that’s what I’m talking about

http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf

this is for my friends on the right. Betcha would've voted for Obama if you knew you were getting your very own unicorn!

and just because I'm living in a bad sitcom (Molly has a fever, Katie's throwing up, and snotty Andrew ate so many Tootsie Rolls that he fell asleep in front of the tv and was literally stuck to the carpet) and needed a laugh, I give you this little gem:http://www.someecards.com/usercards/someEcards.swf

and I wrote this haiku for Frugal Beth's haiku-loving 9 year-old, Sarah:

it's January

oh so cold and sometimes warm

you can wear capris

and here's another one, just because I can't sleep:

in elusive dreams

this sleep is just a rumor

taunting my eyelids

what the hell Friday: carry that weight

When I posted my new year's resolutions last week (has it been 2009 for a week already? Damn) I'm sure a few of you thought "ok, where's the 'lose weight' resolution?" Well, I didn't make that a resolution. It's not because I don't want to lose weight, it's because after 20 years of being on some type of diet or another, I've decided not to make it a resolution. Yes, it's been on my list for 20 years. What the hell? That's either pathetic or — well, it's pathetic. So, no, it's not a resolution.

What I have decided to do is be healthier in 2009 and not make my weight the center of it all. Why? Because of Oprah.

Did you miss the headline? It made CNN! Good grief, Oprah gained weight. The nation's economy is in the toilet, we're in a war, Osama's still out there, Israel's attacking Gaza again — but stop the presses! Oprah has hit 200 pounds.

This is O on the cover of O. Does she look horrible? No. Sure, the purple outfit is doing nothing for her, but she looks fine. This is what O had to say on the matter: "I can’t believe that after all these years, all the things I know how
to do, I’m still talking about my weight. I look at my thinner self and
think, `How did I let this happen again?’" Maybe it's because your body is not meant to be 140 pounds. I'm not advocating being heavy, but starving yourself and having to workout to the degree Oprah did to stay the weight you diet down to is unhealthy as well.

For instance, I'm 5'2" and according to several weight charts I'm supposed to be 128 pounds. A friend of mine who happens to be a doctor said that would be tiny for me and I agreed. I was 128 pounds when I was in 7th or 8th grade, which was before I had hips (you're thinking I was going to say "and boobs," but no, I had already had the boobs). So, no, I don't think 128 pounds is my "ideal" weight. Ideal maybe if I go on Survivor for fat chicks and lose half my body weight, maybe — but no, 128 isn't gonna happen. Nope.

Just for fun, I uploaded a photo of me taken a few minutes before my date picked me up for prom senior year. Let's look at what I would consider my ideal weight, shall we.

The pic is taken at an angle, so it's weird, but whatev. And yes, I really am that pale. And that was the year I made a brilliant decision to dye my hair black at Halloween with the wash-out in 24 shampoos hair color, only it didn't wash out, so that was as light as it got. What the hell? I was an effing genius — really, I don't know how I made it through that year with all the stupid things I did. I was 18 and I'm guessing 160 lbs. I looked normal, looking back, of course. But at the time I was depressed beyond belief and had zero self esteem (and obviously no posture to speak of — look at those shoulders). At 18 I hated the way I looked because I thought I was fat. Now, if I was a good blogger, I would photshop in a pic of me now looking at my 18 year-old self and do a magazine cover mock-up like the O cover. But, I'm not going to do that because I'm lazy. My point is, hindsight is 20/20. Always has been. By the way, I don't know what I was thinking straightening my hair that night because it rained and I looked like a poodle by the time we got to prom. Oh, and look at those skinny ankles — is it any wonder I've sprained them a hundred times?

We can't dwell on what was any more than we can worry about the future. Sure, I looked a lot better then, but I was 18. I wasn't a happy girl. It took years to figure out my happiness isn't connected to my weight and it shouldn't rule my thoughts, although it does much of the time. If I beat myself up over my weight it only makes me want to eat cookies. Like half a bag of cookies.

Instead of Oprah asking how she "let" herself gain weight, a better message would be to be happy and healthy at whatever point in life you are, whatever age you are. I'm going to eat healthier this year and start walking and stuff. That's not mind-blowing, it just makes sense that if I don't want to have a lot of the problems overweight people deal with as they age, I should get healthier for health's sake. That's not because I'm unhappy with the way I look, hell, as you can see at 18 I had the double chin — it's about being happy with who I am and treating myself better.

And treating myself better also has to deal with how I view myself. I am not my weight. I am not my dress size. I am Kerry: wife, mother, daughter, friend, superfantastic woman in the here and now. And that's pretty good. I'm not perfect, and I'm okay with that.

For your Friday, I'm leaving you with two more pictures from an artist I just discovered a few days ago through one of my favorite blogs, Manolo for the Big Girl. The artist is Kal Barteski and she was an instant fave the second I saw her art. It's empowering and smart, pretty and soulful — and I love art that is all those things.

Barteski calls these "tiny art" and these are my two favorites.

This one says:

"she was the one who couldn't see /she was the one who didn't know/ compassion was curvy/ experiences experience was heavy/ beauty was within her/ so much beauty."

If I would have seen this as a teenager it would have turned a lightbulb on inside my head. I'm sure of that. There were no messages for girls like this in the early 90's. There were no girls that looked like me in magazines. There were no body acceptance blogs, that was a few years later.

I'm loving the tiny art.

The tiny art on the right says:

"she loved/ she loved and loved/ with every inch in every way/ en masse/ and all and every/ undeniable/ unbelievable/ indisputable/ incomparable beauty./ so much beauty"

If you don't think that's awesome, just go put on some Britney Spears and read Cosmo or eat some Cheetos, 'cause I got nothin'.

I'm serious.

Okay, if you're still with me, I'll post some scrapbookie stuff this weekend and we'll have some fun. Your assignment for this weekend is to be happy with yourself, or at least start on that path.

I'm happy being me and I'm happy you're here. I like you the best. But you already knew that.

2009 resolutions (or ok, fine, I’ll make some changes)

In 2009 I resolve…

to not talk to loudly when I have my earbuds in.
to not stare at the neck tattoo on the chick at the McDonald's drive-thru.
to not refer to alternative medicine as voo-doo anymore.
not to self-diagnose myself by looking up symptoms on webmd.com.
to stop greeting the other moms at the bus stop with " 'sup, bitches?"
to dream more.
to remember to use moisturizer.
not to snicker when people mispronounce words.
to not get mad when people misspell my name.
to take compliments better.
to start some form of exercise.
to resume ninja training.
not to think my friends are copycats when they order the same thing as me in a restaurant.
to stop saying yes to things I really don't care to do.
not to point at people when I'm singing in the car pretending I'm in a music video.
to read more.
not to take any more magazine subscriptions.
to not answer "hammertime" when someone asks me what time it is.
to stop using "you too" inappropriately (i.e. when the hostess at a restaurant tells us to have a good dinner or the gate attendant at the airport says "have a good flight").
not to pretend I remember someone's name when I don't and greet them with "hey, man!"
to actually laugh out loud when I write LOL in an email or IM.
to not roll my eyes when a man asks me what scrapbooking is.
to not roll my eyes when a man says "so people actually pay to go sit and scrapbook" when I explain it.
to have a better response to the above instead of bitch slapping them.
to not make faces babies in stores when their parents aren't looking.
to spend more time with Lucy dog.
to get more sleep.
to come up with better nicknames for friends than Lunchbox and Snackshack.
to order my superhero costume and wear it to the next neighborhood watch meeting.
to not quote lines while I'm watching a movie with someone.
to tell people exactly how I am when someone asks "how are you?"
not to tell another friend I should nominate her for "What Not to Wear."
to ask myself what Aretha would do when faced with an obstacle more often.
to not say OMG when someone tells me they homeschool.
to not say "oh, God, no!" when someone asks me if I homeschool.
to come up with a better response when asked "so, do you work?" instead of pimp slapping them.
to stop telling people I'm a Rockette when asked if I work.
to start training for some sort of Olympic sport, maybe badminton, since Rogue Croquet is out.
not to make up holidays (like Tupac Remembrance Day) for the sole purpose of having cake.
to not say "I love this song" when it's my iPod that's playing.
to not say "I hate Garth Brooks" when Megan's iPod is playing.
to start proofing my posts more often.
to have more fun and less stress.
not to freak out over things I can't control, like the American Idol results or weather or anything else.
to not let things get to me as much.
to do my best to give you something to laugh at, look at, or think about here on the blog — maybe all three once in a while.
to wish a Happy New Year to everyone! Feel free to leave your resolutions in the Comments, I'd love to read what y'all have to say.

goodbye 2008, felt like I was just getting to know you

Dear Reader Friends,

Wishing you a healthy and happy new year! Thanks for reading in 2008. We've had some fun, haven't we? I've shared, you've shared, and we learned some things together — mainly that I know a lot of stuff about stuff and I like to shop, tell you about music you might not be familiar with, and explore the things that amuse me. Occasionally we talk about serious things, but we're here to have a little fun and retreat from the chaotic everyday grind. I appreciate each and every one of you who stop by to read (you know I like you the best — yes, I'm talking to you) and I sincerely hope you have a wonderful year.

Much love,
Kerry

have yourself a merry little Christmas

Dear Friends and Readers,

It's Christmas Eve and I'm thinking about this holiday and how much it means to me. It's always been my favorite holiday, even with all the chaos that's always surrounded it as a child and now that I have children of my own. As we celebrate the birth of our Savior and reflect on what that means in our own lives, I hope you will take the time to tell the people close to you what they mean to you. While wrapping presents today, I asked my daughters what Christmas is all about and I was so happy to hear them say it's about Jesus' birth and giving. It was a proud mom moment.

Being that I'm not actually Santa Claus, I knew it would be impossible give each of you a gift personally, but I hope this will do. I'm posting two videos that say Christmas to me and I hope you enjoy them. The first is my favorite Christmas song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," this is the Coldplay version. A few hundred versions are out there, I have my favorites and I like this one. The Judy Garland original is awesome, and although I love Ella Fitzgerald's version, it's a little too up tempo for my present mood, which is reflective and actually peaceful. All of the covers of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" are for your Tunes Tuesday. Go visit YouTube for a few dozen versions. Sinatra's is fab, but pass on Xtina Aguilera. Here' the lyrics for you in case you haven't committed them to memory.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on, our troubles will be far away

Here we are, as in olden days
Happy golden days of your
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us
Once more

Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

That's Christmas. That's what this holiday is to me: friends, family, and forgetting your troubles while you're together.

The second video is one of the best pieces of television ever aired.
It's Linus' speech from the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. I've been
watching it my entire life and it always brings me joy at Christmas.
The way Linus quotes the book of Luke and then tells Charlie Brown, "that's what Christmas is all about" is pure Christmas Magic. There's something about the belief of a child that trivializes your
worries and brings things into perspective that makes all the chaos and insanity of the weeks before Christmas melt away. I hear it in my children's voices. To hear my daughters say Christmas is about giving is immensely gratifying and lovely to a mother's ear. It makes me think maybe they are listening to me after all, maybe the commercialism of the season isn't ruining the meaning of Christmas after all. That is a blessing and I am grateful for that.

I am also grateful for each and everyone who reads this blog. I wanted to thank you for spending some of your time with me and tell
all of you how much I appreciate your comments and emails. The words
I've head from you make writing worth it. I have such wonderful
friends and readers, y'all are just superfantastic and I wish you the merriest of Christmases.

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night,
Kerry

What the hell Friday

Forgive readers, I know it's not technically Friday anymore, but I think here on the Kerry blog I'm going to institue a new feature I'd like to call What the Hell Friday.
This is way more personal than I usually blog, but I can't sleep and whatev — it's my blog, i can change my own rules. Tonight was a night I had been looking forward to since we decided we were coming in for Thanksgiving. Not only did Scott and I have a night out, we were going to see my friend Will's band. Now, I haven't seen Will in 15 years, so I already had some anxiety about this because I'm me and I'm stupid. I've become friends with his wife, who is pretty fab and I would be seeing her and other friends I hadn't seen since I was a size 16, so my insecurity level was at Level Orange. No, that wasn't enough for my little brain. No. So, I forgot to pack undies for the trip and another pair of jeans. So, I figure I'd wear a dress I brought tonight because I didn't want my jeans to smell like smoke from the bar. No big. I put on my Spanx, new bra, and the dress and realize I'm showing WAY more cleavage than legally allowed in Caddo parish. So, I decide to wear my denim jacket and new scarf with it so I won't be arrested for indecent exposure. I decided I looked kinds cute, for me anyway.
Then I called my dad to see when we would see him tomorrow. That was my first mistake. No, second. Like a moron, i'd told him we were going to see Will's band. Dad tells me he and the new girlfriend would be dropping by the bar so I could meet her. What the hell?
Y'all, I don't go to bars. I don't drink, smoke bothers me, I was going to see my friend and hear the band. I haven't been in a bar since 1994. Do the math, people. So, Scott and I went to dinner, it was yum-o-rama. Then we went shopping (I had to have undies and something to wear home Sunday) and to Barnes and Noble and had coffee. My anxiety was rising like the flood waters during Katrina, and I'm on cleavage patrol the whole time.
We get to the bar, talk to Molly, say hi to Will, band starts playing, it's all good. Not 30 minutes in, Dad shows up with the GF. Now when someone says they're stopping by, how long do you think that means? Not almost two freakin' hours! What the hell?
Plus, no one told me it was bring your dad to the tavern night. I knew when he ordered drinks I was going to lose it. I was calm. The band took a break and I sat there trying not to think of breaking a pool cue over my dad's head. I so wanted to bust a ninja move. Really, I'm too damn nice. I wanted to talk to friends, but my dad wanted to make small talk and I loathe small talk. The band starts up again and dad gets the GF another beer. Perfect. Not only am I not wanting to play nice with them, I'm so not in the mood to hear about what a good man dad is when he leaves the table. What the hell?
I have no words. Can anything in my life go half-way normal? Of course not. Can I have one anxiety-ridden moment at a time? Hell no. I may tell the rest of the story later on, right now I'm going to see if a John Hughes movie is on or something with Hugh Grant. It's 2:30 am and I need a comedy not based in reality, 'cause hell if I don't have enough going on here.

This pretty much sums it up

Have I ever mentioned I’m allergic to the great outdoors? Oh, well.

BTW, I love www.someecards.com. As many of my peeps know, I’ve always wanted to have my own card line for sentiments you can’t just find at Hallmark, but someone beat me to it.