Brussel Sprouts are Attacking My Tummy

I’m not going to lie, things went a little off the rails here for NaBloPoMo. So much for every day. This would have killed OCD me in the past, but this year, I don’t care. I mean, I care, but not enough to do anything about it.

I’m losing a love-hate relationship with brussel sprouts. I hated brussel sprouts my entire life until about two years ago when a friend with a restaurant changed that for me. Now I love them, but they hate me. I ate a bunch last night, then went to bed with such horrible abdominal pain that I got all the-end-is-here preachy. Not one to stop small, I went big. If I lived through this awful episode: No more football food on Sundays! No more waffle breakfasts! No more carbonated drinks! None of it. However, I never suspect the brussel sprouts. Something so good for me shouldn’t try to kill me, but it is.

Today I woke up fine and again, found myself craving brussel sprouts. Next I found myself eating brussel sprouts despite the abuse they put me through last night and the fact that I have a dental appointment in about 30 minutes. I ate them while screaming at myself to stop, and I did stop after eating most of the leftovers. Now I need to haul my bloated self to the dentist, where I hope I don’t feel sick.

(This all reminded me of a former co-worker, who told me that when he was a kid, without thinking, he ate Oreos on the way to the dentist, and sat down in the chair with a mouth full of black paste coating his teeth. He said the dentist let out a low, angry, “Jeeeesuuuuuss.”)

I’m off to brush and floss really well, like I always do, after each and every meal. I’ll use that little proxabrush interdental thing, too, even though it creeps me out. Hopefully the bleeding stops before I get to the dentist, allowing me to pretend to be the best patient ever.

Updated: Darn brussel sprouts, my tummy hurts! Also, the dentist referred me to an orthodontist. Those two things aren’t related, but they don’t add up to a winning day.

The War Against Knots: Four Inches Cut Off

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This is after four inches were chopped off. It’s not even my head of hair, but I feel liberated. The girl is almost 11 and we still battle with knots regularly. Before, I would threaten to cut her hair, and she would argue and promise that things would get better until recently during one of our post-shower knot battles. With me getting more of an upper arm workout than one should from combing wet hair, she quietly changed her tune. When I suggested three inches off, she didn’t flinch, which encouraged me to push for more. She wanted to keep her hair long, ruling out a cut long enough to donate, but she agreed that a four-inch trim was fine.

After both kids cuts were complete, the hair stylist and I looked down at the giant mound of hair (it looked like a medium-sized sheep had been shorn). She sighed and said, “Your kids have A LOT of hair.”

Both Shots on Goal were Blocked

tippytoes-blockedshotI waited in perfect position to get a shot of my baby blocking a shot as goalie, then when the moment came, this happened. I got photo butt bombed by the ref.

Kevin is the ref in shot, who said he was doing his job, then suggested that the shot was not ruined, but made better by his rear end.

The Extra Hour was Wasted on Me

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What a difference a year makes. Last year, I was at Starbucks on the day that the holiday cups came out, and I was there when they went away, all because I lived at Starbucks during our remodel. I don’t miss it.

It’s nearly dinner time, yet I look like I just rolled out of bed and I cannot remember if I brushed my teeth this morning. I’m pretty sure I did? ¬†Much of my fantasy football team is on a bye week, but after some weak substitutions, cursing the heavens, and much holding my breath, I may win. Also, after adding a second beautiful avocado to my bowl of fresh guacamole, the glass bowl shattered and the contents had to be tossed. Oh, Sunday, I give up.

Day 2 of Nablopomo Almost a No

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Day two of Nablopomo and I almost blew it. The good news is that Halloween is packed away for another year, and our house is decorated for Thanksgiving. No surprise, Thanksgiving has a much more manageable number of decor pieces.

Not much is as sad as thinking today was the end of soccer, only to realize that there is one more week, plus an optional indoor tournament. After an hour of sideline yelling, I organized paint in the garage (as fun as it sounds), freecycled a bunch of stuff (including the paint), then made lobster mac and cheese, followed by the Pioneer Woman’s candy cookies. I’m ready to roll myself to bed.