Caption contest

So. There were (when I posted this) 339 hits on my page. There are not 339 comments. So I'd like to hear who else is reading this. Everyone, please submit your best caption to the picture below. Winner gets bragging rights and your prize is I will NOT drop my kids off at your house for a week.

Condition of the Economy can be found while trick-or-treating

Here in the epicenter of waterpark-related tourism, I haven't seen the effects of the underwhelming economy. Well, that ended last night.

The kids went out trick or treating last night. Oh, and they were just precious, too. Nate was an alien, Casey was a scarecrow and Annie was a pumpkin. Jesse, he said, was a disgruntled attorney. But I digress.

They returned about an hour later - hey, three little pairs of legs only last so long. After the kids went to bed, Jesse and I dumped the contents of their loot bags into a colander-like bowl.

What do you see? Snickers and Milky Ways galore? Maybe a package or two of Whoppers? Or, my personal favorites, Three Muskateers?

Nope.

There was, in three bags of candy, exactly one fun-size Snickers Bar. A few M and M packs, the usual Starbursts 2-piece, and one Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

Oh, when the recession hits Halloween. It's not good.

What's up with the Teddy Grahams? It's a nice thought, but come on, Teddy Grahams are about as high on the Candy Totem Pole as those mysterious orange and black wrapped pieces of crap candy. Which, as you can see, they got last night, too.

What did we give out, you ask? I sent Jesse to the store. He came home with two bags of Twix, a bag of Mini-Snickers (this is just wrong...hello, where were the fun-size?), and a bag of Tootsie Rolls. To his defense, I saw a lot of mini-Snickers in my kids' bags. So either someone else was passing them out, too, or the kids were in our candy when we weren't looking.

So much for the Trick-or-Treating of yore. I remember getting full-size candy bars at one house, a can of pop at another. There were mountains of Fun-Size chocolate, as far as the eye could see. That was during the Clinton years, some of the finest years for Halloween candy, and sadly, some of my last years Trick-or-Treating.

On a related topic, the first set of Trick-or-Treaters I had, there were two adults in the mix, both with bags of candy. I felt like telling one lady that since her boobs were bigger than mine, she didn't get any. But I chickened out. The other lady in the group, I guess I could turn a blind eye to, because her "costume" was horrible skin, stringy hair, and a few missing teeth. Not a costume at all, but her God-given apperance. Maybe I should include fun-size bottles of Pantene and the business card of the dentist.

Last year, I had an experience with a parent asking for candy, so I wrote a letter to the editor. This year, after opening the door to Adams-Friendship folk, I went to my computer and printed out this:


Jesse says it was harsh. But hey, I'm not the freaking food pantry. And if you're an adult and you're out Trick-or-Treating, you are obviously needing some sort of assistance.

I had the signs posted one each brick column and one on the front door. Several people read the signs.

And one last thing. I made the most AWESOME jack-o-lantern last night while the kids were out.

I think I'll do more like this next year. Kinda like Calvin and the snowmen, it will be Jessica and the pumkins.

It's hard to diet when you work with FOOD!

I know, I know. Excuses are like assholes. It's just so HARD to stick to an eating regimen when you're knuckle deep in cream cheese.

In the last month, this is what I've made at parties: Peanut Butter Cup Torte, Caramel Apple Mini-Tartlet, Phyllo dough wrapped asparagus with Red Pepper Aioli, Creamy One-Pot pasta, Bread Bowl Artichoke Dip, and a Greek Cheese Torta. That's just in a month's time. Tonight, I'm making the asparagus dish again, which I guess is my most healthy. But the dip, well, there's mayo in it.

It was my day to bring snacks at MOPS last week and I brought the Caramel Apple Tartlets, Tirimisu Brownie Trifle and Crab Rangoon Dip with home-made wonton chips.

I am determined to get on the right path again, though. Last night I saw my friend Heidi and she looks AWESOME! She said she's lost 27 pounds by running and "writing down everything I put in my mouth." This led to some jokes, of course. I'm proud of her. (She also didn't need to lose any weight to begin with, I might add.)

So, I went to WalMart last night and did the grocery shopping for our family. I tried to get stuff for me, too. But then I had to make the Greek Cheese Torta. Okay, I didn't HAVE to. I wanted a "Last Hurrah" before I became serious again. Well, Jesse went to bed because he has a cold, so now, I have left-over baguettes and dip. Which, I have just discovered, my 3 year-old likes.

Willpower, willpower, willpower....

I think I'll go make a cup of tea and have some egg whites and turkey bacon. Or a cup of oatmeal. Why can't salad taste like cream cheese?

The difference between Democrats and Republicans is that Democrats would never stop being friends with someone for being a Republican

Remember when I said I wasn't that political? My blog post earlier this month has got me thinking, and while I still don't consider myself political, I do think I am more historically-minded.

I was called yesterday by a lady I like and respect, asking me if I would join her in campaigning for Obama. Me? The person that didn't vote in the 2000 election because I didn't feel I was qualified to make such a decision? (Note to self: others dumber than you made the decision, so you are most definitely qualified.)

Debbie, the caller, said she spoke with another woman I like and respect and got my name from her. Wow. People think I'm smart? Maybe.

So, there is an Obama sign in my yard right now. I will be working next Saturday while pushing my adorable daughter in her stroller, hoping to secure hearts, minds, and votes for Barack Obama.

Why am I doing this? Again, politics is merely PR, but I like what I see in Barack Obama. It's the big picture of things. It's the hope he's given to people, much like another young senator in the 1960s...John F. Kennedy.

It's not a political thing for me. It's history in the making, and I'm going to be a part of history. And my young daughter will be part of history, too. I mean, how cool would it have been to have someone say "My mom campaigned for Kennedy in the 1960s and brought me along in the stroller?"

To me, John McCain is just more of the same. We need a change. Is change always good? No one knows until it happens. That's what I love about change.

Have I mentioned my husband is a Republican? He claims he's going to put a sign in the yard for McCain right next to my Obama sign. He doesn't remember to pick up milk or when his doctor appointments are. He said he's going to pick up a sign in Madison at J.B. Van Hollen's office.

Do I look worried?

I'm sure he'll talk about it, but actually do it? What's that word lawyers throw around...precedent. He's not going to do shit.

I want to make Annie a shirt for next Saturday that says "My Mama's for Obama. (My Dad's a pain and is for McCain.)"

Six years ago...

Six years ago right now, I was waiting for a room at Meriter Hospital in Madison. My water had broken at about 8:45 p.m. in the parking lot and I went to maternity triage. I called Jesse once I got there to tell him I was staying this time, and he got off work to come down. I remember being anxious and frustrated at the same time. I had been to the hospital three times before thinking I was in labor, and this time, I really was but the nurses had to verify my water had broken. Um, does the trail of water behind me or the soaked shorts and sandals confirm it for you? I know some women think their water has broken when they have only peed on themselves, but anyone who's been pregnant knows that the average full-term pregnant bladder only holds about a dropper-full of pee. After much conversation between nurses about "ferning," they let me stay.

I got to my room about midnight. Jesse went back to our apartment to get some things of his own and brought up mine when he got back. I called Stephanie, my best friend who was also a labor and delivery nurse in Chicago (incidentally, the one who told me I was probably leaking fluid and should get to the hospital). She came up about noon.

It was a long labor, so I won't bore anyone with the gory details. One of the things I remember most were the windows outside my room. The nurse started pitocin (the devil) at 6 a.m. By 10, I had strong contractions. Here I was in this beautiful, state-of-the-art room with TV, DVD, CD, VHS...and I wanted silence. I stared at those windows as a focal point. Just a few minutes ago, I was on Google Maps and they have this new feature called "Street View". I was able to see my labor windows again, which reminded me that it was tonight I went to the hospital.

Six years ago tonight, I was a very excited and scared individual. A mere 29 hours later, I had a son. I was only 23. Jesse and I had been married six days less than a year and we had a son.

Nate was born at 2:52 a.m. I couldn't sleep at all after that. After I had gotten sewn up and cleaned up, I just stared at him. Clueless but delirious. I remember those few days at the hospital very fondly.

I've had two children since then, and each very memorable and wonderful. But the first, my first, the feeling is almost unexplainable.

He was the science experiment, the test-market baby. If this went right, maybe we'd do it again.

And now, he's in first grade. Smart as a whip. Very beautiful still. It's true what I was warned: It goes by in a flash. I'm sure in a blink, he'll be graduating high school.

Look at us in the picture above. I look so young. And Nate looks adorable. I forgot just how dark his hair was. Such a good baby.

Politically Correct

I usually don't get too involved in politics, other than to maybe ruffle a few of my husband's feathers. I love that I live in the USA and anyone can have any view and vote on that view. It's kind of the laizez-faire approach to humanity.

However, I happened to catch Obama's speech at the Democratic National Convention. This is the only one I've ever seen (speech - in full, anyway - and convention coverage) and I was impressed. I think I saw something of the 1988 DNC when I was a kid, but that was only because it was raining and we were at Disney World. But I digress...

He certainly is a great speaker, isn't he? He knows how to tap into people's ideals and for me anyway, makes me want to believe every word of his speech. So what? I'm a smart, college-educated woman. I know that it's just politics and politics, for the most part, is an exercise in good PR. I take what he says with a grain of salt, just as everyone should do with every political speech. Even so, I feel like a cheesy 1960s movie or TV show with wide-eyed teenage girls clasping their hands under their chins and sighing, "Isn't he dreamy?"

I have friends of every political viewpoint. My family is all Republicans except for my step-mother. My husband is a Republican. I joke with all my liberal friends that I married him despite his politics.

I once asked my father about politics. I think I was like 9 or 10. He told me the difference between Democrats and Republicans was "one party thinks the government should help people and the other party thinks that the people should help themselves." It wasn't until I was in college did I realize which was which. I guess my dad's description was a pretty good one for a kid to understand, but this is also the man who became a Republican because his own father was a Democrat.

My mom is about as conservative as one can be. She once voted for Pat Buchanan. Nothing gets me more riled up about politics than my mother. Like I said earlier, I'm not that political and I believe everyone can have their own opinions without having to justify it others. Well, I guess to every rule there is an exception and mine lives 150 miles away.

It's not that I don't think my mom is entitled to her opinion, I just don't think she should mindlessly believe what her church tells her. This happens with books, movies, TV shows, etc. too. I just can't understand why a smart woman refuses to come up with her own ideas. I think this is the single most frustrating thing I have with my mom.

In my own mind, I believe you have to hear both sides before you can form an opinion. Maybe this stems from being a journalist. ("That liberal press!" My mother would say. Why is that so bad? Because we liberally let both sides present a case? Oh, my bad...) And in that spirit, I believe I will watch McCain's speech this week.

I fully admit I don't agree with McCain solely because he's a Republican and the Republicans are the people responsible for G.W. Bush. But I haven't given him a chance. I vow to hear him out, something other members of my family wouldn't dream of doing for the other side.

Last night I printed out a list of Presidents for Nate. Thanks Google. :) I noticed that in my life-time, there have been mostly Republican presidents. I was born under Carter, a Dem., but other than Carter it was Clinton. A time in my life I remember the country going well was when I was in high school and especially college. Those were the Clinton years. GWB was elected (or rather, appointed) my senior year. I left college, went in to the real world, and it's been tough. All under GWB. This could all just be a big coincidence, and I'm not so naive to think that it isn't. I am not blaming hard times on GWB. I take responsibility for all my own actions and decisions.

Let's see what McCain has to say this week. He's going to have a hard time matching the charisma that Obama had.

Nature or Nurture?

There's a new lady of the house. She's opinionated, determined, and only has six teeth. No, Jesse has not taken a mistress from Adams. It's our daughter Annie, and she's only 15 months old. I'm scared for what 15 years old is like.
For the past couple weeks I've noticed some changes in her behavior. Changes may not be the right word; more like some personality developing and presenting through her behavior.

Just yesterday, she took a plastic play phone, a Thomas the Train treat-or-treating receptacle as a purse, and a hairbrush, sat down on our rocket ship (like a car you use with your feet...ours just happens to be a rocket ship) and "talked" on her phone while brushing her hair, all the while a purse on her arm.

Now, I don't claim to be perfect wife, mom or woman, but I don't think I've ever driven while talking and brushing my hair. But I can't be sure. Is Annie a mirror of my own actions or is she simply asserting her own?

She walks around the whole house on the phone. Real or fake...it doesn't even have to be a phone. The remote works quite nicely. So does a plastic car.

She's into shoes. I bought her a pair of fake Crocs at Wal-Mart because I tried them on her to check a shoe size and I had the audacity to take them off of her. She screamed. I gave in and put them in the cart. She strained around to reach them and started to cry. So, I put them on her feet and she was happy.

By the way, happy is a relative term with Annie. She gives strangers the stink eye. Heck, she gives her own grandparents the stink-eye. If you say the word "no" to her, no matter how nicely, she screams and cries, throws herself on the floor and covers her eyes. For Annie, happiness is synonymous with getting what she wants, but isn't that the way it is for any of us?

I thought with having two brothers, she would be a tomboy. She still could be. She likes to play with their cars and race them around. Of course, after she's done racing, she uses the cars as phones.

I don't exactly exude the essence of femininity, but Annie may. She hasn't had any wardrobe preferences yet, except for shoes, but I'm sure that's coming. I'm not sure how happy she'll be in her brother's old jeans and sweatshirts. But I'm sure there will be a doting relative or two to grant a wish of new clothes.

What will happen as she gets older and goes to school? Somehow, I was born with the ability to do hair. I try my best with mine, and most days, it's a crap-shoot. What if she wants me to do something with her hair other than a pony-tail or french braid? And let's be honest, half the time, my french-braids don't turn out quite right. What if I'm that embarrassing mom picking up her daughter from school? I remember being so disgusted because my mom shopped at Marshalls.

I guess it remains to be seen what Annie will demand as she gets older. I just hope I'll be ready for it.

Various topics

I've heard I need to update this more often. So, here it is!
I left my job at the end of last month to do Pampered Chef full-time. So far, it's going well. My August is quite booked, which is great! I'm working on having a full September, too. So far, only 3 in September, but I'm hopeful my last two shows this month, plus the Pampering a Businesses I've been doing lead to a busy September. For some reason, October is taking off like a rocket, and I have a December date, too. Weird!

Some may be asking, "What is Pampering a Business?" Well, my loyal subject, Pampering a Business is something I read about on a Pampered Chef board. Basically, I make food, bring plates, forks, catalogs and order forms, and leave it all to be devoured. First one, got a booking. Second one, nothing. Third one, I got $620 in sales! I was floored! Now, I have something at my old work (Lane Bryant Outlet), so hopefully they come through for me.

In kid news, I'm ready for school to start. Anyone want an almost-six-year old? I think he's ready, too. Only a few more weeks. I think I can make it. Casey will probably be starting pre-school. He's completely potty-trained, now! Well, for the most part. I have to remind him to go pee before he sits down to eat or watch TV...anything mindless. But, this kid's a pooping champ. I wish there were competitions for pooping. My Casey would clean up!

We have family pictures next week for the first time ever. ::Sigh:: I guess it's something I need to do, even if I feel like I'm too fat to do so. We're all wearing green and denim, so hopefully there will be enough colors to hide me. I'm excited for the new pictures of my kids, though. I look at the ones we did last August, and Annie looks so tiny! She was 3 months old. Her hair is long enough now for me to put it up...even though she bobs and weaves her head as I try to do so.

So, is this enough to read now, Heidi? :)

What a great time!

I got back from National Conference a little bit ago, and it was great! I can't divulge too many secrets because there are 2 other groups going this month, but what a great time! I am so motivated...I hope I can spread it out and not crash and burn. :)

And, since getting home this afternoon, I have already booked a show! My friend is doing a fundraiser! Yay!!!

Now, I'm waiting for Jesse and the kids to get home. He took the kids to Iowa for the weekend. Ah...a few more hours to myself, and then it's back to normal. Whatever that is.

Exercise: an essay

It all started with the mile run.

Fourth grade we had our first mile run in gym class. We'd heard about it from the older kids, and we dreaded the day we'd have to "run the mile." I guess in American Education standards in the 1980s, we had to run it twice a year, but our gym teacher, Mr. Mason, would do it for a good two or three weeks in the fall and again in the spring.

It's not too hard to understand why I didn't like gym class. I was heavier than other fourth-graders, which opened me up to teasing. Looking back, I wasn't any bigger than them, just more awkward. I wasn't cool or anything even close to it. Not only was I heavier, but I had a big mouth, too. Tease a shy kid, it's over in 10 seconds. Tease a big mouth, it's just more fun.

We ran the mile in the neighborhood next to the school, something I bet now would be just unheard of. We also ran the mile in the large field used for recess. Every time around, we'd get a time. I was always last. People started to lap me. I rarely finished.

I remember one time, sick of the teasing and the running, I stopped at two laps when we were supposed to run three. I told Mr. Mason I had run the mile. He looked at me and cocked his head, but wrote my name down anyway. He put everyone's time up on the wall next to the gym. Mine was not there. He knew.

The next year, I switched schools, but still had to run the mile. Luckily the gym teacher at that school, Mrs. Yingst, only made us run it the twice-a-year bare minimum. I think I ran it once, but I'm not sure.

The spring of 1990, fifth grade, I hurt my knee while playing softball. I was told I had Osgood-Schlatter's disease. Great! A disease! I was way more excited than I should have been. I had a doctor's note out of running, or at least running the mile. It was like Christmas came early.

The thing about Osgood-Schlatter's disease is that you grow out of it. What it is, essentially, is the growth plate on the bone under your knee pushes your knee out. But, once you don't have a growth plate anymore, you don't have it anymore. I relied on the general apathy of the American school system. No one bothered to check up on me. I had reached and passed puberty by the time I was 14, but still that doctor's note stood.

Junior year of high school, I ran the mile. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I had been almost enjoying gym class, and wanted to give it a shot. I finished. It was a victorious day. Even my gym teacher was proud of me. I ran it in 12:14. Not a great time by any standards, but you know what? Some other girls didn't finish. I finished.

I've had knee injuries since, but I've always like exercising. Every time I'm on that treadmill and finish, I first look at the calories burned, but then look at the distance. I divide out the time to see how I've done.

I'm still not at that non-impressive 12:14 a mile, but I'm getting closer. I run at an incline, I run for half-an-hour at a time. And lately, my base speed has been increasing more and more each day. I can easily keep pace at a 4.0. Again, not impressive for anyone else but myself. After all, running at 4.0 mph is a 25 minute mile. But I'm doing it. I'm progressing. I'm finishing.

I'll never be a marathon runner or someone who runs as a hobby. I often say the only time I'll run is if I'm being chased. But the love of exercising, the love of myself, will always be there; no matter what my mile time is.

Happy 4th!

Happy Fourth of July, all! We're looking forward to a relaxing day at home with the kids and Niki and Dan, with fireworks at the library later. Well, the fireworks aren't at the library, but we sit in the field behind it.

Even though I'm frustrated about finding places for the kids to go next week, I'm excited to go the Pampered Chef National Conference. We're staying at the Palmer house - I've been there before, but it will be nice to go back.

It looks like a beautiful day here. Can't ask for more than that!

This morning, the boys woke up early and came downstairs to watch TV. Usually when this happens, it means a ginormous mess to clean up. But today, the mess was kept to a minimum! I think they were only down here for half an hour or so, which helped. For breakfast, we had bread and blueberries. Guess who the blueberry princess is? You may not be able to tell in this picture, but she has about five blueberries stuffed in her mouth. She's also always looking for the camera now, much like her mother I'm sure, but I digress.

Frustrated

I'm trying to coordinate things so I can go to the Pampered Chef conference next week, and it's getting to be more than I can handle. I had to finagle things at work to get off because my schedule recently changed and my days off are now different. Okay, I did that. Then, I had to figure out financial stuff. Okay, I think I'll be okay there, but not without some sacrifice this week. I asked my mom to watch the kids, rather than keep them up here with Jesse and pay for our sitter Carrie to watch them two extra days, and she is, but can't watch them on Friday. So I'm waiting for my dad to talk to my step-mom about watching them.

Now, my mom is annoyed that I'll be spending the night downtown instead of coming back to her house each night. I know three kids can be a handful, but I really don't think it would be beneficial for me to get to her house at 10:30 at night, only to leave at 7 the next morning.

I'm doing all this so I can get this business off the ground, and possibly quit my job and stay home with my kids...and it seems like there's a bump in the road at every turn. Am I really not supposed to go to this?

I'm still trying to find someone to watch the kids Friday, because my dad thinks they may be too much for them to handle, and I'm so frustrated! I don't live down there anymore, and the people I know down there have their own lives and stuff to deal with.

I wish this would be easier.

I went and worked out again last night, but first weighed myself on Snap's scale...down another pound. Go me! I like working out, but I always feel like I'm on display there. Maybe because it's in downtown Dells, and everyone and their mom is walking past, looking in the window. I use the treadmill, which is right by the window. I feel like a freak show! "Come, watch the fat girl sweat it out!" Hey Snap, howabout some blinds?

I work today and tomorrow, 11 hours each day. I'm supposed to work Friday 9-3, but it's the fourth and I had plans made before the schedule switched. So, Beth at work was nice enough to cover my shift. Still, 11 hour shifts...they are not my favorite.

The kids and I went to the park yesterday. They had fun, but boy was it hot! We only stayed about 20 minutes. I brought the camera along and now I feel like one of those tourists I run into around here. What's my incessent need to preserve every moment? Um, did you read about those 11 hour shifts? Maybe that's part of it.

I posted my favorite picture. Not the best by any standards, but still my favorite. I put Casey on the monkey bars to hang for a picture. Only, I wasn't quick enough and he couldn't hold on any longer. The picture above is of him falling. He was fine...fell right on his feet and went to climb something.

Now I'm off to work. If you're in the area, stop by and buy some furniture from me! Make my 11 hours worthwhile. Oh, and can you bring me some lunch? I just don't have the stomach for fast food today.

I-pod, do you?

I got an I-pod as a gift from my husband this past Christmas, and only now am I getting to play with it. Aside from an irritating time on the phone with Apple at my mom's house and a couple of times trying to use it at Jesse's office, I have not gotten to use my gift. Until now.

My name is Jessica, and I'm an i-tunes-aholic.

Music, pod-casts, even an episode of The Soup, why has this world never been open to me before? Oh wait, dial-up was my way of life.

I'm still trying to figure out i-tunes. For example, why can I only get my "workout" playlist on my i-pod, even though I created two others? And yes, I've sync-ed it.

Working out with the i-pod (by the way, I think I may need to name it) is definitely superior to not working out with it. Before, I'd go to Snap Fitness and get to read the TV shows. (Gotta love closed-captioning.) Last night was my first night with the yet-to-be-named i-pod. Wow. I actually wanted to move! And I'm finding my music tastes, at least for the fitness genre, are quite different than my usual tastes, bordering on embarrassing. Miley Cyrus anyone? Love it. Usher? Never had a CD...now I have two songs. And I'm discovering a very troubling crush on Justin Timberlake.

I can't wait for Jesse to get home so I can workout with the new songs I put on this morning.

A healthier me

So I'm trying to get healthier. I'm down about 15 pounds or so, but everytime I get to an amount of weight like this, I just screw it up. It's like I can't get back the momentum of the first few weeks of the healthier lifestyle. And at work, well, I think someone would rake in a fortune if they had a delivery soup and salad service! In Baraboo, Wis., however, we have McDonalds, Taco Bell, Culvers and Dairy Queen all within walking distance of each other (okay, to Dairy Queen, it would be a long walk, but hey, we need the exercise these days). Aren't we in an obesity crisis in this country? And people are wondering why. As a resident fatty, I can safely say that there are no excuses. I chose to put every morsel of food in my mouth. But to not have any healthy alternatives? That's a problem. Any entrepreneurial spirits reading this from Baraboo...soup and salad delivered. You'll make a bundle!

On a lighter note (ha ha, no pun, really!), I'm working late on my new computer and loving it! I should be doing dishes, laundry, or picking up the living room. I'm also yawning. But hey, I'm having fun and I'm writing. Something that hasn't been done in a long time.

Welcome to the blog

Hello fair readers! The Leichsenrings have joined the 21st century today. We have, in our kitchen, a brand new lemon yellow Dell laptop, equipped with a brand new high speed internet connection. That's right, no more dial-up for us!