Sami After Three

I am a really good friend.  I know this because when a girlfriend asked if I would take a Zumba class with her tonight I said yes.  You know the game, "Never Have I Ever.?"  Well, Never Have I Ever taken a dance class.  Until Now.  I did attend a Girl Scout Square Dance with my dad when I was younger, but that seemed like less of a dance and more of an unlimited supply of cookies and punch and no one (certainly not my Dad) told me to have just one.   This Zumba instructor wasted no time.  We started EXACTLY at 5:30pm and by 5:31pm I had moved every muscle in my body.  Even the ones from my childhood.  The highlight for me was when the song 'Wobble'* came on...because the entire time all I could really think about was how much I must have looked like "Wobbles" from the Shopkins Memory Match Game my kids endlessly play.  Also that song is 20 minutes long.  Get me a green t-shirt and I'm all set.  And speaking of clothing-to...

When I was 19 I briefly lived in California with an aunt and some cousins.  I will go to my grave saying that it was my sense of adventure that led me to move across country and not that I was following a brown-haired boy who I was convinced wanted to marry me.  Anyway, while there, I got a tattoo because: A. I was living in California-where it’s pretty much mandatory to have one, and B. It’s possible that the aforementioned boy had decided to marry someone else.  Whatever.  Anyway, my cousins and I all went to this tattoo parlor and I chose the Chinese symbol “Faith” and had it put on my...wait for it...wait for it...lower back.  (No one reading this should be surprised.)  Now I’m gonna fast-forward the story five years.   I’m in the hospital with my even handsomer brown-haired boy and we are about to have our first child.  I was convinced I was going to do an all natural labor because (and this is seriously what I kept telling myself)...

I had a couple of people ask me when the next blog will be posted...and truthfully, I'm not sure what story to tell next.  I have a million ideas and a billion distractions.  But I did write this poem a while ago and it rings true for me right now.  Maybe you, too? Untitled When you don’t know what to say; listen. When you don’t know what to do; be still. When you don’t know which way to go; stop. Breathe.  Breathe.  Breathe.   There will be a direction, a path, or a voice.  You will find it in the stillness and in the whisper of nature.  But it will not be rushed.   When the words are coming out in a fantastical rush; slow down. When you are running from instead of running to ; wait. When you have lost yourself; pause. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Most of the answers lie in the time in between.  Not the beginning or the end, but in the richness of the middle.  The piece that is often overlooked. ...

Actual photo of me at my 32 year old well-visit A few weeks ago I went for my 32 year old well-visit.  I had to do MATH to figure out how old I am for this post.  I honestly couldn’t remember.  I’m glad they knew how old I was at the office, it would have been awkward to pull out my phone calculator and do the subtraction problem. Also, I don’t actually see a Doctor.  I see a CPN or a CNP or something like that.  I get those letters confused a lot but the important thing is I see a person who can do a pap-smear and not a person who can do my taxes.  Or maybe she can do my taxes, too...I’ve never asked.  I’m going to put that on my list of questions for my 33 year old well-visit. I took my one year old, Zola, with me for emotional support and because she can’t stay at home by herself yet because she is too short to reach the phone in case of an emergency.  Also, she doesn’t know how to use a phone.  Also, we don’t actually have a ho...

“There is nothing more touching to me then a family picture where everyone is trying to look his or her best, but you can see what a mess they all really are.”    ― Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith So this is the fam.  There’s me-you’ll hear a lot about me.  Talking about myself is one of my favorite things. There’s my handsome husband Joe.  He’s a mix between super intelligent and super annoying.  If you’re like me, you’ll really like him most of the time and then sometimes think, “this guy should NOT be allowed to interact with other humans.”  He would literally do anything for me.  I’m not kidding.  I think if I told him I want to sell everything we have and go live on some island and weave baskets for a living he would do it.  But he would be super annoying about researching the best baskets to make, the best materials to use, the most efficient way to build a business.  He would take the fun ...