of mine who moved away last year decided last minute to come see us for the 4th. She pulled into the fro yo parking lot and I of course jumped up to run out to meet her. Well, apparently the door at the fro yo shop opens at the right, not the left. I ran and pushed {left side} and slammed my face right into the door.

 

{Because I just didn't stand out enough in my obnoxious pants.}

 

Yes, it was lovely.

 

Eyes watering, nose aching, I didn't look back at the many customers of That Yogurt Place, no I kept going. I went out, met my friend, who by the way thought I was weeping with joy at the sight of her. And as happy as I was to see her, it was actually the nose I'd just smashed into the glass door that was making my eyes tear.

Then I got to come back inside and of course everyone inside had a comment for me. haha. They were actually all very nice... laughed right along with me. But, my hubby assured me I was talked about-- did that lady in the crazy pants just run into the door?

 

Yes, she did. :/

 

O well. It was pretty funny and I'm glad I could laugh at myself. --It's better than crying.

The bruise that's already forming might make me cry though.

Running

I am not a runner. Or a jogger. Or a walker really.

Well, mostly a runner.

I hate it. I loathe it. I think I’d rather eat a chocolate covered ants then run… hey there’s chocolate involved at least.

Well, I ran the other night. Not far. Not long. I’m not a runner. (Have I mentioned that?)

But I do want to be healthy and fit. Since having my 4^th child and hitting 35 this task has become a whole lot more difficult. Whoo—that’s me, still out of breath from running my short, unimpressive distance.

So, what do you do? Seriously, how do you do it? What’s your favorite exercise and what on earth motivates you to do it.

… hmmm, maybe if my husband ran in front of me dangling chocolate over my head I’d run to catch it and not think twice…