^ Insert a catchy title about shoes here ^

I was/should be writing my grocery-shopping list but then thought, "What is more important than feeding my family?"

So I am blogging instead.

Priorities, yo.

And for today's topic we will be discussing shoes.

And more specifically: the thrifted variety.

Because I have been having amazing luck the last few months buying other peoples used shoes.

Also my life really isn't all that exciting and I generally don't have much to talk about.

So let's commence with a fashion show.

Because I took my shoes outside and took pictures of them to ... umm ... practice my photography skills. Yeah, that is what I was doing.
Practicing.

I am lame.
Also I don't just slide my little tootsies into these shoes and start prancing around.
Who knows where they have been.
Barf.
So I do several things:
1) When in doubt, freeze them out. (So easy to remember because it rhymes. Word.)
Seriously, just throw them in the freezer.
My dad has opened many a freezer only to find pillows, hats, jackets, pinkie fingers (j/k).
All those grody germs will DIE — it's science.
2) Wipe down with a disinfectant wipe or a cloth with bleach on it.
3) Put them on and begin prancing.
So now, for realies, here are my lovelies that I kiss goodnight wear when I actually shower and get ready.
Oh and p.s. I did not pay over $7 for any of these.
Cha-ching!
And p.p.s Maybe you should consider thrifting more often, it is very fun and economical.
Wait, what am I saying? p.p.s.s DO NOT thrift more. I want to thrift everything good and you can go to the mall and pay full price. 

^^ I wear these with knee socks kinda bunched. It is a very stylish combo. I think. ^^

^^ What outfit can you NOT wear these with.? It is a trick question. The answer is: no outfit. There does not exist a single outfit that you cannot wear with these amazing boots. ^^

^^ Salt Waters. Need I say more? ^^ 

^^ Blush-colored, patent, studded flats. It is like every fashion trend in the universe rolled into one pair of kick-ass shoes. ^^

^^ Nude wedges. Everyone should own something nude. Besides your own naked body. ^^

The end.

The Big Picture

On Friday, I met up with a new friend at a shopping center play place.

She is probably one of the most beautiful people I have seen up close.

I literally just sat there and stared at her as we visited, while frequently interrupting her to tell her, again, you are really pretty.

But on top of probably being very photogenic, she is also very wise.

And she gave me lots of good advice.

The kind where someone tells you exactly what you should do.
Which is perfect because I have been stressing about what to do for eight effing months. 

She really does have the gift of clarity and can see the bigger picture.

So, as Micah perched atop the mall's fake train for tens of minutes at a time, preventing other small children from using it, and yes, making them cry, we chatted (and then I made him get down and he monopolized the slide instead).

She said everything I have been needing to hear.

In fact, I would daresay that a prayer was answered. 

And a crap-load of (self-induced) guilt was lifted.

I have been plodding along with my head down, over-analyzing my every move, self-absorbed and paralyzed with the enormity that is life and she blows in and says, "Just ride the wave. Ride it all the way to the beach. Let all the expectations and stress go and trust that you are slowly moving in the right direction."

We talked for over two hours so she said a lot more than that, but what I took away was that I was on the right path. 

And I was, in fact, already doing something that was helping my family to move forward (being present and involved as a stay-at-home parent and tending to my children's emotional, spiritual, and intellectual needs.)

Everything else will fall into place when the time is right.
No one expects me to have overcome this hurdle in eight short months.

And that the happiest parts of my life are still ahead of me.

"But it is hard to trust and have faith," I whined.

"I know, I know, young padawan, but if you force it, it will fail. It doesn't have to be as hard as you are making it. Do what you love and take care of your kids."

And then my head literally exploded.
And how, you may ask, can one write such an eloquent post sans head?
I do not have an answer to that but I do have a better idea of how I want to spend my time, what goals I have for the immediate future, and why I do not like taking my children to public places where there are people.
On a less forward-looking note, I finally went through/organized/packed away all of Scott's toiletries/personal effects.
Then I tried to think of more like nouns/verbs to string together with the " / " symbol.
All of his little everyday belongings have been sitting in a basket in my room since January.
I poked through them and gently packed them in a small pouch to save — even his used q-tips. 
Is that gross/creepy/pathetic?
I literally can not stop forward slashing.
Well, whether or not it is disturbing, I did it.
And then I cried.
And then I made dinner.
The end.

^^ His razor, cologne, glasses, passport, deodorant, business cards, Pet Shops. ^^ 

^^ And I am very proud of this photo because 1) it is my first real picture playing this crazy sport, 2) it looks as if I am being useful, 3) my legs look smokin'. ^^

A post dedicated to my love of FALL

^^ Look at this awkward photo that Ezra took. Ryan's facial expression. ^^

Last night I fell asleep to the sound of rain.
It was like listening to the sweet lullaby of angels sing or Sam Smith ... which is the same thing.
And then I woke up to a torrential downpour and fist pumped the air.
It is FINALLY autumn and I couldn't be more excited.
I know, I know, EVERYONE claims to like the fall.
But really they hate it compared to how much I like it.
You know how I know?
Because I spend the entirety of the summer actively hating the sunshine, the butterflies, the damn sprinklers.
It is, like, my hobby.
Who else do you with that kind of dedication?
I am thinking of starting a club.
A summer-hating club. All the deets TBA.
But now that it turned into fall, yesterday, I can be happy once again.
It is the perfect time for pot roast, and sweater vests, and cold, miserable weather.
Boo-ya.

^^ My kids clearly inherited their photography skills from me. #inept ^^

^^ Proof that I do, indeed, wear sweater vests.
Maybe that will be a stipulation when joining my club.
and p.s. My kids are really natural in front of the camera. ^^

The only recipe you will ever need ...

That is, if you are lazy, like me, and want to spend 0.4 seconds getting dinner ready.
I promise with all my heart it is so fast and delicious you will want to come to my house and give me your firstborn for sharing it.
The one caveat being that you must own a crock pot.
And if you don't own a crock pot, then WHY?
Why would you chose to live that way?
That and I had an epiphany about my hair.
Again.

So first thing first:

Crock Pot Cream Cheese Chicken Chili 

(that's a mouthful ... and that's what she said)

2 chicken breasts, still frozen
1 can Rotel tomatoes 
1 can corn kernels, do not drain
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 pkg. ranch dressing mix
1 tablespoon cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 8 oz. pkg. cream cheese

Step 1: Gather all ingredients. 

Step 2: Throw them hastily into crock pot.

Step 3: Turn said crock pot to HIGH.

Step 4: Cackle maniacally and high-five yourself because you are done making dinner in 3 minutes flat.

Step 5: Tell spouse/family/coworkers that you slaved away preparing a healthy homemade chicken chili for dinner and you deserve some dessert/me time/award etc.

Step 6: Come back in 4-6 hours and eat.

Second order of business:
Methinks there is a similarity here.
Same eyebrows, same hair.
Perhaps I should pursue news-anchorhood as my new career.
This is no coincidence.
My life is coming into focus.

^^ I'm Ron Burgundy? ^^

Happy Monday to all.
Amen.

Gibberish

It has been a rough week.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, let's just say that existential meltdowns have been happening all up in here.
But I do have a few random thoughts.
They don't make any sense grouped together but my head is exhausted from self-imposed pressure and wasted energy used worrying about the MEANING OF MY LIFE! (italics added to emphasize my over-dramatized angst)
Anyway, here is a arbitrary list of gibberish:

* My children's bus driver (a very tall, elderly woman named Miss Allison) motioned me over as I waved goodbye to Ryan and Ezra and said, "You are amazing. You really are. You are doing a great job."
Just like that.
And for a second I believed her, and was happier for having walked them out to the bus stop this morning.
What a nice thing to do.
It absolutely made my day.
I vow, here and now, to start handing out more kind and meaningful compliments.
Everyone needs to hear something good about themselves.
Can you imagine if we all just walked around flinging out compliments left and right?
It would be world-changing. Of epic proportions.

* I have now sustained bruises on both sides of my body, from skating at speeds of up to 800 miles an hour.
When one skates as passionately as I do, one tends to wipe out a lot more violently.
These ridiculous injuries make for some very uncomfortable sleeping.
And get me no sympathy when I come limping home.
"Well, you do play a high contact sport, Brianne," my parents say.
Touché parents, touché.

* I bought Ezra a pair of bright green Chucks.
He told me that he ran "way faster" in P.E. today wearing his new Converse.

^^ A self-portrait. ^^

They are so stylish I can barely stand what a hip parent I am.
And I am pretty sure no one hip actually uses the word hip.
So I slapped myself and told myself never to say that again.

* On Tuesday, I started taking some new acne medicine; And much to my chagrin, my skin is not flawless and glowing already.
Heather reminded me that only taking it for two days will not dewy, unblemished skin make.
Hmmph.

* My hair-growing-out situation is looking quite haphazard at this point.
I look like one of those baby turkeys that starts off fuzzy and then two weeks later looks wretched as their grownup feathers begin growing in.
I said to my sister, "Look at my ridiculous hair."
To which she said, "We should take a new profile pic and get you started on another dating website."
My life is fun.
And embarrassing.

This time, it is the story of a beard ...

So it all started on Tuesday at WinCo.
I was minding my own business, doing my regular speed shopping (where I frantically tare up and down the store chucking things into my basket as my children scramble to catch up) when I spotted a very handsome man.
He was wearing a baseball hat, t-shirt, jeans that accentuated his ... umm ... shoes, and he had a beard.
After screeching to a halt, I started following this man around, staring at him and his beautiful beard, passing him conspicuously in every aisle, and even bonus! scored a few suspicious sideways glances as he noticed me stalking him.  
Then I lost him in the frozen foods and only saw his back as I shuffled out with my grocery-laden cart, Micah screaming about the lollipop he dropped on the ground.
It was magical.
Anyway, my point is that, clearly, I am awkward, and I am starting to feel desperately lonely.
Like, having had no contact with the opposite sex (outside of my one date) in the last 8 months.
And, yes, that one date did lead to some texting and a discussion about going out again, but the more I got to know him, the more I felt like we were on two different pages and I became disinterested, yadda yadda.
At any rate, later that night I began thinking about this stranger, whom I will most likely never see again, and then I started thinking about Scott.
Then I started to mentally revisit our last night together and how scary, shocking, and devastating it was.

^^ A coincidence that I recently tagged this
image in Pinterest? I don't think so. ^^

Then I began to sob.
And after the sobbing, I began an irrational, emotional conversation with Scott, interrupted intermittently with loud nose-blowing and convulsive gasping.
It was ridiculous.
And to top that off, I had to pause mid-breakdown to go in and soothe Ezra's distraught weeping upon waking from a nightmare.
He began crying about how much he missed Daddy and why did people have to die?
He is having a time with this all-day first grade business and has been quite emotional lately.
I think we all have.
Can you believe that it has been nearly eight months since our world turned upside-down?
That is, like, two-thirds of a year.
And I have, for the most part, become more stable, notwithstanding the twice-weekly hysterics;
And yet I am feeling like I am on the precipice of something different.
How is that for cryptic? And wordy?
Apparently I am full of brilliance tonight.
I cannot explain why I am feeling sad and better and despondent and hopeful all at the same time.
I also cannot explain my attraction to beards.
Whatevs.
That is it for a Thursday evening.
Now I am going to dish up some ice cream and watch Safe Haven, while pretending that I am Jullianne Hough being seduced by Josh Duhamel.

The story of a bruise

I had a really sad post planned for today, buuuuuut ain't nobody got time for that.
We only want positive sentiments on a Tuesday so we will save the somber stuff for next time.
A good mix of fun and depressing is how I roll here.
So for today, I will show you a great photo Heather (my step-mom) took of my a$$ after roller derby one evening.
I am not kidding.
Just picture a camera pressed up to my cheeks, as we both laugh.
But I think these kind of memories are important.
You know ... for my posterity.

^^ I know my Furious butt holes will not be impressed with this bruise (they are much to tough) but it might coax a few dry heaves from my less violent readers. p.s. it looks even more beautiful worse today. ^^ 

And to keep with the light-hearted theme, I have a few new videos to share.
Just in case you are mindlessly trolling the internet and feeling bored with all of your regular haunts.
The first is very funny because IT IS FACTUAL.
And it isn't as graphic as it sounds.
Although I don't have an appropriate picture to include.
But bare in mind, this is a PG blog.
Maybe PG-13.
HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A MAN VS. WOMAN

The second one is cute.
Although if that were my husband, I would probably chicken chop him in the throat.
BATDAD

The third one is just one video of many.
In fact, there is a whole series of helpful programs that are not really helpful at all.
YOU SUCK AT PHOTOSHOP

And this last one is also a series (but more of a string of mini-documentaries).
I have always been fascinated with ballet — probably because I could never do it.
I think one has to be graceful in order to dance.
That and be able to touch your own toes.
And it will take you approximately an hour to watch all of the videos in one sitting.
Which I may or may not have done while my kids wrestled and pulled each other's hair.
CITY.BALLET.

Well, off to bed, my lovelies.
I am in a weird mood tonight.