Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween! Let the rat race begin. This is one of those holidays that the work doubles when you have kids, but thankfully there are literally "sweet" rewards waiting for you at the finish line. Now, I don't live in a neighborhood per say, so for this household, there is no answering the door, admiring the costumes or giving double dips of the candy bowl to the best ones. "One for you, one for me, one for you, two for me." What people, you don't want to walk five miles out into the land of no street lights for a mini-snickers? You better work kids! Last year I even left a bowl full of candy with a sweet little "take one, eat one, leave some for your buddies" sign on the porch just in case someone made the mighty trek. I wouldn't want them to be disappointed after all that way. But, nothing.  So what tonight (or all day starting in an hour) means for us (mainly me, why don't I have a job again?) is that we go on a Halloween death drive/march spanning the East/West borders of Carbon County.  

Of course we have the Halloween parade, party and carnival at school all day to get the ball rolling. Yes, the carnival is during the day now, wouldn't want to leave it at night when both parents could attend to help wrangle, I mean enjoy the festivities. That's crazy talk! No, we like to watch you frantically chasing around a seven year old Ninja Turtle (who apparently gains cheetah like abilities after 15 cupcakes for breakfast) while holding a thirty-five pound, two year old Cowboy who spent all of that time learning how to walk only to "let" you carry him everywhere. You're right, it's much safer this way evil geniuses! 

  Next we have the East Carbon leg of the trip. Not only is it my hometown(love it there) it's where half of my family lives, so it goes without saying the thirty mile drive is a must do on the to-do. Plus, here's a tip, many of those considerate citizens go all out on the full size candy bars. Worth it! You drive around, see old friends and family, ogle the nephews, spend a quick couple hours hitting all of the "hot spots" and it's on to step three of the Halloween plan of attack. Back to Price.

This is when I get a second teammate to help with the defense/offense strategies. Thank you husband of mine,  because usually my stress level by now is an eight out of ten and the relief is a welcome sight! Now we can hit up all the Price stops we placed on the list. The neighbors, the co-workers, the family and you can't forget the neighbors of the families co-workers. Wouldn't want to offend anyone. Are we having fun yet? How long until these kids give me the proverbial finger(no, not literally) and actually go trick or treating around a neighborhood, door-to-door, like normal kids? I give it two to four years. 

Until then though, bring on the fourth and final rung on the ladder to candy heaven, it's Helper (told you we have an East/West border plans of attack )! Not only is there a beautifully lit two block neighborhood full of friendly faces and name brand candy(no candy corns or black and orange taffy chunks here), this  is also where my best friend stands like a beacon to all of us weary travelers with extra treats and movies to entertain/distract the adolescent crowd giving the adults time to enjoy themselves for a minute. So thoughtful! "A hot toddy before the walk around Castle Gate, don't mind if I do"! 

Some dinner for our stomachs and the day is complete. The finish line is crossed and permission to relax is granted. 

So with that, does everyone have their plans, their maps, their bucket(or two), their costumes, swords and masks too? Ok then. On your mark...get set...go!

Best "Maid" Plans

I have always said when you make plans to have kids, kids make your plans(whether you planned to or not, same rule applies).  This morning was one of those moments that reinforced that message to be the truth. It's should be tattooed on your hand like a wristwatch when you leave the hospital, birthing center, living room or forest floor(whatever, I don't know your life). That way every time you panic and start to look at your wrist, there's that little reminder. "Oh ya, I remember now. They can't tell time and couldn't care less what it was if they could." More than that though, they're a welcome (in my case much needed) reality check that reminds you what your real priorities are. 

    It started with an hour earlier radio alarm sounding (Ironically Garth Brooks-Ain't Going Down 'Til The Sun Comes Up) like a gunshot start to a foot race. This morning, my husband (who has been gone for two nights)was coming home from a work trip and I had stuff that just "had to be done". In many ways, I love operating in an old-timey housewife fashion and I don't like him to come home to a dirty house, clothes, kids or wife(you get your mind out of the gutter). I like the kids fed, one at school/one in my back pocket, the exercising done, the groceries bought, the homework finished, the laundry cleaned and the wife showered. So I woke up focused on that final outcome and mission minded Mom went into full form. You have to want it to win it people.

 Well, nothing can quite slap you in the face and open your eyes like sticking you're hand palm deep in poop first thing in the morning. Pre-coffee even too, I was not even close to prepared! It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what that smell is sight un-seen in a dark room. This is where we separate the women from the girls, and you prove what you're really made of. It's game time and not only am I the starter, I'm the only player this morning so taking a knee is not an option here. You've never seen a to-do get going faster in your lifetime then facing down a toddler literally covered in crap, a 7 year old "helpfully" reminding you from the shower that it's still "crazy hair" day at school and twenty minutes to figure it all out before the tardy bell rings (we missed that deadline).  I swear there is a part of your brain birthed right along with your babies thats sole purpose is to take over operations during times like these. It's an outer body experience. You actually just hover over yourself and watch the magic unfold with pit crew like speed and efficiency. Kids are cleaned, washers running, Febreeze sprayed and students delivered complete with crazy blue hair!  Miracles do exist people. 

   Just like that I pull back in the driveway, faith renewed for the desired results of the day. Game on right? Not so fast Momma, one ring of my phone with the Elementary School on the line and that survivor part of your brain effortlessly jumps back into action.  Not only do I have one projectile hurling child, but two. Twice the Pepto dosing, soup making, cartoon watching, bell ringing summoning and blanket washing for the price of one. So yes today more than most, I am faced with a  Mission Impossible type of day, but like I have said, this is where you separate the women from the girls and you show what you're really made of. It looks like today I'm made of diapers and wipes, sprite on Ice and lots of Top Ramen on the way. Good-bye list.

Better Left Unseen Scenery

On the way home from Denver yesterday I had an epiphany. I noticed a glaring mistake I have made that must be rectified immediately if you all would please just excuse my oversight. What is this giant blunder you ask? Well, with all this talk about the scenery along the all glorious road trip, I have neglected to address what could equally be the most entertaining and unexpected of all the sights. It's not what your car passes along the way, but who you pass. And why are they doing what they are while you do?

 First, we have the technologist. Not only has he read every travel gizmo and gadget magazine ever published, he owns some useless item from each. Of course, he has the Bluetooth headset (that they're never actually talking to anyone on), why would he want to hold his phone himself to talk like some ancient caveman? That move is for amateurs and he's a professional. Because with his two "hands free" of a cell phone, he can plug in the cigarette lighter coffee cup warmer (yes, kiddos thats what that plug is for...or was). Who has the time to drink your coffee in a timely manner with all of these important people calling? He's too busy punching his directions into the navigation system just for the off chance that he forgot how to get to work or was otherwise distracted by his new travel app dinging the best donut shops in the surrounding area.

Then there is the hygienist. No, not just your run of the mill, fixing a stray hair at a red light type of driver. This is the person who has figured out a way to cut ten minutes out of their daily routine by just finishing up some minor details during the commute. Why do your mascara in the safety of your own bathroom mirror when there is a perfectly reflective rear-view provided for you in your automobile? Need to shave your legs? No problem! You only need one foot at a time to operate an automatic pedal system safely right? Perfect! I've even seen one superior specimen shave, pluck and primp in the same five mile stretch. Multitasking! 

In complete opposition of the prior though, we have what I like to call the lack-of-hygeinist. We've all seen this person. The one who feels like their windows are walls that hide the disgusting hyjinks being carried out behind them. "What do mean you don't want to watch me pick my nose then do the unthinkable while you're waiting to turn?" The world is their napkin and they don't care who has to witness the digging deep of noses, ears, teeth or worse regions that shall remain unnamed to protect those with sensitive stomachs. What better time than a red light to open my door and show you how far I can spit something repulsive while I give you the "what's up" nod? Be reasonable people!

Yes, while the sights we see from the road are usually made up of the sweet scenery of natures serenity, there is no denying the ever present sightings of societies finest. Sprinkled in with the aforementioned, are the interesting additions of the "too short to see" driver(usually of the the elderly variety), the "who needs sleep when there are two lanes for a buffer zone" driver or the ever popular "two people melting into one because we're sitting so close" driver(s)(definitely more common in a country setting).  While we may make fun of the view from our seat, there is no denying the entertainment value of our fellow sightseers. Just be careful not to rubberneck at the train wrecks you see(no-matter how difficult to look away) or risk causing your own for others to see themselves. It's a vicious cycle!

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Today is one of those days where I'm faced with a  list. Not just the "things that must be done every day to keep the ship afloat" kind of list, no it's the kind that has double the chores to check off and half time to complete them in.  It's a keep your eye on the prize if you want to claim it, revel in it and enjoy it kind of list and I do! I'm focused! At the end of this long and seemingly impossible mission is a glorious shining beacon known as a "weekend alone"! That's right people its a mini vacation list(by far the best and most motivating of all it's counterparts). Once I finish this race I'll be savoring a sweet weekend with my love that pinnacles with...wait for it...seats at Sundays Broncos/Redskins showdown(or beat down, could go either way)! That's right people, it's game time!

   Now I like to jump right in and start with the fun the second we pull out of Grammys driveway and wave good-bye. Maybe that sounds terrible to you, but let me assure you that I love my boys with a fire that burns deep and I also love spending almost every minute of every day (I do sleep, I'm not a machine) tending to their needs, wants, feelings, emotions, development, education, etc. It's my life's work.  But that's what makes these trips even sweeter. It's the fact that they are so few and far between that makes you appreciate it all the more(don't think for a second they're not ready for a break from us too, Grammys house if like Disneyland minus the rules). But, I feel that's true with anything in life, if you have to much of a good thing you get immune to its enjoyment and lack the appreciation that should be a given. Spoiled! Not this girl. I do appreciate it and I definitely plan to enjoy every glorious minute of it (maybe not as much as last year, lesson learned Coyote Ugly). 

So it's Kickoff time and that means the road trip over. You're making plans, making plans to kick some butt(censored), even making plans to kick some butt and take some names. Who knows?! The weekend is young, it could go anywhere(and by anywhere, I mean a sports bar for beer and wings, lets not get crazy here). But it's true. You see somewhere you want to stop, do it. Is there some backroad you want to detour on, take it(just be careful, we've all seen that horror movie).  Maybe you want to take a minute to check out what that guy on the off ramp is selling out of his van, why not? It's your destination, how you get there's half the fun. 

Second quarter has to be the first night there. It's when you pre-game for the actual game  itself. You can let your hair down and travel back in time to find that pre-kid version of yourself (also a time to be careful though, sometimes that version has been discontinued for a reason).  For my husband and I, it's like we get to know each other all over again during these trips."There you are, I forgot how much fun we can be!" Re-discovered! However, it is important to maintain myself during this time. I may feel like a kid again when released into the world sans my own kiddos, but the hard truth is I'm more than a few years past that era and recovery is not as quick as it used to be. No hangovers for halftime! 

Third Quarter=Tailgating. It's really almost as fun as the game itself! Almost. There's the food(as always, my personal favorite),  the drinks, the impromptu football games with total strangers and then there's the giveaways. Although for some it is, it isn't the sponsors first rodeo. They know how to prep and please the crowd so they start right off with the gifts. T-shirts, koozies and yes bottle openers, oh my! It's like Christmas for a sports fan and it all leading to the highlight of the trip.

Fourth Quarter, the game itself! It's the climax of the weekend and the whole reason you left your kids at home(who if you're like us, you've missed since the minute you left and have called thirty times to check on). For me, either team winning is a win for me taking away the pressure of being too passionate. Carefree. The plays, the scoring, the sounds, the sights, even the skydivers(yes there are skydivers, Denver doesn't disappoint), it's an experience like nothing else.  So with the two minute warning, I leave you with a song to sing, enjoy! And if on Monday no entry is to be found, well, wait another day. I'm on vacation!

Are you ready for some football? A Sunday night party! We've got the Broncos and Redskins ready to get this game started! Well it starts at two, no need for the lights. Stadium food and cold beer on ice. Yes all the rowdy fans are back for Sunday night! How's that rendition Hank? 

The Evolution of Exercise

Evolution of Exercise

In College, the BDAC was like a second home for me(for you out-of-towners that is our local college Gym). Yes for the Basketball games, but mainly for its "expansive" work-out facilities. Anytime or every time I wanted to (before work/after work, before parties/never after parties), I could go there and I did. It was literally as easy as that. Completely up to my own will and my want. The older you get however, different predicaments come into to play. If you want it, you have to plan ahead and be ready to take that chance when it arises. Yes, nosy women at the check out line, that is why I shop in my running shoes and am usually dressed like a Hanes Athletic spokeswoman. Mind your business. There are obstacles, but nothing's impossible if you find a way to make it work for your lifestyle.

  In my case, it's all about the babies(not the Benjamin's, wrong blog). They rule this roost with an iron fist that they make look effortless. In terms of the toddler, everything depends on either a nap or the presence of another capable person to supervise for a minimum of 45 minutes (a rarity on a semi-daily basis). You would think a nap would be a given, but as I have described in length in other blogs, not so much. "You needs it? You wants it? To bad, you can't have it." For the seven year old, though, it is much easier to find the time now that I have figured out the foolproof plan of entertainment/distraction. It all comes down to the very basic needs(his basic needs) chocolate milk, cookies, cartoons. Line these pretty maids in a row and while they last, that kid couldn't care less if you were downstairs or down east. Simple right? 

   In the instance that the stars do align and that window of opportunity opens, now comes the other basic needs(mine). As I stated, a sitter is a scarcity around these parts, so the gym is out and classes are out(they say you can bring them, but I will not be the Mom with her son taking kicks to the face so I could feel the burn). But that doesn't mean that you can't get the same results at home.  Trust me, if you have the necessary tools, it's just as enjoyable and its free(minus the shoes, clothes, equipment, DVDs, etc.) If you're anything like me, you can't simply take off with your thoughts to roam the trails and listen to yourself breathing. No,  if I'm running outside, the mood must be right. That means music! Not just any music on the radio (there's nothing worse than getting in the groove and have to push through car insurance commercials or ads for "function" vitamins), no it has to be accompanying, it has to be lively and most of all it has to motivate! One of my husbands Merl songs has been slipped into my playlist somehow and while I do love the man, nobody(except him)wants to be in the height of your pace and hear Okie From  Muskogee come over the headphones. If your running at home, it's all about the movies you pick for the occasion. I've found action movies work best for me. But be careful, Braveheart once pushed me to push myself so hard my legs hated me for days. Lesson learned William Wallace! Then you have the exercise DVDs. Which ones work the best, which one goes by the quickest or which one have you seen so many times that you recite the entire script while doing your squat sequence(even though that's annoying, if it works, still better than buying a new one to me). Informed!

    It's true that it does take an inconceivable amount or work these days verses ten years ago to accomplish what once came easy, but its worth it!  Even with the fact that now my post workout body feels like a train ran over me, then backed up and did it again for good measure. It takes work to work out, but I'll take these aches and suffer through the soreness with a sense of achievement! Because when I'm done, I really feel just like John McClane, Yippee ki yay all you Mothers!

Store Science

When you're single or of the pre-parent crowd, a trip to the grocery store is an easy in-and-out stop that goes without a thought.  Whether you want some popcorn for the uninterrupted movie you have Netflixed that night(lucky SOB) or you want to stand and sample the deli products(making an educated decision) you can. Luxury! If you do have "little ones" tagging along for the ride though, this is another one of those processes that requires a map, a list and a detailed plan of attack. It goes past the basic knowledge of who has the best produce (Fresh Market), who has the best baked goods (Smiths), or the best meat for miles (worth a trip to R &A every time). You can't just go in there all willy nilly, wandering around aimlessly without a care. That's how you get into the all hated "screaming demon" zone. We all  have went though it, (we've felt the dagger stares of hatred sent our way)but trust me, there are ways around it. 

     If you have made more than a few stops at a given grocery store, you have learned by now which aisle shares its space with "the toy section". Unless you are one of those people that's just willing to buy one every time to keep the peace(we are nothing alike), it's imperative that you avoid this aisle at all costs or at a minimum save it for last. But those "considerate" clerks have made this even more difficult by placing a $5.99 Twinkie holder or bag of farm animals  halfway down every single aisle.  Successfully distract your descendants away from that fact and you can cut down your chance of a Defcon 5 blow-up  at least 80%. Easy.

    Now, if you see a mother with small children (or any children really) tagging along, know she is in a hurry. She isn't there to visit. She isn't there to browse around and kill some time. Unless she is one of those Moms that is immune to the "you took too long, now I'm going to lose my mind" sounds that can erupt without warning(again we are nothing alike, I can't take it). But there is away to send out a signal that your not looking to socialize when your radar senses someone is of that opinion(or you are just avoiding eye contact pretending you didn't see someone. Admit it, we have all done/had that done to us). All you have to do, is grab the item directly in front of you(even if it's tampons or anti-diarreals, there's no room for humility) and pretend to read the label or ingredients. "No time to talk here, I need to know if this is real plastic or how many grams of carbs per serving this box of croutons totes!" You have to make it convincing though, no deer in a headlight looks or knocking items off of the shelf in a panic. Just read long enough to suffice and keep it moving, eye on the prize people!

  You also have to be aware of the many "creepers" wandering the area and learn to either interact briefly with or deflect efficiently. There are the lonely "older" gentlemen that make the pilgrimage there for the sole reason that they want small talk.  Smile, say hello, be friendly (respect your elders people), make a quick joke even. But trust me, keep walking slowly.  If you stop, your next half hour is scheduled for you.  Although, If I do happen to be alone, a cool story about their life or experience isn't at all Un-welcome(within reason). On the flip side of the coin though, are the lonely "younger" men (not gentlemen) that somehow take your frazzled look, the angry grumbles to your already fed-up children and your speed walker like pace as an invite for a come-on. "Clearly that woman has time to hear my best lines, and wants too." Deflect! There is no etiquette required here. All bets are off and any response is accepted. Go with your "motherly" instinct. 

Trust me, I have spent years developing this science. Research has been done, experiments carried out, blood and tears have been shed(Ok, maybe not blood. I tend to exaggerate)and trust me, the results are irrefutable. Although I can't guarantee that you'll never have to worry about a meltdown again(just Monday my kid made a showing the likes of which I've never seen), but they can be fewer and farther between if you use these tricks accordingly! Or you can always just wait until your husband comes home, say you forgot something and tell him you"ll be "real quick" while you sneak your two page list into your pocket. Either way.

Meet Cleaver

    While watching old sitcom reruns last night, I started thinking (maybe to long) about my stay at home "Momdom"(new word, inventive I know) and how much the job has changed over time. Myself being a card carrying member of their 5+ year club, (Three more years and I get a aluminum gift. They may need to re-evaluate the anniversary schedule, I can get an aluminum "gift set"of 6, 12 or 24 any time I please) I thought I'd share my perspective. The days of the 50s style housewife/mother are long gone, but their spirit lives on in the hearts of us, their kindred sisters in the Order of the Mothers(it's more official and exclusive that way). June Cleaver may be the ideal version, but this isn't T.V. and its not the 1950s anymore, so I have taken this occupation of devotion and made it my own. It may not work for you but neither do I, so why not read and enjoy? 

    I give my kids their breakfast every morning and yes, there's no T.V. while they eat it. However, the fact that it comes in toaster pastry form or from a Malt-O-Meal bag rather than homemade French toast and eggs, I feel is irrelevant. I do drive my son to school in my pajamas every morning (modern Momma style though,  I've never worn a set of curlers in my lifetime) but I don't get out of the car to show the world this poor kid with the Mom in an old t-shirt and slipper boots.  Considerate! I let him pick the music too whether I like it or not. Gone are the days of hiding your Ozzy records under your mattress (as long as it's not Beiber or Cyrus. I can only bend so far before I break). Once home, on goes the list of  "potential" accomplishments to tackle by three o'clock (there is a two year old "boss" around just making things interesting). The house cleaning, laundry washing, bill paying, diaper changing, kid chasing and shopping(groceries not clothes, I can't remember the last piece of clothing I bought myself). Put one of these off too long and the proverbial shit will hit the fan, then it takes hours to finish a five minute project. Heaven knows I love them, but something's are just easier without "help". I sit down for homework time every afternoon, but the homework they give second grade kids these days I learned at twelve and I was barely paying attention then. Do you know how humbling it is to have a seven year old correct your use of an apostrophe? Least favorite job ever!

   Now my Grandma was the ultimate housewife/mother and (Bless her soul) she went her entire 91 years never learning how to drive. An anomaly these days being as that if we didn't drive now, how would anyone get anywhere? Imagine all the empty soccer/baseball/basketball practices or missed play dates all around? Madness! But, I myself have taken this to a further extreme (more common in the country) and have taken in upon myself to become a pretty damn decent ATV driver (however,after owning a dirt bike for a year I still looked like a baby deer learning to walk). I've had some form of them since I was a five year old and being a "Mommy" has not quenched my need for speed. If anything, it's fueled it based on my ever growing fear of falling into the aging rut. I love to feel the wind in my face, the adrenaline in my veins and yes, even the dirt in my teeth. Rally Mom style!

   Exercising is just another line on the list of changes for a modern housewife vs. our 50's counterparts. The image we've all seen of the woman in a calf length skirt drinking a martini while the fat literally was "shaken" off of them by a mine belt has been replaced by training for marathons while pushing a stroller packed with kids and their many necessities. We'll jog to the store these days, kids in tow and make a stop at the bank for a quick errand. They get a sucker and we burn some calories while crossing off two to-dos. Multitasking! If your lucky enough, they didn't fall asleep on the way and you may even be able to slip in the elusive solo shower that doesn't consist of using the shampoo/conditioner blend to cut 2-3 minutes out of the process!

     It's no lie that the many job requirements have changed on the resume of a stay-at-home mom over the years. I can't say whether it's the right choice for everyone or even if it was the right choice for me (the results are still a few years out). I'm not even saying I'm remotely close to being one who we would use as a reference to our kind, there are more than a few don'ts on my list. I don't bake for two good reasons(For one there are many bakers close to my house much better than I am who get paid to do so and who am I to infringe on their territory or income? Secondly, if I bake them, I will eat them, period). I'm not even a member of the PTA(shocking). I tested those waters long enough to find out that my saying "Sure, I'll help at the Halloween party" is interpreted as "I'm willing to devote my every waking second to every fundraiser, drive,  carnival, project or field trip we can possibly ever imagine! I never need to do anything not school related again, ever!" Props to those of you that do, it's not for me.  I am, however, saying that while I may have flipped this housewife business on its bottom and I am nowhere close to June Cleaver status, I dare to say that if we were face to face in a stay-at-home off, she would surely rue the day she met this housewife. 

Exploring, Expeditions and Stunts

I woke up this morning and it was a little hard not to be mad. Without camping or hunting the rest of this year, how will our fun be had? The Powell trips are done, the trailer too, even the lawn sprinklers have paid their dues. We've spent all year criss crossing this state and yes we may have even pushed it a little to late. We're the last to winterize, the last to care. But hey, we still have our stories to share. So sit back with your drinks, your coffee, your tea and spend the morning reminiscing with me! How's that for poetic huh? Take that Poe! 

 It's no joke or story made up for fun that this was our last camping trip of the year and we went out with a bang. My Dad(the coolest man on the planet) had a tag and unselfishly enough(being that as we all know, I am the hunting jinx) let me tag along for two mornings of the search. Day one was spent with an eight year old completing our trio of hunting glory. We rose with the sun, we rode and we froze. We road hunted that desert scape leaving no hillside Un-glassed and (obviously) came up empty until the executive decision had to made to call it, mix a screw driver and/or maybe a tequila sunrise(we are nothing if not thorough) and hopefully change our luck! Well ask and you shall receive my brother, because morning number two gave us a run for our money and some adrenaline for our veins. Sans the eight year old(probably for the best),  we crossed a track that could have belonged to the Grandfather of all desert deer. For those of you who are not in the know, that would mean big! Big horns, big head and last but not least,(thanks to what would be a generous donation from Papa Todd) big meat to fill our ever empty freezer of despair. But, I'll be damned if the Gods of humor didn't catch wind of our luck and set sights on my poor Dad and his poor choice of a partner for the day. That monster Muley(I'm assuming, based on the shortage of buffalo in the area) lead us on the worlds most exciting game of ring around the rosy, staying just close enough to give us hope but far enough away to remain unseen. Bucks are jerks like that! Hours later we had to concede to his cunning, admit his savvy to remain elusive (call him an asshole under our breath) and make our way back to camp. Better luck this week Dad! I look forward to the inevitable pictures of your success sans "the jinx". 

Hunting wasn't the only dish on the menu though. We tend to have a short attention span and find other means of recreation in the hunting median(11-4, usually). This trip we were lucky enough to have a trail system full of old uranium mines and cabins to wander around. By wander I mean look inside at the four feet you could see and curse(secretly celebrate) the fact that we all "forgot" flashlights. It's dark in there! We may be many things but pumped to get lost in an old mine "the Hills Have Eyes" style is not one of them.  Gazing at their wonder and history from the safety of daylight was cool enough. Beautiful. 

In between the hunting expeditions and mine explorations, we're lucky to get front row seats to my brothers never ending display of daredevil deeds (as we always do whenever dirt, rocks or any other rideable surface really is present). Let me tell  those of you missing the days of Evil Kneivel, have no fear. His soul is alive and well in the heart of Tony. If something is at all feasible in the mind of a maniac, he will do it. He can climb it, jump it, race it and test it's very limits leaving you as entertained and nervous as if you were front row at Nitro Circus live. Best of all it's free for family and by invite only. Exclusive! 

 So with a tear in our eye and a swig of our beer, we said good-bye to the best time of year. We packed up our toys and put them away but we'll keep them close for sunnier days. Yes, as I have said, we went out with a bang. Because if there is one thing I know, this family can hang!

No "Balls"

I know I said I wouldn't write any entries taking a stand on Politics, Religion or any other controversial subjects.I'm aware that I may  lose some of you here and it's pretty much a given that I'm going to gain my hateful anonymous messenger back(hope you had a nice vacation). That's just a risk I'm willing to take people! Even I can't hold my tongue anymore! Shocking I know, usually I'm a brick wall of silence when confronted with the controversial(why are you laughing?). However, I have finally been faced with a news story that I couldn't ignore. The headline alone practically begs for a reckoning"School Bans Balls." No, I'm not paraphrasing.  We have reached the point where someone in charge spent their afternoon taking every "hard ball" off of the play ground and replacing them with plush foam pads. "No helmets?! What if the balls hit them in the head? You insensitive monster!" This got me thinking about growing up in 80's-90's era of awesomeness! Lets take a little trip back in time and compare how much luckier we were than kids these days.(Can we even refer to them as "kids" anymore? It is a synonym for "joke" and we could be causing irreparable damage to their confidence level!) 

Playtime at school for us would be considered the gladiator arena of death these days. Plastic playgrounds? Foam balls? No tag like "rough games"?! We had solid metal jungle gyms with 15 ft. tall steel slides that reached surface of the sun like temperatures in the summer. If you fell off, you landed in dirt, got scratched up, put on a band-aid and kept on trucking. We figured out a way to turn every game into a "tackle version" (yes, even I being a girl, participated. We weren't raising any sissy lalas on the streets of E.C.) Yet, here we are. Mind blowing! I remember walking away from a game of red rover happy to still have two arms attached. When we had field day, the races were on asphalt and you were allowed to celebrate when you won. Hell, when you succeeded in actual sports, we even had a thing called trophies that you earned to show it. Scandalous! 

Now I grew up in a super small town and I loved every minute of it. As kids, we were tough, we were wild and most of all, we were outside. Playing night games, building huts, playing in creeks, getting muddy, and racing ATVs down dirt trails. (How did we ever survive?)We would pack some snacks, go for a walk in the cedars for hours at a time where there were snakes and other wild animals. Can you imagine? When you had an argument, you settled it and you were allowed to defend yourself against bullies without fear. All of this we did without constant adult supervision. Character building! It was the best of times, it was...yes, still the best of times.

The more and more I see these stories and these changes to the norms that were once considered rights you not only got to enjoy as kids you were expected and encouraged too, the more I know one fact to be inevitable. Soon you won't have to say "no balls allowed" there won't be a set to found. 

Road Trippin'

One, two, a one, two, three, four. On the road again, I just can't wait to get on the road again.The life I love is "writing blogs" for you my friends, and I cant wait to get on the road again! Now that I have that tune stuck in your head for the rest of the day and have hopefully placed you in a "festive" mood(as festive as you can be at 6:00 a.m.), let's take a little trip shall we? 

Every family has gone, plans to go or remembers from their childhood times when they jumped in the car, threw in a map and hit the open road for a trip. If you're a kid you grab a pillow, some magazines, your music(discman with a cinder block size c.d. case in my day) and your good! It's really that easy. Lucky, I know! For parents, a three day road trip takes three weeks to pack for. There's everyone's bags, coats, shoes, hats...etc. Spare tires, fuses, spark plugs or whatever else could go bad on your rig because believe me, it will. Thinking ahead could be the only thing standing between you keeping it moving and you trying to convince your kids that the four hours they're spending sitting on a rock by the road is really an "adventure". Nobodies buying that line. You  have to pack the right drinks and snacks. Coke or Pepsi? Nuts or no nuts? Redvines or Twizzlers? No pressure, but you have to be prepared to please the impossible. Nobody likes listening to a twenty minute argument over having the wrong munches.  "Black licorice, what kind of crap is this?! We're turning around!" Now on top of all of that, you must use every skill you've learned to get it all to fit flawlessly in the car. This is where those hours of Tetris come in to play. See, handy!

I have to say, my parents were great at road trips! We always went to awesome places and found the coolest stuff to do(honestly, my family could make a padded room a party). We ate at every Mexican restaurant in the surrounding states and they never forgot the Bob Segar/Eagles/Steve Miller tapes(Yes, I said tapes. Look it up kids). It definitely made for some memories! A few of mine even find their way into most campfire conversations still to this day. 

Take the infamous Steamboat "soup or salad" incident of 94'. Say it three times fast now, what does it sound like? Soup or salad, souper salad, and yes I heard "super salad". Sounds delicious right? I thought so too. Waitress: "Soup or salad Miss?" Yes, please. "No, soup or salad?" I said yes! Sounds good! What's the problem here? "SOUP OR SALAD MISS?!" Jesus, is she deaf?!Three times, Yes I'll have that! Why is everyone staring at me? My Mom leans in and musters over her laugh "salad or soup, babe?" Oh, I see....(puts head down)"soup please." There hasn't been one time since that day that I don't catch crap when any waitress/every waitress asks that stupid question. 

Then there was Yellowstone 91'. Aww the beauty, the majesty, the geysers and yes the bugs.  They say everything is big in Texas, well not to argue but the big bugs are living fat and happy in Yellowstone! Being around eight years old and small (probably the last time I remember that I wasn't seven feet tall), it was my job to shimmy up the motorhome ladder every time my Dad asked me to. This one particular time though was the start of a nightmarish event that continues to haunt my dreams(again, who says I exaggerate). I'm up there, feeling big, feeling brave and helping out, until I hear "Austin, don't move." Now you know what instincts kick in when someone says those words. Your brain takes it in and turns it into "Move you idiot! Something is on you somewhere and it's trying to kill you!" I composed myself (based on the fact that I'm eight feet up a ladder)enough to turn my head as far back as I can. There staring back at my face is a pair of five inch long antennas attached to a giant devil bug from the netherworld climbing up my back! Spider-Man didn't have nothing on me as I pulled off a flailing jump maneuver to the ground and into the sweet safety of the motorhome in .6 seconds. The scream could probably have been heard in Texas.  I hysterically fill my Mom and Grandma in on the incident and they console me with a snack. Instantly distracted and comforted...until I go to take a bite. I pull the sandwich up to my face, brace myself for the delicious ham/turkey mix and out of the corner of my eye something wiggles. It's here, it's on my arm and staring me down Tombstone showdown style! That wretched beast never left at all, it was just sitting, waiting for the prime moment to strike again and nows his chance! Pure evil I tell you. Hearing my screams, my Grandma being the ever fearless woman she is picked that sucker up, showed it who was boss threw it out the door. She had us on the road in minutes and away from this demon spawn hell bent on on my demise. I loved that woman.  We shake it off, pull onto the road and as we drive off I look to the windshield just in time to see that bastard fly into it for scene three of this horror show! You have to admire his persistence.  A flip of the wiper switch this time however and problem solved. Again campfire fodder forever. 

Road trips really are the best pastime though. What other vacation can you take where you have no choice but to be close to each other. The sights, the stops, the stories, even the smells(you know what I mean). It's all plays a part in the participation and evolves the experience. Black licorice, breakdowns, big ass stalker bugs or even super salads, it's all good for future material. At least these days I'm old enough to be the butt of the jokes with a beer!

Parent"hood"

Being a parent gives you more respect for your own parents.  Thats a fact! Slowly you begin to understand why they may have been angry at or may not have appreciated your constant smart ass remarks (however perfectly timed they may have been) for the humor intended by them. Who knew that it wasn't funny to hear that 24/7? Now you get why they wanted you to do your work in school and not spend twice the time figuring out a way not to and get away with it. "Sorry Cam, I know you're only seven but this Math is too hard for Mom"! To be fair, they do start teaching them Calculus right out of the womb now. It's like a pressure cooker of principles and your recipe better be spot on. There is no App for this.

You have to start with the manners when they're tiny. They can say "pwetty pwease" for their cocoa and Mickey Mouse. It's important! I say please and thank you for everything (I said thank you for my $90 speeding ticket...idiot). Don't take the last pizza slice without offering it to anyone(or just wait until they leave the room, then its on). If you don't have nothing nice to say keep quiet(you're thoughts are your own though, so enjoy them).  Really, nobody wants to raise that kid that silently walks through the door you're holding for them or even worse the kid who doesn't hold it at all. Ever thought somebody was going to hold the door for you so you run to catch it and you end up just running into the closing door faster? No? Neither have I, that was hypothetical...

You want to raise them to ride that fine line between confidence and cockiness. I want my boys to know they have the power to do or be anything they want too. When I tell Cam this, he throws out Clown College at me(smart ass remarks, I get it now). But that's an issue for another year, hopefully 10 years from now! You want them to be fearless, to be willing to try anything without thinking about failure. I'm sure Johnny Knoxvilles Mom would argue this is only valid to a point, but you can't argue that he has found his niche(even though it involves broken bones, swallowing worms or taking "gas"to the face). He is confident though, good job Mrs. Knoxville. 

Being respectful is high on the list of learning and they learn by watching.  So the way you act towards people is how they inevitably will too.  I know, you would think they'd know better. They see you roll your eyes at the woman in front of you arguing for 10 minutes over the price of green beans going up .07 cents a can(it takes restraint to be a parent). They notice when you "make a helpful suggestion" to other drivers on the road. However much they deserve it! Every name you use, every face you make, they see it and I swear they take notes.  It's like seeing yourself in one of those funhouse mirrors. Better behave! Don't interrupt when someone is talking(I have yet to get my son to realize how annoying that is. It's a 9out of 10 at least). Don't tell someone who cooked for you that it looks gross(even if it looks like something coming out instead of going in) you eat it and do your best "this is delicious" face. Look people in the eyes, listen when somebody is talking to you, wait your turn, leave your clothes on in public, etc. I'm annoyed just listening to myself, no wonder they give me a look like they would smack me if they didn't know any better and could run faster.

Worrying about all of this can put you in an early grave if you let it, but you can't hide from it either. You can't put it off and you can't just hope someone else is going to do it for you. If you do, you could end up with that comic book bully of a kid that nobody wants to show up at their house for dinner. It's all you! It's like a job interview that never ends. "Did I do a good job?"  Parent of the year,  Parent of the day or just Parent that made it through a day without killing somebody? I'll take the latter any day of the week. It's not called Parent"hood" for nothing. Only the strong survive!

"Dye-ing" Over Here

Having two boys has given me many gifts to cherish, enjoy and appreciate. The list is endless really(even longer on days no teeth are protruding from them or its "new app Tuesday"). Conversely though, other "bonuses" have reared their ugly mug years before their scheduled expectancy(which is strangely/sadly something I have become used to.  The most stubborn of which is also the most unwelcome though.  Yes, it's gray hair people. That's right my hair has begun to add salt with the pepper and I'm not ready for it! This is an all out war and I'm already on plan C on my list of "foolproof" A-Z battle plans.  

It started out innocent enough(they're sneaky bastards that way). I saw that extra shiny piece of hair sticking up that I could almost convince myself was just really blonde(I'm a brunette). Just to be safe, you pull it, chock it up to a freak occurrence and pretend that it never existed...until you see it has friends. Shady friends too. The kind of friends that show up out of nowhere and make a scene in public just to make you look bad(they have no shame). Now you're faced with a problem. You could pull them too and the next ones and then the ones after them until your head ends up looking like one of my old Barbie dolls after too many years of "playtime". Believe me, it's not pretty. On to plan "B" then. 

 It's obviously time to make an appointment and commence with the every 6 week schedule you've seen every "older than you" woman maintain flawlessly to keep their fresh look going. This would work for me too if it wasn't for the abnormally thick (a "blessing" I actually appreciate) head of hair I grow. It takes a stock room full of hair dye to cover it and judging by the price, they make that stuff out of pure gold! The vain side of me smiles at the finished product before the frugal side of me sees the $80.00 receipt and dies a little inside. I don't spend $80 on anything besides gasoline and that's only because they have me cornered. Plan "C" it is!

We've all been here right...I can't be the only one. It's the do-it-yourself kit you picked up at the grocery store you had to go to anyway. Eggs, spaghetti sauce, Popsicles and yes, now hair dye. This isn't my first time, that one was spent with my then 7 year old nephew having to climb in the sink and help with the back. "You're right Austin, that is pretty white"! Less talking, more dyeing! So this time I thought it out a little more. Figured out my timing and waited until after tacos and football to ask my more than willing(yeah right) husband to just help me for a minute. "Why don't you have any friends to come over and do this?" (Ouch, that hurt a little, but I'm alright). For one, its 9 p.m. on a Monday and two I secretly like to torture him by forcing "unmanly" jobs his way. Hey, quality time is quality time! A few beers later and a promise to ruin the dreaded "ugliest t-shirt ever" and we're in business. Between his eyes that can see the back of my head for me and my uncanny ability to wipe dye from every surface within five feet, we make a good team too. It looks great, I saved $60 and I don't even have cheetah spots this time. Mission accomplished! We'll see what master plan I have to come up with six weeks from now.

Spirit of Sunday

Aww, Sunday.  For some or many of you(I'm still not sure who all is reading this thing) it is a day for rest, a day of reflection and a day to appreciate and enjoy all this world has provided you while you examine your inner faith. Believe it or not, I'm no different than you. Now I have been known to sometimes come off as loud, opinionated and even impulsive. I've  heard the term sarcastic(who me? never!) used more than once, but let me assure you that I am not without spirit and vision(I'm full of it). Let me give you insight as to how I too enjoy a relaxing Sunday. 

  Take yesterday, I'm up with the chickens as they say(FYI chickens are idiots, who needs to up this early?)driving up the mountain for another morning of hunting. We have a truck full of sleepy but determined people. Even the seven year old can't stop talking(for 20 miles straight, without a breath) about how ready he is for the last day of this marathon to nowhere and nothing. We search and search, we drive and drive, we come up empty and we slide back down the mountain sideways in the mud. Rest, check!

On the way home, we think about all the time we have dedicated to this search. Literally days have been spent one after the other looking. Then there is the money spent. You have to spend money to make money right? "Let's buy two tags, twice the meat! Steaks all around!" We could easily have bought a cow, fed it the grass equivalent of caviar(Kentucky Blue??) and gave it the finest spring water(still tap, btw) filled the freezer and still had enough left over to spring for some BBQ sauce from the top shelf! Reflection, check!

Upon reading the big game proclamation, we even discover that the state not only let's this hunt go until Thursday, they open it up two more times over the next two months to give you ample chances to "provide". Generous! Even they know what we've been through and they're not about to let us go down without a fight! What they don't know however, is that while determined(to a fault) and willing(maybe not able), even we know when to abandon a sinking ship. Appreciate all the world has provided, check!

But above all, you have to have to believe! Without fail, I know two things to be true. One, at any time (Mon. -Sat. 12-8) I can buy flavored Vodka and make one hell of a screwdriver and two, they sell all kinds of meat already butchered, wrapped and ready to BBQ at any given grocery store.  Faith, check!

Well I Was Born in a Small Town

I am small town, period. Everything about me says it, shows it and proves it. Not even Price small town, this place seemed like the bright light city when I left good old EC to "venture out" and find my place in this world and for those of you that don't know, I "ventured"all of thirty miles.  But that was huge! My graduating class had somewhere around 18-30 kids in it, so to be fair that was far enough for me.  But I really do feel it in my soul that I need the dirt over pavement/Walmart is our mall type of lifestyle.
 I love it for the traffic or actually the lack there of. For the fact that I have been so used to not dealing with it my entire life that when I have to follow two cars to my house, I yell out "what the hell is this, a traffic jam"?! I can't handle crowds or people or traffic. I come out of that canyon going up North and I swear there is a vein my throat that senses the sudden flux in population and the tension hits. "Quick, find a beer...wait, dammit this is Provo!" That's exactly how it goes.

I love that I live where you can look out the window and see land for days,  the mountains, the desert (not dessert people, we're not talking about pie)and trails leading everywhere.   It's perfect for someone like me who needs to have that constant outing at hand! You want to run? Minus a mountain lion or the occasional "overly friendly" dog, there are no threats.  Hike? Take off then, what's stopping you? Snowmobile, mountain bike, ATV, dirt bike, hell even bird watch(I don't what you're into) whatever,  its here. No traveling required. You can literally pull your trailer, pack your tent, set up your cot or pass out under your truck(again, I don't know what you're into) five minutes from home with no worries about having enough ice or Cheetos.  It's perfect. 

Lastly, the most attractive part of small town life is special because it can also be the worst part. It's the people. Like the song says "everybody dies famous in a small town". You know almost everyone and they know you. It has its perks if you look at them the right way. I like that the bank knows my voice and I don't have to waste the 10 seconds giving my birthday or SS#(both questions always panic me and make me feel like I'm a criminal accessing my own account). Handy! Then there are the checkers at the grocery store that know your parents/in-laws and your plans for the weekend. They can tell you not to buy those hamburger buns because they already did. Considerate! Some people wish they wouldn't, but I like that the liquor store workers know what you like and can tell you when you walk in if they're out of it before you have to walk down the aisle youself. Helpful! Everyone(well almost everyone, nowhere's that perfect)waves, smiles, makes small talk, laughs at your jokes and tells you your kids are cute even when they're screaming. That's just thoughtful!  

I'm not saying its perfect (we have no Cafe Rio and thats a travesty by itself) and I know it's not for everyone. But if it wasn't for towns like this with people like these and hobbies like those, then what would the Country Music Industry have to sing about?

One Mans Trash

I think it's time that I finally admit something publicly. Something I have been keeping to myself and my close family and friends for a long, long time. I have a serious addiction. I have tried to quit every way I that I know how to and nothing has worked. It's got me man. Hi, my name is Austin and I am addicted to reality television.  No, I'm not proud of it and yes, sometimes it's hard to look at myself after I just watched what I did.  But if I'm going to be honest, I mean brutally honest, I LOVE it! I watch it every chance I get and when it's over I can't wait to watch it again! I have even devoted long hours developing and perfecting a rating system for my favorite types of reality T.V.(who says I exaggerate to much). It all comes down to the likes, the like even mores and the LOVES.

I like challenge shows. I like how the contestants are literally willing to do anything for anything, however insignificant the prize. I've seen people eat rotten pigs feet to win a box of toilet paper then scream like they just won the lottery. Some do it for the 200+ lb. weight loss they can accomplish as long as they are willing to share their blood sweat and tears with millions of people. It's emotional! Others do it for the recognition. You want to be the next clothing designer, top chef, singer, dancer, tattoo artist or even the baddest of the bad girls? Here is you chance!  You win one of these, you will be remembered for years to come(or until the next contestants come on 6-9 months later). But most all of these people do it for what else? The money of course! We live in a world where you can become an instant millionaire (sometimes thousandaire...yes, not a real word I'm aware) if you're willing to eat more live cave spiders than the next person. Winner!

Even more than competition shows though, I like anything New Jersey related. Jersey Shore(and it's many entertaining spin offs),  Jerseylicious, Mob Wives and definitely The Real Housewives (actually any Real Housewives Series! Atlanta, OC, Miami...yes, all of them). I now feel like I could fit in New Jersey seamlessly. I've picked up the lingo(ex. grenades), I love the Gym(my basement), I'm already tan (no thanks to any known ancestry), and I do laundry for days(there are four people living here)! However, I do inevitably get the same question from Chris every time I watch a Jersey show. "Why do you watch this crap?" Easy! They make me feel classy. 

Last but not least and easily the least controversial or sleazy, I LOVE anything Alaska related. I hate that cold weather but love watching other people live in it. I want to watch them live their subsistence lifestyle (see that, educational).  I want to see them trap animals that I don't want to be within 30 feet of and I really want to watch them ride their "snow machines" in -20 degrees like it's summer to their cabin 500 miles from anyone! They're tough no doubt!  For one "Mountain Man" to survive the winter there he has to eat a minimum of 5,000 calories a day!(I may learn to love the cold yet)

Believe it or not, even I do have my limits though. I may watch my share of bad singers,  bad tattooers and bad girls in general, but I refuse to Keep up with any Kardashians....Maybe I don't have a problem after all. Never mind.

Driving Mrs. Crazy.

Going for a ride in my old Jeep used to be my favorite after work activity. A twenty minute ride down a trail could make you feel like you were a million miles away from whatever work threw at you that day. Working late, working hard, working long, got a shitty "cube mate", a bad customer or a "Bill Lumbergh" boss?  Cured! I'd stop at the store to grab a giant pop(yes pop, not soda)and a bag of sunflower seeds before heading on my merry way. I loved to chase the sunset up the mountain with the top off, my music blaring and the wind in my hair. Yes, driving used to be the perfect way to wind down...used to be.  Flash forward seven years and riding in a car has virtually turned into what I would liken to a perfect mixture of a theme park horror ride and that scene from  "Ferris Bueller" where his sister tries to beat him home. In other terms,  NOT relaxing by any meaning of the word.

   Every ride always starts out peaceful and full of hope up until you try to put a seat belt on the 2 year old. If you don't pull off this maneuver with all of the quick precision and skill that you have acquired in your years of experience, the shit will hit the fan! (Oh how I long for the 80's style riding of one on the floor, one on the seat one in the window days.) The situation can go from 0-60 in 2.5 and you don't have time to react. When this happens, I'm sure a wounded animal sound must come out of my mouth as I climb in to drive. 

That's only the start, we haven't even backed out of the driveway yet.  You pray that you have brought enough distractions to prevent the "are we there yets", the "I'm boreds" or the hair raising scream that the baby makes if any part of his brother accidentally comes within reach of him. Did you bring snacks or drinks? "It doesn't matter that we're only going 2 miles, I need something to spill everywhere and that can't happen if you don't bring it!" Then there have to be toys (that hopefully one will have no interest in taking from the other) within reach. "Again I need something to throw on the floor just out of your reach 10 times that I will cry for until you either stop or pull an"Evil Kneivel" style maneuver to get it dammit!"  It can be a fight to the finish and I'm always secretly a little proud of myself for making it home with us all in one piece when it's over.  I once heard someone say that driving with small children is as distracting as driving drunk. I say true!  It's a difficult situation that will one day be made easier thanks to my husband and I's eventual invention "the Any Car Limo Screen" (patent pending).  "Getting loud? Kids fighting and screaming? Do you have toys flying all around? Are you longing for the days when you used to be able to talk to your partner while driving for an entire conversation? If you said yes to any of these, buy our "Any Car Limo Screen" and instantly give your car/truck the power of silence at the touch of a button!" You know you'd think about buying one.

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not saying its like this every ride without fail......sometimes they do sleep.

Growing Pains?

The best part of "growing up" has to be figuring out who are are and relishing in it. If you're not there yet kiddos, don't worry it's coming! There is a world past the pressure to fit in, the "selfies", the frenemies, the cool clothes, the nice car, the best hair or the having the most Facebook friends. Hard to believe I know, but trust me on this. I always say if high school was really your best 4 years (or more, I don't know your life) then I feel bad for you.  I think like a fine wine, it gets better with time.  

You can finally listen to the music you like because it sounds good to you, not because it's what's on MTV(yes, they once played music on MTV who knew). You want to jam Sweet Caroline while you're driving down the street, do it. Rock it out! Maybe your more of a Gangtsa Rap kind of person (I have met more "housewives" that can still belt out word for word the entire 2Pac Changes album like it's nobodies business). Do it right though, I'm talking hand gestures and everything. One of my favorite things about my husband is his undying and unapologetic love for old Country music. I'm not talking Garth Brooks old, no we're talking the Icons. You know Willie, Waylon, Merl and George. If you don't know, you better ask somebody! He feels it deep in his soul and he sings it loud and proud (even with the inevitable Grandpa Cowan tease). That man could not care less if you think their cool or not! It's freeing! 

 You no longer have the idea that what you're wearing has to be up to par. (This is probably more of a girls issue) What is par? What course are we playing on anyway? Wo made all of these rules?? Are you stylish, innovative or trendsetting? Really I just want to be comfortable now and I don't want to go broke doing it. Like the song said "I can find the same damn thing on a Walmart shelf half price" and it's true. (If you don't like that store and you're getting ready to send me a rant about corporations, I recommend you stop reading this blog). Literally three quarters of my wardrobe came from Walmart.

You can also enjoy the hobbies you want to do because they're fun for you and you no longer feel the need to pretend. You want to scrapbook, collect stamps or baseball cards, garden, build model airplanes or paint little ceramic gnomes? Do it. Maybe you're like me and enjoy ATVing, fishing, hunting, biking, (maybe doing at least two of these at once) whatever! The world is your oyster...crack it up! 

I'm saying there is no feeling like the feeling of enjoying being yourself.  You've earned it and learned it by now. Remember, those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind if you do....hell if you've picked your friends right, they'll be rocking to Neil or rapping California Love right there with you!