Viva va va va voom! It's the World Cup!

Alright Baby talk aside, lets talk business. It's the flippin' World Cup! The World Cup! Not the NBA finals. Not the Super bowl. Not the Olympics. The flippin' World Cup! It's a sport that is just chock full of action packed athleticism. Besides, the fact that the majority of soccer players are ha ha ha hot!

Shellie's Curiosity:
Why do most sports entail a ball and, most of the time, a hole or a goal that resembles a hole?
Sure, it's tragic that USA lost. Definitely, not a surprise. I'm all about routing for my country, but watching USA was painful on my eyes. Our players has as much finesse as a lobster on it's back on dry land. Now Brazil or Portugal, there's a razzle dazzle of a team! Wow! Great country to watch and easy on the eyes as well!

Like the Olympics, it's comes once in four years. Unlike the Olympics, it is hardly recognized by my own countrymen or countrywoman. It's sad, when the majority of the country is unable to appreciate the art of soccer. On the other hand, it is celebrated in other countries, and sometimes all a country has to look forward to.

I'm just relieved to know that Jaissa, niece in the sixth grade in Hawaii, avid player -position sweeper- is following the World Cup. That makes me a happy Aunt.

Lesson: A discipline grasshopper must open his mind in order to flourish in the art of kung fu.

Time Bomb

I know I've been moaning the same lyric repetitively. Jesus, Joseph and Mary, get over it already! What is my deal? Millions of women do it everyday around the world, without the resistance I bring to the table. I should just take the blow of the bullet, but I can't. I am honestly taking this starting a family gig to another altitude. Why shouldn't I? My eternal clock is ticking. Oh god, sigh, I never thought that I would ever hear myself say that until that foul mouthed OBGYN planted it in my head. Oh lord, put this old horse down. Shoot me now before I do further harm to my body.

How my lifestyle will perish. In my attempts to self content, I am anxious to visit Europe with Shane. We've both been to Europe, but not together. I feel that we would really have a scream of a time, in a sense, a last hurrah for the time being. Ideally Turkey and Greece sounds fabulous, but I'll settle for Italy and France instead. All I can see on the horizon is Europe and it's outstanding food and wine. I'm in constant angst as I've exceeded my vacation time at work and time off with no pay is not acceptable at my office. So what do I do? Beg and squeal like a pig in hopes that they would give in to my pathetic existence? Decisions, decisions.

Shellie's proverb: A tortoise that rests in the same spot is adventurously stubborn.

I'm completely flipping out! Shane is convinced that one of our family members or friend would be happy to watch the kid (when it's appropriate, kid here's your bottle and get on that potty pronto kimosabe!) for a month while we travel the world together. I don't think the opportunity is out there. Maybe. May I see a show of hands? I could always fly the kid out to Hawaii for the summer. Definitely, not child abandonment. That's how it was done when we were kids, but does that sort of sinful leisure exist today?

For the sake of stalling, I'm just squeezing this lemon until it's out of juice. There's so many countries I have yet to explore, but should motherhood cease to end my adventures? Is it over? Will the selfish person that I am suddenly become selfless? I think not! This is probably just my way of stalling this process like a stubborn jackass, I just need a hard kick in the kaboose.

Mom's Lifelong Teaching:"In order to make a family strong, the marraige must always come first and the children are secondary. It is the strong bond between husband and wife that will keep the family grounded."
There was nothing dad wouldn't do for mom and visa versa. Fifty years and ten children later, they're love still burns strong. I take from them the power of devotion. Shane and I are bound through happiness, laughter and good intentions. As I swat inquiries of pregnancy from family and friends, I am deeply mourning my independence as a person. It is who I am. As other women embrace the joy of starting a family, I'm frightful to lose who I am and what I have with Shane.

Honestly, here's the lowdown on my shindig. I don't want to be one of those unbearable mothers. I am true witness to these common monsters. You know the ones that turn into Mr. Hyde after birth. The mother's that are so finnicky and particular about the child. Preaching about philosophy and theories knowing damn well that, a child in organic clothing does not guarantee a future as a world scholar. The ones that shove they're husbands in dark closet. I do not want to be that person. It's disgusting! That, to me, is selfish. I am deeply in love and I adore every aspect of my husband. If I have to fight to keep this grandeur, so let it be known.

Lesson: Grasshopper must learn to slowly walk over path of steaming coals in order to master the way of Shaolin.

Natal Attraction

My stubborn head is feeling a lot better. I still get a little hazy in the dome, but what can I do. I started taking my herbal prenatal pills. Apparently, prenatal pills are vital to get the right amount of certain important nutrients during pregnancy such as folic acid, iron and calcium referred to henceforth as the HOLY TRINITY. There's so much to consider prior to the big bang also considered a scientific blunder.

Shellie's Proverb: The finest armor in the world will never protect you from your offspring.
Anyway, FIDS, or friends with kids, are all for the idea of starting a family. Hark! But, I see through them, they want us to join them in their fiery eternal fires of parenthood hell. How dare they! On the otherhand, some male FIDS, behind the backs of their lovely wives, send secret smoke signals to enter the parent world with caution. I was even sworn in by Tim Carr, Shane's golf buddy and long time pal, to remain true to my word and my word is, "to allow him out the house to golf and other social events." I promised. This is witnessed by video camera. Does it count, if I was coerced by a few glasses of white wine? I am committed by promise to remain my true self. That is, it is inexcusable to ever cage my husband from his friends.

I am uncertain as to what wrath the future will bestow, but I am not one of those wretched women who guise and guilt they're husbands into submission. That's not who I am now, and I am hoping that the future will hold me in true countenance. This is the word according to Shellie. Amen.

Lesson: A young male grasshopper will only gain respect from female grasshopper when he learns the power of "no".

Homeful

We're in the process of renovating our house into a home. We're not talking tiling the tub and replacing porcelain for stainless steel sinks. It is never that simple. Sometimes, I wish it were. Each house is a royal upheaval of sorts and this one is the mutha of all muthas. Since this will be our permanent home, I am finally excited to partake in the process.

In San Francisco, we are required to go through the planning department before proceeding with the work. Sometimes the planning department rejects the proposed plans and revisions occur and so on and so forth. Fabian, our architect and designer, has just given us the thumbs up from the planning department. So far, so good. I have never been one for the so called dream home with white picket fence, garden, patio and all that jazz. Realistically, I always saw myself as a renter for life. Nothing more and nothing less.

Shellie's Proverb: A hammer is useless without nails.

In any case, the renovation is so horrendous such as gutting the inside and converting the current bathroom into an office, a new kitchen where the fireplace is, dining room where the kitchen is, dropped floors into a new living room, boxed out roof, twelve to fifteen foot extension of the home, walk in closets, relocate the fireplace, possibly add an outdoor fireplace, three additional bathrooms, additional master bedroom, guest bedroom, reading room, widen the garage door and driveway. Phew.

What is invigorating, and it blows me away, is Shane's a genius when it comes to tackling this project. It is miraculous to witness the birth of a home. There's a crack in my brain just thinking about it. The fact that he is passionate and it is reflected in his craftmanship and efficiency. I've witnessed his talents of gutting and rebuilding and it is truly a sight to see. My boy got skills! He is so bad ass! I love it! The true love is when this home is done, we will not flip it. I am relieved, because it is a bag of dirt to have to sell a beautiful home. In the past, I've learned to not become attached to these top notch homes. That alone is very difficult.

So as soon as the plans are approved, we will have to move two more times. Crossing my fingers and than it is nirvana! I absolutely can't wait till this is over, because it's been a long time coming.

Lesson: A young grasshopper must always succumb to traveling, and he will learn that home is the journey and not the destination.

Get this circus on the road

If you must inquire, we have successfully moved the baby date up to next month. This body is not getting any younger. I need to push them babies out or I can go totally Hollywood and conveniently have a c section. It's go time. Tick tock.

In this day and age, having a healthy womb is all the rage! What the phhh? No kidding. Gone are the heyday of second hand smoke intake. Women are ridding their system clean of all toxins, preservatives, poison that may effect the baby and the pregnancy. It's a whacky world out there. Women are popping pre-natal pills like popcorn. Let's not omit the panic for organic products. Hiss pesticides beware. An acupuncturists is vital alongwith rasberry leaf tea for a clean and healthy uterus. Women are mastering their fertility domain. Never mind a healthy body...giving birth naturally or in water is another trend! My blood pressure is soaring and I'm having heart palpatations. Where do I begin!

Shellie's Proverb: Judge the food not by it's flavor, but by the schmeck on the chopstick.
I believe in being prepared and knowledgable, but good lord what next? Contacting the aliens from mars hoping to get an interplanetary birth? That's been done too! Hello Tom "scificrazyologist" Cruise. Here's the deal. Why are we, as women, trying so hard to be ridiculous? I am a product of freestyle conception (short for catholic parents). What happened to a healthy accident? Spontaneity anyone? A tear in a condom. Forgetting to take your birth control pill. Tequila and cigarettes. The best thing about having a child should be making it? Am I right? Why all the ballyhoo?

By the way, I am looking foward to my hot date with my chinese herbalist next week.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must gauge the potency of his enemy's poison by the film on his teeth.

All better

So you think that I would take instructions, but I can't even do that. I was instructed to take Ativan, same family as valume, to fizzle my spins. The doctor did specify that it didn't alleviate my disorder, it just knocks you into the wind so hard that the spins is just a dream away. Great! Thanks for the bandage. These roofies had me so incoherent, I couldn't keep my eyes open for more than five minutes. It was ridiculous. It definitely wasn't helping my nausea.

Shellie's Proverb: Never trust a dog that has nothing to dig for.

I am not a firm believer in pharmaceuticals. I never was. I don't believe in instant gratification. Well, it depends on the situation...cough...ahem....tee hee...I, on the other hand, believe in eastern medicine. Meditate, herbs, teas, tinctures, acupuncture, yoga and all that hoodoo voodoo stuff. It's been practiced for millions of years and it works. Western medicine, on the other hand, is like the McDonald's of medicine. It's a quick fix. So, I stopped taking Ativan, just for the fact that it does nothing for my illness except dilute my mental state into complete blob. Instead, I steeped a wad of ginger, and drank it all day. Like wildfire, the difference in my body, mind and nausea was stupendous. The benefits of ginger's natural medicinal resilience is why I am feeling like my old self again.

Goodbye Vertigo. Goodbye Ativan. Hello World!

Lesson: A weak grasshopper shall have mind that can bench press any obstacle to become mighty master kung fu warrior.

Swoosh

Wondering about my whereabouts? Me too. I've ventured into the topsy turvy world of vertigo. Where the world of spinning and barfing meet. Can you believe it? Verti-flippin'go! It's not just a classic movie, it's my misery! There's nothing whimsical about this trip. There's been a few whispers about how it resulted. Some say concussion, but the doctors have concluded that it's all inner ear. In any case, it's been real. Really nauseating! It struck me this past Sunday morning, as my vision spun 360 degrees at 85 mph without the brakes. Shane cradled a thrash can as I purged myself of nausea. I must admit, I cried like a baby, as constantly spinning rooms have that effect on me.

It could be worse, so lets move on to current events. Under the advice of the doctor, I must lay off all strenuous activities for the next few weeks. Besides the medication prescribed which is in the same value as valume, I am a total slur lord. A napster. Two weeks? I can't wait two weeks without exercising. I will go absolutely crazy and probably take it out on my husband. Poor Shane, the wrath he will have to pay for my mental illness.

Shellie's Proverb: A branch with no leaves has nothing to lose.

Besides the obvious, we keep passing sickness to and fro like our own self serve petri dish. Virus anyone? We've been under the weather for the past two weeks. Besides sickness, there's allergies. The devil's spawn spore. It never ends. Between the kissing, hugging and all that love, when is it okay to cut off any physical contact with my husband? Because this sick sponge is ready for a cleansing.

Lesson: A mindful grasshopper must always remember no matter how many cups of green tea you drink, the bathroom awaits harmful germs and bacteria.

Top Ten!

If you have to ask, my WeiWat program is progressing. I am at the ten pound loss mark! Yes, siree bob, that's me. Woo hoo! The whopping ten. Ten more to go. This height vs. weight thing is trite, but somebody's gotta do it. Friends claim that I don't need to lose weight, but these are friends with stomachs of steel. They can not fathom the world of bulge. The prison of back fat. They have no idea what gaining weight around the stomach does to your fashion sense. It could get ugly.

Shellie's Proverb: Patience means progress.

Shane purchased a digital scale to avoid my embarassment at the gym. It has a body fat and hydration percentage mechanism. How it's indicated through my bare foot, only digital can fabricate. I've been observing strange behavior, since this purchase. Shane jumps on the scale every chance he gets, morning, after work, subsequent to dumping off the kids. When is weighing yourself too much?

Lesson: When grasshopper can remember to flush than he shall be considered master of his domain.

Ouch

Well, my boxing workout have come to a head. Literally! I paired off with a female yesterday, who is experienced, to practice our usual combinations. Well, what can I say except that she came in with solid hooks to my dome about half a dozen times. I was furnished with no head gear and no warning. Just hard hooks to jiggle my cerebrum.

Today, I'm a bit fuzzy in the head and my vision is a bit funny. The last time I had a concussion was when Nolan, my brother, put me in a sleeper hold in highschool, by accident. As he had his left arm around my neck and his right behind my head, he walked me through the concept. As he released my arms, my body flopped to the floor and my head with it. I could hear the raucous as mom screamed and scolded him. I could hear everything even as mom ran to get the phone to dial the ambulance, but my body was useless. The ambulance arrived and awoke me with smelling salt.

Anywho, that familiar feeling is presently on me. The dazed and dream like state is up and about deafening any stamina.

Shellie's Proverb: To avoid any surprises brain cells should only be damaged gradually.
I was fine last night. It was this morning that it caught up with me. At first, I was hoping that I was dreaming. Nope. My mom would whap me right now for being so negligent. She's been dissuading me from boxing, since I told her about it. She's right I am too old, but it's so fun and such a better workout than yoga. I just need to rethink things, like not get hit in the head the next time. Ugh. What a dork. Anyway, hopefully my brain will recover from this stupidity and I can get back to normal. I'm not ready to retire to my rocking chair just yet. Smile.

Lesson: A forgetful Grasshopper should remember that you have many opportunities to play, but only one brain.

jack ass

This has worn heavy on my mind. Not that heavy, but mildly enough that it roams in the hallways of my mind. I have been inconsiderate to my single friends. Some of them, I shun, because their personality needs a little tweaking. Others, I aggressively shove on to any man.

Shellie's Proverb: Hyprocrites make a good ottoman.

Considering that there's a few friends that are in the single department, they sit high on my priority list. In comes Erin, hairstylist extrardanaire, very single, very successful and very pretty. For some reason or another, I am compelled to throw her onto any man. Are you single? Hey, have you met my friend Erin? As I shove her to the sharks of scum wads. The all time scuzz was the guy I brought over to a barbecue wearing a kilt. He wasn't hot, but he wasn't cute either. I don't know what my flippin deal is? I could pretend to blame it on the tequila --as I did pick him up at bar during Carnival celebration-- but I was coherent. I thought he was decent, but Shane was simply baffled. Like a bait to a bass, I dragged this stranger to the party for Erin.

Shane, for the most part, is disappointed by my male palette. In fact, he is disgusted. He scolds me constantly for not having high standards, much less any, for my friends. I must admit, my screening process is non-discriminatory, you just need to be single to qualify for the Shellie Kitchen matchmaker program. Sure, I suck, but in a world of atrocities, I mean only good.

What is my deal? I ask myself that everyday. I don't miss being single. Actually, I take that back. Giggle. I miss it a little. I had a lot of fun maybe too much! Chuckle. I just wanted to apologize to Erin for trying to miserably set you up with a bunch of yucks. On the other hand, my potential single male's -will henceforth go unmentioned- personality need a few more dimensions in order to make the cut. That means stop buying those damn expensive helicopter models and buy a damn car already, because we're tired of giving you a ride home damnit.

Lesson: A wary Grasshopper should know the way to shaolin is not on the back of donkey.

Stop!

If you think you've got it bad, imagine being one in ten siblings. To push the blade deeper, try being the ninth sibling of seven brothers and two sisters. Yes, it finally makes sense! That explains my thick skin. My cynicism. My comedy act. My selective hearing. My no tolerance act. This is why I am utterly crazy out of my gourd.

In my great attempt to coordinate my parents 50th Wedding Anniversary along with the crazy nine, it's a flippin' nightmare! Like a bunch of vultures pecking at my brain, everything from invitations, invite list, favors, to paying for the event is complete warfare. Apparently, as it is normal with any family, drama has unveiled it's turdish features. My youngest brother, Nolan, has a newborn along with two other cuties and his wife is finishing her nursing program. Totally excusable. The others, not worth mentioning, are making everyone else's situation difficult than need be.

Shellie's Proverb: An ox is as stubborn as his tail.


Exhale. Take a deep breath. It's just frustrating when we're flippin' trekking our way back home. Siblings forget how expensive it is to fly home, rent a car, rent a place at the same time maintain our monthly bills. I could've invested the cost for this trip to go to Italy or Costa Rica, but I just zip it. Do they forget that this is our parents 50th Wedding Anniversary? Do they give a shit? Seriously, why can't people put aside they're gripes? Our parents busted their asses to raise us and we can't even be cohesive to make this work.

I'm just really sad. Sad is the word. Mom and dad have worked so damn hard to raise us. So what, they weren't the perfect parents. Whose are? I feel as adults that we should put aside our differences and progress. It just sucks. I surrender. My white flag is up for the taking.

Lesson: A grasshopper must learn to play with others before he can play with himself.

Nonsense.

Yesterday, I experienced the disturbing, yet reoccurring discussion of children. The no brain cell moderator -Hope- wishes to introduce the redundant parenting discussions that range from names, schools and philosophies. Yes, backrow you are permitted to propel rotten cabbage at moderator immediately. I insist. Hope, I love her, but her existence is the complete antonym of her name. Despair is more fitting. She is fixated on children, and dreams desperately to one day have them. Until than, she's in a ten year relationship that been plummeting in a downward spiral for the past six years. She's always on some tangent about relationships or parenting. Toss alcohol in the mix and it's a full wreck of a circus.

It's a gorgeous day in San Francisco. I'm at the ramp enjoying the company of wonderful friends. As I sip from my margarita, I hear an annoying jabber of sorts. Ugh. It was her. The jabberwocky had enough alcohol in her blood to fuel her tirade. I deliberately sat on the opposite end of the table of fifteen people to avoid such menacing contact. The fact remains that I was not far enough to avoid the pang. As Maxine, an Asian woman who is a fantastic mother to two children, explains to Hope that it's difficult to raise her children in other parts of the country, due to their ethnicity. Hope, of Caucasian decent, begs to differ and dribbles alcohol on her pink seersucker dress. This went on for a while as Hope insisted to insist that the countryside was more appropriate. Jesus, Christ and Mary, is the sunny weather not suffice? Is the company of friends that dull? Piss in my drink and charge me seven bucks already?

Shellie's Proverb: Sometimes loneliness and selfishness come in the same Ziploc.

Alright, this is my pain. My pain stains from her self-righteous perspective of life. We all have or know of these parasites. She's as irritating as a tick on a dog! She just won't stop sucking. She's obnoxious and obtrusively pushy. She is not open to debate. A very narrow-minded preacher who preaches hypocrisy. Hope means well, but all conversations hem boyfriends or children related. It's truly annoying. Besides that, she's generous and means well. When she's sober. There's nothing more insulting than a person is so mentally damaged to serve advice like deep fried Prozac poppers on a plastic tray. Who the bleep are you? Who does that? It's quite annoying and for as much as I try to sweep it under the rug, the rug is not large enough.

I had come to my wits end a couple months ago. After an all out shout fest, I have decided to give up on this lost soul. I can't help someone who is unable to invest in herself. That was it. The last straw. My life is too valuable to sit there and listen to her pine over her relationship that is utterly vacuous. Life is too short. I can not and I will not. Some friends are not just toxic, they're ridiculous. Yesterday, I invited her into my home, but I did not welcome her advice. This is the word according to Shellie.

Lesson: A veracious grasshopper must snip the rope when the bundle begins to drag in the mud.

Friday Fun!

Besides my hemoglobin buddies surprise visit, Friday night was a jumble of sorts. It started very gradually with KJ, Angela, and Tim for dinner at NOPA. The food was the bomb! The rarity of a restaurant's dishes being consistently off the hinges, is like a nun and a priest getting it on. A normal dining experience, usually involves a few dishes that crash. You can see my enthusiasm with this restaurant. It is was a treat!

After dinner, we walked over to Madrone, for one last cocktail. One drink is usually code for let's get wasted, yet that was not my intention. My attempts in being responsible was delusional, but worth the thought. I was looking foward to spending time with my two neices on Saturday. Nine o'clock am was another story.

Shellie's Proverb: An artist can paint a beautiful canvas, but an artist can never design fate.

To add fuel to fun, Kurt, Sofia, Zachilla and Toni showed up at the bar. That, in itself, means danger. The menacing salsa music was disrupting my stalwart ways. Each time I looked down, my hand cozied a fresh cocktail. No conflicts here. As Shane, tried to poop on my party, I would not have it. Well, we were the first to leave, but I can't say that I did not enjoy myself.

I appreciate Shane for pulling me out when he did. Nine o'clock am bantered on my brain, but I was glad that my nieces did not have to experience a hungover aunt.

Lesson: No matter Grasshopper have strong will sometimes you must give in to the force of nature.

De-Bloating Device

As I welcome June with open arms, I welcome bloating with the middle finger. Bloating of the PMS kind. Argh. The absolute worse.

Shellie's Proverb: A woman with stiff forehead will never be happy with herself.

In the past day or two, my stomach has taken a turn for the worse, it's bulged. It's a bit discouraging with all the progress. I was afraid to weigh in on Wednesday as the restriction in my waist was very telling. Instead, at the gym, Kurt and Shane bullied and insisted that I jump on the scale. Peer pressure anyone? I jumped on the scale and quick-like made haste and jumped off. Not bad, but no progress.

Break it down for a sistah, scientifically:
When blood breaks down progesterone, the identical chemical structure to the substance made in a woman's body by the ovarian corpus luteum (some gland), --as it does a week before your period-- kidneys are prompted to retain both water and sodium. At the same time, a powerful water-retaining substance called anti-diuretic hormone may also be released, further influencing your body to hold onto fluids.

Leroy's term:
Yo beeotch! Lay off the crack. Dat stuff is like whack diggity double stack.

Double gulp. Sodium the unfriendly drug. The habit that I can't kick. I'm hooked on the junk. Chef Quinn Hatfield (the disciple of Wolf Gang, Rocco Dispirito, Jean Georges, David Bouley) has strictly trained me that salt resuscitates life into dishes. Salt is the fuse in fusion. Without it, food is dead. Boring. Bla·sé. I take from my culinary career, the power to salt. As I drown my dishes with mad salt, my taste buds scream in delight, but my body moans, frets, and plans vindiction. I curse you salt for betraying me. Sob. Sodium, I can't seem to quit you!

Lesson: A young Grasshopper must learn to not lick a salt stick when the sound of running creek is absent.

*The content of this entry should only be taken with a grain of salt*

Pap Swear

My annual pap was a super thrill! My female doctor had a moustache that gave Magnum P.I. a run for his money. I booked a P2, a pap and a physical. Instead, I was swiftly jabbed with a cold and unfriendly instrument, swabbed, and tossed out to dry. Talk about physical. Further mortified, Dr. She-mister Moustache was not thorough. Her medical assessment was pedestrian. Over the years, I know a sprint from a marathon, and she overlooked the polyp sector of my galaxy. What doctor does that? Talk about half ass.

Shellie's Proverb: A donkey who doesn't mind being called an ass is a genuine ass.

Foremost, I advised that I was planning on pregnancy this year. I wanted to hear about eggs. Cervix. Uterus. Healthy. Percentage. Fertility. Cycles. Sperminating. Irrational behavior. Something? Instead, she came at me with the sharpest dagger, "...with your age, I shouldn't put it off any longer." Gee, tact much? My most private of parts has been probed, I'm not talking the good probe either, and this flunky wanted to give hard advice? Smirk. Ehck! I felt jipped. Duped. Double crossed. Tew, I wish I could spit on her now!

On the other hand, my physical was thoroughly comedy. No check for ear mites. No testing my reflex. No pulse check. It happened so fast that I was out of there in ten minutes. I said P2 not drive thru?

In need for a good female OBGYN, instead of LESBIAN. Know of any? Please call 415.PAP.NICE.

Lesson: A healthy grasshopper must never take spinach for granted.