Progress

It was 11:04pm, Vanessa and I stood at the foot of the bed. Concerto classical music eased the room as Aussie gently asked the male nurse for one moon boot. How boots from the 70s are beneficial to ventilation and sores, quizzed my head. The male nurse quickly returned with a device that was an exact replica of snowboard binding. She placed the boot on his right leg and reminded him to keep his right leg straight. As her days and nights are spent at his bed side, she was strong and driven. She was his root.

I, on the other hand, was a dam ready to break. I was a clutter of rusty pans. Now that he has opened his eyes, the last thing he needs is to see my blubbering ass. As I held his hand, my attempt to keep myself cool is as likely as digging a hole and making my way to China. His suffering was piercing. My sadness, hopes, and prayers were eroding my barricade. His eyes, those dark brown eyes filled with excruciating sadness. Why was he here? I questioned god and his purpose. “One” Metallica’s lyrics kept playing in my head.

“I can’t remember anything, cant tell if this is true or dream, deep down inside I feel to scream, this terrible silence stops me…fed through the tube that sticks in me, just like a wartime novelty, tied to machines that make me be…”

He stared into Aussie’s eyes, his hands caressed her arm. My walls gave into to tears. His eyes burned determination, strength and passion. They spoke in a deep gaze. Flame, a fire. She touched his cheek, he caressed her arm. It was all too much for my heart, sweet gestures heightened my sobbing. They were communicating unsound. The climactic violin solo did not help the situation much. I felt slightly out of place, it would be safe to say that I was uncomfortable. They were having a moment. A connection.

Here I was, just a friend, crumpled tissue in hand, weeping like an infant in damp diapers, as Aussie was firm and whole handed. Each visit my heart breaks. My soul is heavy. Each day he looks ten times better, but still the light at the end of the tunnel is far.

Shellie’s Proverb: Positive can be a dark and weary road

Aussie is unyielding, pushing Jonny to fight. She is the definition of perseverance, coaching Jonny to keep his right leg straight, to breath through his mouth, to cough. What can I say, she’s just effing amazing. Truly dazzling. Love can conquer many obstacles and I am a witness to this miracle. True love can prevail. It must. She is his guardian angel. She is his true love.

Lesson: Young grasshopper must allow absolute love to enter the heart.

Go Team Coldcuts!

It was the Spring of 84, I sat on the couch enjoying my usual 5:30am Looney Tunes session, munching on a bowl of apple jacks. It was a Wednesday. In a family of ten, it was the only time I could call the shots on the television. My Aunt Evangelina, fifteen years mom's elder, occasionally joined me on the couch trying to comprehend the color coated fiesta of pictures on the television.

This specific day, she collapsed to the floor and began to heave. I was flabbergasted. Mom and dad had already left to the flea market. Laurie, my middle sister, had abruptly moved out. My brothers were snoozing down stairs. Except for Neil and I, the rest of the family were Asthma prone. I fumbled around and handed her the spray, that usually does the trick, but this time it was different. She began to foam at the mouth and her sense of breathing was a struggle. Her hands began to tighten and stiffen.

I began to weep as I placed her head in my lap, the seconds ticked as I struggled to compromise time. I couldn't leave her like this, it could be the last time. I was frightened and hysterical. Her eyes full of water, and that sparkle in her eyes was fading. I quickly ran downstairs and woke Dave and Neil. Raving in complete idiotic mumbling gibberish, I couldn't get the words to escape my lips! Tears overflowed, but did not beckon the situation. They quickly ran to her side as I watched from the sidelines her chances of life seem dire. Neil dialed 911, but by the time the ambulance arrived Aunt Evangelina was gone. She lay in the middle of the living room where thirty minutes ago she sat next to me with her arm around me trying to understand why I found that rascally rabbit whose usual response was, "what's up doc?" so funny.

Shellie's Proverb: Friend and foe, never trust the hands of time.
During my Hawaii vacation, a very dear friend was rushed to the hospital and went under for two brain surgeries within 48 hours. As Shane shared the news, my entire body and soul became feeble. The gloom of severity was splashed across my sparkling canvas. Suddenly, the concept of a higher power God, Jesus and his posse of Saints, Allah, Spiritual Guides please, can I get your attention? Detour. Make haste. How quickly I have gone from atheist to religious fanatic. Bargaining with the gods, promising I'll go to mass, light a candle, stand on my head anything. Frankly, I could care less, it was more important for Jonny to fight through this; to heal.

As I meditatively floated in the warm ocean for endless hours, my thoughts and prayers were focused towards his recovery. Everynight before bed, Shane and I prayed together that the free spirit, moreover big jokester would recover. It is in difficult times like these where the tiniest gestures of goodness are transcendent. No matter how many times I've experienced other's suffering, I never get used to it.
**********
I had the pleasure of witnessing the miracle last night. As with the others that were present, his eyes were open and he waved when he saw both Shane and me. I was overwhelmed and honestly, I felt special that he was coherent and strong.

Life is fragile. You never know when it gives and takes. Mostly, I take a lot for granted like breathing and having the normal movements of my voluntary and involuntary body parts. The next time you see a friend or family member, give them a hug and well wishes for there might not be a next time. In my hearts of hearts, she knows that I love her, yet I regret never expressing it to Aunt Evangelina during her time with me.

Shane and I send all of our wishes, prayers, hopes, thoughts to Jonny for a positively strong recovery. Always know that you are well loved by many who have traveled near and far.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must repeatedly give of oneself to achieve enlightenment.

Aloha

Young Master is recharging
on a beautiful beach
daily postings will be sparse
Do not fret little grasshoppers,
I shall return
with new teachings
on the 22nd

Professional Procrastinator

Hark, the countdown to paradise is at hand. Heed, I suspect a good thirty hours until our vacation. Tick. Tock. Estimated time of departure 6:45pm. Estimated time of arrival 9:04pm. I can't wait!

Roundtrip flight SFO to Honolulu w/car rental: $503
30 SPF Sunblock: $8
Sipping cocktails with Shane as the ocean washes over our feet: Priceless

Last week, I diligently arranged my weekend. Friday, I would get a good nights rest. Saturday, a healthy workout, laundry and packing. Voila! Sunday, mani pedi and the World Cup.

Shellie's Proverb: A business man without a watch is never on time.

R E A L I T Y:__________________________

Friday was a last minute girls night guffaw with a pleasant concoction of dinner and Devil Wears Prada. Saturday, I trifled with the thought of my chores, but the burst of sunshine was too delectable to ignore. Just when I thought I could get my affairs in gear, I was graced with an evening of jazz in Potrero Park and spent the remaining time with the Grundmans. Sunday, my mani pedi became secondary as the World Cup and sleep deprivation took precedence.

I, the magnificent procrastinator, now yield to the despair of the aftermath. The sunblock rests atop the hoard of clothes waiting to be crammed into the luggage. The gaggle of sundries that need gathering. Crucial and of utmost care, do not forget mom's party dress. In my attempts to crush my bad habit of packing 3 hours prior to departure, despite boxing, last minute dinner plans, and getting to bed early, my chances to progress are nil.

Lesson: To achieve harmony Grasshopper must wade in the tranquil streams of feng shui.

Kitchen Tango

About sevenish as I walked through the door from boxing. My senses alerted me that Shane had something cooking in the oven. It was beets! My favorite. As promised, he was supposed to get groceries while I was gone exerting my irritants. Rather, he did the dishes. As any normal wife would begin sassing, I've learned to curb my low blood sugar episodes.

Guys, one important advice from a former low blood sugar victim. If your just schlepping on the couch watching your usual sport and suddenly the head on your lady friend starts to spin and spastically spurt into a hogwash tirade about how the sky being gray is your fault. Suddenly, your the patsy and they're foaming at the mouth. It's not PMS, it's low blood sugar! They're hungry, but careful these creatures are persnickety. Very feisty those low blood sugar animals. So before the LBS starts to lacerate on the jugular of your kindness, retaliate and carry the right ammunition: healthy snack and quickly cram it into their mouths.

As Shane loathes Whole Foods we made way to Safeway. Safeway known for it's stale fish, I swiftly made haste to the meat section grabbed a tray of pork chops and beef rib eye. I was content with a beet salad, but my dear husband was out for blood. Lately, the sight of raw meat churns my guts, but enough about me. So we shoot back home and start the dinner ritual. Shane turns on the baseball game and takes a gander in the kitchen. Sir Inspector Kitchen traipses into my world of gastric, prying on the status of reductions and ingredients and how it will be incorporated in the meal.

Shellie's Proverb: One lobster's death can keep one family alive.

By eight, we've started on a lightly tossed micro greens and arugula salad topped with balsamic beets, hazelnuts and trifle of gorgonzola. In exchange for the meal, Shane hands me a simple chilled glass of lemon water. A mouthful of salad, Shane praises the glory of the salad. I head back into the kitchen to begin the final course and Shane joins me by rinsing the plates. We weave in unrehearsed synchronized movements. It's beautiful. He gives me the heads up on his golf schedule or the likes, and I update him on the upcoming dinners and events. He assists in the plating of the pork chop and swiss chard as I finish by drizzling apple brandy reduction. Like a broken record, he questions as to his portion is larger. Most days, I gently ignore him. Today, I remind him that his occupation is labor intensive. He chuckles. We sit and enjoy the meal together.

Besides waking up in his arms in the morning, preparing dinner is the second best part of my day. It is great to be Mrs. Kitchen.

Lesson: An accomplished grasshopper shall not fear the art of passion.

AdVenture

As I have a few tricks up my sleeve, it's been a long time coming. Meagan and I have been trying to see the project off the ground. We're collaborating on a venture, so all you capitalists please feel free to send your funds our direction. As I was born a superstitious freak, it's tip top secret. But when it premieres, it will be explosive. I've been adding my expertise to the matter and she has too, get ready world 'cause here we come! I left specific instructions with the receptionist to please hold all calls when Oprah decides to enter the building.

Shellie's Proverb: An opportunity requires wit.

I just spoke to Meaghan on the phone today. It's difficult considering the long distance element. Now, that I've landed the resources, the sky's the limit. Besides dealing with the novel project, which is almost complete, the pieces to our empire are coming together. It feels good to be an independent business woman. Shane is so proud, perhaps he will be hanging his tool belt to rest.

Lesson: A young grasshopper must be eager and catch the largest fish from pond with splintered chopstick.

Thank you!

As I am always contacted by brides to be and wives, my insignficant ramblings have tickled many of you women and men alike. My feature on the Knot, Wedding Channel and Modern Bride, has caused a bit of a stir. In fact, some of you have been following my premature foot steps, prior to my marriage. As I am thoroughly thrilled that my nagging have captured attention from all of you. As captivating as it is to write in cyberspace, I am clueless as to who my readers are. It's like stapling my daily's on every telephone posts for all the world to see. Certainly, that's alot of paper.

Shellie's Proverb: It's usually the master that needs a muzzle, not the dog.

I would like to thank the academy for allowing me the opportunity to voice and speak my mind. I would like to thank my family, my friends and especially the almighty god for allowing me the talent to articulate. To the readers who have left comments, positive and negative, all the same I appreciate your interest in my ramblings. Please keep them coming!

Lesson: A grasshopper must be thankful for all the grains of rice in his bowl.

Hawaii Five O

We are six days away from leaving for Hawaii to partake in the celebration of my parent's 50th wedding anniversary. I'm so excited! I can't wait to see my family! I haven't seen them since the wedding. They can't stop talking about the wonderful time they had in Kauai!

It is dé·jà vu all over again, planning another destination wedding. A lot of moving pieces, but not as hectic as last year. The primary factor was gathering funds for the reception. Considering last years debacle, I was well prepared to head the planning. As much as budget is key, yay our budget is very lean.

Shellie's Proverb: A wedding is brief a marriage is forever.

The family's pitching in to make ends meet. Chris, eldest, is doing the center pieces. The Albins, the fifth sibling, is burning the music on the CD(s); our favors. Nolan, youngest, is doing the decorating. Alvin, third eldest, is handling the food and vendor. Everyone else is filling in where they can. I designed and distributed the invitations, and created the artwork for the CD inserts and cover. As I am big saavy sop on Photoshop. Furthermore, mom will be so thrilled to see the dress I got for her. Whoopee!

It's all coming together. I'm looking foward to the once in a lifetime event. Mom and Dad are so excited for the family's homecoming. Most of all, they should be more excited for the big five oh.

Lesson: A humble Grasshopper in order to advance foward you must remember where you came from.

Happy Birthday, America!

July 4th 1776, democracy was thrown into the birth canal of our independence. Come one, come all immigrants and live the american dream.

The 4th of July softball game and barbecue started without me. As normal, it was a huge event of six teams competing for the title of 2006 best. My highlights are minimum, as I sat in the bar waiting for Italy or Germany to make a flippin' move for two hours. Sadly, I missed Shane's phenomenal hit and accidental slip into third base. Hands down MVP, the talented and dedicated Hope. Last year, she injured her knee from a super power slide and boasted crutches at my bachelorette party in Vegas. This year, she continued to stupefy her competitors. Playing the part of a fair umpire, the one and only Tim! Stylishly sporting a white sport coat, plaid pants, blue sneakers complimenting his blue button down cowboy shirt. As dogs and a good hundred people sat in the cool shade, the teams kicked up dust and played a great game!

Shellie's Proverb: A team that plays without rules has no game.

Besides stuffing my face with Angela's yummy turkey burgers and chicken satay, it was delightful to see faces I haven't seen in years especially from Fasties cronies! Plus, everyone's kids are sprouting like weeds. Randy, of Toni and Randy, is pregnant so it was a real treat to get her insight to the world of preggers! I enjoyed catching up with everyone. Although the absence of close friends were sorely missed, it's still a great 4th.

Lesson: An independent Grasshopper must learn to live insecticide free.

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.