Phew. I seem to go through blogs like some people go through cars (and like I used to go through men): shiny new... bored. Next!
I have come right back to where I started, which is actually where I'd like to be. I like my Tri-Girl audience and I like being able to let it all fly, not just write about boring old weight loss. So here I be, on this 2nd day after Christmas, wondering where to start and more importantly, where not to go at all.
I dropped the f-bomb right in front of my inlaws yesterday. It was a silly little bicker that turned into full blown stupid in about 12 seconds flat. So I said, "Maybe we should all just leave and then start this f-ing  day over!" or something to that effect. I than announced I was, "tired of dealing with this retarded family" and left. But only for a short time and only to let Pat the Hooster out so she could eat some snow. I went back in because we had sausage.
But seriously. Say what you mean or shut the hell up.


Yes, all one table. And yes, wrapped with wrapping paper.

My mom hosted Christmas Eve for a paltry 22 this year. It seemed more relaxed than in years past and I'm not sure if that had to do with me not dreading the holidays for the first time ever or if it was really just more relaxed. Perhaps both. The whole night was really great. My daughter only had one major meltdown, the Chinese Auction went swimmingly and there was no blood. For us that's a good holiday.

Normally I have about a 5 day long pity party working up to New Year's because I haven't been invited to go anyplace, but at this stage in my life I just can;t give a shit. I sit up late with my kids and my husband playing wii and trying to keep my eyes open and I do just fine.

So what have I been doing for Christmas vacation? 

Well, wearing one of these:

and standing atop a 16' wall holding the end of a 22' long piece of sheet metal until Ben can screw it into place. After all of the hard work, though, we only have 2 more sheets until the roof is done! It is an interesting feeling looking over the top of the wall, up the roof, while leaning back on a buckstrap and harness, hands-free for working. Oh, did I mention we're building a pole barn? Maybe I should start there. We're building a pole barn. It is ginormous and we've been doing it all ourselves, meaning Ben and me plus our families and friends. It's a lot of work but on the whole thing we only have 2 more sheets of 3x22' metal to do and the roof is done! My thighs are sore from climbing the ladder with the end of the metal on my head (20' ladder...) and then my shoulders with their torn rotator cuffs burn from over-head passing the metal up to Ben on the roof (also tied in). Now that we're nearly there we have a great system! So, if you ever need help with a pole barn... I'll plead insanity, deny ever writing this and tell you to hire someone.

I'm a big, bulky girl and I know most things involving strength are attainable for me. I am practicing asking for instruction rather than playing the girl card and saying I cannot do things. (Once the crew saw me moving the 70 pound mats we use for lawn preservation the cat was out of the bag.) So when I told Ben we needed more wood cut to length before I could split, I followed it with, "So if you could either cut some or show me how to", I was immediately assigned a pair of chainsaw chaps and a little husky. Watch me go. It's actually a little more fun than I plan on letting on.

So in a nutshell, I'm hangin in there. Life goes on and around no matter what I do, and I feel more confident in just letting it do so. There are still the strains of marriage, the trials of parenting, the sleepless nights of a business owner's wife. And here I am, truckin along.

Be well, be kind, and be you.

I got an alert on my cell phone on Friday afternoon that some jackwagon had poached my debit card number and emptied my bank account. Not that there was much to take, but really. That was for my mortgage payment. And you spent it at Shoebacca in Irvine, TX? And on stationary? And lord knows what, probably cammo gear, at a sporting goods store?


I was asked to respond to the text alert and confirm the purchases, which I did not do, given the question involved. Why give away more information? So I called the local branch of the bank, Chase, and Jeff gave me a number to call to report the fraud. In the meantime I logged into my account online and saw where my card was being used.

In speaking with the person at the Chase Fraud Prevention Center, I confirmed all of me details and was told my card had been cancelled prior to the last purchase, the text alert was from them and that I would be sent a purchase dispute form. Thank you, Chase, for handling this so well. I was not put on hold. I did not speak to Peggy in Siberia or Tony in Bangalore. I spoke with Joe, likely in Omaha, and the whole process took less than 10 minutes.

I don’t feel violated or used or any of the feelings that would likely come with true identity theft, but I am pi$$ed. There are times I use amazon.com, Road Runner Sports or other on-line shops that carry items I cannot get locally. The only thing I’ve done recently is give in to my daughter and download freakin’ Zhu Zhu Pets from Bigfishgames.com. I’m not saying that is how this happened, as it is really my fault and not anyone else’s, but I have a pretty good idea that’s how I opened myself up to this hooey.

On another note, I’m feeling a lot like Mayhem from the Allstate ads, lying on the garage roof putting on weight through the winter. Pretty soon, with one more flake, I’m going to collapse. That can go a couple of ways: I’m tired OR I’ve slowly put on weight through the winter. I’m like an animal in that regard, bulking up for the cold season. The problem is that it’s coming on spring…

Speaking of spring, have you ever noticed boys seem to come crawling out of the woodwork when spring is in the air? Last week alone I got texts from 3 old flames. They must be on the same schedule as the furry creatures of the forest and think it’s mating season. In fact a few years ago, when I had a job in town, I was walking down the street in heels in April and an alarming number of men and boys waved, whistled, honked. Now I know this has nothing to do with me… it was the click, click, click of the heels identifying me as female. I find it humorous.

I have gone for a couple of outdoor runs recently, taking the mutts with me and blaring my new ipod. The difference between the treadmill and the great outdoors is stunning. I do like the consistency of the treadmill for exactly that: I know what to expect. Running outside on the neighbor’s wooded trails, though, provides a different view and set of obstacles every time. When my ipod is not blaring, the sounds are soothing. The sights, the smells, the variance in terrain are all pleasing to me. I like the hills. I like being able to change my route depending on what I feel like doing and how much of a challenge I want.

I was talking to my brother Josh the other day down at the Outfitter. I need new shoes and he was helping me figure out my pronation. After deciding I’m totally knock-kneed and flat footed, Josh was also talking to me about form and cadence. Now some of this I already knew and I think some really applies to running in the bare-foot 5 finger “shoes”, but did you know your cadence is supposed to be 180? Try it. If you take long strides you’ll probably find your cadence is about 90. I read up on shin splints after feeling like my shins were being driven into splinters by wedges and found that shorter strides decrease the likelihood and severity of shin splints. SO I checked out my cadence on the treadmill at a number of speeds. I’m right at 180. Wow. I knew I ran funny, but I was really surprised! I’m still not fast, but at least now I know I might be efficient.

Sometimes I need a little me time

It has been 5 months since I last wrote anything for this here blog. Am I still a blogger? Was I ever?
I tried the 5-finger Vibram running barefoot thingys today - just around the house. I'll tell you something: it's a lot harder to coordinate toes into toe holes than it is fingers into finger holes. It took me about 5 minutes of strolling around inside the house to realize my pinky toe was missing and almost as long to convince it to leave the little piggy that had no roast beef and go wee-wee-wee all the way home. Now granted I'm prone to hot foot attacks and am again missing a large portion of the nail on my big toe (another door-ing accident), but I'm not yet a fan. In fact, I boxed 'em back up to take back to the store. (Outfitter, in case you were wondering.)
I'm still thinking the thrill of running through the woods with nearly bare feet would be terrific and take me back to my childhood, but then again when I did that as a child I usually ended up getting a tetnus shot. Maybe another time.
My sister-in-law just sent me the following, and I do not know from whence it came prior to that, but I like it:

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 1930s, '40s, '50s, '60s and '70s!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.


They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.


Then, after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.


We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets, and, when we rode our bikes,
we had baseball caps, not helmets, on our heads.


As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes..


Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.


We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.


We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.


We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And we weren't overweight. WHY?


Because we were always outside playing...that's why!


We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day.
--And, we were OKAY.


We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes.. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem..


We did not have Play Stations, Nintendo’s and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVDs, no surround-sound or CDs, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.


WE HAD FRIENDS


and we went outside and found them!


We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from those accidents.


We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping-pong paddles, or just a bare hand or a "ling kock", and no one would call child services to report abuse.


We ate worms, and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.


We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls, and -although we were told it would happen- we did not put out very many eyes.


We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.


Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.


Imagine that!!


The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!


These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, and inventors ever.


The past 50 to 85 years have seen an explosion of innovation and new ideas..


We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.


If YOU are one of those born between 1925-1970, CONGRATULATIONS!


You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.


While you are at it, forward it to your kids, so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.


Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it ?
----- unknown to me

So, as one of those children who know how big 40 acres was and could hear Mom's whistle from the far corners, get out there and celebrate dirt, dang it! Stomp in the mud, splash in the streams, lakes and ponds. Hit (inanimate) things with sticks and teach your kids how to be kids. You may just find that you remember how yourself.

My tree-worker 12 Days of Christmas

On the 12th day of Christmas this is what I found:
12* this morning
11 more days of work
10 toes with frostbite
9 loads of woodchips
8 new leg bruises
7 falling branches
6 a.m. wake-ups
5 dead birch trees
da dum dum dum
4 stumps to grind
3 potty breaks
2 loud chainsaws
and an Arborist in an oak tree

How much wood could a wood chuck chuck?

Some time in September my husband's tree care company lost an employee. Reasons are irrelevant. What matters is that I was the only warm body available. And I hadn't worked on the crew in 7 years and that was only for a day or so when absolutely necessary.
The day after I drove the chip truck (a 1997 GMC 5500 with a dump box) for the first time, about 500 yards, I suddenly had to drive it from Cross Village to Walloon towing the chipper. Yeah, it's a 5-speed. When I look in the door the driver's seat is at eye level. I'm 5'10 in my work boots. After those first 2 days in Walloon I was fairly certain all of my toes were broken and my ankles, too. My hips, arms, knees and head hurt like no ones business. Those damn boots were murder! I've since broken them in so they're actually comfy, but on the job break-ins are not a good idea.
And did I mention those first 2 days in Walloon I was carrying, not dragging or hauling, brush along a 140' path uphill to the chipper? And then chipping it. I felt like Ben was mad at me and forcing me to condition for some unknown event.
But I made it through. And on to the next 15 jobs.
I drive the chip truck pretty much every day now, whether it's just over to a job on the shore or into Boyne City, it doesn't matter. I've only stalled it 2 times, but unfortunately those 2 times were not at stop lights...
Have you ever driven UP Page Hill Road behind the airport? Well I have. And when I was driving up Page Hill Road I missed a gear. About 2/3 of the way up. With a ton of chips in the back and towing the chipper. And I missed it again. And I started to sweat and get that little tingle of adrenaline you get when something bad has just passed or is looming straight ahead. And I sat and took 3 deep breaths, look in my rear view and went for first from a dead stop going up a steep hill and around a corner. And I stalled.
REally? This bites. I wanted to cry. My tolerance for stupid situations is very low and this ranked about at the top. Oh, back down? Sorry, not so good at backing the chipper, especially with a pintle hitch that is a little sloppier than the old ball. I HAD to make it work.
Of course on try #2 I did. That 2 minutes felt like a lifetime. I did learn it takes a lot more than I thought to burn out the clutch and that the e-brake works quite well. Chalk it up as a learning experience, I guess.
That was about 6 weeks ago, and since then I've been through a lot on the little crew. I have bruises all up and down my thighs from using them to help me carry heavy things. I have calloused over blisters on the bottoms of and in between  most of my toes. I have cuts, bruises and scrapes all up and down my arms and even a few assorted bruises on my torso. Really? WTH?? I finally ran a chainsaw one time. I know a lot of knots and how to gas and oil saws, put together pulleys and pole sections, load logs with the forks, run the skidsteer with the grapple bucket and I follow directions quite well.
I can tell what type of wood I'm chipping by the smell, and let me tell you, after being whipped in the face by a sugar maple branch, I'd chip 100 white pines instead of 1 sugar maple any day.
I have found I can do most anything I need to strength wise, though I have also found that finding a place to pee on a job site isn't always easy. I've learned which long johns work best for different weather conditions and which ones stay pulled up under a pair of jeans. I know which notch to put my helmet on when I have to wear my hat underneath and not have it be too tight.
I know - invaluable information, right?
In short, working on the crew has been a weird, exhausting, liberating sort of experience. I look forward to it and dread it all at the same time. It is sooooo tiring but at the same time it feels good. I cannot say I wouldn't trade it because I most certainly would, but it'd have to be for the right thing.
Who knows? Maybe next I'll learn to run the bucket?
In the mean time, I'll be out the door at 8, taking down trees until 5, then coming home to fix dinner, do laundry, read to my daughter and go for a run, only to fall into bed, crawl out the next morning and hit it all over again.

If I had a...

If I had a band I'd call it Fat Patty and the BooHoo Gang. No particular reason. I just like it.
If I played the lottery I'd win. I don't know when, but I would.
And when I win the lottery I will do lots of crazy things but not get arrested or become a crack whore or any of the Curse of the Lottery things.
What I will do is finish my house, buy the land next door, build a garage and a patio and buy a nice, new truck. Not a fancy, sissy, I won the lottery truck but a nice, big, strong, tough truck. Lincoln don't make no truck like I want.
I will not pretend I can solve the world's problems and I will not expect all of mine to be solved. I will build a gym as an addition and I will have a trainer who will visit me every day and make me work out. I will travel but not just to see how much better I have it than others but to see my old friends who are so scattered and far away in all corners of the world.
I will set up college funds for my children and expect them to be used. I will live off the interest of my winnings so there is more at the end. I will not be ridiculous. I will build a fireplace in my home so I can get warm after splitting wood in the rain.
I will support my husband through his quest for a BA and master's and PhD.
And I will still not be cool. But that's ok.

I don't usually do this...

Now, for those of you who know me, the occasional rant is not out of character. However, I tend to keep my writing to non-rant material because really, who wants to read it?
Today, though, I'm knocking down the don't rant wall.
I'm pi$$ed.
Now, I've been married for 8 years. I have known my in-laws for 8 1/2 years. They are not at all like my family. At all. I am not saying that is bad. It is a fact. They are all about teachers rights and democrats and science and work for it or it isn't yours and oh, we have grandkids. They read Ben text books for night time stories, ate sesame sticks in the 70's and had dogs and cats despite their only child's allergies to both. They are academics who weren't sure what to do with a super-intelligent, trouble making, over-active child.
The whole time I've know my in-laws we've had the stereo-typical relationship: cautious, careful, watchful, etc. As time has gone on I have found I do not rely on them at all for anything they say they'll do, as their plans and emotions change quickly and without warning.
Let me set some scenes. Our house, dinner, any old time. MIL (mother in law) playing with kids, Ben watching TV/reading/working outside, FIL sitting on couch playing a pocket crossword game alone, and of course, I'm in the kitchen. (We don't go to their house because our kids have asthma attacks every time because of the dogs and cats.)
Because Ben is an arborist and has a tree care company, we have a LOT of wood that can be split for firewood. I'm in charge of keeping our outdoor boiler going year-round, and since Ben has work 6 days a week and classes in TC 2 nights a week until 10:00, I've decided to split a lot of the wood this year as well.
Big whoop, right?
Well, FIL also takes wood. He comes over, splits and takes wood for his outdoor boiler, He always calls first. He has informed me he feels he's doing us a favor.
He called on Sunday to say he was coming to get wood. Ben had split oak for an hour and so had I. We're talking about 2 face cords of split wood, all hardwood, all the right size for me to move and stack. FIL was told, with me as a witness, NOT to take what we had split.
Ho took it. All. And left behind less than a cord of half rotten beech in its place. When Ben called him out on it, FIL told Ben to stop being so picky and, oh, by the way, you never thanked me for giving you the land you built your house on. Really? Lie. We both thanked both FIL and MIL profusely for the scrub pines, gravel and shack they gave us with which to start our married life.
Needless to say, I was irate. Shaking, sweating, pacing, unable to speak clearly irate.
I called and left a message saying just that. Thank goodness Ben understands. He was a little put off about hi dad calling back and saying we can no longer take lumber there to mill, but he's pretty sure that will blow over in time. I, however, am done. I will be polite, I will be civil. I will not go out of my way to share my life with a man who does not respect his child, his child's wife, or their children. Period.
Thank you all. I feel better.