You can call me shallow.

Go ahead, tell me my head is full of fluff.

I don't care. I have found my new obsession:

PROJECT RUNWAY!

Now, anyone who knows me the teensiest bit, knows that I gave up on fashion....well....I'm not sure I ever really even tried. Due to various body issues, money issues and lack of interest issues I have never put much time or energy into being fashionable.

Sure, I try to look decent. I even try to look good. But I concluded many years ago that it was next to impossible to keep up with fashion. Comfort has always been a bigger drive for me when purchasing clothes or shoes.

But now, I have been converted to a fashionista! Or at least an addict to the reality TV show where fashion designers are put into a workroom and challenged to design outfits in 24 hours with, like, a $50 budget.

The challenges are super! Design an outfit based on a model's hairdo. Create a fabulous, avant garde creation based on a work of art. Produce a beautiful, artistic, fashion-forward get-up from 501 jeans.

The designers are a stitch. Most of the men are gay. The women range from driven to flighty. But they are all amazingly talented! Just designing clothes would be my downfall. And these people design in about thirty minutes, and then buy fabric and sew, sew, sew for about ten hours and they're done.

Each design challenge is on a super time crunch, so the designers are completely stressed - and sleep deprived.

But the things they come up with are so fun to see. For the first time in my life I see a value to fashion. These people are truly artists. Yes, most outfits they create are wild and totally impractical for my life. But they are creating something new, based on other styles perhaps, but completely new and completely unique to the artist.

It is a bit of a soap opera. Each challenge sees one of the designers "out" and off the show. But the producers have done a darn decent job of providing drama with out sleeze.

Sadly, I don't have a TV. I've been watching the last 5 episodes at my mother in law's house (she saved them for me!). The season finale is next week, when the top designer wins. And I don't have any way to see it!

Who will it be? The unbelievably talented tiny, gay guy who is 21? Or the astoundingly talented woman with an ego the size of Texas? I can't wait!

What will I do?

San Diego

Well, we're off tomorrow for the long trek to San Diego. Eight hours in the car with three kids may seem daunting to some, but not for me!

I am the most efficient getter-to-San Diego there is.

I know when to leave: 6:00am

I know on which day to leave: Sunday (Saturdays will do, but never, NEVER on a weekday - LA traffic, you know)

I know how often to stop: Ideally, once - for gas and potty. Twice, three times max and only if one of the girls has to pee.

I know where to stop: Trucker rest stops have it all - potties and lots of lawn for the kids to run around on.

I know what music to play: Anything I like, until Marie starts to cry. Then, it's Raffi. (Actually, hubby stocked me up on new CD's and then there's our exciting history CD's.)

I know what food to bring along: Healthy pop tarts (is there such a thing?), egg salad sandwiches, sliced cheese, carrot sticks, cucmber rounds, crackers, cookies and mmmmm.... Bergamot Green Iced Tea for me.

I know how fast to drive: 80 - 85mph gets us there about an hour faster than when hubby drives.

The only part I haven't mastered yet is how to keep my derrier from aching at about the Grapevine. Also, I just can't go #2 on a public toilet, so I've never figured out how to not get stopped up the first few days of the trip. Maybe lots of fruit and bran muffins?

So, off we go on our grand adventure. Legoland, SD Zoo, cousins, Aerospace Museum, facials for me, no cooking dinner for me....what could be better?

Au revoir!

Mommy Detective

I have often compared being a mom with being a detective. We moms are often called upon to figure out and treat a myriad of mysterious illnesses, physical and emotional.

I got to flex my mommy muscles this weekend.

My little one, Marie, was walking hand in hand with a toddler buddy when they both stumbled and fell to the ground. She erupted in hysterical crying while the other girl got up and walked away. Marie kept on and on and on crying. I saw the fall, it was not bad. They were not running.

Another mom offered me ice for her arm, which she was holding.

"No thanks," I said, "she'll be fine." Inside I'm thinking "stop crying already!"

As soon as we got in the car she said, "I need to go to bed" and promptly fell asleep. At home, she insisted on going right to bed, which she did.

Hmmm... I thought, that is strange.

On my way to pick up my other daughter from swim lessons I started thinking,

"Isn't that a sign of shock?" and the inevitable MOMMY PANIC set in. Every mommy knows what I'm talking about. It is like a flip that gets switched and you are sure your kid is going to die and somehow it will be all your fault.

But upon seeing her awake, grumpy and in pain, my reasonable, wait and see, self reasserted itself. I concluded that we should wait until the morning to see how she was. You know, there is not much worse than going to the ER and having your kid tell the doctor he feels "just fine!" (after throwing up in the car and then down my back as I carried him) AAAggg!

But, the next morning, little Marie was trailing her useless arm around, and I knew we had to take her in. ER, X-rays, doctors.

Long story short? Fractured wrist, cast, orthopedist.....bleah.

Poor little thing doesn't understand that she can't just take it off. She keep saying, "Mommy, I'm ready to take off my bandage now." Then she proceeds to get really mad at me for not letting her take it off (as if she could). She doesn't quite understand the concept of immobilization.

However she did enjoy all the attention she got at church.

Note to self:

Never, ever, ever drink a cup of real coffee from Peet's again.

Can't write any more - hands too jittery - stomach to queezy - anxiety too intense!

Ack!

Chamomile, here I come!

Mocking

In my bible study were are reading Psalms. These are poetic prayers - songs - that the ancient Hebrews sang. I think it is very cool that we can read (and even sing) the exact same prayers that people were singing together thousands of years ago.

But the first psalm gave me pause.

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers

The part that got me here was the bit about the mockers. I'm not supposed to sit in the seat of mockers. Man. I like to mock. It's fun. I feel like I so often do when I get a teaching from God, like a little kid stamping my foot, "but I want to mock!"

I mean, I don't want to hurt people - but that does seem to be the definition of mock:

ridicule
	buffoon, burlesque, caricature, chaff, deride, flout, hoot, insult, jeer, jive, kid, kid around, laugh at, needle, parody, rally, razz, rib*, scoff, scorn, scout, show contempt, sneer, taunt, tease, travesty

Maybe I just like to joke. Could this be about semantics? Where is the line between joking and mocking?

I never thought of mocking as that bad before. Of course it's mean and rude to mock someone in a cruel way. But it can be fun to mock friends or family who know how to take it.

And what a culture of mockers we are! The media is chock a block full of mockery. Mocking is cool.

Maybe it's because mocking has the energetic effect of tearing down, it isn't constructive or helpful - only funny. I don't know. But this is the very first psalm, so I am going to pay attention to it. Ponder it. Pray about it.

And think twice about mocking.