our SC vacation: random shots part 10 (in conclusion)

All good things must come to end - and so it was with our vacation back to South Carolina.

We drove our 12 passenger van back to the Atlanta airport, dropped it off, took a bus - a train - and multiple moving sidewalks and elevators to arrive at our terminal. And then we stood around for almost three hours and waited for our plane to leave. Because it took a lot less time getting to the airport from my mother's house, then it took for us to get from the airport to my mother's house.

Wait. Did that make sense?

I'm including a copy of this next picture of our children dragging their bags down the jetway, not to illustrate how cruel of a mother I am in forcing my children to carry their own gear because I'm too cheap to check it, but to point out where strollers are stored before you board the plane.

More than once, I've received inquiries from people who read this blog wondering how you get your stroller all the way to the plane.

See that little alcove, right there to the right of William's bright glowing back pack? That is where you would store your stroller - with it's gate check tag - before getting on to the plane. And when you get off the plane, your stroller will be sitting right there waiting for you.

I remain convinced that this "free service" the airport provides is one of the BEST free services available. (Rivaled only by public restrooms.) By allowing passengers to push their children in a stroller ALL THE WAY TO THE PLANE, and then have that stroller waiting for them when they land, saves parents so much trouble, I'm at a loss for words that would adequately express my gratitude.

But a lot of travelers don't realize that this option exists for them, which is why I see so many people checking their strollers with their luggage. On more than one occasion, I have gone up to absolute strangers and filled them in on this little travel secret. I'll usually say, "In case you didn't know, you can push your stroller all the way to the gate. Just clear it through security, get a claim ticket from the agent and then you can roll it directly to the plane."

My advice is often met with a blank stare so I'll smile and nod and excitedly add, "I am totally serious." And well, most parents who are taking a trip with small children are feeling exhausted within the first 15 minutes of arriving at the airport and once they understand the truth of what I'm telling them, the only thing that would make them happier is if the sky opened up and $20.00 bills rained down.

This is a photo of the on board interactive map, which shows our plane flying directly over Sun City, Arizona. That's where Alex and Kathleen live.

From Sun City / Phoenix, it's only another hour or so until we arrive in San Diego. And doesn't it figure, that was right about the time all four of our children (finally) fell fast to sleep.


Waking four soundly sleeping children up - after a full day of traveling - when their internal body clocks registered a time of 3:00 AM and require that they carry their own luggage off the plane and out of the airport - and then, sit and wait on the curb for the next hour for our car to arrive was the lowest point of the day.

Dare I say - it was even lower than William who grabbed the air sick bag just before take off and demonstrated to the kindly woman sitting next to him, how it is used.

On the outside, she is smiling and laughing. But she knew that she was on a row with four excited children under the age of five and I'll bet that she was trying to figure out the exact translation of five hours to minutes.

And she was counting them.

I'm kidding. OF COURSE. Our children were perfect angels on the plane ride home and I only thought about jumping from an exit once.

Which is a considerable improvement from the last time we flew with the whole family and I stood in the galley at the back of the plane, poised by the exit for the entire flight.

We are definitely improving.

this too shall pass

Years ago, before we had children, I had a real home office.


In that office, I had a beautiful solid wood desk, bookshelf, and table. There was a desk lamp and a floor lamp and an assortment of art pieces, hanging on the wall. There was a fax machine, a telephone and a 20-inch, flat screen, computer monitor. There were assorted office supplies and files. There were miscellaneous reports and journals that I had published over the years.

Everything was neatly stowed away and organized.

Today, that home office is now the boys bedroom. What had been our guest room, with a solid cherry futon, end table and coffee table, is now the girls bedroom. Our home office has been reduced to a computer hutch in the family room that holds our computer, critical paperwork and mailing supplies.

Once our children were born, we moved all of our excess furniture and equipment in to Charlie's office. In addition to our furniture, we moved all of our old school supplies. Our textbooks from graduate school, research materials from our Masters Thesis, and assorted diplomas were boxed up and stored.

But last month, when Charlie was laid off and his office was closed, we realized that we would need to make a decision about what to do with all of our furniture and supplies, both work and school, that we had accumulated over the past 20 years. We would need to figure out a way, somehow, to assimilate everything in to our home. This past week, Charlie began the process of moving all of these items out of his office, which will be closed soon, and in to our garage.

When we returned from our vacation to South Carolina three weeks ago, I was already starting to feel overwhelmed with our small living space - rapidly growing children - and assortment of things that I'm not yet prepared to get rid of ... but have no place to store.

Children's bicycles, in addition to our bicycles. Strollers. Toddler toys. An oversized wagon. An antique school desk. An heirloom doll house that measures five feet long by two feet wide.

Now ... add to that ... the equivalent of two rooms worth of furniture and innumerable boxes filled with reports and documents that are critical to our careers. I just spent the past four hours, filling up three trash cans worth of things I'm prepared to get rid of, and filling the back of my husband's truck - to the brim - with items for Goodwill.

But what about the rest?

Do we sell these beautiful and well made items, that I adore, for a fraction of what we bought them for? (answer: no)

Do we store everything in a storage unit and shell out $100.00 a month for an undetermined amount of time until we can use them again? (answer: no)

Do we leave everything in the garage and do our best to ignore the fact that you can no longer see the ground? (answer: no)

Do we sell our house and move to a larger house, even though we have no idea how much longer our careers might keep us in San Diego? (answer: no)

Do we count our four little blessings and focus on the fact that we are healthy, have a roof over our heads, food in our refrigerator and air conditioning on a sweltering summer day? (answer: yes)

Do we tell ourselves that we don't know the answer - soon it will hopefully present itself - and until then, it's best to pour ourselves glasses of lemonade and lay on the lawn with our children deciphering characters in the clouds? (answer: most definitely yes)

At the moment, Charlie is online looking at larger homes in San Diego County. The average sticker price is $900,000.00. To me, it seems illogical to buy an almost one million dollar house when the future is so uncertain. Or, to even waste time looking at such a purchase.

I'm ready to keel over from uncertainty.

Work is crazy busy and I've got a backlog at least four weeks long worth of things to get caught up on, since our vacation and my two-week trial. The house is a disaster. Last night was the first time I had mopped the floor in six weeks. I'm doing my absolute best to get caught up on paperwork, errands and shopping. People are calling and asking us to call them back and by the time we get around to calling them back, two days have passed and they are angry.

We have no idea what we are doing. We know we want and/or need to move, but we have no idea where. We have no idea when or how. From all accounts, my job will be gone in a few years - unless I accept a new one and a transfer. But who knows where that transfer will be?

Charlie just started a new company and will be signing his first contracts next week. But we don't know if we want to remain in San Diego. We don't know if we want to sell our house and move or rent. We don't know if we will sell everything and travel around the country. We don't know if we will homeschool our children or send them to Kindergarten, next year. We don't know if it's possible, or likely, that we will move closer to family.

We don't know anything.

Except that dressing up and pretending you are an adult is sometimes a whole lot more fun than actually being one.

not a good day to be an earthworm in our yard

Our children are at an age where they are enamored with living things. Particularly things that move. Like animals. Or bugs.

They are totally intrigued by anything that creeps and crawls or flies. For hours (and I literally mean hours) they will spend poking and prodding and generally observing whatever bug was unlucky enough to be caught by their little hands.

I've tried to impress upon them the importance of being GENTLE with all creatures and although I do my best to see what they are up to, every so often, they will surprise me with a catch that I did not detect.

This morning, the kids were all playing in the backyard, when all of a sudden, someone started screaming. From the sounds of it, I thought they had fallen off the top of the slide and suffered a compound fracture of their tibia.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

It turns out, they had been digging in the yard and uncovered an earthworm.


Oh, how our kids loved this earthworm.


They named it, Casey. Ernie. Oscar. Tom. Daisy. Something or other.


All of them took turns holding it. Petting it. Talking to it.


For the first half hour, I told them to PLEASE be gentle and stop touching it. Sometime around the second hour, I asked that they PLEASE put it back in the ground so that it could go back to it's family.


Surely, Casey. Ernie. Oscar. Tom. Daisy. had little babies waiting for it in the soil and those little babies were hungry and perhaps a little scared wondering when Mommy/Daddy earthworm was going to come back with some nice organic matter to eat?


Sometime around the third hour, I lost track of what the kids were doing. I was cleaning up from lunch and trying to fold laundry. At one point, I noticed that Carolyn was filling up her sand pail with water and a short while later, she came in looking for a paper towel so she could dry her earthworm off, after it's bath.

Another 10 minutes passed and my daughter came in to the house looking quite forlorn. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me that her worm had stopped moving. When I caught a glimpse of the worm, who she had tried to resuscitate with her Junior Doctor's Kit, it was already starting to dry up and wither, I felt guilty that I hadn't done a better job of prying the earthworm from her loving grasp before it met it's demise.

Taking a deep breath, I began to explain to my four-year-old that the earthworm had gone to the great dirt pile in the sky. I told her that if we handle bugs too much, they leave us and join God.

Carolyn thought about this for a moment and then said, "You know Mom, I don't think he like being tickled a whole lot."

This got me to thinking ... maybe the kids do need a pet.

Although, I'd be willing to bet Oliver the Cat is MIGHTY thankful that he is in a pet store and not in a house where he would be bathed and tickled by four-year-olds, whenever their mother wasn't looking.

i need help

I don't believe I've mentioned yet that as of today, there are five walkers registered on our More the Merrier Walkers for Knockers team. As it turns out, all of those walkers are the mothers of triplets.

Consider that for a moment.

Five women - all of whom have young triplets - have committed time out of their busy lives to train for and then walk 20 miles a day, for three consecutive days, sleep in a tent each night, AND raise $2,300.00 a piece for breast cancer research, treatment, education and prevention.

Now as impressive as that is - I believe it is even more impressive that five husbands have agreed to stay home with young triplets while their wives are out walking sixty miles over the course of a weekend. Ah yes. This will be like the spa weekend getaway we've always dreamed of. Except there won't be a spa. And we'll be sleeping on the ground. With blisters on our feet and cramping leg muscles.

But we'll be happy.

So happy.

Today, while I was out walking six miles in preparation for this big event, I started to brainstorm various fundraising ideas. In addition to reaching out to my friends - family - neighbors and coworkers (which I haven't done yet), I plan to knit scarves and host a few giveaways on my blog (which I also haven't done yet). (Life's been a bit crazy, shall we say?)

My walking teammate and fellow triplet mom, Debbie, came up with the brilliant idea of a lemonade stand that we would set up at busy locations around San Diego. What would make our lemonade stand different than others, is that it would be run - in large part - by triplets.

(Or at a minimum, they would stand around looking adorable.)

Doesn't that sound like an awesome fundraising gold mine idea?!

I'm thinking that in addition to all of this, I would like to have various gifts that I will giveaway for certain donation amounts. It would be kind of like a PBS membership drive...

For a $25.00 donation, you will receive a license plate frame.

For a $50.00 donation, you will receive a duffle bag with Sesame Street embroidery.

For a $100.00 donation, you will receive studio footage from "The Best of Click & Clack."

Of course none of those gifts are real. I'm just using them for the purposes of illustration. Right?

Anyway. I thought that a great gift idea, and/or sale item, would be silicone bracelets. But as I went on line to research silicone bracelets, I was PARALYZED by how many color options there are. And since I'm planning to order about 1,000 of these things - I really want to get a color that people will like. And not just any people ... but men AND women.

Tonight, because I couldn't decide on which color I liked, and then determined that Charlie's wrists are a lot larger than mine, and I'd need to order two sizes, and wow - the kids would love these, too - and maybe other children might like them, I ordered several different colors in several different sizes. And then, as I was reviewing my order of 1000 bracelets, I panicked when I thought about trying to keep all of this "inventory" organized.

Take a look at my order:

50		Medium BRIGHT RED
50		Large BRIGHT RED
100		Child PINK
200		Medium PINK
50		Medium ORANGE
50		Large ORANGE
50		Medium AQUA
50		Large AQUA
100		Child ROYAL BLUE
50		Medium ROYAL BLUE
50		Large ROYAL BLUE
50		Medium GREEN
50		Large GREEN
100		Medium SMOKED ORCHID

Before I placed the final order on the bracelets, I decided that I want to keep this simple. I want one color. In various sizes. I love pink because it's not only pretty, but it's the color scheme of the Susan G. Komen for the Cure. But then the question is, hot pink or light pink? And do I really think I can sell 1,000 PINK bracelets?

Yellow reminds me of LiveStrong, so that's out.

Smoked Orchid is nice, but perhaps too light?

What about green?

Or, maybe orange?

Charlie loves blue.

Here's a link >> CLICK HERE >> to the website with all of the various colors.

Please - I beg of you - give me some feedback.

If you were to order 1,000 of these bracelets, what color would you pick??

my week in summary

The trial is finally over. Today, we had closing statements - and then - we held our breath while the jury went to deliberate. Less than an hour later, the verdict was returned. It was a unanimous decision. Twelve to Zero. My side won.

After the jury read their verdict, each side had an opportunity to talk with the jurors to find out what compelled them to vote the way that they did. They all had their reasons, but ultimately, they were convinced that the facts of the case were so clear cut, it was easy to reach a decision.

All of the jurors agreed that the most exciting part of the trial was when I had to be cross-examined by the Plaintiff's attorney. Up until that point they thought that the trial was rather boring. But when I was on the stand, they said that watching the attorney tear in to me was like something from a movie. They all nodded in agreement that they were on the edge of their seats.

Oddly enough, my counsel specifically told me, before I took the stand, that it was highly unlikely that the Plaintiff's attorney would get ugly with me because I was a 'pretty young girl'. I'm not sure if they told me that to keep me from getting nervous, or because they really believed it. But man, those gloves came off fast when they had me in the witness box.

To the opposing counsel, I wasn't a pretty young girl. I was the environmental engineer for one of the world's largest oil companies (who they erroneously kept referring to as a gross contaminator of the environment) and all the troubles that his client were facing were because of me. They went after everything.

My character.

My experience.

My credibility.

During the interview this afternoon, one of the woman jurors just shook her head and said, "If anyone ever went after me like that, I would have been in tears. How did you maintain your composure?"

Although I didn't tell her this - as I was driving home from Los Angeles this afternoon, I couldn't help but think that being the mother of triplets has probably given me a tremendous amount of confidence in my ability.

I've got little people demanding things of me constantly. They are yelling at me and around me, all day long. Children are falling in toilets, smuggling bugs in to the house, ambushing my secret chocolate supply and challenging my EVERY decision. I've got to keep my eye on the prize and get my job done. Without crying. Without yelling. Without crashing like a house of cards. I need to maintain peace in the storm, while remaining honest - firm - confident - and calm under pressure.

I certainly never would have guessed that my role as a mother would have prepared me more for this trial than my almost 20-years of experience, education and professional registrations, combined.

I'm so glad it's over. So, so, so, so, so very glad.

(So. So very.)

******

I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but Charlie and I lived together before we were married. In hindsight, I'm not sure that I would have done the same thing. But at the time, it seemed logical. We were completely in love - we spent every waking moment together - and we were college students paying for two rents.

Within my files, is the letter that my mother sent me in September of 1992. In that letter, among other things, my mother wrote that she was concerned and/or disappointed that we were living together before we were married. Her exact words were, "I do not like to see you enjoying the fruits of marriage without a license." She went on to write that she was afraid that, "if we weren't careful, we'd be hearing the pitter patter of little feet. And I don't mean mice."

Oh, how those words stung me when I was 21-years old.

But oh, how those words have made me laugh, ever since.

When my mom and Jim began spending time together a few years ago, and moved in together, shortly thereafter, I wrote a letter to my mother telling her that I hoped that she wasn't enjoying the fruits of marriage without a license and that they were being careful, because otherwise, they might soon hear the pitter patter of little feet. And I don't mean mice.

Charlie sent me a text message this morning, seconds before I stepped in to the courtroom. His message simply said, "CALL YOUR MOTHER IMMEDIATELY. Every thing is OK but you are going to FLIP OUT. As a hint: you and I did this on August 6, 1994."

Wha...

WHA...

WHAT?!

Our wedding anniversary is August 6. So all during the trial and closing arguments, I was totally distracted. But I was somehow able to hold it together and during our first break, I called my husband and learned that my mother and Jim eloped.

That's right: My mother and Jim got hitched.

They were married yesterday afternoon at Graceland - my Aunt Grace and Uncle Bill's home in South Carolina. My Aunt Grace, a Notary, officiated the ceremony. Here's a blog post, written by my cousin Lisa, that shows more of the pictures from this monumental day.


My mother is 76-years old. Jim is 86-years old. And they are in love.

I am thrilled that not only do they have each other, but they are now finally able to enjoy the fruits of marriage.

With a license.

******

Oh! I almost forgot ... last, but not least - how cool is this?

Why is it that the most humorous situations in my life, surround events occurring in or around the bathroom?

What? You think I'm kidding?

Just wait until I tell you about the birthday party our kids attended last weekend...

no one makes me laugh like he does

With the exception of mothers, who have eagle eyes and happen to notice the smallest of details pertaining to our children (such as unsecured snaps on the back of babies shirts), my husband has a theory that the vast majority of people in society are completely oblivious to what is going on in the world around them.

Whenever we go somewhere, Charlie has an uncanny ability to spot drivers who are talking on their cell phones, putting on make up (or shaving), while drinking coffee and eating a muffin.

"People are totally clueless!!" I often hear him say. And much to my chagrin, he frequently tests his theory. For instance, when he goes to our community pool and checks in with the security guard on staff, he will confidently flash a copy of his library card - as opposed to his Resident Card - and then enter our address as "1, 2, 3 Sesame Street."

Likewise, I have lost track of the number of times he has clearly signed his name as "Elmer J. Fudd" or "Bugs Bunny" on movie rental or credit card receipts, just to see if the merchants are paying attention. To this day, no one has ever said a thing. But it always cracks me up to see him in action.

Last night, I changed a particularly dirty diaper on Henry and Charlie wisely decided that instead of throwing it out in our hotel trashcan, he would run it down and toss it in a dumpster, located outside of the hotel.

So my husband tucked the dirty diaper in his short's pocket and then, took the elevator from the 15th floor to the lobby. Unfortunately, the elevator stopped at every floor - the entire way down - to let new people in. And at some point, the elevator got jammed. So there he was, with a heinous diaper in his pocket, backed up to the corner and desperately praying that the waste fumes from the contents in his pocket, didn't overcome the entire elevator.

He said that by the time the elevator ultimately arrived at the lobby, everyone's nostrils were flared, everyone was holding their breath and one hotel guest, who appeared to be slightly intoxicated gagged out, "What the hell is that smell?!"

Charlie was so fixated on getting out of the elevator as fast as he could, he squeezed by everyone and sprinted through the dimly lit environment and to the nearest dumpster, with a stink cloud trailing him. He didn't stop to talk to anyone, not even my co-workers who had congregated in the lobby and were trying to call him over.

He called me a short time later from the hotel sushi bar, where he was enjoying a well earned rainbow roll and bottle of Sapporo, to tell me that his theory of oblivion in the general population most definitely does not extend to their sense of smell.

Hopefully, this will conclude his research.

My bladder muscles can't handle it anymore.

the verdict is in

I need to correct something that I wrote in my post on Monday.

I never received a subpoena to appear in court. Because I work for my company - and was designated as the expert witness - I had no choice but to appear in court. Unlike the other witnesses that have been called to testify in this trial. They all received subpoenas.

Unless they were independent expert witnesses. And then, they just received a fat check for showing up on time and talking the jury in to a stupor of boredom about something that they know so well, they have received the designation of "expert."

This whole court experience is turning my brain to absolute mush.

We didn't have court today. But between Monday and Tuesday, I've been on the stand for almost six grueling hours, and I'm not even close to being finished. Monday, and again Tuesday, our attorney conducted their direct examination. Followed by the opposing counsel who conducted their cross-examination. Followed by our counsel with more questions. Followed by opposing counsel redirecting questions. Followed by our counsel. Followed by the opposing counsel.

That went on.

And on.

It is so difficult because the various attorneys will ask a question that you want to respond to in full, but they just want a YES or NO answer.

But ... But ... there's more to it than just a yes or no answer.

And yet, you don't get your chance to talk about all the details, even though they are PARAMOUNT to understanding the entire picture. And you can't even try to talk because if you do, the attorneys will say, "Objection, Unresponsive" and the Judge will say something like, "Sustained, Strike from the Record."

Keep in mind, I haven't made that mistake of talking out of turn. I've learned from watching the poor souls witnesses that went before me in their testimony, and I've become wise by their countless errors. Much like I've become wise about the catastrophe that occurs if you move the microphone in the witness box.

I've watched the judge tell every single witness, "Please do not touch the microphone. Please sit normally and talk. You do not need to lean forward and yell. I will adjust the volume from my control panel." So I knew not to lay one single finger on the microphone before I took the stand - because I watched at least five people before me, crash and burn be firmly corrected by the judge.

Since I've now been a part of this trial for the past eight days, when I'm not in the courtroom, all I can hear running through my mind is, "Objection!" Followed by, "Sustained."

Except for when I'm asleep and am having a nightmare.

That's when I hear, "Objection!" Followed by, "Overruled. You may answer the question." But then I realize, good Lord, the string of objections has made me so confused, I completely forget the question and now I have no idea what I'm supposed to answer.

So I ask them to repeat the question and it is again objected to, because the attorney didn't ask the question the EXACT same way it had been asked before. So this "Objection!" followed by "Sustained!" goes on for another few minutes, before the attorney finally gets it right and then, I hear "Overruled, you may answer the question", except I missed the question and the process repeats itself.

In my nightmare, I stand up and yell, "WHY ARE WE HERE?! WHO CALLED ALL THESE LAWYERS IN THE FIRST PLACE?! I HAVE AN ENTREPRENEUR HUSBAND AT HOME, ALONE, WITH FOUR CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF FIVE AND A NEW CAT NAMED OLIVER!! ONLY GOD KNOWS WHAT HE IS GOING TO DO NEXT!! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?! HAVE YOU PEOPLE NO MERCY?!"

I just hope we're out of here before Christmas.

On Monday night, Charlie called to tell me that the whole cat thing was just a joke. Although they did see a cat that looked just like our cat, Bob, and the children really wanted it - and chose the name Oliver - he said they didn't actually bring the cat home. He just thought it would be as funny as canned ham to tell me that they did.

Yeah. Ha Ha. Funny like a heart attack.

Still, the whole "joke" was a little too believable, so rather than take any chances for what kind of life altering decisions my husband might make during my absence this week, I upgraded my room from one king to two queens and invited the whole family up.

(But mostly, I invited them up because I missed them. Really badly.)

For the past two days, Charlie and the kids have been camping out in my hotel room and swimming in the indoor/outdoor pool. It's been a real hoot to see our little children running around and playing, amidst people in fancy business attire with cell phones and laptops. It's especially funny to see how people in fancy business attire respond to being trapped in an elevator for a ride from the 15th floor to the Lobby, with chatty preschoolers who will talk to them about anything ranging from what their name is to what color underwear they have on?

Nothing eases the tension in an elevator like a herd of four-year-olds.

Today, we had the day off from court so we visited some famous spots around town, took a harbor cruise and then, we all went out for dinner. When we arrived at the upscale restaurant (because we couldn't find anything less formal within a 10-mile radius) Charlie asked if the hostess could seat us outside on the patio, where we might cause less of a distraction to the fellow diners. His request was denied because apparently the patio was reserved for a larger party that would be arriving shortly.

But less than three minutes after we were seated inside at a beautiful table set with candles and various sized wine glasses, when the kids were wearing their white linen napkins like pirate hats and yelling, "AYE MATEY!!" and Henry was gearing up for a fit, the management came over and very graciously escorted us outside to our own private patio.

It was lovely.

I will admit - the first few days of being on my own were nice. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I enjoyed the elegant meals and lack of crying - whining - and fighting. But after the third day, I felt so empty being away from my family. And it made me physically sick to arrive home late Friday night, only to pack up and leave again, first thing Monday morning.

Although it's been a bit loud and chaotic at times having six people in a single hotel room, it's been great having everyone here. For the past two nights, once we get the kids settled in to bed, Charlie and I will migrate out in to the hall with oversized pillows to sit upon, while we share a bottle of wine. The fact that my family is giving this otherwise hell week the resemblance of an exotic vacation, truly makes me believe that having loved-ones nearby is nothing short of magic.

Anything is doable ... so long as they are by my side.

he is totally out of control

Last week, while I was away all week on a business meeting (or more appropriately, subpoenaed to court as an expert witness for my company), my husband started his own company.

To say that I am proud of his ability to spot an opportunity and seize the moment, would be an understatement. I have never been more proud of my husband in the 18 years we have been together. (Minus those daily occassions when I see his exemplary performance as a father and husband. But, that notwithstanding, you hopefully get the point.)

Today marks the first day of yet another full week that I will be out of town on business. As soon as we were dismissed from court this afternoon, I checked my voicemail messages and picked up one from my dear husband, Charlie.

During the course of his two minute message, he told me that he had the brakes and window shade replaced on our van and those two replacements cost a lot more than he expected they would cost. A lot, lot more.

Like $800.00 more.

But while they were waiting for the car to be ready, he and the children wandered in to a nearby pet store and they spotted a tabby cat that looked just like our cat, Bob, that we lost 12 years ago. Charlie's message went something like this,

"Oh Jen, don't you remember how much we loved Bob? We loved that cat so much. And because we loved Bob so much, I just KNOW that you are going to love this NEW cat, too. The children have called him Oliver. You will meet him when you come home on Friday. We're sending love and kisses and Oliver sends a big MEOWWW! Wish you were here!!"

Because starting his own business wasn't enough BIG decision-making in one week ... now, he has to go out and adopt a cat?! And it's not that I'm opposed to adopting a cat - I would love to do such, once we are in a larger house and I had people that would actually HELP me take care of a fellow feline, as opposed to chasing it around and grabbing it's tail and smothering it in kisses and freaking it out to the point of clawing and blood.

So at this moment, as I am comfortably settled in to my hotel room, all I can think is: Charlie?

You are the weakest link.

Goodbye.

(Note to self: You must never leave town again.)

heat wave

Southern California is in the midst of a heat wave. So today, while Charlie was out washing the cars in our driveway, the children - entirely on their own - decided to set up their very first lemonade stand.

Elizabeth was in charge of the cash register, William was in charge of quality assurance / quality control for the actual product (in this case - lemonade that he was drinking straight from the pitcher) ...


And Carolyn was responsible for filling up the cups.


They were charging $0.29 a cup.

How they came up with this price, I do not know.

Unfortunately, they didn't receive any customers, except for me. But I suspect that their location in the garage, obscured their sales booth from any potential customers that might be walking down the street.

Right. I'm sure that "no sales" were due solely to their poor visibility...

And had nothing to do with the soggy, crushed, torn and sipped-upon cups of ice cold lemonade, that had been dipped out of the pitcher by hand.

Mmmmm. TASTY!

Here is William in his self described, "Lemonade-Selling Uniform."

Which could also be referred to as his "Baby Brother's 2T overalls."

(I think we might need to work on improving our marketing strategy.)

he is superman

Before court began this morning, I called Charlie to check in and see how he and the children were doing. According to my husband, aside from everyone missing me desperately, they were all doing fine. They were planning to spend a morning at the YMCA and then, they were going to go to the pool after Henry took his nap.

A few hours later, once court was dismissed, I turned on my cell phone and noticed that I had missed a call from Charlie. So I called him back to see how things were going. This is how our conversation went:

Me: "Hi Love, how are things?"

Him: "Jen, I am JUMPING out of my skin. OK, OK, first off ... the kids are totally fine. So, do you remember the big client that I was working with a few months ago? (he didn't wait for my response) Well, they called me today and told me that they want ME to manage several of their sites in California!! And possibly, take over their entire portfolio of environmental projects, globally!! The only way I could do that is if I started my own business. So I did. I registered for a Federal Tax Identification Number and then I found an accountant and a lawyer. I'm setting up a small business loan and I secured our new company name and created a logo. Then, I hired someone that can handle all of the field work, so I don't have to travel too much. Right now, I'm in the process of developing a website. "

Me: "Huh?"

Him: "And then ... and then ... And THEN!!!"

Me: "Wait... you did what?"

Him: "I started my own BUSINESS!! But it gets even better!! My old company - the one that just laid me off?? Well, they won a big contract in San Diego and they need a lot of help, so they are hiring MY NEW COMPANY as a subcontractor. So, I just landed two HUGE contracts!!"

Me: "I think I dialed the wrong number. Hello?? Hellooo??"

Him: "Can you believe it?!"

Me: "You are telling me that you did all of that today?"

Him: "Yes. I did all that within the past four HOURS."

Me: ".............................................................."

Him: "Jen. Jen! Are you still there??"

Me: "Charlie. Love. Where are the children?"

Him: "They are right here. I told them all about it and they are really excited. They are the Board Members of our LLC and Elizabeth is making a presentation while I cook dinner."

Me: "So you did all of that today, the children are playing contentedly and now, you are cooking dinner?"

Him: "Isn't it awesome?!"

Me: "Holy Crap, Dude. I think I need to go out of town more often. Maybe when I'm away next week, you'll solve the world's hunger crisis."

Him: "Don't worry. I'm planning to work on that, next."

kate, i might be a little late with the post...

Just so you know, I'm not done with our vacation pictures. But since I'm away from our home computer this week, and hence the gabillion pictures that I have uploaded from our trip, my continuance of our time in paradise will have to wait.

For now, I want to tell you that I'm staying at a hotel in L.A. and yesterday afternoon, I had some down time to go work out. While I was in the gym - I happened to catch, what I believe, were some of the very first airings of Jon & Kate Plus Eight.

Now I know I've mentioned before that I've hardly ever watched that show because I wasn't particularly interested in the chaotic life of a woman with multiples. But yesterday, as I was working out and I happened to notice that the show was on my own little private screen on my ellipse machine, I unplugged my headphones from my iPod and plugged in to the closed circuit television connection.

What I heard over the next 20 minutes or so, made my jaw drop to the floor.

This might come as a surprise, but I might consider myself to be a bit of a nag with my husband. It's something that I'm constantly aware of and something that I'm constantly striving to change. But I am no where - and I mean, not even within the same galaxy close, as what I saw, yesterday.

Who has ever watched the show??

After watching this woman HEN PECK her husband for a solid 15 minutes, they cut to a scene in the nursery where Jon was changing diapers on several of their 17-month old toddlers. At one point, Kate walks in to the room, and after declaring how organized and streamlined she is, she points out how slow and inefficient her husband is. And then she casually says, "I feel compelled to tell you that I cannot believe how long it is taking you to complete this one simple task."

Jon didn't respond. But even though the camera was fixed on the back of his head, I could see that he was stewing. Why critize your spouse like that, on national television?! Now if I had been Jon, I would have retorted, "I feel compelled to tell you, SHADDUP ALREADY. If you are so convinced that you could do this better - than GO TO IT."

Seeing as I'm tucked away in a nice hotel, eating at fancy restaurants three times a day, while my husband is at home chasing around after four children under the age of five and digging diapers out of toilets, I feel very well positioned to dole out some marital and parental advice.

If you are nagging incessantly at your spouse, you have too much time on your hands.

When you have other, more pressing things to worry about, you become a lot less concerned about the fact that Dear God lunch time is three minutes late. Or - it took four minutes as opposed to two to change a diaper.

Really?

Is it that important?

I try my best to be thankful whenever anyone helps me at all.

Although, I will admit, this can be a constant battle for me. I will stray down the path of hen pecking over the most insignificant stupid ass things you could imagine. But it seems to become par for the course when you are a mother with small children. You truly believe that no one can do it as well or as efficiently as you. But at this very moment, I have been gone from home for four days and my husband is managing everything just fine without my direct supervision. Sure, the house might not be up to my cleanliness standards when I return - but the children are well cared for and loved.

And you know what? I am thankful.

I am so thankful for him and all that he does to support our family. Whether he is earning a paycheck - cooking dinner - chasing children around the backyard - changing a diaper a few minutes slower than me - or picking up a gallon of milk from the store.

I am so thankful for him and I tell him that, all the time.

ALL. THE. TIME.

He knows that he is appreciated.

And because of that, he appreciates me, too.

So my relationship advice for the day is this: If love is kind, love will grow. Go forth and be thankful. Tell your partner how much you love and appreciate them and how thankful you are for all the things that they do to make life better.

And then - watch your love bloom.

what's in you wednesday

I'm away from home this week at a trial in Los Angeles. And because my mind has turned to absolute mush after spending a long day in the courtroom and conversing ad nauseum with attorneys (whom I like very much, by the way), I am going to keep this post short.

Let's see ... what's important for me to convey this week?

1) Our walking team, "The More the Merrier Walkers for Knockers" has been registered for the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk in November. Anyone that signs up to walk, needs to raise a minimum of $2,300.00. If that seems like a lot, please do not be discouraged. You can do it. I can help.

2) I hope to start working on the fundraising efforts, soon. And since I haven't really done anything to solicit donations (except put a button on my blog), I was happily surprised to see that I received my first donation to the breast cancer walk from my awesome sister-in-law, Susan. So, thank you Susan. It's easy to see why your little brother loves you so much!

3) During the 3-Day walk, accommodations will be provided. However, if you are thinking of flying in to San Diego a day or two early and want to know whether or not you can stay with me, I'd say the chances of that are slim. Perhaps if our house was greater than 1,700 square feet and had more than one functional toilet. And most importantly ... if my husband didn't panic at the thought of a stranger from the internet sleeping on our couch.

4) It is darn near impossible to eat healthy when you have breakfast, lunch and dinner meetings with a group of ravenous attorneys. In the past two days, I have consumed no less than 5,000 calories a day and the most exercise I have completed has come from raising a fork to my mouth. Within the past 36 hours, I have spent 10 hours sitting at a table and during that time, I have consumed two filet mignon steaks, herb crusted halibut, seven glasses of red wine, one hot fudge sundae, one bowl of fresh fruit and cream, something called a "chocolate explosion", mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, spinach drizzled with garlic butter, sushi, sashimi, green beans and mozzarella, turkey and brie, a ciabatta roll, a bagel, a croissant, innumerable pats of butter, a cup of cream cheese, a slab of bacon, crab stuffed mushrooms, barbecued shrimp, gumbo, an omelet, hash browns and a partridge in a pear tree. On the upside, I also ate four salads. Although, come to think of it, each of those salads could have been a meal, by itself.

5) Tomorrow, I plan to eat only ice chips and hit the gym at 5:30 AM.

6) This trial, which was supposed to end this week, is now expected to go through the second week of September. Unfortunately for my cholesterol level, I need to be present, the whole time. I fear for my pants and am considering the purchase of several elastic waistband suits.

I never thought I'd say it, but I can hardly keep up with these guys. They pick out an appetizer, then they have soup and salad a main entree and dessert. And then, they have cappuccino. At every meal, minus breakfast, they eat this way. Why, just tonight as we were walking back to our hotel from the restaurant where we had dinner, we stopped at another restaurant to peruse the menu and contemplate whether or not we wanted to eat there, tomorrow.

We're taking gluttony to a whole new level.

(Of course they also work out like maniacs and look like they're chiseled from stone.)

So, who has some tips for how to eat healthy when you travel with a group of food connoisseurs that order one of everything on the menu?

Fake food allergies?

Narcolepsy?

positive self esteem = not an issue here

A few days ago, I was getting the children dressed for bed, following their evening bath.

Carolyn was the last one out of the tub and while I was helping her in to pajamas, she was gazing in to the full length mirror, just over my shoulder. As I was pulling on her pant legs, she sighed in to my ear, "You are so beautiful. I love you SO much..."

Obviously, I assumed that she was talking to me - seeing as I was the only one in the room.

But when I responded to my four-year-old daughter, "I think you are beautiful and I love YOU, too!" She shushed me and said in a tone that sounded quite unlike any four-year-old I've ever heard, "MOM, I'm not talking to YOU. I'm talking to the girl in the MIRROR."

Then she sighed and rolled her eyes.

It took a lot of restraint for me not to say, "You roll your eyes at me again and I'll roll you straight across this floor!!"

Hello!! This is four? I suspect the teenage years are going to be paved with lollipops and roses. And maybe if I'm lucky - a weekend furlough.

For me.

on being a good neighbor

Saturday night, Charlie went to a baseball game with two of our very good friends, Jim and Tim, who live in a neighborhood about a mile away. Jim and Tim live directly across the street from each other, and both men have children who are similarly aged.

While they were at the game, Tim was telling my husband that last month, his four-year-old son was walking down the street, when out of no where, a small white dog that had escaped from a yard - charged him. It barreled down on the four-year-old, yapping aggressively, with it's teeth bared. The only reason that the dog didn't take a chunk out of the child, was because Tim was right there and reached down and grabbed the dog by the collar. The dog's owner came out, profusely apologizing, and brought the dog inside.

THE VERY NEXT DAY, Jim's adorable four-year-old daughter (with her dimples and glasses and curly ponytails) was walking down the street, when the same little white dog escaped from the house and yapping aggressively, charged the girl.

This time, the dog attacked and bit her in the thigh and calf.

The owner, again, apologized profusely before dragging the poodle back inside. Jim brought his four-year-old in to their house and carefully inspected the bite but because it didn't appear bad enough to take her to the hospital, took photos of the wound to document it.

That was the end of the story. No charges were filed, the dog catcher wasn't called, the offending neighbor walked away unscathed.

Honestly - I'm befuddled.

Our friend Jim is one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet and I know that the reason he didn't get the authorities involved is because he doesn't want to create waves in his neighborhood. This, to me, shows incredible self control.

Because Charlie - who is also a nice guy and will go to great lengths to keep the peace - confessed to Jim that if that dog, who had tried to attack a neighborhood child once already, ever took a bite out of our child's leg, he would have hit it to the moon with a baseball bat.

Upon hearing the story, I confessed that if my husband missed with his swing, I would be fully prepared to back over Fido (a few times) with our minivan. And then, I might have to bludgeon the owner. BECAUSE WHO LETS A DOG THAT ATTACKS CHILDREN, ROAM FREELY OUTDOORS?!?!?!

I'm not sure our tactic of slaying both man and beast is really suitable. So how would you suggest this situation be handled, in the most neighborhood-friendly way possible?

our SC vacation: random shots part 9 (help me pick the soundtrack edition)

There were so many amazing moments during our South Carolina vacation. But there were a few events that happened while we were at the beach in particular, that I hope will forever be seared in to my mind.

Like the day that Carolyn got in to trouble for stealthily eating more than her allowance of the sandwiches I had brought to the beach. When William, who had not yet had a sandwich, checked the cooler and noticed that all the sandwiches were gone, I glanced over and noticed Carolyn nibbling her fourth half.

It frequently happens that our children will go through variable phases of defiance. And I'd happened to observe that during the time we had been in South Carolina, Carolyn had been getting increasingly difficult. So when I asked her to give the sandwich to her brother, she smirked at me before shoving the whole thing in her mouth and attempting to swallow it in one swift gulp, like a snake eating a rabbit.

Much to her dismay (and shock), with one swoop of my finger, I extracted the partially chewed sandwich from her mouth and gave it to her brother. Which he gleefully ate.

A few years ago I would have really thought that was totally gross.

It's truly amazing how motherhood has shaped my perception.

Instead of putting a nearly hysterical Carolyn in time out - or taking her home - I took her by the hand and told her we were going for a walk. Which turned out to be a long hike that took us far down the beach and out to a distant sandbar, that was completely surrounded by water.

For the next two hours, we sat on this little island, digging in the sand and finding clams that revealed themselves by the bubbles they created when they burrowed. We built castles by holding handfuls of wet sand and letting it drip, taller and taller. We adorned our castles with various shells and sticks that were caught in the tide. The waves came in and washed over our legs and we fantasized that there were pirates and mermaids swimming around our island.

We dubbed our island, "Gracie Island."

And although it didn't start out as a particularly pleasant experience, spending some time alone with my daughter, turned out to be the perfect remedy for her - and a much needed reprieve, for me.

Then there was the night, just after dinner, when we took the children to the beach and let them swim for an hour or so before bedtime. As we were walking across the sand, the sun was setting behind us, casting a beautiful glow over everything. Each sand grain sparkled like a diamond and the waves crashing on the beach were brilliant white.


The air was warm, but not hot and we were all filled with anticipation because we knew that the ocean would feel so refreshing. There were gusts of wind that puffed across us as we trekked to the water's edge, that made our hair blow wildly across our faces and the children's boogie boards soar like kites.


We determined that the best way for our children to get their boogie boards to the ocean, without having them blow away, were to hold them with two hands, on top of their heads.

As the children were walking, I took this picture:

Over the past five years, I've taken almost 26,000 pictures of our children. There are a lot of pictures that I absolutely adore, but this simple shot has made it to my top 10 favorite pictures of all time. It's only one of our children, as opposed to all four and you can't really see Carolyn's face. But I love this photo. Maybe because the memories surrounding when it was taken are so special, to me.

I've been trying to think what song I would set this photo to and I'm at a loss. "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce, perhaps. "Little Surfer Girl" by the Beach Boys, maybe.

Most appropriate would be a song about the ocean, the sky, the sand, the wind, a beautiful day spent creating memories with family - and a chorus that goes, "Within the Next Hour, Daddy Is Going To Lose My Lemon Lime Goggles and Let Me Take The Fall For It."

So please help me.

What song do you think of when you look at this picture?

our SC vacation: random shots part 8 (John Denver edition)

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.

Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely.

Sunshine almost always makes me high...

our SC vacation: random shots part 7 (favorite thing friday edition)

I'd like a show of hands from everyone who has had enough of my photo blog posts and are anxious for me to return to topics that involve interfacing with ill-behaved children at the community pool, homeschooling, and how to earn an income while living on a sailboat.

OK then.

That is a few hundred more than I expected.

I promise, I am almost done.

But first, I need to mention that with all of the swimming the children have been doing this summer, one of our most coveted possessions, are their awesome swim goggles.


Elizabeth has a pair of pink goggles, William a pair of blue and Carolyn a pair of lemon lime.

At first, the children liked to wear their goggles because they thought it made them look like a real live diver. But very soon, they came to realize that not only do their goggles look cool, but they help to protect their eyes from the chlorine in the water that would otherwise, turn their eyes bright red and cause a lot of discomfort which subsequently, would lead to a lot of whining.

Hence, the children wearing swim goggles not only protected their eyes ... it protected my EARS.


During our week at the beach, our children learned that salt water hurts eyes almost as much as chlorine.

So whenever they would go out to boogie board - or jump and splash in the surf - they wore their goggles.

Unfortunately, the third day that we were at the beach, my beautiful daughter, Carolyn, lost her goggles somewhere in the surf.

Before I go any further, I'd like to add that these goggles, relative to other brand children's goggles, aren't cheap. But, I have done a lot of research and field testing with a lot of less expensive goggles and I personally think that these goggles are the BEST on the market*.

So when my beautiful daughter, Carolyn, lost her goggles, I became quite agitated. Because I have told her once - if I've told her a million times - that when you take your goggles off, you can't just FLING them on the sand, because the tide will most likely come in and wash them away. Likewise, when we are at the pool, she can't just take them off and fling them on the deck because they will either get lost - or someone else might pick them up and keep them as their own.

But as it often happens when I'm talking to one of my four-year-old children, I may as well be talking to the wind. Because the children continued to assume that my primary purpose in life was to follow them around and pick up THEIR stuff.

Once I realized that my daughter was goggle-less, I told her that she wouldn't be getting any new goggles until she was older and more equipped to handle taking care of her things. Because young lady, money doesn't grow on trees and just because she lost something doesn't mean I'm going to rush out to the store and replace it.

I might have continued to rant and rave for a minute or two or ten, before I caught a look from my husband that very clearly said, "JEN. GIVE IT A REST."

And although it was very difficult for me, I did give it a rest. I actually STOPPED talking about the lost goggles and overwhelming irresponsibility of my four-year-old daughter.

It was at least another day or two after the goggle losing incident, that I happened to be scrolling through some of the pictures that I took while at the beach on the day the goggles in question were lost. And when I fell upon this sequence of pictures, I was in complete disbelief.

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?!

This first picture is my husband, Charlie, jumping in to the waves.

Charlie spent much of his youth in Santa Barbara and loves the beach. It is for that reason, he really enjoyed body surfing, along side his children.

But on the day that we bought boogie boards, Charlie thought it would be fun to try out the boogie board that we had specifically bought for Carolyn, but which she was not using at the moment.


And wow - as if it was even possible - he had even MORE fun boogie boarding.


But very soon Carolyn saw that her father was riding on her boogie board, and right about that time, she decided that she wanted her boogie board back. So she stood directly in front of him with her arms crossed, while Charlie grimaced because he KNEW what was coming next...


There was the gentle placement of her little four-year-old hand on his arm ... followed by a very sweet, "Daddy? May I please have my boogie board back?"

(Notice that she is still wearing her lemon lime goggles.)

And Charlie, being the good father that he is, swiftly got off the boogie board and gave it back to his daughter. But as I continued to scroll through these pictures, I happened to notice that Charlie had something in his grasp.

At first, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. But when I zoomed in - it became obvious that Charlie was holding something with a lemon lime hue in his left hand.

Yes ... that's it...

Charlie is holding his daughter's lemon lime goggles in his hand.

And well, that was the last time we ever saw Carolyn's lemon lime goggles.

Because in this next picture, they were gone.

When Carolyn rode the next wave in, she was without her lemon lime goggles. Which is around the same time I put the camera down and proceeded to ask, "Carolyn, love, where are your GOGGLES?"

And of course my poor child didn't know.

Internet, it was CHARLIE, not CAROLYN that lost the lemon lime goggles in the surf at the beach. And worse than that, it was my poor sweet, beautiful baby that took the rap. When I revealed to Charlie my discovery, he was stunned. At first he tried to convince me that he did not lose the goggles, or if he did - it was completely unintentional. But then he went a little crazy and accused me that I take pictures of EVERYTHING.

He knows my camera doesn't lie.

And really, does this look like a man I should trust?

********

* After a little more research, I've decided that Carolyn most definitely deserves a new pair of goggles, so I will be replacing them with this new pair, in lemon lime. They are identical to her former pair, except they come with a tinted lens.



You can buy these goggles on my Amazon Store, through this link. If you do buy the goggles through my little store, you will be helping to fund the coffer for giveways that I hope to begin, next week, for our breast cancer 3-Day walk.

In return, I would be more than happy to lend my sleuth investigative skillz to those who might need them.

our SC vacation: random shots part 6 (James Taylor edition)

In my mind I'm going to Carolina.

Can't you see the sunshine, can't you just feel the moonshine?

Ain't it just like a friend of mine to hit me from behind?

Yes, I'm going to Carolina in my mind...

what's in you wednesday

I'll be honest.

Every day that I was away on vacation, I thought about Deana. Especially the day that I watched this magnificent sunset and I thought about the harsh reality of a woman, not yet 40 years old, dying to a brutal disease that she was diagnosed with, 11 months prior. I thought about her leaving behind a husband and two little boys who are not yet five. I thought about Deana and I thought that what happened to her, (and her and her) could have just as easily happened to me.

I thought about how life can throw some real curve balls our way and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring. I thought about our children and how blessed and lucky we are to have them and, how blessed and lucky Charlie and I both are that we - and our children - are in relatively good health.

Sure, my husband's back goes out every now and again and it might hurt to climb a flight of stairs. Or, sometimes my knees make noises like a bag of potato chips being crushed and I'll be momentarily crippled by a rogue muscle cramp. But we're here and we're healthy - and as far as our doctor's are concerned - we'll all still be around several years from now.

These past few days, I've been at a high intensity business meeting. I'll be going to another high intensity business meeting next week that will involve a judge, a jury and several lawyers who have been tasked with making me look like a raving idiot.

Since I've returned from vacation, I have been buried under almost 1,000 work e-mails and associated fire drill situations than I can count on both hands and feet.

I am trying really hard to not lose focus of what's important in life.

My children. My husband. My physical health.

Charlie has been officially laid off. He will be hired as a contract employee for his company - so he has work if he wants it, but trying to juggle his part time schedule with my more than full-time schedule, is proving to be very difficult.

Unfortunately, and as much as I'd love it, at the moment, moving to the southeast isn't an option for us. Of course, we could just move on our own - but then we'd need to find new jobs. And from the limited research that I've done, I am well aware that the chances of me (or Charlie) finding a position even slightly comparable to what I have now is completely null.

And, if we were to move on our own, we would take a significant hit on the loss of equity in our house. Fortunately, we are still in the black. But that "black" is more like "a very light grey" when you consider the resale value now, to what it was two years ago. Meanwhile, I know for a fact, that my job in California will dissolve over the next few years - so we are currently facing a great unknown.

Over the past week - more than once, we have openly discussed what is important to us. We have reflected on the fragility of life, the unimportance of material possessions and the knowledge that we only come around this way, once.

It is for that reason, at the moment, we are seriously contemplating selling off everything that we own and buying a sailboat that we will take up and down the inter-coastal waterway, while reveling in the waves that splash off our bow and the bottle nosed dolphins that jump in our wake. Once we've had enough boating, we'll move in to a one-bedroom apartment in South Carolina and live off of noodles.

But before we do any of that boating and one bedroom apartment stuff, I need to complete a three-day breast cancer walk.

More information will be coming soon, but for now, our team will be The More The Merrier Walkers for Knockers (Walkers for Knockers was already taken) and currently, there are almost TEN women who have committed to joining us. I'd love to have more.

This is an invitation.

Do you live in Southern California? Or, would you be willing to take a trip? Check your calendar. The dates are November 20-22, 2009. Check out the button on the left in my sidebar - or click this link to see the website and learn more about a three day walk, that will cover sixty miles, and will raise a lot of money to cure a disease that claims the lives of 7.5 million people a year.

There you have it.

That's what's in me this week. A whole lot of instability, a probable mid-life crisis, coupled with an overwhelming desire to cure cancer.

What's in you?