Family life, Paleo-ish eating and Coping with Chronic Illness

Posts tagged ‘Sheboygan’

Villas and Driving a Flip Flop

This past weekend we had a girls’ weekend with my side of the family.  Not everyone was available. When you have a big family, having EVERYONE in one place at the same time is close to impossible.  That’s why we’ve given up on trying to make that happen.  Now, we just set a date, and be happy for whoever can come.

girls weekend

Our girls’ weekend was at the Blue Harbor in Sheboygan.  Have you been there?  It’s really nice.  It’s kind of fancy.  We stayed in a villa.

I come from solid, middle class folks.  It seems like my folks bred mostly more solid, middle class folks.  Now we’re turning around and breeding more of the same.  It doesn’t appear as if there will be a millionaire in the bunch.  It’s my parent’s greatest shame.  Maybe if my parents would not have gone so heavy on the, “money doesn’t buy you happiness” speech when they were raising us, we’d have just one rich niece or nephew.  A niece or nephew  who could pick up the tab on our vacations.  Very short sighted on my parent’s part.

Us middle class folks are used to staying in something pretty sweet called a “Hotel”.  I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to a hotel, but they’re pretty nice.  At hotels you get to stay in clean rooms, use the pool, and your breakfast of homemade waffles and fake eggs is usually free. Very nice.

At the Blue Harbor, we stayed in a villa.  Villas are swank.  A villa is like a little house. We decided that if we split the cost of the villa enough ways, and only stayed for one night, we could swing it.  When I pulled up to the Blue Harbor, and parallel parked my Hyundai Elantra between the Jaguar and BMW to check in, I knew I was home.

Can I take a side street in this story I’m telling you?  I want to stop and talk to you about my Hyundai Elantra.  I’ve been thinking about my car a lot lately; I want to get some thoughts off my chest.  Scott and I bought this cute little car a couple of years ago.  We wanted better gas mileage.  I have a decent commute to work.

Would you like to hear my review of our Hyundai Elantra?  No?  Okay.  Then, skip the next paragraph.  I thought you cared about me, but that’s okay.  I get it now.

I feel like driving my Hyundai Elantra equates to driving a flip flop.  Know what I mean?  Of course you do.  That is so clear.   I’ll explain myself anyway.

I have a really awesome chiropractor.  He hates flip flops.  I like this chiropractor.  I think he is so smart, and knows much more about health and nutrition than almost anyone I know.  He says that he knows flip flops are fashionable, and popular, but they’re just terrible for your body.  He says flip flops are not safe to wear.  He thinks flip flops are junk.

I trust my chiropractor.  That’s why  I have invested in some Teva sandals.  They are made of sturdier material. They have a strap for support around the back of my foot.  They probably aren’t at the top of any most fashionable shoes lists, but I love them.  I’ve been wearing my Teva sandals for two years.  They are NOT junk.

Now, I don’t think my car is junk.  It isn’t.  It turns on a dime (whatever that means), and you can hear the radio really good.  Plus, it is cute. The problem is, I don’t feel like it’s safe.  I feel like there’s a good chance it’s made of tin foil, spray painted brown.  I feel like if I ran into a   tricycle, my car would be totaled.  If I ran in to a semi?  Well, I doubt the semi would notice.

Then,  there’s winter driving.  My car is insane when it comes to winter driving.  And, by insane, I mean terrible.  When it snows, I feel like I’m sledding to work on bologna skin tires .  Lately, in Wisconsin, it snows almost every day in the winter.  I have to take our heavier van to work when it snows. I guess all that good gas mileage isn’t doing me much good in the winter.

I was driving my cute little car one day, and I suddenly figured something out.  We accidentally bought a pair of cute, fashionable, junky, and dangerous flip flops for me to drive. We should have bought some Teva’s.   Dang it!

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.  I’m sorry that it was a little boring.  The whole point of that story  is, I thought if it wasn’t too much to ask, you could maybe drop off a sturdier, nicer car in my drive way.  I don’t mean to sound greedy, but you do enjoy my blog. So, I guess we’d be sort of even.

But, we are SUPPOSED to be talking about a villa. Let’s get back to that.  Villas are not junky or cheap, like flip flops and Hyundai Elantras. Villas are nice.  When my sisters and nieces and I all walked into the villa, I thanked God for making us middle class.  It was super fun to be so impressed and appreciative.

I’ve told you about my funny niece, Libby.  She will make you laugh all day long. Libby and I immediately jumped on the king size bed in the master suite.  We did donkey kicks and all sorts of dance moves on that big bed.  We yelled,  “Yay for being poor!  Yay for loving big giant beds that we will never be lucky enough to own!  Yay for being happy to spend our entire vacation hanging out on this bed.”  That took a lot out of us, but it was fun.

libby and miki

We laughed a lot.  We went to the beach and we played games.  We played one game called “Mafia”.   Each round, whoever was the mafia would kill off the other players.  The trick was to find out who the mafia was before all the players were dead.  My sisters, nieces and daughter are so nice to me.  So nice, that they made sure I was always the first one killed.  It’s times like that when you realize no one in your family ever really liked you.

I try not be on my phone too much when I’m in public.  That’s rude. You know what else is rude?  Killing people.  I told my family I was just going to hang out with my Facebook friends, while they played their dumb game.  Here’s a picture of me talking to my Facebook family, and ignoring the other family.  The family that kept killing me.  I know what else you’re thinking about this picture.  Just when you thought my hair couldn’t possibly look any better, here it is.

Hair

 

On Sunday morning I worshiped God like this:

 

coffee at lake

 

 

Have you ever thought that we should all just stop trying so hard all the time?  I see this picture, and  it occurs to me that some of the best things in life take no effort at all.

I heart this past weekend.  I heart friends and family.  I heart villas.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Talking too Much

Hmm…I feel like I am coming dangerously close to running out of things to say.  I didn’t know that could happen.  When you talk as much I do, you’re bound to eventually use up all the words you’ve been allotted in one lifetime though, right?  The well may soon run dry.

Lately, I’ve been trying to talk less.  Shy people think they have all the problems.  Talky people have problems too.  Words are awesome.  Words can give people confidence, and make people feel loved.  Words can make peace.

You know what else words can do?  Words can tear people down.  They can make people feel left out, and disrupt friendships and family bonds. You have to be careful with words.  Sometimes words you mean to come out right, come out wrong.  You have to be cautious with those kinds of words too.  You can’t be careless. Sometimes I am careless.  I’m sorry for that.

There are seven people in the family I was born into.  When we are in a group, three of those seven people do eighty percent of the talking.  I’m one of those three talking people.  One of my non talky sisters told me recently that when we were together she noticed the three talkers monopolizing the entire conversation. She wasn’t mad, or hurt.  She was just telling the truth.  She had some stuff to say, but she told herself she guessed it wasn’t meant to be said.

Shoot!  Did we really do that?  I didn’t even notice.  Actually, I did notice.  I noticed that the other two talkers were talking so much, I didn’t get to say everything I wanted to say.  Seriously, that’s what I was thinking.  That’s how easy it is to be wrong.

At first,  I wanted to deny what my sister told me; then I realized she just did something nice for me.  She gave me an opportunity to improve.   Sometimes when I think I’m helping shy people by keeping the conversation going, I’m really just being selfish.  I’m grabbing all the words, and keeping the conversation focused on myself.  GAHH!!!  I hate it when I do that.

Some people take more time to put their thoughts together.  They need a moment or two of silence to get the courage to offer their input.  It’s worth the wait though. While you’ve been yammering your head off non-stop for the last three hours, those non talkers have had a lot of time to think.  They are insightful.

So, that’s what I’ve learned.  I didn’t like learning it, but I learned it.  Now I have to do something about it.  When you see me with duct tape over my mouth, just give me the thumbs up.  We both know what’s happening.

If you point something out that I am doing wrong, I’m going to want to fix it.  That’s what most of us do, right?  That isn’t what some guy I came across on Facebook does.

This is mean, but I am going to admit something to you.  I can’t see this guy’s updates on Facebook any more.  I blocked him.  I did.  I’m sorry, I don’t like doing that, but it was either block him,  or kill him. Murder just seems like a lot of work.  I’ve never done one before, and I’m super busy.

This guy kept telling all his Facebook BFF’s about his favorite things: porn, drinking to excess, his sex habit, strip clubs and his drug habit.   He is your basic straight arrow.

I kept seeing this stuff and thinking, “Dude, I don’t want to know about all that crap. Keep it to yourself.”  My hand would hover over the block button.  Then, I’d think, “hey, little missy, you’ve got your own problems.  Who are you to judge?”

Then, the day came.  This guy posts that he feels so badly.  His teenagers are misbehaving.  He tells his FB friends that it doesn’t matter what he tells these kids. .  They just won’t listen to him, and they insist on making the same mistakes he has.  His friends, of course, feel real sorry for him.  They tell him that kids will be kids, and you just can only do so much.

Blocked.  You are officially blocked, buddy.  I don’t know why you were in my life to begin with, but you are now out of my life.  For good.  I don’t have the courage to tell you what I’m really thinking, but I do have the courage to block you.  I’m gutsy like that.

You know what wisdom is?  Wisdom is the opposite of  this guy.  This guy knows his choices are bad.  He said it.  He knows it.  He knows is his kids are making the same mistakes.

Once you know you have a problem, the obvious next step is doing something about it, right?  RIGHT?  Oh no, no.  Not for some people.  Some people want to pretend their current difficult circumstances are a coincidence.  Then, they want to do something else that makes me do rash and crazy things, like blocking people.  They want to feel sorry for themselves.  NOOOOO!!!!!

You canNOT feel sorry for yourself for suffering the consequences of the poor choices you have knowingly made.  No, you can’t.  Well, you can, but you shouldn’t.

You CAN try to fix it.  You CAN get help.  You CAN be straight up and honest about it, but you CANNOT feel sorry for yourself.    Don’t do it.   If you insist on feeling sorry for yourself, then I must insist on not listening to you.  So, there’s my rant on that. I have a mean side.

4th of July.  Was yours awesome?  Mine really was.  Wisconsin/Iowa weather = awesome!!!  I love my family and Scott’s family.  They make me laugh, and they are so fun.  We were able to see both sides of the family this year.

Scott was feeling extra jovial and festive.  We were in Sheboygan.  Most of the family enjoyed some delicious (expensive) ice cream from a trendy shop down by the lake.    Scott outsmarted that plan though.  On the way back to the house we pulled into McDonalds.  He said the ice cream was AS good at McDonalds, and a fraction of the cost of the trendy ice cream parlor ice cream.

Scott is always so responsible, except when he isn’t.  He ordered two chocolate dipped cones.  For himself.  I haven’t seen my husband do anything that irresponsible in years.  For real.  It made no sense.  One of the cones was melting a little before he was able to get to it.

I asked him what on Earth had gotten into him.  He said he just got carried away with all the festivities.   Sometimes you just do things and tell yourself you’ll worry about the consequences later.  So, that’s what he’s going to do.  And, when his kids get older and he sees them falling apart, ordering two cones for themselves on Independence day, he won’t feel sorry for himself.  He’ll say, “That’s on me.”

 

ice cream

 

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