Shop IKEA.

Shop IKEA.

IKEA opened in town today. People had been waiting in line since Monday for the Grand Opening. Monday? Seriously?

I mean, they have some cool kids stuff, but their inexpensive grown-up stuff isn't all that inexpensive or grown up.

Don't get me wrong, it's on my list to go, but waiting in line to get in when the doors open? Entertainers for the opening day crowds?

Strange.

Give up Diet Coke.

Give up Diet Coke.

I didn't think axing Diet Coke from my life completely was a real long-term possibility until today. While out dropping off mail at the post office, I was taken by thirst and suddenly, I realized I hadn't had Diet Coke in a couple of weeks (gasp) and immediately stopped for one at the next Wendy's (who incidentally carries the best-tasting Diet Coke).

And it did nothing for me. No euphoria as I took the first sip, no calming sensation as it slid down my throat--nothing but maybe a little disgust for the taste that had become such a good friend of mine. I didn't even finish the drink-- which has never, ever happened. (I think I hold the record at numerous restaurants for most glasses of any beverage consumed by a single customer).

Then I came home and drank a Gatorade and realized this delightful beverage has been replacing my Diet Coke addiction the last couple of weeks. Gatorade and I --we have a history. We have been through a lot together. Gatorade has been my life-long "feel-better" drink since it first comforted me while I lie dying on the side of the track after my first-ever 400m race in high school. It has since gotten me through pregnancy sicknesses and ugly bouts of influenza and now, without me even realizing it, it has supported me through my Diet Coke withdrawal. Diet Coke, you are nothing to me.

Ah, a new addiction. Sugar-laden, yes, but still better than Diet Coke, no?

Go to the zoo.

Go to the zoo.

It's zoo season and we kicked it off Friday in 90 degree weather with every elementary school class in the state. We had to wait in line to see animals. It felt wrong.

But it yielded some super-cute photos as trips to the zoo always do.




I took this picture of the kids . . .


Then afterwards Taylor walked up to me and said casually, like she'd done it a hundred times before, "Ok, now I'll take one of you" and held her hand out for the camera. Then she took her first photograph ever. . .


Not bad.

Vacuum House.

Vacuum House.

We have been through 5 vacuums in the past 2 years.

Two of those were in the past two months, and when the last one stopped working a couple of weeks ago, I was finally ready to admit there may be a problem with the operator of the vacuums, and not the vacuums themselves.

May.

Not that I am a particularally wreckless vacuumer. Sure, I suck up a cord here and there, get a bathroom rug caught in the brush everyonce in a while, and maybe now and again send a coin or two tumbling around the belt, each time, but wreckless? Nah.

Regardless, since the others were all from Costco and returnable until I wore out my vacuum privileges there, I am vowing to be more careful with our new vacuum, which although is the least expensive one yet, has killer reviews and so far (it's been used once today and I cautiously only sucked up one rug and it only smelt like burning rubber for like 2 minutes), I like and recommend very much.

Broaden Shopping Options.

Broaden Shopping Options.

I just bought myself a super-cute, sporty, kelly green sweatshirt for $4.99 at the mall! It was so cute and soft, I turned on the A/C in the house just so I could wear it. My husband even commented how much he liked it when he walked in the door and saw me in it.

Best part? I bought it on the clearance rack, at The Children's Place, in the boys section.

Life is full of surprises.

Note: For those of you who demanded picture proof I don't look like I'm wearing my kids' clothes, here you go . . .

Write a novel.

Write a novel.

We're reading a book about a high school vampire love story for book club this month.

And it's awesome.

You'll just have to trust me on this--I never watched Buffy or had any vampire affinity before this-- but I read the first 500 page self-indulgent novel in three nights and completed the equally large and sappy second novel three days after that.

I don't know if it's the way I relate to the author (who is LDS, graduated from BYU, lives out west and wrote the book as a busy Mom with little kids) or the way I strangely relate to the characters (Yes, most of them are ten years younger than me and then, you know, they're vampires--so I'm sure this is just excellent writing on the author's part. Well, that and maybe my super-pale skin), but something about reading these books reminded me of the pestering pipe dream I've had all my life that there's a novel somewhere in my head as well.

So, anyone have any ideas what it's about? I haven't a clue...

Oh yeah and the main character in the books we read drives the 16-year old me's dream truck pictured below. Brilliant!

Run around a high school track.

Run around a high school track.

I picked up a new freelance gig and I'm back on the high school sports beat. It's good to be home, old friend.

I don't know, though, if I will be able to attend a track meet and resist the temptation to sprint around that perfect rubber track like I've been longing to, just once, like the good 'ol days.

Isn't is sad how few opportunities we have to break into a full-on sprint when we grow up? That is, in an acceptable setting and not out the sliding doors after a 2-year old, leaving behind your purse and crying older child while paying for craft supplies at Michael's, which doesn't count.

Run more races.

Run more races.


I knew I would need the motivation, so I cleverly convinced two sisters-in-law and my hubby to run a race with me last month. Our professional race photos came in the mail this week and I thought it my responsibility to make sure everyone saw them.

Here is a great mid-run photo of my hubby dashing to the finish line.




And here is a great mid-run photo of my sister-in-law dashing to the finish line.




And here, is yet another great photo of my other sister-in-law dashing to the finish line.




And this. This is my photo.

This is a great photo of me-- about to vomit-- AFTER crossing the finish line. Why didn't I get one of those great photos like everyone else of me dashing TO the finish line?

I like to think it was because I was too lightening fast to be caught on film and somewhere on the photographer's roll is a puzzling streak of fury, too fast to be identified. That, I am certain, is the only explanation behind this injustice.

Wish Kristin Happy Birthday.

Wish Kristin Happy Birthday.

Today is my best friend from high school's 28th birthday. I have a tradition of thoroughly embarassing her for her birthday--gifts given at school that were wrapped nicely and ripped open in front of a crowd only to be packaged again in feminine product boxes, envelopes sent in the mail with pictures of her in her skimmies on the outside--I was a great friend like that. We live across the country from each other and I so rarely get to see her and miss her tons, but this year I decided a photo tribute on my blog would still keep the tradition in place.

Happy Birthday, KristOn!

Send swap package.

Send swap package.

I signed up for this swap a few weeks ago--the idea behind it was basically, you find 3 "mellow" (this is up to interpretation) items in the same color family, send them to a stranger you are assigned who also signed up for the swap, and receive a package of the like in return.

What's not cool about sending gifts to/receiving gifts from a stranger?

My stranger was particularly cool and I received the nicest package full of pink hues! She was even thoughtful enough to include a little something for my kiddos, which they were, and still are, thrilled about.

We must have been on the same wave length because I sent her pinks too! Here is the pic she took when she received it--to my relief, (as far as I can tell) nothing is broken!

Thanks again so much, Laura! Check out all the swap photos on Flickr here.

Play Guitar Hero.

Play Guitar Hero.

I knew I would love this game.

What I didn't know was I would love "kickin' my husband's trash" in a video game even more.

Our friends came over and introduced us to the phenomenon last night, inspiring my husband to buy one (well, two) first thing this morning for our house (no doubt so he can practice, beat me, and reclaim his video game supremacy), and also inspiring my friend to start her own sure-to-be awesome blog, "Sue's Fun In the Sun", here.

Vote for American Idol.

Vote for American Idol.

American Idol finally convinced me to vote last night by promising to donate money for my votes. Blake Lewis all the way baby!

Then the fine representations of my southern homeland on the show tonight convinced me to make my own donation.

Well it was either them or Jack Black's awesome rendition of Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" and the reaction of Black's biggest fan in the audience who was crying, holding his own rose. Classic.

Throw big party.

Throw big party.

I've been wanting to throw a big party and I pulled the "birthday card" to guilt Jake into agreeing to an 80's-Themed Murder Mystery this past weekend.

How can 30 people decked out in neon colors, jelly bracelets, acid wash jean jackets, biker shorts, and crimped side ponytails NOT have a good time?

Add to that a little role-playing, murder solving, and of course breaking out the running man to Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now"--it doesn't get much better than that.

These pictures are courtesy of the awesome looking friends pictured in the second photo. I thought my camera was broken so I didn't take any pictures. Turns out I had just put the batteries in wrong (those AA batteries are complicated) but that's another story. . .

Lenny and Linda . . . er, My hubby and I . . . we were characters in an 80s band Jake named "Crying Heart" (you can't see it but those are tears and a heart scrawled on his face).

"Mark" and "Maria" in their like, totally awesome outfits!

They look innocent enough, but the two assasins on the left (even the one on crutches) murdered about half the party before it was over. And stole their victim's loot, giving them the most money at the end and winning them the acclaimed DVD "Teen Wolf". Oh yeah, Michael J. Fox at his best.

I wish I had pictures of everyone. Mostly so I could use them later as blackmail.

Rock on Crying Heart!

Watch TiVo-ed comedy.

Watch TiVo-ed comedy.

When events of the world hit me strongly, I think it's healthy to release some of that stress through laughter. You probably already know this, but in case you don't, these are the 3 best laugh-out-loud shows on TV to do so:

Doogie Howser --as he will always be known to me--totally makes this show. We watched the re-run episode with Lily as the hunchback stalker last night, seriously, so funny.

Buy mullet wig.

Buy mullet wig.

I bought this new mullet wig on eBay and really, really hope it arrives in time for Jake to wear to our 80's party Saturday.

Download songs.

Download songs.

My own tiny little shuffle (perfect for running with- I don't do arm straps) was finally delivered (blue was totally the right color-choice) and I am especially happy with my engraving word-choice on the back :

"michelle rocks"

(get it? get it?)

I am now faced with the impossible quandry of which song to honor by downloading it first- Suggestions?

Throw out mouthwash.

Throw out mouthwash.

Coincidence the three of us using this product were sick the entire month we were using it? Guess not.

Thanks, Doc, for recommending I poison my kids.

Play with Kids.

Play with Kids.

The Easter Bunny brought each of my kids a great toy.

My favorite is this Barbie.

Taylor saw an advertisement on TV and loved it. It crossed my mind to consider whether it was some kind of SNL commercial. Alas, it was not.

Let me tell you how it works. You open the dog's mouth by lifting its tail and feed him the tiny magnetic "treats". You then push down his tail and the "treats" come out the other end.

That's right. But the good times don't end there.

Barbie, the community-conscious diva she is, then properly scoops up the mess with her magnetic pooper scooper rod, and deposits it in the doggy trash. The treat-turned-mess then falls through the trash into the conveniently located doggy treat box, ready to be recycled again for hours of pooper-scooping fun.

After viewing the commercial, I told Taylor is was kind of weird. She said, "yeah, but I really want it."

And after playing with her all morning, I admit it is strangely entertaining. Good call, Easter Bunny.

Work out.

Work out.

Not being able to run on this sprained ankle is driving me crazy.

Does anyone know of a worthwhile workout I can do?

Ice Foot.

Ice Foot.

A friend invited me to meet her with my kids at the gymnastics gym for "open gym" yesterday. My kids needed to exude some energy so 15 minutes later, I was out the door, kids in tow.

I was excited for my kids as I took off their shoes and socks and they looked wide-eyes in anticipation at the rock climbing wall, padded obstacle course, trampoline, and of course, the foam pit.

Then it happened. One of the instructors said to me, with way too much nonchalance for my reaction, "Adults are allowed to play on all the equipment too."

I held back for a bit. I bounced with my kids on the trampoline. I hung on the rings. I walked on the balance beam. But two things were calling me. The open spring floor and the climbing rope/foam pit.

I haven't done a roundoff backhandspring since my cheerleading days and even then, it wasn't all that pretty. But I have been dreaming of the chance to try it again on a spring floor for years. So I did it. Twice. And landed on my feet, (thank you, thank you), which was my only goal.

Up next: Climbing rope and foam pit.

I waited in line with the 6-year olds for my turn on the rope. I was pretty sure my weak arms would merit me, at most, two hefts up before I plunged in the soft foam below. But what I had forgotten was the techique involved of using your lower body as well. When those elementary school contest-winning skills came back to me, I was up the rope in no time.

Then came the fall into the soft foam below.

. . .Or the not so soft foam. Seems I weigh a BIT more than the 8-year old I saw do this before me and more weight=more momentum=more force=sprained ankle.

The doctor put it in a splint and I'm just hoping it heals in time for me to at least jog the 5K in two weeks I've paid for.

But I'm told the fall was really cool looking and I totally showed up those other 6-year olds.