Operation Spiritual Airlift from Heather King on Vimeo.

I couldn’t be more thrilled to join Maggie, Heather, Lisa, Jessica, Lee, Ann, and Eileen in this awesome project.

Special thanks to Heather for getting middle aged white women to lip synch and rap, and to Lee and her husband making us look professional.  Or just pretty.  Or for putting it all together.

And last but not least, to my videographer Ben who saved Ann and I from trying to do this ourselves.

I dare you to only watch this once…

I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind that I was in my warm home, safe with my family instead of a hospital bed. You might be thinking, shut up and get over this already but if you were in that car with me, you’d be high fiving me for staying out of the fetal position under the covers while sucking my thumb.

By Wednesday evening I was more than ready for Yoga. Thinking, stupidly, that it would do wonders for my still tense muscles.

There were only three of us in class so while we were waiting to see if more showed up we talked about the storm the day before. Me being me and having the disease I Have To Share Everything-idious, I told them about my spin out.

Everyone gasped and then the woman next to me, who I’ve never seen in class before, looked me straight in the eyes with the most serious look and said, “Someone is looking out for you. You have a higher purpose in this life and you better figure out what that is.”

And with that let’s start some belly breathing!

Her words hit me like a Mac truck. I felt sad and grateful all at the same time. I got my B.A. in Denial which meant that I had ignored the emotional aspect of Tuesday morning successfully until 6:30pm Wednesday night at the Y while doing downward dog.

I finally took my head out of the sand.

The fact that the YMCA is literally right off the beltline with windows in the yoga studio facing it didn’t help the, “I’mfineI’mfineShutupdon’ttalkaboutitI’mfine” thing I had going on.

If the class was bigger I would have left. But since I was a third of the population I stayed and pretended I was really into each pose with my eyes closed to keep from crying.

My muscles were screaming all through class. Instead of helping, doing poses like fish made my neck begin an Occupy Becky’s Body movement.

Somehow I made it through but by the end of class when we do our final relaxation, corpse pose, (p.s. I’m super good at this pose) I realized how tense I really was. I couldn’t let go of any muscle. As I laid there I realized my cheeks were wet with tears.

Tuesday morning was awful and terrifying. But I made it. I’m not sure that I have a higher purpose in this life other than winning the award for owning the most black cardigans from Old Navy, and I don’t think I need to figure that out or even own that. It’s too much. And seriously, maybe it was all just dumb luck.

Regardless, I’ll just be grateful all is well and enjoy my massage tomorrow afternoon that much more.

A heavy wet snow as it was in the 40′s yesterday.

I didn’t pay any attention other than choosing to take the SUV with four wheel drive over the Pontiac Vibe.

It was Tuesday which meant before I go to work I drop off Eddie at doggie daycare which is out of my way and involves taking the one highway in Madison.

Normally Eddie bounds out of the house as Tuesdays and Thursdays are his favorite. This morning, however, he wouldn’t go. I thought it was the snow that was freaking him out even though this wasn’t our first snow of the season. He was so stubborn I had to put on his leash and almost pull him to the car.

Our trip out to The Dog Den was uneventful and slow. It was definitely slippery but as a veteran and conqueror of all things snow I thought nothing of it.

I dropped him off and headed back onto the Beltline on my way to work. Again, traffic was busy, almost bumper to bumper, as it was shortly after 8 am. Everyone was going slow; maybe around 30 mph.

There were three lanes of traffic. I was in the far left lane when I decided to move to the middle lane.

I still don’t know what happened but as I began to veer right, the car took on a life of it’s own and slid while doing a slow spin through all lanes of traffic. I remember heading towards a pole on the shoulder and thinking, “I’m in a dream. I won’t hit anything because I’m in a dream.” (I often have nightmares about being in a car accident. This won’t make them worse. No, not at all.)

My car finally stopped spinning and sliding on the right hand shoulder, perpendicular to traffic.

I stopped breathing.

I hadn’t hit anything. I was OK. How was that possible!?!? There was a steady stream of cars and I went through two lanes of traffic! How did I not hit anybody or even that pole?

A woman drove by and looked over at me while giving me a questioning thumbs up as if to say, “Holy Sh*t! Are you OK?” I nodded as she kept going.

Through no strength of my own, I straighten the car out, stepped on the gas and drove off.

Shaking uncontrollably.

Recently with the Denver Broncos in the playoffs and their quarterback Tim Tebowe in the limelight, I’ve been very judgmental of him and his beliefs. “There’s no religion in football. Keep it off the field!” I touted.

My annoyance to him had my atheist side blossoming. I was condescending and criticizing to every Tebowe fan. In some weird way almost taking it personally. I even put a snarky comment on Facebook about, “Jesus being on vacation” after the Denver loss Saturday night.

I got to work in one piece, (still slipping a few times but on a residential street where no one is around, who cares) called Matt and then proceeded to quietly freak out as what happened minutes before sunk in.

My arms felt like I had been in a boxing match for eight hours. My neck, well my neck was (and still is) so tight I can’t adequately turn my head.

I kept replaying it over and over in my head while thinking, “How did I not hit anybody. How? It’s not possible? How did I not cause a bigger accident?”

Do I think Jesus saved me?  No, (I am still Jewish after all…) but do I think it was just pure luck?  No.  I don’t.  What I do know is that I’m backing off Mr. Tebowe and his supporters. He and others can “Tebowe” all day long.  Please, be my guest.

I’m still not a fan of organized religion (for my own very personal reasons), but a higher power? Raise your hand if your Sure.

How else can you please explain how I crossed two lanes of traffic on a highway(!) during the morning rush hour on ice laden streets and didn’t hurt myself, my car or others.

Just 24 hours previous I was making pancakes for Ben and his BFF after their sleepover. The sun was shining in, the boys were gobbling up my pancakes, the dog was leaving them alone and I had one of those moments where I felt so happy. So content. But as I’m wont to do, I immediately thought, “I hope this isn’t the before part of a Hallmark movie where the next day my world comes crashing down…”

I could have died this morning. Or been seriously injured. Or totaled my car. Instead I sailed through it all save for some sore muscles and raw nerves.

I can’t believe that was simply luck.

I don’t know what it was but I do know my days of judging anyone for their beliefs and looking for trouble in my life are over.

This might be PTSD and maybe in a few weeks I’ll look back on this post and shake my head.

But as for right now, I firmly believe that something or someone got my attention this morning. And now I’m all ears.

When the alarm sings, I hit snooze through sleep. Soon after the giant puppy leaps into our bed. Something that’s not allowed with Matt there. As he snuggles in, the boy, as if on cue, makes his way into the bed as well. All three of us huddle close until my bladder and time ticking break the spell.

I get ready as Ben dresses, lets the dog out and has his breakfast in his young hurried way.

Stop. I’m not ready for this morning.

With the dog back inside, my boy shouts, “Bye Mom!!” and just like that, we’re down to one.

I send a inside joke text to my husband from the weekend prior.

Don’t forget about me out there in the world.

I finish making myself presentable enough as Eddie lays in the hall outside the bathroom and gives me the quintessential puppy eyes. He understands.

Don’t leave. Please. You’re going to go like the other guys aren’t you?  Don’t leave.

I think of yesterday; my favorite day of the week.

Sunday paper, CBS Sunday morning, coffee, dog park, laundry, reading by the fire, baking, naps, a warm dinner, Amazing Race… doing the whole day together.

Nine short hours later it’s just me and the dog.

I feel sad.

Not because of work but because it will be a full week before I see my boys again. What with indoor soccer, homework, my workout schedule, the busyness of the week, it won’t be until Friday night before we breathe and look at each other again.

The puppy follows me from the bathroom, to the bedroom and sneezes as I spray perfume.

Follows me back to the bathroom, then the kitchen and watches as I make my lunch and get coffee.

His eyes continue to plead.

Not today. Isn’t it a stay home day?

He follows me downstairs to his spot in the mudroom, to sleep and wait for his people to return.

As if on autopilot I’m out the door, like the rest of my family, on Monday morning.

With New Years Eve pulling up a close second. When else can wearing glitter on your nails be accepted? (I’m hoping this acceptance carries over to January 5th as I don’t know how to take it off without ruining the rest of the manicure. Viva la sparkle!)

All that said, I found myself sad when the countdown into 2012 began. I pouted to Matt, which he interpreted as the new kiss for 2012. After our signals were back in sync I explained that years like 2011 just don’t happen twice in a lifetime. It’s all over. Done.

Not that I necessarily want another year filled with:

• a wedding (mine! not that *other* Princess across the pond.)
• a Caribbean honeymoon
• buying our first home
• my mom sailing through open heart surgery
• adopting the world’s biggest and sweetest puppy
• saying goodbye to elementary school forever and hello to Junior high with the teen years dangerous close
• and getting a Keratin Smoothing treatment thereby having beautifully straight shiny hair for 17 days.

Any one of those things would have made for a big year… but ALL in the span of twelve little months? You have to respect a year that packs all that in.

Therefore I boycotted the countdown. Mostly because it’s really hard to yell numbers while pouting.

Until, through a champagne induced haze, I realized just because we are in a new year doesn’t mean I have to give up all the treasures and joy that was 2011. It just means that this can be a year where I sit with it all. A year where I can be content with life. And quite possibly bored out of my ever loving mind.

I’m looking at 2012 as my year long New Years Day. My hangover year from a non-stop, whirlwind, highly stressful but completely fabulous 2011.

Bring it on Twelve. I’m ready.

happy new year!

We got a Xbox 360 with Kinect for Ben and an iPad for Matt and I.

Being the nut job deal finder that I am, I happened upon great Black Friday deals for both.

In case you are calendar challenged, Black Friday occurs in November. Therefore these gifts arrived around December 5th.

We aren’t the most mature of folk and therefore it was MERRY FIFTH OF CHRISTMASAKAH! to us as both toys were opened and loved well before the miracle of lights or Jesus’ birthday.

Being this immature also creates problems with the idea of waking up on Christmas morning to nothing but dust under the tree. So I made a decree that we could exchange gifts Christmas morning within a certain budget. (I’m glad someone around here has some sense.)

While I struggled to figure out what to do for Matt and Ben, my friend Shelly asked me to help her come up with ideas for the Twelve Days of Christmas she was doing for her husband. Each day would correspond to the number of the day. (ex: 2nd day – a pair of shoes, 6th day – a 6 pack of beer and so on.)

Since I’m a giver, I helped my friend by stealing her idea.

And because I’m Jewish I ended up doing this backwards. Hebrew is read from right to left so I went from the twelfth day to the first. (I like this excuse is better then the real reason which is, I’m a moron.)

It began on December 14th with Matt and Ben coming home to a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts with a sign attached:

Happy 12 days of Christmas to Ben and to Matt.
You’re probably wondering what’s going on. What is that?
It’s my way of making this Christmas special and fun.
Why get one present when you can get a ton?
Now don’t get too excited, they won’t all be big,
Some you’ll have to share and some might make you feel like a pig.
But I love you both for 12 days and more,
So start off with a dozen doughnuts which I know you’ll adore.
Tomorrow will be eleven and ten after that,
happy 12 days of Christmas to my Ben and to my Matt.

and the rest followed like so:

• on the 12th day – a dozen doughnuts
  11th day – a pack of Little Debbie’s snack cakes and a Uno game
  10th -  $10 iTunes gift cards for each
  9th -  Xbox 360 game (get it, 3+6+0 = 9!)
  8th – a Magic 8 ball for Ben and an 8 pack of Coke for Matt
  7th – a pack of seven chocolate Santas for Ben and a 6 pack of beer with a bottle opener for Matt
  6th – six pack of Coke bottles for Ben and a package of six beef-sticks for Matt (I did mention that Matt works for Coke, right?)
  5th – a pair of gloves for each (technically this could have been ten, but shut up. My brain was hurting at this point.)
  4th – four dreidels for Ben and a pack of four pairs of underwear for Matt. (romance is alive and well in this relationship)
  3rd – three packs of gum for Ben and three candy bars for Matt.
  2nd – socks for Ben and a two liter of Diet Coke for Matt. (see day 6)
  and finally on the 1st day – Xbox Wipe-out game hidden in a Fiber One cereal box.

(feel free to steal this idea for yourself next year.  It’s already hot.)

I think the anticipation was more fun than some of the presents, (I mean who doesn’t lose their minds about three packs of gum?) not to mention it reminded me of the Hanukkah’s of yore. Plus four days.

When Christmas morning came I was excited for the 12 days to be over and for Matt and Ben to open the Wipeout game they had been coveting.

I was also curious as to what Matt and “Ben” got me as Matt was acting odd the days leading up to Christmas and seemed almost giddy.

And when Matt presented me with two little gold boxes, I was giddy.

Pause for a brief back-story: During our honeymoon in Jamaica, my birthday fell within that week. On my birthday Matt and I took an excursion into town where he got me The Most Beautiful Earrings made with a stone that is only found in the Caribbean. I loved them so much I wore them everyday. Until sometime in May when I came home after a long day of work, shopping, errands, etc. to find I only had one earring. My stomach dropped as I searched my hair, my clothes, and the house. I’m normally not a “things” person but seriously? A gift that was bought in a foreign country ON MY HONEYMOON, was a big deal. I cried to Matt as I searched for days with no results. Of course I still kept that one earring in my jewelry box thinking maybe someday its twin would ring my doorbell and apologize for its sabbatical.

Back to current day, the small first box I opened were a pair of larimar earrings. Similar to the ones from Jamaica. I gasped and my eyes welled up as Matt said, “I tried to call the store in Ocho Rios – couldn’t understand a thing they said, and they couldn’t help me. So I found these here in Madison. Now open this one.”

With a smile I opened the long gold box and started to cry. In it I found my earring! No, not the one that is still gallivanting all over Madison, but the one that was in my jewelry box now made into a necklace.

It’s perfect and hands down the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. I have yet to take it off.

ignore the goofy looking lady and concentrate on the beautiful necklace

So Merry Christmas, Honey! You gave me a gift that meant the world, took time and effort while I got you heartburn and underwear.

Here’s hoping your Christmakkah was filled with more jewels and less beef sticks.

Wordless Wednesday

Friday, at my doctor’s appointment, I was at another ill-prepared flute lesson.

As I had predicted, my numbers weren’t good. EVERYTHING went up. My glucose levels, my cholesterol and my weight. I felt awful. I used to be the teacher’s pet and now I was the class clown.

Before my doctor even had a chance to sit down I started babbling so fast she might have thought I was on coke.

“OK before you say anything, I KNOW! I basically pretended I wasn’t diabetic from June through November. But I’m back now. I PROMISE! and if you just give me three months I will get all these numbers down. If I don’t, you can up all my meds. Please.”

After she said, “Hi Becky,” and actually looked at my chart, she smiled and said, “OK. I know you can do it. You know what you have to do because you’ve done it before. Three months. I want you to lose twenty pounds. My diabetic patients reflect on me as well.”

Right. No pressure.

OK lots of pressure but honestly, that’s what I need to succeed.

This body of mine isn’t a mystery. In fact it’s pretty simple. Since last Wednesday, when my glucose was 164, I’ve been exercising (hour long Zumba on Saturday = sweaty awesomeness!) while skipping the fried, white flour crap, adding fish, etc and huh, guess what? My blood sugar on Saturday was 134.  (Which is the lowest it’s been in quite awhile.)

So Internet, I have three months to do this and will blog about my progress weekly. Or bi-weekly. Or occasionally. I’ll blog about it enough to keep myself honest.

And even though the timing isn’t ideal with the holidays upon us (the Y has no regular classes from now until January 2nd – bah humbug!) I’ll do what I can (family Yoga around the Christmas tree?) because I have to, I want to and refuse to have another bad flute lesson.

Maybe it’s the crowds, the lack of snow, or perhaps it’s the fact that we can’t have a big, real, fantastic smelling Christmas tree because my giant puppy will knock it over, drink the water, eat the tree and then puke it up. At three in the morning.

So instead of geese a laying and drummers drumming I give you my 12 Days of Pissimas:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…

12 loads of laundry

11 guests a staying

10 drivers texting

9 teenagers sexting

8 Chanukah candles breaking

7 children shrieking

6 cars with antlers

5 extra! pounds!

4 chewed up couch cushions

3 jeans too small

2 missing presents

And a Christmas without a real tree.

Happy almost Christmas/Hanukah everyone!

9. You also have poop bags in your purse and when accidentally pulling one out instead of your wallet at the store you don’t grimace but instead say, “Aww!” and subsequently show the now irritated cashier and people behind you in line the picture you took of your puppy that morning.

8. You send your pooch to doggie daycare where he sometimes does art.

exhibit A

7. You hang said art on the fridge.

6. You and your dog are invited to events called “Howliday Party[s]” where he can get his picture taken with “Santa Paws”. Instead of vomiting and throwing away the invite, you struggle over what to wear.

5. You realize your dog’s “orthopedic” bed is better quality than your twelve year old mattress.

4. You don’t consider it a little odd to hang a stocking for your puppy. Instead you struggle over which one he’d like best and which will be strong enough to hold all the bones Santa Paws brings.

otherwise how would Santa know this, flip flop eating toilet bowl drinking, dog was good?

3. You and your husband have “date nights” at the dog park, trading in candles for poop-in-a-bag and sweet nothings into “ooh, such a good boy!” “I love watching him run.” “He’s way cuter than that golden…”

2. When people compliment your dog’s good looks you say, “Thank you” because you have moved well past the point of reality and consider yourself his one true mother instead of that bitch back at the kennel with the four legs and tail.

1. There is nothing on this list you find absurd. You instead consider them great suggestions.