okay here's the issue:

I am 36 years old. I have 3 children that I raise that actually came right out of my body. Three of them, at different times in my adult life. I have 2 dogs that I feed and bathe and take care of in the most general sense, oh and a cat-- all 5 of whom live with me. I am, for all intents and purposes, a grown woman. GROWN. As in big. As in responsible. As in I no longer ask my mom if I can have a ride to the mall or eat candy for breakfast.

So what the flippin' hell, man? I rise this morning after a moderately wakeful night's sleep (my daughter , Flippifina Acrobatica, wants to sleep in my tiny bed with me every night and I have to put her back into her bed repeatedly because I am not in the mood for her hot little foot in the small of my back), and find that a small mountain (whom I have named "Jerry") has erupted in the middle of my face.

My visage ruined, I have no idea what to do about this damn acne situation. I have more scars from the last year than my entire lifetime. Back in the day, as I gazed down from my great and glittery throne with my perfect, baby-fine exterior, I used to feel really sorry for the great unwashed that had to suffer with acne scars. "Those poor crater faces," I would think, as I carefully plied my flawless skin with lotion. "They look so horrendous and yet manage to intermingle with the general populace all unbeknownst! How very quaint."

Of course, I'm thinking this attitude *may* have jinxed me into becoming the vesuvius-laden crone I now am. Maybe not. Maybe it was that fact that I ate pizza last night for dinner, a meal I have maybe once every three months, and became a pizza FACE. See, but the irony falls short when I recognize thatI have been a pizza face for the last two years. One would assume that there was a direct correlation between eating pizza and looking like one-- and you know what happens when one assumes.

No.

I do not believe this skin affliction is diet related. Nor do I believe that answers are available for me on a scientific level. In point of fact, I think, just as a matter of course, that this is some kind of horrendous and hateful karmic debt I must repay.

Excuse me now while I try to lance "Jerry."

The Winnuh!

Syd went camping with her daddy last weekend. She's a champ!

The Fall Top Ten

Last year I started my summer with a top ten list. I made a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish inside that ten-week period, and ended up knocking seven off the list. Pretty impressive.

I made no written list this year. No, this year I was too chicken to face only a 70% success rate after committing something to the written word. I did, however, have a pretty front-end heavy mental list, which included:

1) Ride Blue from San Francisco to LA
2) Take my boys to Peru
3) Triathlon in July, August and September

That was it. I had intended to continue down the path of reading, learning a new language and finding my dream job, but time and bad television intervened, and my self-improvement goals ended when I got back from Peru.

In fact, instead of continuing down the work-out path, I ate like 2 pounds of hot dogs. Maybe 5 pounds, I donno. It was a huge sack from Costco and OH MY GAWD were they good. Old fashioned ones, in the casings even, so I'm cutting myself some slack. At least I had good taste in the matters of my nitrate consumption. I also ate almost an entire lemon pound cake (got the cake the same day I got the hot dogs). I am telling you... just mentioning those hot dogs even parenthetically-- I'm jonesing for them. They were like crack. Crack dogs. My mind says, "No, no-- I don't need them, I can stop anytime I want," but my body screams, "I just don't want to right now!!" and responds with the sweats and the shakes. GAWD they were good. I even ate them for breakfast. Once I drove home and had two for lunch. No buns, no condiments, just ate them like carrots.

Okay so enough about the hot dogs. (I loved them.)

My list.

I've decided that maybe I should make a list for the school year. See, last year I signed up for the AIDS Ride, and that kept my work-out goals somewhat focussed. This year... this year has no such goals. Just immense consumption of all-beef-encased goodness, and that should not be a goal.

So I enshrine my top ten herein. Things I want to do.

10) Start learning to play the piano.
9) Try to pick up Spanish again.
8) Read a book every 2 weeks.
7) Sell my house.
6) Get back to riding my bike regularly.
5) Have a Halloween Party
4) Go surfing.
3) Go to Yosemite.
2) Take a rock climbing class.
1) Go camping.

Okay. Reachable. My deadline is Yule (the start of Winter). Let's see how I do.

First day of preschool

FIRE ZEE MISSILES!!!

So funny.