This video clip from Britain’s Got Talent proves that you can’t judge a book by its cover and that everybody deserves a fair shot. Watch the whole thing with sound (it goes quickly) and tell me if you didn’t get a bit choked up by Susan Boyle’s performance.
PS: I don’t know why I can’t embed You Tube video and it’s totally frustrating me! Where there should an embedding code on You Tube it says, “Embedding disabled by request.” Huh?
PPS: Thanks, Lindsey, for sending this my way.
Shh, don’t tell Daddy… but the couch is SO much more comfortable than the floor.
PS: Does this angle make me look fat?
A week into J’s deployment, and I suffered through another emotionally exhausting day. I had the opportunity to speak to him on the phone twice today, and both times I cried for the majority of the conversation. I’m just feeling overwhelmed by all of the home improvement projects we are planning — especially by the cost of the work that needs to be done. I’ve also taken on some personal projects that are forcing me to make decisions quickly, something I struggle to do normally but that becomes even more challenging without the direct support of my hubby.
None of things that are causing me stress are necessarily BAD things; on the contrary, they are all positive changes we are making to our house and to our lives. It’s just that I feel like the time, the money and the energy required to complete them all is weighing on me and me alone, and I really wish J were here to share the burden.
I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning because I’ve been in a foul mood all day. I tried to snap myself out of it both times while we were talking over the phone, but I was just in too deep. I know that he understands how hard it is for me to simply “cheer up!” when I’m feeling sad or frustrated, but I still feel guilty for moping during our conversation. There isn’t much he can do to cheer me up from all the way over there and he knows that, which makes listening to me cry that much harder for him.
Ugg, so now I feel guilty on top of already feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. What I need is a good night’s sleep in a freshly made bed and to wake up to a brand new tomorrow.
Thanks for listening.
(image souce)
I hate to brag, but once upon a time, this girl had rhythm. At least I thought I did. As a child, I loved dancing around the house to Madonna’s True Blue cassette wearing a leotard and pearls. I was always one of the first on the dance floor at Bar Mitzvahs and Sweet 16s. And while I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, I was a cheerleader in high school for two years and enjoyed learning and performing our half-time dance routines.
Where am I going with this? Two lovely ladies, whose significant others are deployed with J, convinced me to take an adult hip hop class with them. Last night was our first class, and, sadly, I ain’t got no rhythm anymore. We spent an hour learning a 30-second routine to a part of Kanye West’s “Heartless” (not even the chorus!), and I swear to you, I felt like I was all arms and legs. I was a robot. I had no fluidity, no funk, and worst of all, I could hardly remember the steps! It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as out of place as I did last night.
Thankfully, my friends were just as stiff as I (ok, maybe they were better), so we’ve decided to get together tonight to practice the routine to prepare for next week’s class. We signed up for six weeks of humiliation. Like Stella, I’ve gotta get my groove back–and fast.
(image source)
Saturday morning my friend Jamie and her dog Lola drove me and Briscoe to the dog park for some play time. Sunny and warm, it was the perfect weather to spend a little time out of doors. The perpetual worrier that I am, I was relieved that everything went smoothly at the dog park–Briscoe didn’t escape, run away or pick a fight with a malicious dog. Yes, everything went well… until we returned home. That’s when I realized that I had locked us out of the house.
Since we hadn’t driven, I didn’t bring my keys, and I had forgotten to unlock the door in the kitchen that leads into the garage. My first instinct was to call Jamie to see if I had ever given her a key to my house. The answer–no. Then I called an Air Force buddy of J’s, the one who helped me out immensely while J was deployed over the winter, to see if I had given him a copy of my key. Nope. However, he volunteered to come over to help figure out what to do. I assumed I’d have to pay a locksmith to let me back into my own house.
When JD arrived, I remembered that I had left the window over the kitchen sink unlocked, as I had it opened the day before. Jokingly I suggested we climb through the window to unlock the door. Surprisingly, JD thought it was worth a try and, using a small ladder from my garage (we have a touch pad that allows us to open the garage door from the outside), climbed up to the window, removed the screen, and hoisted himself through it. If only I had my camera to capture the moment his feet were dangling out of the window!
So by breaking into my house, JD saved me the hassle (and money) of having to call a locksmith, and I learned a very important lesson: make sure somebody has a copy of my house key. You should do the same.
(image source)
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