Kristann Monaghan's Blog, page 8

Santa Calls…A Monaghan Family Tradition

Merry Christmas everyone!  I know I need to get back in the habit of your twice (or more) a week blogs…life around the holidays is always so chaotic.  This Christmas morning I thought I would share with you one of my favorite traditions that happened in our family every Christmas Eve without fail….Santa called each and every one of us cousins.  I mean a real honest to goodness phone call.  These are one of my favorite memories of Christmas and let me tell you why.

As a kid, there is nothing more magical than the thought of Santa coming.  There is something so fascinating by the thought of this man you don’t know, coming into your house while you are sleeping and leaving you presents.  Wait…as an adult, this sounds slightly terrifying.  I don’t know if I necessarily want some strange fat man breaking and entering my home while I am sleeping to leave me presents.  Would these be presents of a serial killer sort?  I mean, am I going to wake up and find some severed head in my living room?  Is Santa gonna turn out to be the SOTL Man and kidnap me to make his Fat Girl skinsuit finally?  I guess I should be grateful that children don’t think like me or Santa would be quickly out of business.  Let’s just go back to that magical thinking we had a children and forget Santa being a creeper and doing weird serial killer things that would bring the BAU from Criminal Minds into your house.  Most children are thrilled by this sort of magic (and some adults…obviously not me) and it helps make the special quality that is Christmas.

So, in my family on Christmas Eve, the phone would ring and my Mom would answer it and smile and tell me Santa was on the phone.  I would race over to the phone and breathlessly say hello….hearing jingle bells and a deep voice saying “Ho Ho Ho Kristann!  This is Santa Claus! Have you been a good girl this year?”  I was thrilled.  Santa was calling me!  He knew my name!  He would listen as I told him things and encourage me to be good and go to bed as he would soon be there.  I would agree and when the conversation was over, I would dance excitedly around the kitchen (inevitably twirling the long phone cord around me in my excitement) and hurry off to bed to be read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas and Santa Mouse by my Dad.  The best part about Christmas with my big Irish family?  All of us cousins soon realized that Santa called us all!  We would all talk animatedly about our phone calls and we felt pretty special when our friends told us they didn’t get phone calls.  I mean, Santa called all of us cousins every Christmas Eve without fail.  It was super special to us and a memory I cherish from my childhood.

When I got older and learned about the truth of Santa (I must admit I was about 12 when I finally found out), I was confused about the phone calls. I mean, if Santa wasn’t real, then how did he call me and my cousins every Christmas Eve?  I puzzled about this for quite some time before I asked my parents.  My Dad smiled at me, pulled me into his lap, and whispered that it was really him that called all of the littles in our family.  Every Christmas Eve.  He would go to my Grandma’s house and call every one of us, making us all feel like the most special child in the world.  Not once did I recognize my Dad’s voice.  Not once did I even catch on that he disappeared for awhile on Christmas Eve to make those phone calls. My Dad made all of us cousins feel so special and so wonderful on Christmas Eve with those calls.  Instead of being disappointed when he told me, I just asked that he continue to call all the littles including my baby brother and he did.  I am sure all of my cousins can attest that those phone calls were some of our best memories of Christmas.

Even now, he still makes them to the littles in the family, including my god daughters and BFF’s god children.  When I asked my Dad years ago to call BFF’s Grandpa’s house one Christmas Eve to talk to the littles there, he didn’t even hesitate and asked for the phone number and all the kids names that were there.  I wasn’t sure if the two slightly older kids that were there still believed, but I gave him their names and ages anyways.  Sure enough, a few minutes later, the phone rang, we put it on speaker and I heard jingle bells and this big booming voice saying “Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!”  It brought a huge smile to my face and memories came flooding back of my own Santa calls.  The littles in the room grew quiet, their eyes wide as Santa magically called them each by name and talk to them all.  When the phone call was over, dancing around the living room were 3 happy little children and I quietly snuck off to call my Dad back and thank him.  The next day, BFF’s cousin pulled me aside to give me a hug and thank me.  Her daughter had started to question if Santa was real and after the phone call where Santa asked for her by name, the doubt was removed as she declared her love for Santa over and over on the ride home.  See Dad…those calls are special I tell you…so thank you.  Thank you for making our childhood Christmas memories something made of magic.

Merry Christmas dear readers.  May you rediscover the magic of Christmas through this blog today and may you create some Christmas magic of your own.  Bless each and every one of you and yours today!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.   I did, however, remember some of the magic of Christmas and I thank my Dad for this today but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who Santa called personally every Christmas Eve without fail Running.  The experiment continues…

 

The Unfortunate Flauta Incident

When BFF and I are in California for our DL trips, we like at least once (of course we would like more) to meet up with the Boss Bean, the C.E.O of Inknbeans, just to have a fun lunch and check in with her cuz we super like her….and she puts up with our brand of crazy.  Plus, I like to say I have a meeting with my publisher.  It makes me sound all important and authory and stuff.  This last trip. we made arrangements to meet up with her for some Mexican food at Tortilla Joe’s (our favorite Downtown Disney restaurant) and she told me to bring the whole crew along so we did…good thing BFFE and her brood didn’t mind.

I have to tell you that when I was having the conversation with Boss Bean about how many of us there were going to be, she didn’t even flinch.  She instead replied she would bring the funny hats.  When we showed up at the restaurant, Boss Bean had beat us (of course) and we met her inside to find gift bags at our seats.  What is this?  Boss Bean always follows through and yes…inside those gift bags were indeed funny hats!  Pirate hats and all the trimmings to decorate them.  Eye patches included.  Needless to say, it didn’t take us long to immediately start to decorate them appropriately and of course wear them.  Because if I took the time to decorate said pirate hat, then I was gonna wear the hat.  Plus, I have always said that DL is one of those places where anyone can wear a silly hat and no one even thinks twice about it.  It really is all about being a kid…big or small.  So pirates we all became during our meal.

BFF makes a pretty awesome pirate with that hair. She didn’t want to mess up the bang.
Nice eye patch BFFE!  So sexy…

BFF and I were sitting surrounding Boss Bean since she was at the head of the table so she got to be entertained by our brand of crazy.  I mean…we are pretty funny.  Just saying.  After stuffing tableside guacamole in our gobs, our lunches came and we all got to eating.  I was pretty proud that I got Book 3 to Boss Bean BEFORE the deadline and before going on vacation and BFF and I were discussing how much of a whip cracker she was while I was writing.  Boss Bean then brings up me doing a 4th book….wait…..you want another one?  HOLY SHIT.  Book 3 hasn’t even gone to editing and she already is talking about book 4?  How is this my life?  You mean this isn’t just a fluke?  I was flabbergasted to say the least.  As I was shoving food in my gob and sitting there stunned, that is when it happened….the unfortunate flauta incident.

Boss Bean and BFF were animatedly discussing book 4 while I sat there dumbfounded.  Here is how it went down:

Boss who turns to me and says:  “I am going to give you a deadline of next November for book 4 already so get writing.”

Me:  too stunned to say anything so I nod and shove more carnitas in my face.  I might have mumbled something.

BFF calmly shoveling carnitas into her mouth: “Oh good because I already have named the 4th book.”

Boss:  “You have?  Lay it on me.”  Here is where the crucial error occurred as Boss then took a bite of flauta.  Pretty sure you should never eat as BFF says she has an idea…just saying.

BFF matter of factly, her eyes wide and innocent: “Rise of the Recliner.  Pretty sure the recliner should also have a crown and scepter with it” She then shoved more food in her gob as if this was the most natural idea in the world to her.  I adore her.

I look up giggling, also knowing BFF was serious because she probably had been thinking up names for my next book knowing her, in time to see Boss Bean laugh and cover her mouth and nose with her napkin.  She is laughing hysterically and manages to tell us she snorted a piece of flauta up her nose.  This is why we can’t have nice things BFF!!  Luckily all was well and said flauta did not come shooting across the room to ping some poor inncocent unawares customer in the forehead or ricochet off the wall to land in some tableside guacamole.  Also, no Boss Bean was hurt in the naming of book 4.  Despite the unfortunate flauta incident, we all had a grand time with lots of laughs and good food.  I am always lucky when I get to spend time with Boss Bean….she is good people.  And she puts up with me and BFF….that is saying a lot.

Boss Bean doesn’t like to be in the photos (we included her pirate hat to prove she was there) so she took the photo even if BFFE looks like she drank too much rum…

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did however wonder if Boss Bean might as she snorted flauta up her nose but I didn’t die (and neither did Boss Bean thnak goodness).  I am Fat Girl with a BFF you really should not eat around while she is talking Running.  The experiment continues….

 

 

 

 

Mommas Don’t Let Your Children Grow Up to be Assholes

I know I have discussed before about how sometimes BFF and I run into parents at DL that are…well not so nice? Ok Ok…really they are assholes, plain and simple. It seems no matter where you go or how pleasant you are, you always seem to run into some sort of asshole that feels the world owes them a favor. This time, however, it was parents who were also doing a smash bang up job of also teaching their children to be assholes. I mean , really, do you want to teach them this type of behavior? I vote no. So, Mommas, don’t let your children grow up to be assholes.

The Griswolds ready to party! Halloween party that is….

This all happened the night of the Halloween party while we were at DL.  If you have never done a Halloween party at DL, then you should…at least once.  They are quite epic I tell you.  Special fireworks, parades, trick or treating and villians….ah yes the villians.  I might add that I did see my beloved Maleficent again this year but I did not crush any small children to get to her (ok maybe one or two but they were in my way!)  I was unable to get up close and personal with her again this year…maybe they remembered me being a complete spaz last time and saw me coming. They quickly called for her carriage and she left but before she left, BFF and I did get this epic selfie:

Most epic selfie ever.

We knew we wanted to watch the parade for 2 reasons: it was the new Paint the Night parade and the kiddos we were with had never watched one. So knowing this and also being aware that you need to sit for a parade well in advance if you want a good seat, about an hour ahead, 3 of us decided to stake out seats on Main Street right on a curb. To be honest, the 3 of us that chose to sit were worn out at this point and actually looked forward to the break. We practically collapsed onto the curb and I didn’t even care if I sat lady like in my Wonder Woman dress at that point. BFFE took the kids trick or treating in the park (which is an amazing experience in itself) while we three sat and zoned out like zombies and people watched for awhile. I don’t even think we said anything to each other for quite awhile. A cast member came up and told us we did not have to sit so early on Halloween party nights, but I was pretty happy just sitting at that point so we all sat. Plus, we knew what would happen if we left those seats. They would be gone. I loved just sitting and watching all the cool costumes and BFF and I proceeded to enjoy some root beer floats as well….as you can see by this lovely snapchat (add me already!):

A little while later, it started to fill up with other families waiting to see the parade as well. We had put jackets and such to save spots for the three that were out trick or treating, but that did not stop some parent from shoving her child right into those spots. I turned around and politely told her we were saving those spots she gave me a death stare, mumbled something under her breath and loudly told her child he needed to move since he was “not allowed” to sit there. She literally then placed him and several of his friends directly behind us. Luckily, BFFE and the kiddos came back soon after and sat down, making the kids move back a bit. As it got closer, I looked down and saw that BFFE’s son was squatting next to the curb instead of sitting on it. Why? Because these kids had literally crowded him out until he could not sit there anymore. When BFFE told him to scoot back and she asked the kids to move, the one kid told us his Mom told him to scoot up till he could see. BFFE kindly and calmly asked him to move and then told the Mom her child was sitting there. The Mom rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath…again. Pretty sure we were looking at another showdown as these kids were just as much assholes as their parents. I was prepared to hold shoes, earrings and stand behind people saying “Yeah! What she said”…since we all know I am good at that in a fight. The kids kept pushing on us, blowing bubbles on us, and stepping on our costumes. These might have been attempts to get us to move but it did not work. The parent kept making rude comments about how we took up the seating for kids but we ignored them. Get to the parade early assholes. There are other ways to not be an asshole, like better planning on your part. But thanks for teaching your kids how to be assholes.  That is always so appreciated by those around them.  Luckily, the parade started and in the excitement, all was forgotten, except for when I got hit in the head repeatedly by a little Tinkerbell who was super excited she was seeing Belle. I get it kid….I get that excited too when I see them.

Cutest Superheroes around!!

Oh yeah….I didn’t die today. I did, however, almost have a showdown at another parade but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl asking you please not teach your children to be assholes Running. The experiment continues….

Getting Older Sucks Ass

As my birthday came and went this month, I started thinking about what it means to get older.  I mean, there is the obvious body changes and such, but really what does it mean?  It means things might be a little harder than they used to be….or your get up and go has run away and you wanna spend all day on the couch.  Different things hurt in ways that they didn’t use to and your medicine cabinet becomes filled with different items than before.  One of the things I have noticed that has gotten different over the last few years is traveling.

BFF and I usually travel several times a year to DL and I as I was packing for the latest trip, I realized how much my packing has changed.  When BFF and I first started going to DL, I would just throw my clothes and other stuff in a suitcase.  I mean, do you really need much more?  At that time I didn’t think so.  Just clothes and toiletries was all I ever packed.  The millions of miles we walked around the park was never an issue and sometimes we went full speed ahead for several days.  The only thing I used to pack besides my epi pen and inhaler was dramamine in case I got some motion sickness, which sometimes bothers me.  Hence why I do not ride the Cups O’Vomit AKA The Teacups.  Because otherwise I would end up vomiting all over some other unsuspecting family.  Nobody wants to be vomited on while having fun and if you do then that is some sort of sick fetish that I want no part of. It is my worst nightmare that I will get vomited on during a ride.  Absolute worst nightmare.

A few years ago, I began putting some other medications in my bag for DL.  Motrin, Tylenol and blister bandaids.  Because I learned how important those were at the 3 day walk and I always want to save my tootsies.  I mean we do walk on average about 10 miles a day or more when we are there.  I started noticing some aches and pains I had not noticed before like my back and hip from all the walking.  After my kidney was an asshole (once while I was in Texas if you recall), then I started packing prescription pain and nausea medications with me just in case it decided to be an asshole while I am there as well.  I mean, I know DL has its own EMS and nursing staff,  but I don’t plan on ever utilizing this particular service.  That would be a not so fun ride.  After BFF threw out her back a few trips ago, we also started packing Thermacare wraps and pain patches because that sucked for her and the gift shops at the park do not carry those things unfortunately.  However, they do carry Ben Gay ointment in case you wanted to smell like little old person while you are there.  Fat Girl FYI.

Which brings me to what I noticed while packing for this last trip.  I noticed not only the meds in a special bag in my suitcase, but also the large Ziplock baggie full of heat patches, thermacare wraps and a tens unit that can be used on shoulders, knees and backs. I looked at this and thought “OMG.  This is what getting old and traveling looks like.” I now have a whole section in my suitcase dedicated to old person ailments and creams and such. I shall name it Fat Old Person Section. I also might have included some Ben Gay cuz I don’t mind the little old lady smell if it helps me not hurt after walking 10 miles plus while there.  I have come to accept that fact that my body is getting older and I have things that hurt when we walk that far, like my back and hips.  I mean, this is why we take breaks and sit and eat things like Dole Whip and people watch.  I shook my head and closed my suitcase, resigned to the old person section in it.  When BFF and I were on the road and I told her what I had noticed, she laughed and said “I have all that PLUS a heating pad!”  Great minds and all that….

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did however realize that as you get older, you start to make an old person section in your suitcase but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who might sometimes smell like little old lady from Ben Gay Running.  The experiment continues…

On Becoming a Hamster and Taking It One Stair At a Time

If you follow me on Snapchat (user name:  ladymiryaa), then you know I have been trying to walk every day that I am not working as part of the Mission To Fit Better Into My Pants.  Now that it is winter here in the mountains of Arizona, it makes it harder to walk outside since it is like 15 degrees in the morning.  Yeah so not happening.  I don’t need to be a Fat Girl popsicle.  So, I had to figure out a way to get my walk in even though it was cold enough outside to freeze my boogers.

When I trained for The 3 Day walk, I ran into this problem as well when the weather was bad.  Back then, I had a YMCA membership so I used to go walk on the treadmill for hours (omg….boring as fuck) but once in awhile, I switched it up and went to the local University and walked the concourse in the Dome.  I am not gonna lie, going around and around in a giant circle is also boring as fuck, but a little Pitbull on my playlist and I can do 2 miles without going out of my mind too bad.  Plus I Snapchat while I walk and these can be pretty amusing.  I feel a bit like a hamster on a wheel, going round and round for no apparent reason, but I know that I cannot sit around all winter as well.  I needs to fit into my pants…when I wear them.  So, today, I dragged my flass off the sofa and went to become a hamster for 30-45 minutes.

Now, having gone several times now since winter started, I have noticed a few things.  There are others who come to also be hamsters.  Some of them wear weight vests (why is this even an option?), some run the concourse and some run up and down the stadium stairs.  Now, being a Fat Hamster, I just walk around the Wheel till my 2 miles are done…sometimes I watch all the other hamsters and wonder how in the world they can do the things they are doing.  I got there today and started my hamster trail, tunes beating out my pace, and catching glimpses of what appeared to be some sort of girl’s athletic team doing a workout down on the field as I rounded the corners.  As I was being a hamster, I started wondering if I could actually run up and down the stadium stairs.  I was totally afraid of dying trying to do those stairs and not being found until some janitor came and swept me into the trash. I contemplated it for a few laps and then decided to try it since there were currently no other hamsters there to stop and gawk at the Fat one trying to not be Fat.  Going down stairs is a little harder for me as I am terrified I will fall down them so that was a little slow, but then I turned around and ran….yes ran…up the stairs.  I got to the top, winded, and turned around and did it again…because I don’t want to be the Fat hamster.  Taking a deep breath, I ran back up.  I felt like I was gonna die by the time I was done.  My legs were rubbery and my lungs on fire.  But I did it.  I was pretty proud of myself.  Then I kept on being a hamster…although quite a bit slower.

Once my lungs didn’t feel like it burned to take a breath, I could talk and not cough, I thought that maybe I should try that again.  As I rounded the corner where I had done the first set, I saw a group of college age dudes sitting there.  Well shit.  I don’t wanna be the Fat Girl Dying On The Stadium Bleachers in front of guys who will probably sit there and make Fat Girl jokes to each other.  So I kept walking.  As I continued on my trail aroud the Wheel, I thought about Whitney Way Thore, the star of My Big Fat Fabulous Life, and her No Body Shaming Campaign.  I am all about No Body Shaming, as we all are aware, and she inspires me with her Big Girls Dance Class and not being ashamed or afraid of her body.  As I came back around again, I decided “Fuck it.  I am gonna do it anyways.  Let them make all the comments they want.  I need to do this for me.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked right next to them and started down the stairs and back up.  A bit out of breath, I got to the top, avoiding looking at the guys and started back down.  As I tried running up the second time, my body started to protest and I stopped, breathing hard and really hoping I wouldn’t die right there on the stairs.  That is when it happened.  I had a silence in between songs and all of a sudden, I heard shouting.  I looked up and saw all the guys standing up shouting down at me.  I took out an earbud, cringing inside, really hoping there were not Fat Girl slurs being yelled at me.  What I heard, made me wanna cry.  They were CHEERING me on.  “Don’t Stop!”  “You got this!”  “You can do it!”  I stood there, still sucking air like a fish out of water, with a stunned shocked look on my face.  Then, they all jumped up and ran down to me, coaxing me to finish, pushing me to run up those stairs one more time. One of them said “We know you can do this and we are gonna do it with you!”  Tears started to form and a smile broke as I nodded (since I was still out of breath) and I RAN up those stairs with all those college boys cheering me on the entire way and running next to me, in front of me and behind me.  When I reached the top, there were high fives from all of them, even though I wanted to puke and die.  I looked at them in amazement and squeaked out a “Why?”  One of them smiled big and told me they had seen me over the last several weeks and watched me finish my last set and wanted me to know that I could do this.  No Fat Girl jokes.  No jeering.  No teasing.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I thanked them profusely (turns out they are members of the University football team) and they all encouraged me to come back and keep at it.  Oh I will college football dudes…I will keep being a hamster. And thank you.  Thank you for not body shaming me.  Because even a Fat Girl needs encouragement.

Sometimes you are a hamster….

Today, I encourage you to challenge yourself.  One stair at a time.  And don’t be ashamed if that is all you can do….one stair.  Because there is no body shaming here.  Just cheering.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today  I thought I was gonna die on the stadium stairs and be found at someo point by some janitor, swept up in the trash like the hamster I am but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who got some unexpected support from strangers who didn’t body shame Running.  The experiment continues….

PSA: Don’t Let BFF Get Hangry

There is one thing I have learned when traveling with BFF over the years….you have got to feed her.  For reals.  Otherwise she gets hangry.  Do you know what hangry is?  It is when you get hungry and then you get angry and then you snip and snap and are hangry.  It truly is a fine line.  One minute you are fine and the next…boom….hangry.  Nasty things can be said in this state of being hangry.  Take a look at this nice Venn diagram…I love Venn diagrams.  I feel like these can explain just about anything and so simply.

Because who doesn’t love a good Venn diagram?

BFF and I like to eat and usually we are very aware when one of us is getting hangry or needs to eat.  For some reason, on this last trip to DL, I was unable to tell that BFF needed to be fed.  Poor BFF.

We went on our usual Halloween trip and BFFE and her family came with us again like they did 2 years ago after my baby box was ripped from my body.  This year, it was unseasonably hot.  I mean it was in the 90’s most days.  BFF and I ended up wearing tank tops and capris and didn’t even touch our jackets.  Usually, it is t-shirt and jeans with hoodies.  I would have died of heat stroke if I had worn that this time around.  There is something you should know about BFFE….she is a super FAST walker.  Like faster than BFF (if that is possible).  I am more like Baymax from Big Hero 6….I am not fast.  I am sure it is cuz my fat slows me down. Fat Girls just are not fast.  There is always a lot of walking when we are there, but we walked on average of 13 miles a day this time!  A half marathon each day!  It was crazy.  I felt like all we did was walk back and forth between parks…..we did not plan well to say the least.  We also did not plan meals very well besides those that we had reservations for.   That was the mistake.

On one day, we ate a nice breakfast and then got started in the park.  It was like Lord of the Rings (or Lord of the Walking as I call it) were they walk and walk and walk and walk and walk…..you get the picture.  I mean we ended up walking 55 miles this trip.  Almost as much as the 3 day event.  I think we might have stopped for churros at one point…because churros.  Not quite sure what it is, but the churros at DL are some of the best around.  Maybe they are sprinkled with pixie dust or something but dang…they are delicious.  But I know we didn’t have lunch that day.  Mistake #2.  The heat and the lack of food made all of us a crabby or in BFF’s case hangry and yet we kept walking.  Snipping a little at each other and having fun, but hangry.  I didn’t notice the signs and I should have.

Stop! It’s churro time! BFF might be getting hangry here….oh wait….nope. That is just her face.

It got to be late in the evening and we decided to finally stop walking and grab some dinner.  I was relieved because I was starving.  A Fat Girl has got to eat.  I mean, I don’t keep up my shapely figure by not eating.  Just saying.  And I love to eat at DL.  Plus, my body hurt so bad and I really needed to sit.  So, I ordered BFF and I a couple of burgers and fries (onion rings for me).  We sat and started eating.  I was so busy savoring my burger that I didn’t look up or talk for awhile and I noticed BFF did not either.  When I finally did look up, BFF was literally shoveling fries into her gob as fast as she could.  Like she had been a POW in a camp somewhere and had just gotten out and been given a meal.  I don’t think I have ever seen her eat so fast (except for the Popcorn Incident of 2015 where she slapped my hand out of the bucket) and you would think she was never going to get another meal again.  I started laughing uncontrollably as did BFFE’s Hubby.  We could not help it.  BFF looked up at me and stated “You HAVE to feed me!!!”  I am sorry my dear BFF….you are right.  I do need to feed you.  Here is evidence of how tired and hangry we had been….these snapchat videos are hysterical (and you SHOULD be following me there —->ladymiryaa)

So there you have it….don’t let BFF get hangry and if you do, by all means gie her fries.  She likes them.  I adore her.  Consider this your Fat Girl PSA of the day.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did walk enough miles to walk a half marathon every day we were there and mistakenly let BFF get hangry but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl with a BFF who likes fries Running.  The experiment continues….

The Reason For the Hiatus

I realized today how much I needed to tell you all because I have had a month-long hiatus from blogging.  Why?  Because I had a deadline for Book 3 to make and it took all my energy.  But I am happy to report that Book 3 is now in the hands of Boss Bean!!  Can I get a HOLLA!!!!  Such a relief.  You would think it would be easy with all the blogging I do, but it isn’t at all.  So much time is spent picking the blogs, editing, and writing the extras….ok wait.  Let me explain what really happens when I go to write because it is nothing like you think.

Most people imagine that writers have this special writing space all carved out and they just sit and ideas magically flow from their fingertips for hours on end without any interruptions.  Not this gal.  For example, right now, I am stretched out on my couch, laptop on my lap and watching The Amazing Race on Amazon Prime as I write.  Sometimes I go to Barnes and Noble, sometimes I go to my office, sometimes I am at work.  But I can’t just sit down and make magic with my fingertips (wow…that sounded way dirtier than I intended.).  The creative process is actually quite complicated for me.  It involves many factors like screwing around on the internet, eating my weight in snacks and staring at an empty page for hours.  This is really how it goes.

This is so true

I really do have good intentions when I sit down to write.  I gather the necessities:  drink, snacks, laptop, no pants…the very important essentials.  I open up my computer and try to get started.  Staring into space or at the page happens first for sure.  Trying to find words.  And then something exciting happens on The Amazing Race or I decide I need to check Facebook.  Because those are way more exciting than writing.  You know I am right.  And then of course I see something like a quiz on Facebook or I need to google something that relates to midget porn (because this might help me write you know…it is research I swear).  This is gonna require some time to get through this quiz or “research” before I can start writing again.  You never know…this might lead to another quiz because I really do need to know which Disney character I am or if I can master the hardest Disney quiz around (you know I can). Then let’s “research” some more with some popcorn.  Cuz don’t you watch your internet porn with popcorn?  Maybe I am “researching” how to have magic at my fingertips.  You don’t know.  Don’t judge. Finally, after much fucking around on the interwebs, I will get back to writing.  Then I read what I have written and erase the whole thing cuz it sucks.  Then I will have to go check Facebook again or play a game on my phone or pee or eat….anything but write.  So then I will stare at the empty page and say “Fuck it.” and close up the computer.  A few moments later, I will get an idea, open the laptop and the whole process begins again.  Yup this is my reality.

You know what really works for me?  The pressure of a deadline or BFF yelling at me to get the damn book done before we go on vacation (wait till you see those blogs and the snapchat videos….hysterical).  That is what really and ultimately worked.  So there you have it.  How I really write.  Even writing this blog took me 2 hours because I was screwing around on Facebook and watching Survivor and doing “research”.  It happens.  I am sure other writers will agree with me.  Sometimes we are brilliant and we cannot stop writing, other days we walk away saying “Fuck it”.  Look for Book 3 Dec 30th and more blogs to catch you up on my life for the last month!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did, however, complete book 3 despite the screwing around I did and I am back to blogging!  I am Fat Girl gonna go some “research” on magic with my fingertips Running.  The experiment continues…

When Did 4th Grade Homework Get So Hard?

The other day,  I was sitting in my local Barnes and Noble attempting to get some work done.  Sometimes removing myself from the temptations of watching one of the Fast and Furious movies or finding an excuse to get up from my laptop and do something insane like clean my office really helps.  Of course, this means that I just find new ways to procrastinate which might involve being on Facebook and random internet searches.  You never know (BFF might have called me out on that one on FB….just saying).  If anyone were to look at my browsing history they might get scared.  But I swear it is for research!  Except the midget porn. That is all me.  Just saying.  As I was sitting here “writing”, Bestie texted me and asked me if I was busy.  No!  Of course not!  I am just “writing” (AKA taking a quiz on buzzfeed).  Apparently, Little Red was having some trouble with her homework and Bestie couldn’t figure it out either, so Super Nina to the rescue!  All I had to do was find 10 misspelled words in the paragraph.  Easy peasy, right?  WRONG!  First of all….when did 4th grade homework become so hard that there are tears over it? And those tears might be mine….just saying.

For reals…where is the 10th word? If 5 adults can’t find it, neither can a 4th grader

Take a look at that homework.  You can see the 9 words I found.  Can you find the 10th?  Because I sure as shit cannot.  Bestie cannot either.  I even emailed it to BFF and her Momma and Aunty all took a look at it and we cannot find #10.  It is quite crazy making.  I say if 5 adults cannot find it, then the work book is wrong.  Plain old wrong.  I don’t remember having 4th grade homework that sucked like this and caused tears.  Except fractions.  But I am severely math challenged and fractions is still not a concept I can understand easily.  And word problems.  What in the actual fuck are those?  Those are created to torture people like me who cannot decipher any part of that crazy mess of math.  Who decided it was a good idea to make math a word problem?  What kind of sorcery is this?  When I was introduced to those in school, a piece of me died.  My brain just can’t wrap around that.  I don’t care how many miles that train has gone and when it will get into the station.  Nor do I care how many apples Johnny has left after he was a douchecanoe and didn’t share with Sally but he did share with Peggy.  Johnny is just a  asshat at that point.  Can I write an asshat as my answer?  Will that be good enough?  Math sucks.  Period.  I swear I have stared at this damn homework of Little Red’s for the better part of an hour trying to find the 10th word.  What the hell?  Please let us know if you find it….

For reals. This is me.

The only homework I can remember being hard in 4th grade (besides fractions and word problems) was a science project I had.  I had to collect bugs, pin them to poster board and label them.  I HATED this project.  Because bugs.  So gross.  I hated killing them and pinning them to the board.  So much about this assignment I hated but I had a great Daddy who helped me…in other words, he pinned all the bugs to the poster board so I wouldn’t throw up.  I also refused to bring said science project into the house as it was plain disgusting.  So it was out in the garage.  Dad and I worked super hard on completing it on time so I was ecstatic the night before I got to turn it in.  On that morning, I went out to the garage to get the board of disgusting bug corpses and could not find it.  Anywhere.  I was panicked.  What could have happened to it?  Tears immediately started to fall down my face as I was sure someone had stolen it.  I ran inside sobbing and attempted to tell my Mommy what had happened.  She looked at me, attempting to figure out what in the world I was crying about and I think she understood a few words in between sobs. “Science project…..gone…..bugs…..gross….fail”.  All of a sudden, a horrified look crossed her face and this conversation happened:

Momma:  “Was it a board with disgusting bugs pinned to it?”

Me (still sobbing):  “yyyyyeeeeesssssss”

Momma (now with guilt crossing her face):  “Oh no.  Oh no.  I didn’t know.  I am so sorry.  I didn’t know.  You have to understand I thought it was just something disturbing and gross.”

Me (now looking confused):  “What happened to it Mommy?”

Mommy (whispering):  “I gave it to the trash man this morning.”

Me:  “Mooooooooooommmmmmm!  That was my science project!  I am gonna fail science!  They are gonna hold me back!  I am doomed!”  (typical dramatics and such accompany this speech)

Mommy (shaking her head):  “I am sure we can do it over.”

Me:  “Nooooooooo!  It was so gross!  Please don’t make me!  I will just fail!”

Luckily, Mom came with me to school that day and explained to the teacher what had happened and asked that I be given a different assignment instead so that I wouldn’t have to murder any more bugs.  Thank goodness the teacher allowed me to write a paper instead and I learned a good lesson….don’t leave disgusting bug corpses pinned to board in the garage.  Not that I would ever do that again.  Like ever.  So gross. Who comes up with this shit for kids to do as homework anyways?

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did make myself crazy trying to help Little Red with her spelling homework and relived the horrors of 4th grade science in the process but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who hates pinning bug corpses and still CANNOT find the 10th word Running.  The experiment continues…

Mission: To Fit Into Our Pants

Recently, I have been walking every day in an attempt to not be fat.  So far, I have not noticed a change in the numbers on my scale, but my clothes are fitting better so I guess that is good.  BFF has even been walking with her Momma every day.  We call it Mission: To Fit Into Our Pants.  I even live snap chat on my walks….maybe a prequel to trying a video blog?  If you don’t follow me on there you absolutely should….just look up my username of ladymiryaa and follow along.  I am pretty honest while I walk.  BFF even walked with me one day and about killed me because for being such a tiny little gal, she can walk super duper fast!  I mean she kicked my ast but I did walk 2 miles in 30 minutes.  So why start the Mission: To Fit Into Our Pants?  Let me explain…

Snap chat gem while trying to walk….you really should follow me there

Now that fall is here, we need to be able to wear jeans and some days that is a struggle.  We have all had those days where we pull out every pair of jeans in our closet in an attempt to find one that fits over one that makes you feel like you are stuffing yourself into a sausage casing.  I don’t particularly like jumping around trying to get jeans on past my thunder thighs nor do I like attempting to stuff my fat into the jeans that I swear fit the last time I wore them so that I don’t look like I have a muffin top.  I feel like it is counter productive to spend time shoving my fat into pants that it obviously does not want to be in and will eventually escape and pop out at the most inopportune moment anyways.  It’s like it pops out to say “Hello world!  Just wanted you to know that she doesn’t really fit into these pants and a slight struggle akin to wrestling an alligator might have occurred to get them on so I am here to remind her that she is too fat for these pants.”  If you have to lie down to try to zip and button your pants, you might need the mission.  If you have to decide if breathing is a necessary part of your day once you get them on, you might need the mission.  Now you understand why we started the mission.  Putting on your jeans should not be a ritual that includes sacrificing small animals to get them to zip.  I should not have to stand in the mirror and see if my stoob is going to create some new weird shape or my jeans are going to be so tight that I have to stand up all day because sitting is not an option.  I also do not want to get a weird rash or a yeast infection because my jeans are uncomfortably tight in the vajayjay area.  Not cool.  Then I will have to try to scratch that area while in said too tight jeans.  Not gonna happen.  If I do that, I will inevitably give myself a front wedgie that I then cannot pick.  It is a vicious cycle I tell you.  In reality, this mission also began because BFF and I realized that we are going to DL again soon and we will have to wear jeans and we want to eat.  I have, unfortunately realized recently, that I let my weight loss journey go by the wayside and have gained 10 pounds.  I refuse to buy new jeans or put on my fat jeans…you know the ones…the ones that are 2 sizes too big.  Well, they may not be that right now but I refuse to even try them on.  Hence the Mission:  To Fit Into Our Pants.

For the past 3 weeks (I think it is),I have been getting up early every day like around 7 or 730 am and walking 1.5-2 miles.  This is quite the feat for me because I am NOT a morning person. At all.  This is why I work nights.  I have taken a couple of days off, but I have been pretty consistent.  While I have not seen a pound change on the scale quite yet, I can say my pants fit better.  I no longer feel like I need to grease myself up with Crisco or baby oil to put them on. So no more grease stains on my pants.  And I have been able to wear more than one particular pair, which I am sure everyone around me is grateful for.  I would hate to be the Fat Girl Stinking because all I could do is fit into one pair of pants.  That would not be pleasant for anyone.  Pretty sure BFF would then insist I buy new pants.  And we all know how much I love trying on pants.  Let’s see how competitive BFF and I get on this mission….we tend to have that in our nature.  I shall keep up the mission (because I need to beat her!) and keep you informed.  And seriously if you have snap chat….you need to follow me.  You get gems like this video:

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did decide to get off my couch and mae sure I could fit into more than one pair of pants but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl NOT stinking and on a mission Running.  The experiment continues….

We Listened But Did You Hear Us?

I don’t normally blog back to back like this but I felt a follow-up was needed to my last post about being “just a nurse” (which blew my mind that it got shared so much!  I am overwhelmed by that!  You all rock!).  The View, in response to the uproar on social media about what the ladies said about nurses, decided to issue an “apology” of sorts to the millions of nurses on national tv.  I put this in quotations because to be honest…it was not that.  It was, rather, an even bigger insult to nurses around the world.  I saw the clip posted over and over in nursing groups on Facebook and the message was clear :  Nurses didn’t listen.  Millions of healthcare professionals apparently took something out of context and blew it out of proportion.  We didn’t listen.  Whoopi Goldberg said it herself “You didn’t listen.”  I beg to differ Whoopi.  We listened but did you hear us?

I listened to the entire clip several times over for 3 simple words …”We are sorry”.  Not once did I hear those words to nurses or to Miss Colorado Kelley Johnson for the mean and unkind words you spoke about her.  I listened to you all try to talk over each other, getting louder and louder.  I listened to you call nurses “adorable”, “funny”, and that you were at “the mercy of nurses so we have to like them” but not once did I hear you call us “respectable”, “brave”, “compassionate”, “caring” or “knowledgeable”.  I listened.  Want to know why?  Because as a nurse, we are trained to do just that….listen.  We take classes in listening to be better at it with our patients, our co-workers and our families.  Listening is what we do.  While you were all trying to talk over each other to prove a point (which I never really got btw) and NOT listening to each other, let me tell you what I listened to this week at my job.

As a nurse, listening is key in our jobs.  So many things can be learned just by listening.  This week, I listened to a 2-year-old struggle to breathe….without my “doctor’s” stethoscope.  I listened to him wheeze and knew it was time to call the respiratory therapist to give him a breathing treatment.  I listened then to him settle down, his breathing eased by the medication, and snores begin to come for the first time all night.  I listened to a newborn’s cry as we had to start an IV to give her fluids to keep her hydrated.  I also listened to her mother comfort her with soft cooing sounds all the while tears running silently down her face.    As I walked down the hall, I listened to a school age child play video games to distract himself in the middle of the night so that he didn’t have to think about missing playing with his friends.  Earlier in the week, I sat and listened to a physician tell a teenager his chances of a football scholarship were over with such a huge break in his leg at the beginning of the football season.  I watched as his face fall, his dreams of going to college shattered, his mother softly reassuring him they would find another way.  I listened while a mother didn’t understand why her baby had to be on oxygen and I went over it with her until she did.  While you ladies were bashing Miss Colorado and what nurses do for a living, I had to listen to the keening and wailing of a family watching their 17-year-old son slip away from them because of inoperable brain cancer.  I had to hold and listen to a grown man cry at the loss of his son.  While you were listening to each other talk, I was listening to raw grief.

See…nurses listen.  We hear more than your narrow minds will ever hear.  We listen.  We listen to heartbeats slowly fade away.  We listen to monitors alarming that something is critically wrong with our patients and we rush to fix it.  We listen to doctors barking orders at us fast and loud in a crisis. We listen to patients when they say they don’t understand and we stay and explain.  We listen to the first and last breaths someone takes.  We listen to your prayers.  We listen to your fears.  We listen to your secrets.  Nurses listen.  What we won’t listen to anymore is the ladies on The View because they didn’t hear us.  They didn’t hear the 3.3 million strong men and women who are nurses stand up and say we are not “just a nurse”.  They didn’t hear us say how dedicated we are to our jobs….our patients….our pride in our skills and degrees we have acheived.  They didn’t hear all the ancillary healthcare professionals, including doctors, who stood up overnight and said nurses are the backbones of healthcare….that nurses matter.  Our long hours, our blood sweat and tears, our lives that we sacrifice to take care of you and yours…these are all things we knew going into the job.  We don’t expect to be patted on the back and told we did a good job.  We expect to be respected and we expect to be heard.  We want you to know we listen, we care, we love our patients.  It is more than a “talent” or a career….it is a calling.  Ladies at The View…we don’t want to listen to you anymore.  We want you to listen.  We want you to hear us.  We are a mighty force and you have poked the bear.  We want an apology.  We want you to know that it takes hard work, our job is stressful and we wouldn’t trade it for anything.  Take the time and go personally thank a nurse today….and listen.  Nurses are humans too.  We just want to be heard.  We deserve that.  We listened to you and heard what you have to say…now it is your turn to listen.  And hear.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did, however, listen.  I am Fat Girl who know how to listen and challenges The View to do the same Running.  The experiment continues…..