Paranormal Handshake Shenanigans

Hello lovelies!

I'm sorry I haven't been able to update y'all since TMI Thursday. Vacation'll do that to ya.

I wanted to share some photos with you guys from the trip so far! I'll start with this one... since some of you noticed on Thursday that yes, my boyfriend's name is Dan, and my brother's name is Daniel. Here's a photo of them together (boyfriend on the left, brother on the right):



Denver got about 2 feet of snow in the Metro area, and the mountains got almost 4 feet! Here are some promised snow photos:






Dan caught this huge ladybug attacking my head while I was reading:


I love my brother, even though he tries to ruin every photo by being inappropriate:




I was lame and didn't play cards at my friend Wes' housewarming party last night, but I took some pictures of everyone else!



Diet-wise, I'm doing okay. We went out for Mongolian, and it was awesome! Of course fish, shrimp, veggies, tofu... all good for you. What's in the peanut sauce and thai sauce, I don't even want to know. Sugar, sugar, sugar.



Oh. OH. I have to share this video with you guys. This was Thursday night, and we were playing Spades at my brother's condo. (Favorite card game, ever!) -- The guy on the left is my brother's best friend Nich. My brother is on the right, and the guy in the middle is Dan (my boyfriend.) My brother and his friend Nich did a handshake without practicing and they freaked out, apparently thinking they read each other's minds. They then told me they wanted to do it over and over, 'cause it was the coolest thing ever. I don't know about that, but I know my brother's hyper laugh makes me laugh every time!



So, the other thing I meant to blog about was Paranormal Activity! If you don't want spoilers, then you should just skip this part, 'cause I'm gonna talk about it.

I thought the movie was pretty sweet. I personally have a fixation/obsession/love for all things paranormal. I love watching the shows or hearing stories from folks who have had, or think they've had encounters with some kind of ghost or spirit or something. So this movie was a naturally good choice for me. Dan tricked me and told me that this movie was supposedly made up of real footage. That definitely gave me a better "in" to the movie because, though I was a bit skeptical, I kinda-sorta thought it was real. I guess that's why people compare it to the Blair Witch project. (I haven't seen that one, but I suppose I need to now.)

I loved the voyeuristic aspect of the movie. Some people thought it was kind of slow, but I didn't. I liked it, and every single time they went to the night footage, I was on the edge of my seat, looking all around the room trying to see shadows move or something. I wanted to see things happen.

When things started to get really weird, I was definitely shocked. (ie: the sheet being puffed up over her body, when she'd stand up and stare at the bed for a few hours straight, etc) -- During those parts I was mouthing over and over to myself, "What the fuck! What the fuck!" It was just WEIRD and crazy.

I totally enjoyed the whole movie, except for the ending. (Isn't the ending ALWAYS what we have problems with?) I thought it was totally cheesy, particularly when she looked up into the camera at the end. And her whereabouts are unknown? Lame. I saw the alternate ending on YouTube, and it was a little better, and I felt it fit with the rest of the movie more, but it was also lame. I think they should have extended the last scene out longer with more of an off-camera struggle. I think they could have had something better. They both should have died. Dan said the house should have burned down, but the problem with that idea is that the footage wouldn't have survived.

So! I'm curious to know all y'all's thoughts on it. It's actually one I'd watch again... but I think the thrill would be gone, knowing what all happens. What did YOU guys think of it? Any other scary movies you'd recommend?


~Jenn

TMI Thursday - Mr. Fudge Fingers.

This one is courtesy of my parents. It's a story I've heard many times before, but it's one I definitely need to share with you guys on TMI Thursday.



My brother Daniel was a very hyper active child. I mean, seriously hyper active, crazy ADD, wanna climb on everything and get into everything kind of kid. Not so much in the temper tantrum kind of way, but more in the chew on the corner beading kind of way. He'd swing from the curtains and he would get out of his crib during the night. My Dad woke up one night to find that Daniel had crawled out of his crib, gotten out of his room, crawled downstairs, into the kitchen, up onto the counter, opened up the drawers and started playing with the silverware.

That was the last straw. They knew they had to do something.

My parents went to the doctor and asked what to do about Daniel getting out of the crib, after all... a kid still in diapers, though posessing all the energy he did, could still hurt himself. They didn't want him falling out of the crib and knocking his dear little head on the floor or something. The doctor told them to simply put the mattress on the floor, and my brother would be fine. So, into the little window cubby the mattress went, and that's how it had to go to keep Daniel's face as cute as ever, and not smooshed on the ground after a fall. With that, they also had to put a lock on the door so he couldn't get out and into things while they were sleeping.

One morning, my lovely mother went upstairs in the old house to get Daniel up. She opened the door and noticed that the walls looked different. There was some kind of weird pattern or design all over the walls by the mattress. Now, there definitely hadn't been a room decorater invited overnight. She thought "Crayons?" But there were no play-things in the room - all the toys were kept downstairs. She crept closer and noticed that Daniel wasn't wearing his diaper.

Oh, shit.

Literally.

On the walls.

My brother, apparently, had a very, very artistic brain. No crayons? Poop will do! (paint, paint paint.)

My Mother called my Dad up to the room to check out the talent. My Dad took one look in the room and said, "Well, I have to go to work! Bye!!" (I laugh every time I hear that.) So, my Mother tells me that Daniel had a bath, the room had a bath, then Mom had a bath.

Ultra hilarious. :)

~Jenn

Paranormal, huh?

Alrighty, y'all.

I just got back from seeing Paranormal Activity. Have any of you seen this already? I want to talk about it with you guys, but I don't want to give anything away for those of you who haven't seen it. If I get lots of comments like, "I saw it! I saw it!" I'll be talking about it soon. It's a talk-about-it kind of movie to me.

Dan and I are going to see Rob Thomas in concert tonight. I am SO excited for the show! I've never seen him (or Matchbox 20) in concert before, but I did see one of his shows on television a few years ago. It looked amazing. Concerts are one of my very favorite things. The experience I have at a live show is something I treasure.

Next, I want to thank ALL of you for the comments on my last entry. I appreciate all the time you took in sharing your thoughts and points of view. I considered posting another full entry about the subject, but I feel all the span of comments covered just about anything else I might have said. Some of you feel much more strongly about the subject than I do, some of you are completely on the opposite side from me, and some of you are in between. I got one comment from a reader who seemed to get precisely what I tried to say, so I'm going to share it with you all here, and hope from this you realize that my blog did not come from a place of disgust or my despising anyone.

I'm new to your blog, and this is the first post I've read thus far (I will be reading more). My mom is one of the ladies you saw in the airport. She's not at the wheel-me-through-the-airport stage and doesn't use the grocery store thingies, but she could be there any time. She is a very heavy woman and suffers from knee pain. It started with a fall that injured one of her knees. It was painful, she catered to it, slowed down and became more and more sedentary (she wasn't that active to start with) and things got worse- she gained weight, hurt more, became depressed, more sedentary... You see where this is going. This summer her 90 yr old mother got out of the car & into the grocery store before she did - with a walker. Wake up call.

As you swore, I swear I will not be like that either, though I struggle with weight & depression. And I'm not going to let her keep spiraling. My mom's been there for me through thick & thin, and now it's my turn to rescue her. How will I do this, you ask? Why, it's simple- I'll make her think SHE is helping ME. She's an angel who will help anyone in need, it'll totally work.

Anyway, on behalf of my mom, I'm not at all offended by your post. I want her life to be richer, better, healthier. I want her to walk with me, with her grandchildren, with her grouchy old dog.

It's why I love the blogging world. The sharing of information, ideas, thoughts and feelings is prevalent. I also took everything you all said into my heart and will look at it. I am open to looking at who I am (I've mentioned blogging is like free therapy, and I'm serious about that.) I can't think of a better way to improve upon myself than to put myself out there for you all to see, totally honestly, and for you to all act as a giant mirror, showing me what you see. I appreciate all your feedback, and I welcome it at any time. I'm happy I can be OUT there and honest with you guys, and I promise I will try to never stop being as honest as possible.

In other news, Denver is supposed to get a big buncha snow tonight after midnight. 6-10 inches for the metro area! Those folks in the mountains are looking at a forecast of 10-20 inches. Holy crap! I'll definitely be sharing some pictures with you guys tomorrow. <3

~Jenn

I Swore at the Airport.

Before I tell you all my airport story... three things:

1. I got a comment today from Quillaume202 telling me about this blog post he wrote about me. I love it so much, I'm bookmarking it.

2. Why is it every time we go on vacation, bed time is instantly three to four hours before our normal bed time? And I'm always still awake, 'cause... hello... I've only been up for twelve hours and I'm not tired yet? Am I impervious to jet lag?

3. I love my job. If I don't say it enough or make it clear, I love, love, love my job. I need to tell you all one day about my OLD job, and why therefore I love my current job so damn much.

Okay. Here's the meat and potatoes, and I don't know if I'm going to piss some of you off with this, but it's coming, so... I'm just gonna throw it out there.

Dan and I flew out to Denver today for our little vacation back home. Well, it's MY home. He's from Milwaukee, but he did live here in Denver with me for a little over three years.

Anyhoo. We were waiting in the security check line to strip down to our basics and get wanded, when we saw the "special" line open up next to us for the Airline Personnel. You know... the Pilot, Co-Pilot, Flight Attendant Steward-folk and such. No biggie, that's a normal thing. Of course they get to cut in line, 'cause they're manning the plane.

Then. Just as Dan was ducking to his right, being super cute, trying his best to avoid the nice, cool airflow from the giant fan in the corner, we saw the "special" line open up again. This time it was some very nice, smiley ladies who worked for the airport. There were two of them, each pushing a woman in a wheelchair. One of the women was an old lady. I mean, she had to have been in her 80's, and couldn't get out of the wheelchair at all, even to walk through the metal detector. The other woman being pushed in a wheelchair was a very large middle aged woman. The third person to walk through behind them was a middle-aged guy, also pushing a large middle-aged woman in a wheelchair.

I began to get angry. I was looking at these middle aged large women for any signs of illness that could really cause them to not be able to walk. You know... bandages, casts, slings, whatever. I wanted to see what injuries they had. Show me stitches or something. But no. They didn't show me stitches. They didn't have casts on or any other kind of visible injuries. What they had was fucked up knees or ankles, or whatever. These women were not older than my mother. They were just unhealthy and fat. You guys, I got seriously annoyed. I was so angry at these two women.

Now hold up. I wasn't angry because they were cutting in line. We had precisely three more folks ahead of us, and a bit of waiting after that before boarding. I could care less about the line situation... I'm a fairly patient gal.

I was angry because their lives had amounted to this. Being wheeled around in frickin' wheelchairs because they had let their health dwindle to crapinabag. And some of you might be thinking, or ready to comment "Wait, maybe they had surgery and you just couldn't see the stitches under their shirts" or "maybe blah blah blah." Okay. MAYBE. But, DOUBTFUL.

You've all seen the ladies and fellas wheelin' around the grocery store or the Wal*Mart (shudder) or wherever. You know that all the fat folks not walking from aisle to aisle are not surfing the motorized carts because they are post-op. These folks are doing it because they've let their joints melt down to mashed potatoes and gravy. Their health is shit. They have pain when they walk. Their muscles are disintegrating. Their lives have become seating room only.

I just stood there and watched these women get up, walk through the metal detector, then sit back down in the wheelchairs on the opposite side and go on about their "push me further, Betty" business.

I looked at Dan and said, "Honey. I swear to you. I will never be that. I swear to God, it's never going to happen."

And I swear, I swore true. There's no amount of macaroni and cheese or Ritz crackers in this world to let me miss out on being independent, capable and strong. It's not worth it. I want to be able to run and play with my children, to walk to the park with my grand kids, and foot it through the airport.

I hate going through security, but dammit, I'm glad I can do it on my own two feet.

~Jenn

Sun Flare, Fall Weddings. LOVE.

Another gorgeous day. I'm telling you, I got super lucky this weekend!!

Click HERE to check out the shots from Danielle and Alex's wedding!




I leave tomorrow for Denver. Hugs and kisses, y'all!!!

~Jenn

Something Blue..

Busy with weddings this weekend, y'all! :) I have one tomorrow as well, then Monday I'm heading to Denver and I'll be there with Dan through the 1st, and then I'm staying through the 4th. I'll do my best to keep you all updated daily!

Click HERE for the images from today's amazing wedding. This is my favorite candid Bridal portrait to date. :)



Also, check out my new favorite blog:

http://thislittlegirldreams.blogspot.com/

She's witty and posts some really interesting stuff. And a good sense of humor... that's always important! :)

What Does "Fitness" Mean?

Hello out there in bloggerland!

I got a wonderful bunch of comments on my latest blog post about my laziness, lack of work-out motivation, and the fitness journey I've had.

Sasha, the Breakup Coach, left me a great, brain squeezing question. I'd expect nothing less from her brilliant ass, 'cause she's a psychologist. I love this. Blogging is like free therapy.

Here is the comment she left me:

Thanks for another wonderfully honest and thought-provoking post.

Asking yourself "why can't I get motivated?" is kind of a dead end question guaranteed to make you frustrated. I'm really curious as to what "fitness" actually means to you. It means so many different things to different people. How do you define it for yourself?

I also got a whopper of a comment from my buddy Christy in Seattle:

I read this post with mixed emotions. You are so beautiful and seem to have a really positive spirit. If you are otherwise healthy (unlike me, who has high blood pressure and scoliosis and a family history of diabetes and near-constant illnesses for two years) then does a little extra weight really matter?

If it's self-discipline that you're craving, great. I'm sure there are many small changes you could make to get a little more active. Being active will benefit your body, your mind, and your spirit in a myriad ways ... but there are so many fun ways to exercise! Sex and dancing are two of my favorites ... with walking and Pilates catching up quickly.

At some point, I think all of us who are on the diet train should ask ourselves -- what are our weight-loss goals? If there are none besides "looking good" or "fitting into cute clothes" is that an adequate motivation truly to change our lives and the way we eat ... forever? Or, will that diet train turn into a rollercoaster, careering out of control, our self-esteem crashing with each little rise in weight?

I'd love to be in a size 6 again. When I started this diet, that was my goal.

Then I wondered ... why?

I mean, what's so great about a size six really? Sure, I loved the shape that I was in as a size 6 ... but even at an 8 and a 10, I kicked butt at cardio. I hiked and roamed just about any old where I wanted. My body was a good body, able to answer the demands I put on it with energy to spare.

Is size six okay, but every thing above it not okay? What about if you or I got into a size 8 or 10 or, yes, even a 12 and maintained it forever? Would we be happy with that (assuming, again, we were otherwise healthy)?

I'm not trying to tell you that you shouldn't lose weight. That's a personal decision that everyone has to make for herself. I'm here to support you in any way I can. Sometimes, though, the best support can come from a reality check.

Be kind to yourself. You've already come a long way on this journey. It's okay that you're not perfect! You'd be pretty freaking dull if you were.

Love,
Christy

SO, wow! It's clear that THIS should be the blog topic for the day. Let's see if I can answer these questions honestly and concisely. (Ha-ha! Good luck to me.)

What does "Fitness" mean to me?

I hear that word and I think of someone with a low body fat percentage, who can run a mile in 7 minutes. Someone who can lift a good amount of weights. Someone who is flexible, with kick butt muscle tone, who likes to participate in sports. Someone who maybe likes to go rock climbing or skiing or can run a marathon. Triathlon people. And honestly? I've never had any of those goals. Now, actually, that's SORT of a lie, 'cause I wouldn't mind being super flexible, but that's purely for non-working-out reasons. I also wanted to be able to run a 5K.

But here's the thing. I think each time I decide I'm gonna start working out hard core, or I'm going to train for a 5K, or I'm going to start to lift weights, it's false excitement. Or temporary excitement. I watched Tara from The Biggest Loser last season and was SO inspired because of how athletic she was. The clip of her running her ass off on that treadmill with Jillian holding a band around her waist made me so jealous. But I realized yesterday that it's the same kind of jealousy I feel when I watch Diana Krall play the piano, or Chris Angel perform magic, or Cate Blanchett deliver a moving performance in a film. I am the most jealous person on the planet. I would love to have all these talents and abilities. But it doesn't mean I'm going to start taking piano lessons again, studying magic and practicing my slight of hand skills, or sign up for classes at the local theater.

I really think with the working out thing, that's what it comes down to. I'd feel like a badass if I was "fit" like those folks, but I don't have the motivation to work for it.

In general terms, as Christy pointed out, I'm relatively healthy. I can walk up a flight of stairs or jog across the street without feeling winded now. I don't have pain in my knees or ankles because of weight. I don't have diabetes or any other weight related illnesses. I do have pretty decent strength in my legs and arms, and I think a lot of that has to do with being a photographer and lugging/hauling/lifting all my gear. But I am around 32% body fat (I'd guess.) I don't have good flexibility. I couldn't run an entire 5K, in fact I don't think I could run one mile without walking for part of it.

So, in regards to Christy's thoughtful comments... it's just in my head. There's nothing wrong with being a size 12. In fact, there is nothing wrong with being any size, as long as you're happy in that size. For me personally, getting into those size 12 jeans was a huge accomplishment, and I did a freakin' happy dance because of it. But, it's not my goal. Hitting a size 12 is not enough. Why is that? I don't know, exactly. Perhaps it has to do with the ridiculous amount of perfectionism I inherited from my Dad. I know I've been there before, and I NEED to get there again. It's something inside me that will claw and scratch and elbow its way around until it's satiated.

Being smaller makes me feel better about myself. It makes my sex life better. It makes me more likely to go out and be social. I feel better in virtually every facet of my life. And yes, part of it is absolutely about the clothes, I'm not going to lie to you. It's about attention ('cause it should be obvious that I'm an attention whore at this point. Plus I'm a Leo.) I want men, women, people to notice me, and it's not because I need to get a date. It's because it feels really good to be whistled at, looked at with admiration, jealously, whatever. It's so superficial, I know. But it FEELS good to me. It makes me feel like a million bucks. I want the people in my past who overlooked me to go, "Damn!" when they see me next. I want my ex boyfriends to kick themselves when they see me and fantasize about me from then on. (Yes I know, they should know what they lost because of WHO I am, but come on. These are MEN we're talking about here. They'll see my hot ass in a pair of hot jeans and think, "HOT.")

I take full, unabashed ownership of the sad, sad fact that I care absolutely, completely and obsessively about what people think when they look at me.

I think everyone has different motivations. I personally am very motivated by the way my stomach looks in a form fitting dress. Sometimes I don't keep that in my mind when I'm eating Ritz Crackers with cheddar cheese slices (my favorite snack, ever... it is to me what chips and dip are to Monica.)... But I don't know that any motivator actually holds over you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If it does, that's some pretty damn awesome motivation.

It's clear that I've been on the diet rollercoaster for the better half of my adulthood. And some before that too. I need to remember that it's not something I want to go through again, and that it's not healthy either. It's my ultimate goal to get to my desired weight, and maintain. Plus or minus five pounds, that's cool. I just need to remember that I change. My pants stay the same size, and I'd like to stay in them.

And I'd like to end this absurdly long blog post with my horoscope from today:

Friday, Oct 23rd, 2009 -- There is a wide gulf between how you feel now and what you are willing to do. In fact, your actions may say one thing while common sense says something else. Nevertheless, your emotions might prevail today in a skirmish between your head and your heart. Remember, logic can be used to answer a question, but not to share what's in your heart.

~J