You know the saying, "It's the best invention since sliced bread!"? Even though I can't say that I think sliced bread is the GREATEST invention of all time (I actually like cutting my own slices from fresh loaves of bread best), I often take notice of what GREAT inventions we have out there.

Like the Twin Pop Popcycle. Genius!

Not only do you feel like you get TWO juicy treats in one, but you also have the option of saving one for later or sharing one with a friend! And the flavors?! You can't get much better than the banana or rootbeer ones...and the blue ones aren't all that bad either. It seems like they'd become old hat after all these years, but every year I look forward to them more and more.

Ah, twin pops. Best invention since...fresh baked bread that you can cut into yourself. :)

Last night I dreamt, for the second time this weekend, that some incredible, incurable rage came over me.

In bed last night, I dreamt that over and over again on the way home from somewhere we ran into bad guys who kept bullying us until I learned that the only solution to the frustrations we encountered on our way home was puff myself into a huge, awful, hulk-like being. In order to to this, I had to forcefully focus all of my energy into a glob of anger in order to *POW* and *WHAM* the bad guys out of our path. YUCK.
It wasn't fun to wake myself up from such feelings.

I'm quite certain I'm NOT an inately angry person. As a matter of fact, I hate contention or even feeling like things aren't "cool" between me and someone else. I like to believe that no one really enjoys contention and feeling hulk-sized anger. Its scary to hear of so many scary stories where people really ARE that angry and will do things that are hideous and freakishly mean.

Typically, dreams are incredible. But man, its crazy to feel some feelings and experience some things you'd never want to feel while awake... What would a dream reader say about THESE dreams?

Along with all the other crazy changes that come to my body during pregnancy, my hips are changing enough so that my feet are blistering to accomidate the change in pressure my feet are getting while trying to adjust to a new gait on my morning walks (that was a WORDY sentence, wasn't it?).

So I've started apply bandaids to my toes and heels before I slip on my walkin' shoes each morning in protest. I love walking much more than I hate blisters and sore hips. Found tucked in a tiny pocket of an old purse, I found this quote written on a little piece of paper...

"Above all, do not lose your desire to WALK: Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it...but by sitting still and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill...thus, if one keeps on walking, everything will be alright."
--Soren Kierkegaard 1847

I love it. I love walking. Come along if you want.

I'm being chased by subliminal messages everywhere.

Maybe they aren't so subliminal.

Around our home I have spotted three, count them, THREE pairs of wayward panties/big boy pants crumpled in the parking lot, under a tree, or near the swimming pool. Since when did tiny-people underwear start wandering off? Socks, I can understand. But underwear?!

We are determined to not have two kids in diapers and though the months are somehow zipping by, my son's determination/willingness/interest/desire to be potty trained comes and goes as quickly as the robins outside our window. One day he's nearly potty-pro and the next day he's anything but pro-potty. Sigh.

I have to wonder if perhaps these wayward underpants I keep seeing aren't pairs that belong to little ones such as my son who think they are meant to be thrown OUT like diapers. Isn't it obvious that they aren't since they don't have sticky tabs? Hmm.

Needless to say, big boy pants and potty trips are certainly on my mind.

There are three main places that I receive personal revelation (not the spiritual kind, folks, I'm talking the revealing of personal ah-ha's that clarify things going through my head...although, come to think of it, these places have also been very spiritually clarifying places, too). These places are 1: Beneath the heated flow of my shower head, 2: On a good, long walk/run, and 3: During pillow talk late at night with my eternal cuddle companion.

The other night, as we lay in bed discussing our daily insight and adventures, we started talking about how GOSSIP means different things to different people. I've grown up with the understanding that gossiping was (as the picture above suggests) a way for little snippits of mean information about someone else to be spread to other people/groups who wouldn't otherwise learn the information. The key words for me always were MEAN and SPREADING---like nasty tar that makes you and everyone else feel icky around it. If the information is common knowledge and just NEWS (ie. "So and So is having a baby boy!" or "They are moving at the end of the month"), I haven't felt it was "gossip."

But as my hubb and I discussed it, we realized that some people were taught that any talk about anyone, good or bad, news or rumor, true or false, is considered gossip and shouldn't be messed with at all. The Wikipedia definition suggests that gossip is "idle talk or rumour, especially about the personal or private affairs of others. It forms one of the oldest and most common means of sharing (unproven) facts and views, but also has a reputation for the introduction of errors and other variations into the information transmitted." Hmmm. Yes, true.

My hubb and I then discussed how most people talk about other people and what's going on with those around them within most every day conversation. It isn't necessarily degrading or spiteful, just making light conversation and comparing opinion and facts...at least in our case. As we lay there, our "revelation" came as we realized that not everyone was raised with this tar-in-hands picture in their mind when it came to gossip (what a strange concept), that not everyone could agree that light-hearted "news sharing" is harmless, and that the safest bet is to avoid being the initiators and contributors to any kind of negative or uncommon information about anyone we knew to anyone.

We laughed as we snuggled closer listing all the other things we could initiate conversations about...the weather, athletic techniques, types of clothing we like, spiritual insight, economical issues...all things that may start and end a conversation much quicker than talk about people we know...

There are very few television shows that I just can't miss. Sure, American Idol is unnervingly addicting, and if I have the right set of ladies to accompany me, The Bachelor/ette is pretty fun to gauk at, but for the most part, the tube isn't my favorite place to fling my attention. I seem to be a reality TV fan, don't I? I guess I don't get out much when it comes to TV shows...

However, So You Think You Can Dance has started up again...and I feel nearly obsessed. Even my dreams are letting me know that my subconsious is just as hooked as I am in my conscious state. I love discovering new music, discovering how much I miss dancing, discovering how untalented I was even at my peak, and how awe inspiring it is to see people so dedicated and passionate about dance. This show moves me--even though I can't move from the TV while it is on!

We got pulled over today.

But we weren't driving. No, we were WALKING. Our city isn't known for an endowment of sidewalks, so we "Walking Girls" just tread along the side of the road faithfully each morning doing our best to stay away from the 8-12 cars that pass us over the span of about 90 minutes.

Today, however, some kind citizen of the driving sort (possibly one of the 12) felt that the police needed to let us know that we could be in danger of getting hit by someone who wasn't watching for us. I actually really appreciate the concern because I certainly would hate to see my son attached safely to his stroller flying through the air after being hit by some driver who happened to somehow miss us 9 women with 9 strollers walking down the road. Its good to be reminded to hug the curb a little closer...

What I don't understand is why are the police more concerned about us, though, when there are people out driving around who aren't capable of seeing such a group on the road who could possibly manage to actually run us over?! It seems like they would be more of a danger...

Oh well, its just more incentive for us to head up for a good walk up the canyon a few days a week...At least we didn't get a ticket.

While gathering my week's supply of fruit and veggies in the produce section of the grocery store the other day, a bustling produce worker approached me and asked what I was looking for in an apple (almost as if he were asking what I looked for in a man).

I laughed, "Well, I guess I like crisp, sweet apples."

He proceeded to share his wealth of apple knowledge describing to me the characteristics of each Fuji, Gala, Cameo, Granny Smith, Red & Golden Delicious, Braeburn, and all others that were out on display.

"I've always been a fan of the Fuji," I said.

"Well, if you like the Fuji, come back in a month or two and we'll have one that's so big, and so sweet, you'll have to hold it with two hands and eat it with your husband in front of the TV with a block of cheese."

I laughed again, "Oh! Sounds so romantic!" I was serious...sharing a nice apple with my sweet hubby & cutting up nice little slices and enjoying the evening together sounds romantic to me! The produce manager gave me a look that suggested I was nuts for thinking an apple could ilicit any romance at all. Perhaps our ideas of romance differ as much as our idea of a good apple may differ...maybe he likes sour, mushy apples. Sigh. I'll have to go back in a month or two and try it out, I guess. Maybe report back to him...

In the mean time, I'll just continue to watch how every apple my babeh holds seems to be as big for him as I anticipate the early summer apples to be for me...

No, this is not me with Sir Shamu of Sea World. But in the next few days we will be knee deep in Sea World Magic where we'll actually get to SEE Shamu in person. (Hasn't there been a Shamu since forever ago? Do you think they'll tell us if this is Shamu the 5th or 12th? Surely Killer Whales grow old...) We'll also visit The San Diego Zoo (don't know if the THE should be capitalized, but it seems appropriate), the beach, and the new Wild Animal Adventure Park.

I'm honest when I say this trip really isn't for me--nor my hubby. Really. Though we've all needed a bit of a family vacation for a while--and our trip just happens to fall over Mother's Day and the month before my hubby's busy summer work--the trip, in my mind, is really for my little Babeh and not at all for us grown-ups. He'll be two this month which means three things (well, it means MANY things, but for these purposes, THREE):

First: He understands, knows, and LOVES animals
Second: If we wait another month we'd have to buy him a plane ticket
and Third: If we wait too many more months, I'll be as monstrous as Shamu and all the other visitors of these great parks will think -I- am the whale or elephant that should be looked at.

This is our window to travel. This is our window to shower my little one in animal delight. This is our window to make some serious memories before the summer blows in knocking us into the pool and out of our normal routine. This will be the start of a whole new collection of memories! Yay!

Other than being terrified that the plane will crash (this irrational fear is rediculous and I wish I could just hypnotize it out of my bones), I'm just as giddy as a school girl to see my babeh dance around in excitement this weekend.

I think my hubby might do the same. He makes me just as giddy...

Every day opening lines to a Taming The Tangents blog entry run through my head and every day I jot them down on my mental canvas and hope to be able to expand on them when I have more time and energy. I haven't been very good at finding more of either lately, so putting off actually writing them down (online) has been just as easy as thinking of new first lines...

...so I've decided to just blurt out a few of them to get them off my chest and imagine that the rest of my entire thought is subscripted for my 3 readers (I love all of you) to enjoy. Here they are in no particular order:
*When looking at people who are old, I often try to imagine what they looked like in their youth---and I try to do the same for younglings as for when they are elderlings. I'm starting to look at my own son in the same way. Suddenly he is looking more and more grown up to me and I'm finding myself imagining what he'll be like, both in looks and personality, in 10,20, and 30 years from now. It kind of rattles my bones---but at the same time gives me great satisfaction that I think he'll be just as cute and sweet then as he is now.

*I have a guilty pleasure of ordering things online, waiting anxiously for them to be delivered by the seemingly shy UPS driver (who usually rings the doorbell and runs as fast as they can to avoid being caught---as if I'm going to to say anything but THANKS to them), and then deciding whether or not I should keep it. Sure, its a pain to take it back to the store if I deem it unworthy of keep, but if I got free shipping anyway, why is it so bad to have an excuse to get out of the house?

*If I could choose my morning alarm clock, I would easily choose the spring birdies chirping through my window as they have been lately. Even though they think wake up time is 6:00 am, I don't mind their sweet tweets drawing me away from dreamland. And if I could choose a lullaby to put me to sleep every night, it would hands down be the sound of a warm rainstorm and a little wind. Its so lovely. I love Spring.

*For the first time in my life, I think I'm starting to prefer skirts over shorts. It may be a skirt summer for me---which might be interesting---I've never had a skirt tan line before.

*About a week ago we committed to a heavy purchase that was going to be much more than we should ever pay for something---oodles for gorgeous, healthy conscious pots and pans. Laughing. My car isn't even worth what we committed to pay for these delux cheffery tools. But I couldn't sleep for 3 nights thinking about it and all I could think about was how guilty I felt (especially since my hubby left it up to me to decide whether or not to buy in--which was brilliant of him) so I cancelled the order at the last minute that I could. Its funny because now I feel like I have that much MORE money than I had before. I didn't feel one ounce of guilt saying that I didn't feel like cooking on my own set of pans that night and committed to going to Costa Vida for dinner instead.

*Being barefoot is one of my favorite, favorite things about summer. I can't remember a single day with shoes on (in the summer) growing up---well, maybe one pair of pink jelly shoes that I loved. I don't mind having tough feet and I don't mind having to swipe off a rock or thorn once in a while. I love being barefoot. So so much.

*Throughout my whole life everything seems to be blamed on me. I'm quite certain its safe to say that I'm the one who gets the beating most of the time---whether it be in my family, with friends, at work, or in the neighborhood. I have done a good bit of analyzing my behavior as I've tried to figure out this strange phenomena (in hopes to fix something within myself to avoid it happening so often) but no matter how hard I try to say the right thing or fix the broken edge, I still get the slap on the wrist. What hurts most is that even when it ISN'T my fault and I WAS in the right, I'm always the one who has to apologize. Why can't someone else just say they are sorry? And why can't someone say they are sorry to ME. Urgh. Its hard to always feel like I have to be the bigger person when I've been made to feel so small.

*People may think that I am a picky eater but my choice of food has much more to do with how the food makes me feel than how the food tastes. I quite like cheese, and ice cream is to-die-for...but it gives me a superbly bloated stomach with a side of tummy ache the rest of the day, so I choose not to eat it. I think a bite of a big, fat, juicy hamburger is actually very delicious...but I feel so heavy and full after eating a whole burger that I'm just miserable afterward, so I choose not to eat it. Rice makes me feel the same way, so I prefer to negate it from a third of my dinner plate. The diet I choose has much more to do with how I feel after I eat it than what I think it will do to my waisteline. It can be frustrating when people don't understand the menu I try live by. Oh, and by the way, brownie mix eaten right out of the bowl really does make me feel good. :)

*This week I am willingly putting myself at risk for a deadly disease and a small chance of dying. I have been laying awake at night thinking of how foolish it is to submit myself to the Swine Flu and a possible plane crash on the way to San Diego, but I'm putting my babeh's and hubby's enjoyment of marine and zoo animals ahead of my own fears. I do my best to be unselfish... :)

Boy, does that feel good to finally have all those thoughts out of my head. :)