New Year, New Promises... stream of consciousness...

Stream of Consciousness Sundays is an idea I got from Adventuroo.com. Basically, you set a timer and type while it's going, no editing, no stopping... sounds like fun, and since I spend hours editing myself, this should be interesting... but I'm gonna add pictures afterwards, cause that just makes it cool. 

The toasts have been made, he hangovers had and half the resolutions broken... This year I want to put it in writing, that makes it more real... my list of promises I make to me for 2011... 

1.   I will love me... the gooey, giggly, stupid love that you feel when your 13 for some silly boy... I wa|nt to look in the mirror and be grateful that I am in the same room with me... I want me to be the greatest thing in my life for the next year... wghich means, being someone worthy of that kind of love.... sounds like a great challenge... 

In my honest opinion...

Opinions are wonderful, they can be empowering, educational and intriguing. Everybody has at least one. Opinions are what make us diverse and exciting.

Opinions also have a dark side,  a difference of opinion can destroy a relationship.

Have you ever complained to a friend about a situation, just wanting to process some small frustration, only to have your friend vehemently insist that you're a complete idiot for not  dumping your boyfriend or telling off your boss?

It's terrible to feel that unless you give in and do what you're friend insists, they will think less of you. You're being held hostage by someone else's opinion, and if you do give in, you think less of yourself, it shakes your confidence.

I once had a friend who had so many opinions about my life and how to live it that I had to cut all ties with her. We were locked in a vicious power struggle over who knew better what was best for me. At the end of the relationship, I felt like a shadow, having allowed this person to force their opinion of me, on me, for years.

Not Fair!

"It's not fair!"

I hear this complaint often in my career as a Domestic Goddess. When you parent three kids, fairness becomes a balancing act. Last week, it wasn't fair that I fed my five year olds fish before my three year olds. 

After several minutes of her crying and me explaining and apologizing I finally said "kid, life's   not fair, get used to it" and left it at that. I realized that the sooner my kids learn this, the better off they'll be.

Fairness cannot be controlled. Life will at some point hand you a stinking bouquet of "not fair". How you handle it, is completely up to you. 

That's the message I am trying to teach my kids and, to be honest, myself. I abhor unfairness, life is tough enough without having the chips stacked against you. 

Last year my son was reprimanded by his teacher with a note sent home for me to sign. The note explained that my eldest was in trouble for horseplay. My kid argued with what his teacher wrote, explaining that while in line, some kids were shoving and he was pushed from behind and fell into a locker. I called the teacher to get the story.


Her:

"I was in the classroom and heard a loud bang, when I came out, your son was on the floor after ramming a locker, he was fooling around".

Me:     

"You didn't actually witness him fooling around, how do you know he wasn't shoved?" 

Her:

"I didn't have to witness it, I saw him on the floor and heard the bang"

I wanted to reach through the phone and choke her for being so... idiotic, the unfairness of it all. While throttling her would have made me feel immensely better, it wouldn't have done any good.


I ended our conversation with a "I disagree with you, but since neither one of us saw what happened, let's just put it behind us" and sat my son down for a chat.


I told him that I believed him and she was being unfair. We talked about how sometimes you are stuck with someone in a position of power who abuses it, and that sometimes people make mistakes and act unfairly. I asked him to let it go and promised him that we would come up with a plan if she did it again.


I would like my kids to have a quiet grace but a strong resolve when being treated unfairly. I want to teach them to walk the line between righteous indignation and indifference. To get what they want from the situation without letting it get to them. I want these qualities for myself.


I won't read the newspapers because I get so angry. Next time you see some crazy chick yelling at her paper in a restaurant, it's probably me, sorry about scaring your family.


My anger makes me want to do something about it, to make changes. Whether that be in my life or for a cause. What I want to learn is how to not let it negatively affect me, to pick my battles and let the rest go.


Yesterday, I took the kids for smoothies, we were next to order when this guy walks in, just as the till opens up, he cuts in front of us. I say "excuse me, but we were here first". He doesn't even look back at me when he says "f*#^ off".


How dare he! With my kids there! Oh, I wanted to destroy him. I kept my mouth shut for the kids, but launched into a invective in my head that would make Mike Tyson cry.


Once we get our smoothies, I herd the kids back to the car, just in time to see Mr. Potty Mouth ram my passenger side with his car door, get in and drive away. Barely keeping my temper in check I go to the door praying for no damage. I see an angry bright red paint streak etched on my silver door.


"Damn! Now we have to pay for that, not fair!"


"Mommy, life's not fair, get used to it" my three year old tells me wisely.

Life, exhausted.

I am sitting here trying in vain to come up with a post for today that is interesting, witty and entertaining. My brain is not cooperating (does it ever?). All I can think about is the mountain of laundry, the unpaid bills and how I am going to fit 60 hours of work into a 24 hour day. I know that even if I get it all done today, there'll be another list as long as my arm tomorrow. 

Did my mom feel this way? Overwhelmed and under-prepared? 

I dropped my girls off at a birthday party. The party is at the birthday girl's home and they are doing all sorts of wonderful crafts and have homemade canvas bags for the kids to take their crafts and treats home in.

I love the family that's throwing the party. They are wonderful, kind, loving people. So why do I feel so guilty taking my kids there? I'll tell you. 

I haven't thrown a kid's party here since we first moved in 4 years ago. We always have our parties out. The idea of cleaning before, hosting the party and then cleaning up afterwards exhausts me. Add to that the planning and execution of the crafts and making all the gift bags? I want to nominate my friend for sainthood. 

Where did she find the time or the inclination? I am in awe of her ability to make it look effortless. If I manage to remember candles for the cake I feel like a rock star. 

Last summer I spent 2 weeks creating a homemaker's binder so I could keep on top of things. I had lists, schedules, chore charts, appointments, meal planning and a place for coupons. 

I was so proud of my achievement, my beautiful shining binder of organization. I looked at it and felt hope and confidence. I knew that with this binder I would have all sorts of free time for crafts and baking and wholesome mom stuff. With this binder I would be SUPERMOM. 

The binder went missing 3 days later and has yet to be found. I think it took one look at me, said "oh sh*t", and hopped on the first bus out of here.

This year we are de-cluttering. I figure if we have less crap, then I have less crap to clean. The house is nearly done, with only the kitchen and basement left to do. Our garage is currently housing all our unwanted stuff waiting for the big garage sale we didn't get around to this year. 


It would be nice to be able to park in the garage when it's -30 this winter, but something tells me it's not going to happen. My husband works out of town and I am not tackling junk mountain alone, I'd never make it out alive.


What a glorious feeling it would be to get to the end of my list before the end of the day. To have a bubble bath or lay on the couch without feeling that I am slacking off in my duties.  


I would love to be completely organized and on top of things while my kids are still in the house, but something tells me that's what being a grandparent is about. Until then, please excuse the mess, my lateness and the frozen veggies. 

To Yoga, or not to Yoga

I used to be a big girl. Okay, who am I kidding, I am still a big girl, I used to be a huge girl. After the birth of my third (and thankfully last) child, I weighed in at 267 at just over 5 feet tall. I remember standing in the bathroom naked, looking in the mirror and sucking in my tummy. Nothing moved. Something needed to be done. 

I would love to say that I embarked on a workout routine that would make Jillian Michaels cry, but I didn't. I can't tell you that I discovered a wonderful diet that just melted the pounds away. What I did do was go to counselling for my depression (another day, another post) and stop eating crap ALL the time. I still eat crap, I just don't eat it morning, noon and night. 

My youngest is approaching her fourth birthday and I am happy to say that I tip the scales at 185 lbs. Not skinny, but when I suck in, my junk gets into position. Even when I don't suck in, I have an hourglass shape, not a tomato. 

When I look in the mirror now, if I squint my eyes and take my glasses off, I like what I see. It would be nice to simply like what I see, in broad daylight, with my glasses on and my eyes wide open. 

So I decided to start an exercise program, tone up and get down to where I really want to be. I hate to exercise. There is something about dripping sweat, not being able to breathe and having muscles so sore that I wish for death that turns me off. 

I figure that yoga, with it's focus on poses, breathing and stretching would be a good fit for me. I am excited to work-out while sitting or standing still, sounds easy. Sign me up!  

I head on down to my local Wal-Mart and buy the three yoga DVDs that say beginner. One is actually a pre-natal yoga video. I think that since I am not pregnant it shouldn't be too hard. 

Why do I bother thinking when my brain is plotting against me?

Once home, I put on my work out clothes, grab some water and pop in the pre-nanal DVD all ready for relaxing, healthy yoga. 

By the end of the warm-up, sweat was starting to bead around my forehead. "Not so bad" I think, "On the aerobics DVD I am usually out of breath by now". 

Minutes later I find myself in downward facing dog. For those of you who don't do yoga-speak, downward dog is palms and feet on the floor, butt in the air. "I can do this! This crap's easy" I exclaim aloud. 

Don't ever do this, statements like this anger the yoga gods and they are easily offended. 

The cheerful woman on my t.v. tells me to lower myself onto my tummy, keeping my hips off the floor and arching my back so my head is looking up, she called it Baby Cobra. I try to arrange my body in this position but I can't get my hips off the floor. 

"Breathe deeply and slowly as you hold this position" the DVD instructor tells me. 

As I am holding the pose and attempting to turn my breathing into deep controlled breaths, my arms start to shake, and the sweat is running into my eyes. I can no longer see the mean DVD lady, I listen carefully for the next pose. 

"Press back up into downward dog, and  then balance yourself on your left foot and hand stretching your right foot and hand to the sky, breathe in and out." The sadist instructs. 

I do as I am told and quickly discover that labor is not the worst pain in the world. In fact, I would rather be giving birth to quintuplets than holding this damn pose for another 15 seconds. 

The wretched cow's voice becomes more and more nasal as she tells me to "release back into downward dog and complete the pose on the right side, holding for 30 seconds. 

I look up at the screen and swear she's enjoying my pain. Grunting and swearing I push back up into downward dog and balance myself on my other side. My arms and legs are trembling and numb. My hair, dripping with sweat is hanging in a matted clump against my face. I wonder how the hell a pregnant woman can do this and why. 

Little Miss Yoga tells me to stand up and go into a lunge pose (at this point I cannot remember names because sweat fried my circuits). I lunge. Holding a lunge pose is easy compared to the last part so I am thrilled. 

My happiness evaporated with the harpy's next instructions. "Leaning back and remembering to breathe, take your back foot with your hands and pull your heel up to your bottom, and hold, opening your chest to the sky".

I lean back and reach for my foot, which is just out of reach. I strain and try again. I manage a slippery grab on my big toe. Risking dislocation I pull my heel to my butt and open my chest to the sky. 

"Just hold the pose and breathe"

Breathe? Screw breathing, I just want to live through this. Blood is rushing in my ears, the numbness in my limbs has turned into fire and my clothes are soaked through. 

All hope for survival flies out the window when that foul woman serenely tells me to do it again with the other leg. Who the hell can sound calm at a time like this.

I switch legs and make several weak attempts to grasp my foot. I struggle and manage to get my foot where it needs to be. I am holding the pose and trying to breathe, when I fall over sideways. 

At this point I hit pause on the DVD player just to see how much time has elapsed. I am shocked to discover that only 20 minutes of the 60 minute workout has passed. That's 40 minutes left!

I slump to the floor in a defeated sweaty heap and assume the fetal position. I don't want to do another 40 minutes of this, I can't do another 40 minutes of this. Why do people do this to themselves? It can't be good for you. 

As I lay on the floor, moaning my pity ditty, my daughter comes up and asks "mom, why are you melting on the floor?" 

"Because mommy wants to be healthy and live a long time for you" I say, giving her the good mom answer. 

I realize the truth of my words. I do want to be as healthy as possible to give myself the best possible chance of always being there for them. I want to see them grow up. I want to be an active part of their lives. Most of all, I want to be a role model for them. I never want them to look in the mirror and feel shame. 

Then I realize that if I give up, the sadistic, DVD witch wins, and we can't have that. What's 40 minutes?

The "N" Word

I read that Dr. Laura plans to end radio show at end of year this morning, while I am thrilled that her show is ending, I am disgusted as to why.

Dr. Laura has been spewing her righteous venom on the air since 1974, syndicating her own show in 1994. She is an ultra-conservative social commentator that abuses her callers unless they fall into her right-wing, holier-than thou line of thinking.

I used to share an office with a woman who loved Dr. Laura, every day I had to listen to her show. Being a single, working, mother, Dr. Laura infuriated me. I remember sitting in that office day after day wanting to lodge a pencil straight into my brain just to block out her hateful voice.

On August 10, 2010, Dr. Laura felt the need to say the n-word 11 times to a black woman caller who was seeking advice regarding her inter-racial marriage.

11 times! Is she doing an album with 'Lil Wayne?

The caller was looking for help to stop her husband's friends from making racial slurs about her in their home. Instead of offering anything useful, Dr. Laura insisted the woman was being hypersensitive, then used the n-word repeatedly to prove a "philosophical point".

Sadly, Dr. Laura and I don't share a mother, because my mom would have knocked the teeth out of her mouth for using that word only once.

Dr. Laura stated that black comedians and actors say that word all the time on HBO, which gave her the right to say it.

That's like saying "they are all doing cocaine, so I should have a snort too". Isn't that the kind of moronic thinking that she blasts people for? Are we really going to accept "they're doing it" as an excuse to propagate hatred? I wouldn't let my three year old get away with this argument.

Furthermore, she said that use of that word does not constitute racism. I wonder if her attitude would change if similar comments were made towards the Jewish community instead of the black community.

How can the n-word not constitute racism? It's origin is racist. Used in literature as early as 1619 by wealthy white men to describe African slaves. It's intended meaning is to describe someone lesser than the speaker. The n-word, just like any other slur, racial or otherwise, is cruel, hurtful and unnecessary.

Dr. Laura has decided to end her radio show to protect her First Amendment Rights stating "I want to be able to say what's on my mind and in my heart and what I think is helpful and useful without somebody getting angry..."

When you say derogatory, bigoted things, people will get angry. If these are the feelings of your "heart", then please don't let the door hit your racist ass on the way out.

To be fair, Dr. Laura did apologize after the incident, although it was tempered with justifications and excuses.

I suppose I should be happy. Dr. Laura's reign of insensitivity and righteousness will soon be over. Unfortunately, controversy sells and soon another outspoken personality will take her place. Hopefully, it will be someone who uses controversy to promote valuable ideas that bring our world together, rather than tearing it down.

Huh?

Whoever said that there is no such thing as a stupid question is an idiot. People ask stupid questions all the time, including me. I've watched my husband emerge from the bathroom only to ask "where were you?". 


Being well aware of my ability to look like a moron on occasion. I try to be forgiving of people when it's their turn to be the moron. But, sometimes, it's just so hard.


In line at the grocery store once, this woman asked me how old my girls were. I told her 2 and 3, to which she responded, "are they twins?". 


"Yes, of course they are twins. It's what all the celebrities are doing, you simply freeze-dry one of them till later, when things with the first one calm down a bit."  


That's not what I said, I just smiled and nodded and was too nice to explain how twins work.  


Most of the time, the person doesn't mean it. They just have a thought in their head that they forget to erase before opening their mouths. We do it all the time with emails, why not words?


"And send. Crap, don't send. UNSEND!"


Sometimes I wonder if the questioner is being purposefully malicious. Last summer we lost our cat. My husband went to the neighbors house to ask if they had seen it, they hadn't. Later when I went outside with flyers for the mailboxes, I passed the neighbor. 


"Did you find your cat?" he asked. 


"No, not yet. But hopefully we will" I respond. 


"Yeah, your son looked pretty upset when he came asking about it" he said.


My son? My son was at Grandma's house. Did he mean my husband? He thinks my husband is my son? No he couldn't. Could he?


"Oh you mean my husband, he said he was going to check with the neighbors"


"He's your husband?!" He exclaims astonished. 


Due to blind fury, I don't really know what happened next, but what I like to believe is that he burst into flames as a meteor fell out of the sky flattening him.


I have to watch how I answer people, as I have a tendency to answer with utter honesty and a touch of sarcasm. I went to a trade fair and made the mistake of entering myself in a number of draws. Over the next few weeks I received a bunch of calls letting me know that I didn't win, but wanting me to book a party or consult. 


One woman was particularly persistent, she would not take no for an answer. 


I told her that I wasn't interested. She said I would be after I tried the product, and then left samples on my doorstep. She was calling at least three times a week, and leaving crap on my doorstep. Screening her calls for 2 weeks didn't dissuade her either. Enough was enough.  


It was about 8:30a.m when she called. I answered.


"Hello" I didn't ask like a pleasant question, more like a bark.


"Hi Jessica, I've been trying you for two weeks, why haven't you answered?"


"Because I have call display." And that's the last time I heard from her.

I tried being patient, but it took too long!

I am impatient, always have been. I just feel that life is too short for wasting time. Directions, manuals and tutorials are the time wasters I despise most. If something is overly complicated, I will happily follow a manual. But, reading the manual for my cell phone, I won't do. I like to learn by doing.

Trial and error has mostly served me well. I find I learn the skill better my way, even if it sometimes takes me longer. Sometimes, it bites me in the ass. 

I have come to love being thrust into new situations and learning new skills. It should come as no surprise then, that when friends of ours needed a DJ for their wedding, I said "sure". I have a DJ program on my computer, a ton of Cd's and they needed a DJ.

Being impatient isn't that damaging of a fault, but I am also a procrastinator. I waited till a few days before the  wedding to start getting my music ready. What could go wrong? It's just music. 

When I finally get down to it, I take a cursory glance at the DJ program. My hubby bought it for me when I started hosting thinking I might have to DJ sometimes too. I never really used it because I didn't want to have to learn it, unless I had to. I figure, I'll learn the program as I go.

My hubby and I have a ton of older Cd's, as I went through them I realized our tastes aren't really wedding friendly. I had to use a paid online music download site to fatten up my library. I bought my songs, and dove into my DJ program.

I search for the first song, the one the couple are dancing to for the first time as man and wife. This is an important song. It's not there. All my older music is there. Nothing that I just bought though. 

So I download them again to a new folder I created. Titled in caps "WEDDING MUSIC", so I can be sure to find it. I go into the DJ program. find my caps file and open it. Nothing. 

Where are these songs? I'm starting to get annoyed. I can play them in my media player, they are on the computer, the the DJ program can't find them. I look through all the tools and options. Nothing. I take to the Internet. 

There are times when the Internet is not your friend.

I spent all of last night, until dawn, searching. Trying to find an answer.

I typed in every possible combination of words for my problem. I read what felt like thousands of articles, blog and forums. I looked through both my downloading and DJ program support, troubleshooting and help pages. 

There were numerous reasons for my songs not being where they should be. The most popular, from my research, was that the online store where I bought my songs had placed user right restrictions on them. There was a program I could buy to remove the restrictions, but it seemed shady. 

Out of ideas and exhausted, I sat mindlessly staring at the screen, feeling beaten. I couldn't afford to go to a store and buy all these the songs on CD. Digital music was my best option, and I couldn't make it work. 

I knew if I didn't figure it out soon, I would have to start calling around to see who had these songs on disc, at least the first dance song. I had really screwed up. 

Visualizing a wedding where the songs from Glee and Eminem (the most played on my stereo) were played over and over again, I knew I would be the cow that ruined this woman's beautiful wedding. All because I didn't do it two weeks ago.  

In the middle of hosting my pity party, I saw a button on the screen. 

"Refresh Playlist"? 

What does that do? I click the button and a whooshing screen of file transfer flashes past my eyes. What the hell was that? 

I tentatively type in the title for their first dance song. It pops up! I am so excited I have to stifle a victory yell! It's 4 in the morning. 

Then it hits me. Had I taken a second to just look at the damn program I was using, this wouldn't have happened and I wouldn't be having a coronary. On the other hand, I would have had nothing for my blog. 

The Dinner Dance

I blame the cooking gene, and my lack thereof. My Grandma doesn't have it, my mom doesn't have it, and I don't have it. Everyday I am faced with the same dilemma. What am I going to make for dinner? Will we live through it? It's not just the cooking that gets me, it's everything!  

Once, when my hubby was still my finance, I decided to surprise him with a steak dinner.  I popped the potatoes in the oven to cook, and started preparing everything else.  

Suddenly, I hear gunshots, I race out through the living room doing the commando crawl on the floor and hide in the bathroom. I have to call 911. Where's the phone? I left it in the kitchen. 

I crawl on my hands and knees out of the bathroom to grab the phone.  As I enter the kitchen, I notice that the window in my stove is all white.  All white? Why would it be all white? 

What I thought were gunshots were potatoes exploding in my oven. The exploding potato is a terrifying and messy lesson to learn. 

That's the problem with learning to cook. If you do it wrong, you go hungry, or worse, burn your kitchen down. It's enough to make someone just order in.  

I want my kids to be healthy though, I want them to know how to cook and not feel overwhelmed like I do when they are adults.

I want to be able to cook a side of ribs without a flaming ball shooting out of my BBQ.  Did you know that cooking them on high doesn't cook them faster?  

If you're thinking my family starves. They don't, often. I have been slowly expanding my recipe book. Recipes are never the problem, there are millions of recipes. The problem is, I don't understand cooking at its most basic. Recipes are exacting and require little creativity, and I don't want to have to rely on someone else's tastes. 

I want to create my own recipes because I understand how the food goes together. Where's the book on that? If you know of one, please let me know.  

It's just so defeating to spend all that time in the kitchen, just to end up with a big mess and everyone eating pizza. 

Our first Christmas together, my husband and I hosted both our families at our home. I didn't want any help in the kitchen. I wanted to prove to my in-laws and my family that I could cook. I should have had it catered. 

After hours of sweating in the kitchen, dinner was finally served. I had everything and it was beautiful! Garlic mashed potatoes, baby carrots in butter sauce, cranberries, stuffing... My grandmother, who has this thing for "real in the bird stuffing" asks; 

"did you use the gizzard for the stuffing?"

"what's a gizzard Gram?"

"The neck, liver, organs.  They put it in a plastic bag inside the Turkey." 

"Why would anyone put something inside the turkey Gram? who would think to look there?"

And, Christmas Pizza was had by all! 

Help... html code is harder than it looks...

In an attempt to earn a little cash, I have set up an Amazon Store on my blog.  I am trying to put it on it's own page, so people only see it when they want to, but am having trouble making it fit on the page with my sidebars.  If anyone knows how to fix this, please message me.  If not, check it out and have a good giggle at my programmer skillz. 


EDIT:  I do have programmer skillz, I really, really do. I got my store up and working and we're back to regularly scheduled blogging. 

If I had only known...

Like any mom, I wouldn't trade any of my kids for the world. Growing up, I was never really around kids, until I had some. Here is my list of things I wish I knew before I had kids. 

• Toddlers are like tiny drunk people.  They drool, you can't understand or reason with them, they fall down a lot, and they puke suddenly, without warning, or reason. 
• A twelve year old boy's concept of clean includes fungus. 
• Toddlers think paint and poop are the same thing, and they want to decorate! Fun!
• You can never get rid of the baby pooch.  
• Your children will always have more stuff than you do, and wreck the stuff you have.
• Newborns are boring. 
• Kids want to give everything a bath. Including new iPods.
• Little girls have the ability to pierce a brain with their screams.
• On any given day, you're likely to wake up to something gross being thrust in your face.
• Accidentally using a three year olds napkin may be viewed as a hostile action.
• 5 year old's are made of knees and elbows.
• Even if you're staring right at them, a preschooler can't see you until you say "what". 
• Laundry reproduces faster than rabbits. 
• The harder it is to clean, the more kids will want to play with it.  
• Baby boys express love with pee in the face.
• It's easier to coordinate a space mission, than to get all the kids smiling at the camera for a photo.
• It's totally bloody worth it!

Please feel free to share the things you wish you had known before having kids.

Different Look

After reading DIY Tips for a More Professional Blog Design, I decided to make some needed changes.  I am much happier with the way the blog looks now.  Hope you like it!

Lions, and Tigers, and Bears, OH MY!

I have always thought of myself as brave.  I look right at the needle when I get blood drawn.  I walk into a new place with my head held high, making eye contact.  I sing in public for money.   I was an unwed 20 year old new mom, who put herself through college, with my son's father long gone.   I'm not afraid of anything, right?  wrong.

  

I am scared most of the time, and I hate it.  A strange thing happened when I became a mom.     I realized my own mortality.  Worse than that, I realized my children's.  I could suddenly see, in perfect clarity, the worst possible outcome for every scenario.  I was afraid they or I would get hurt, or worse.  And, it crippled my life, for the most part, until I turned 27.

  

Over the past several years, I have been trying something new.  If it scares me, I do it. No excuses.  I have been working my way through scary to downright terrifying.

  

I have always loved to sing, and had tried karaoke.  I always left wanting more, wanting to be the hostess, though the thought made my stomach try to dive out my throat. 

One night, at karaoke, drunk. I told the hostess that I wanted a job hosting karaoke, never thinking she would take me seriously, I was drunk.  The next Friday, I show up and am thrust into training, she tells me "tomorrow night is a hockey fundraiser and I need you at work by 9.  I also need someone to work karaoke here part-time".

What...?

Huh...? 

Me...?

but, I was drunk...! 

I was terrified (notice the italics to denote extra terrified).  What if I screwed up?  I did.  All my fears about hosting have come true, and somehow I still host.  I have sang terribly, had feedback so bad I was scared I damaged ears, had a full bar start booing me when I set up, boob pop out mid-song.  I have learned to laugh at these moments now, because there's not a damn thing you can do to stop them, and fearing them, is just stupid.  

I recently decided to take my new found bravery and try it on something really scary...  bears.  I have not camped my entire adult life because of bears.  I read once that bear attack survivors most remember the sound of the bear gnawing on their skull!  On-Their-Skull!  Can you imagine what that would sound like?  Feel like?  I still get squeamish  just thinking about it. 

I find myself camping, in bear country, with two guys who are like brothers to me.  They spent the entire two hour drive out debating the best ways to harass me about my fear of bears.  See, like brothers.   

When we reach the site, we find old bear scat, and we're on a river.  Bears love fish, fish are in  rivers.  I start to object, and get laughed at.  

It was May, and still below zero at night, so I was camping in the back of my friend's S.U.V., using my tent to change clothes and clean up.  Also, I was too afraid to sleep in a tent in bear  country. 

The guys tell me I need to find a place to do my business, in the woods, far from the campsite and the river next to it.  In the woods, where the bears are.  I immediately started panicking about night peeing and decided that all beer consumption happened before sundown.   

My plan worked great until I drank too much, and decided I was no longer afraid of bears.  Do you know how dark it is outside the fire area?  I had my flashlight, but every time I peed I just felt like a big advertisement screaming "here's the weak and defenseless human, who only has a light and bell for protection".  

The last night I got to see fear first hand. After I had gone to bed, my friend John burst into the Explorer drunkenly exclaiming "there's a BEAR out there!"  I spent the next hour witnessing his absolute fear of bears.  When he had to pee, I had to keep watch and honk the horn every 10 seconds to scare away the bear.  He tried to send me out to check on our other friend who was sleeping in his tent.  He woke up throughout the night still raving about the bear he heard, and asking me to check if it was outside.  

After that, I was far more afraid of frightened drunk people than bears... the worst a bear would do is gnaw on your skull.  

It's exhilarating to do something scary.  It changes you.  The fear is replaced by excitement and confidence, and in the end you find yourself wondering what was so scary in the first place.  I am still afraid, but less so, and deep down I know, I got this.

Next up... gulp... skydiving?...