What's that spell...

Lately I am feeling like a cheerleader to the world, complete with my bullhorn trying to pump up the crowd of those around me. Many of my friends were cheerleaders in high school so I was privy to the learning of the cheers all summer long (AKA..too fat to be a cheerleader, but not an active learner and giant banner maker.) I loved when they came up with routines and would practice in the yard. Takes me back to when I wanted to be in Razzle Dazzles in the 2nd grade. Again, I was too fat for sequined outfits and dancing at the crappy mall in Helena MT. I wanted to dance so bad that I would use scotch tape and tape my toes just like Jennifer Beals in Flashdance.


(sorry for the small images...I am not tech savvy)

In high school we were the Bruin's and those cheers are stuck in my head. Regardless of what type of team support I'm at, if a bouncy lady starts to chant, I'll automatically start to give her a B. GIVE ME A B....

Today my boss called me and asked if he could meet with me for 5 minutes. First of all there is never 5 minutes of a meeting with him. No matter how hard I try to shut up, I always have something to say. So we sat in my office, and the only reason for the meeting was my boss was just trying to pump me up. His goal was to tell me what a great job I am doing and that maybe tonight I should have a margarita. When I told him I was on a diet, he asked if I needed a gift certificate to Gene Juarez. I laughed, said no thank you, and he told me to give myself a virtual Margarita every hour tonight. Hmmm.. GIVE ME AN R.

Prior to this meeting I decided I was pretty much fed up with this BS that is my lady business. I called my doctors office and was very polite, as I know at some point I will turn into that potential ball of tears patient who thinks she is the only woman on the planet who can't get pregnant. Anways, I called and left a VM to let them know that it has been 42 days since my last period and the hormones I took two weeks ago have not kicked in yet. They are awesome and called me back right away. I let them know that I was a mere 15 seconds away as I am only 2 floors above them and if they wanted to see me, I could make it happen. Well 45 minutes later I'm naked from the waist down having an ultrasound. My business is just stuck up there. No clomid yet. On a positive note there were no cysts on my ovaries, everything "down there" looked normal and she could see a bunch of eggs just hanging out in the sack. There is nothing like having a vaginal ultrasound and telling the ARNP that you met 5 minutes ago to hit that sack like a pinata with her wand and maybe those eggs would start popping out. GIVE ME A U.

Before I sat down at the computer today I started thinking about this blog I write and sort of my purpose of doing it. In the beginning I thought that my "journey" I would be writing about would be little antidotes of my daily life and the general humor I try to see in them. The occasional perfect photo, the recap of holidays and events, the pondering of one's soul. I never realized what a resourceful tool it would become for me to really think about things. I'm pretty honest about what I write except for one thing; I have tried to censor my terribly poor potty mouth. I might say crap in my blog, but trust me, my brain is screaming the word shit. I'm just a full fledged potty mouth. In the 6th grade I would walk home from school with Lucy, Kevin and Jason (Hi Lucy!) and we would have contests to see who could go the longest without swearing. I was always in last place. I was a loser with a mouth that sounded like a 42 year old woman whose been driving a long haul truck for 17 years. I still am to this day. For the sake of anyone out there who reads this though, I will do my best to censor as there are ways to get one's point across without swearing. But somedays I really just have to drop a motherf*cker here or there to be able to really understand my true emotions. GIVE ME AN I.

The more I think about my life, the more I realize how fortunate I am. My husband is awesome and he really gets me. When we met one another on Match.com, that's right, we logged on for love, I used the tag line Eye of the Tiger. Kent would email me and then make references about Mr. T. Now I loved the A-Team and I knew how to "Pity a fool" but I had no clue what he was talking about. We still met though because really, a free drinks a free drink. It wasn't until we met face to face at Thaiku that I made the connection that Mr. T was in Rocky III and that Eye of the Tiger was the theme song to the movie. I tried to tell Kent my connection of Eye of the Tiger was my friend Carrie teaching me the complete moves in the second grade as she was the lucky one to get to be in Razzle Dazzle and wear sequined full length gloves complete with pink fringe. I may not have been a true Razzle Dazzle, I was a generic wanna-be who danced in my unfinished basement, along with my Flashdance tape and did everything I could to make my happiness. On Sept 12th Kent and I will celebrate our 3rd year anniversary of our first date. That date has a ton of significance to me as I honestly had a series of crazy lady visions and seeing a pretty awesome future ahead of me. I walked into work that next day and told my co-workers that I was in trouble..this guy rocked. Want to know how much my husband rocks...look at these bad boys he had made for our wedding... GIVE ME AN N.



So what does this random potpourri of my cheerleader brain spell....it might spell Bruin here, but truthfully it is spelling happiness. Happy to have my life, my tribulations, my drama, my struggles as a chunky chick trying to lose weight and get pregnant (huh?) and my fabulous husband laughing his ass of alongside me. I can cheer all I want for everyone else, but recently, I'm realizing it's OK to shake a pom pom or two my way as well.