tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-208481902024-03-12T20:12:25.305-07:00The Happa LifeThese are the daily ramblings of Karla. Wife. Mom. Nurse. Superhero. Not always in that order but you get the idea. Some days are delightful. Some days are dreadful. Some days things are so wild around here I think to myself that I really should write this stuff down. Partly to use as blackmail when my children are older but mostly just so that I'll be able to remember it.*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-9952395476761916722008-06-17T14:18:00.001-07:002008-06-17T14:34:58.753-07:00Feeling better...I admit it. I was beginning to think this day might never come. Despite myself, I am actually starting to feel better. I've been exercising. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(bleck)</span> Eating better. Carting my kids around. Sleeping less. Doing more. Yep almost back to normal! Two weeks ago, I'd have sworn this wouldn't be possible. Two weeks ago, not only did I feel like I was going to die, I wanted to. I made peace with the Lord and was *ready* if he was ready. I was <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">that</span> bad. I'm slowly moving past it, though. <div>Now if you know me... even slightly... you know that the S-L-O-W-L-Y part might kill me. I'm instant gratification girl and this recovery has been sloooooooooooow. I'm not good at doing slow. Honestly. I don't even want to be good at doing slow. But, I guess I have to do whatever it takes to stay very far away from the hospital. I'll do slow. One day at a time. For two weeks. Then I'm back to work and it all best be back to normal.</div>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-45867293675365013132008-06-07T11:51:00.000-07:002008-12-09T20:03:44.120-08:00Do I really have to call him Master???<div>My husband completed his MPA program and went through his graduation ceremony last night. Yes. Charles now has his Master's Degree. </div><br /><div>He doesn't look any different. Well, unless you count the 2 hours at the ceremony where he had to wear the lovely black gown and graduation cap and the new "hood" that he received to note his <em>masterous</em> achievement. I'll forgive him of this short lived fashion faux pas.</div><br /><div>He doesn't act any different. Nope. He's still the same ole Charles. Laid-back, easy-going, and he's still a kid at heart. The only difference now is that he has a piece of paper that<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPrthsYW5vkLgJoTHafisb5ocvB37bzq7-HNwMI_Ac8GMtedqTCbAKJRMm0yRtGumMCqNeBB4pNSh2SoHAvUfiZoK5539RO8iyO5sMIYQlyJOnNQPTeDHwfKidPegZiS9jlzRDw/s1600-h/CharlesGraduation014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209589599202768626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="257" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPrthsYW5vkLgJoTHafisb5ocvB37bzq7-HNwMI_Ac8GMtedqTCbAKJRMm0yRtGumMCqNeBB4pNSh2SoHAvUfiZoK5539RO8iyO5sMIYQlyJOnNQPTeDHwfKidPegZiS9jlzRDw/s320/CharlesGraduation014.JPG" width="320" border="0" /></a> says he's "highly educated". That's right... it doesn't matter that he can't spell even with the aid of spell-check to save his life. He's highly educated. Even though I get more answers right when we watch jeopardy and wheel of fortune... he's highly educated. Even though I read and re-read and edited all those papers that earned him is diploma... <em>he's</em> highly educated. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So no. No. Even though I have never been more proud of him than I was the minute his name was called and he walked across the stage to receive his diploma... I will NOT be calling him Master!</div>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-42787533202346634282008-06-05T11:16:00.000-07:002008-06-08T11:34:30.251-07:00Maybe I really AM falling apart...Ok, so, in the not so distant past I wrote about <a href="http://karkim.blogspot.com/2008/05/slowly-falling-apart.html">THIS </a>Apparently, I spoke too soon. What was I thinking? I know better than to open my big mouth like that. Yep... that's right... I jinxed myself and had surgery #9 on June 1st. See - when I do things. I go ALL OUT.<br />Now, for those of you who have ever considered a hysterectomy, I had a partial and for me it was pretty much a piece of cake. What I do NOT recommend is having an emergency appendectomy 12 days later. Seriously. Take my word for it and DO NOT DO THIS! It really screws up your life. The surgery itself wasn't so bad. Not a lot of pain involved, unless you count the horrible 3 day illness and 2 emergency room visits that preceded <em>this</em> surgery. What is does to a 37 year old woman's body - pure H-E-L-L. I'm telling you, I feel like I was hit by a bus then hit again. Wiped out. I thought I'd feel better each passing day, but unfortunately, speed doesn't seem to be a part of this particular recovery process.<br />I went to the doctor yesterday... the follow up appointment to my 1st surgery. You know the appointment where I was supposed to be released to go back to work. HA! No going back to work for me. Four more weeks of recovery time is what he's suggested. Lovely. I'm doing my best to take it easy. I have a great group of family and friends who have pitched in lots of help. <br />I guess for now I'm going to take a piece of my own advice and take care of me... I mean, honestly, I don't have very many removable body parts left!*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-35277312272340659302008-05-28T15:47:00.000-07:002008-12-09T20:03:44.378-08:00Another school year gone...Today was the last day of school... (technically Luke still has 2 more days but they are party days :) I guess that makes me officially the mother of a 5th grader <gasp> and a 1st grader. (AND the wife of an unemployed teacher, but that's a whole different blog for a different day)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtjsSUTJhcCSWvF71pBJ5LElRLFZuLtQNACRnMw7tkIrU6mURF6hiUCTdGvAT5tzQ5DoYpzl6QU7_cNBe0iM2hrBUVCxoU6PUleM-X33-MJo-BebFNIPRhtwCW49FJBOuMK476Q/s1600-h/P1010859.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtjsSUTJhcCSWvF71pBJ5LElRLFZuLtQNACRnMw7tkIrU6mURF6hiUCTdGvAT5tzQ5DoYpzl6QU7_cNBe0iM2hrBUVCxoU6PUleM-X33-MJo-BebFNIPRhtwCW49FJBOuMK476Q/s400/P1010859.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205590004006280114" /></a><blockquote>Aren't they the cutest Koreans you've ever seen?</blockquote><br />The minute she walked in the door this afternoon, Miss Ava announced that she is now a 5th grader. Apparently this is a big deal. In her 9 year life, this is a huge deal. Like, GINORMOUS! She's growing up. FIFTH GRADE. She wants to pick her own clothes and do her own hair and talk on the phone with her friends. She doesn't want to be my baby girl anymore. I'm not sure I'm ready. Not that <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> matters. I promised myself on the day that she was born that I would always allow her to be her own person. I would guide her and hopefully lead her through a beautiful path, but I would not hinder her from learning her own life's lessons. That was an easy promise to make back when she was a helpless little crying creature in her bassinet. I've never broken a promise. At least not knowingly... This might be the hardest promise I've ever had to keep. <br /><br />Now Luke... he seems to care less that this school year has ended. It's like he doesn't even conceive that in August he will be in 1st grade in a brand new school. Nope. He's still my little boy. All I have to do is throw a football with him and I am the best mom ever. How easy is that? I wonder if that will still be all it takes for him to still think I'm awesome on his last day of 4th grade...*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-15306801943162707832008-05-27T17:44:00.000-07:002008-05-27T17:59:48.290-07:00When did this child learn to read???Luke: Momma. You spelled happy wrong.<div>Me: Really? Where?</div><div>Luke: Right there. On the top of your computer. It says The <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Happa </span>Life. But with an "a" instead of a "y".</div><div><pause></pause></div><div>Me: It is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">SUPPOSED</span> to be Happa with an "a". It's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">our </span>life. </div><div>Luke: That's just weird. I don't get it. How is our life happa and not happ'y'??? </div><div>Me: Cuz you're a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Happa.</span></div><div>Luke: No sir. I'm a boy. </div><div><giggle> </giggle></div><div>Me: Daddy says that you and your sister are BOTH Happas. Because you are (in my worst Asian accent) hapa dis and hapa dat! You know... you're half Korean and half Caucasian. </div><div>Luke: You and Daddy are both weird.... (as he exits from reading over my shoulder to play PS2)</div><div><br /></div><div>Are we weird? We are a mixed race family. An "inter-racial" couple. I'm white. He's Asian. Our kids are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">mixed</span>. We joke about race in our house. Not really in derogatory terms, but we make light of situations on a regular basis. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm still not convinced that my children know exactly what they "are". Wait. I take that back. They know that they are half Korean and half Caucasian. But at 9 and 6, I'm not sure they have a grasp that there are people that consider them different. My children will both tell you (and believe it) that they look EXACTLY like their momma -except they don't have blue eyes. They don't. I mean, as they get older, it is finally apparent that I was present at their conception, but to say that they look like me is quite the overstatement. </div><div><br /></div><div>It always makes me giggle inside, though. I love how they aren't really in tune with stereotypical differences in appearances. Maybe the world needs more <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Happas </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-83664278282368934712008-05-25T14:31:00.000-07:002008-05-25T15:40:06.130-07:00Slowly falling apart...I had surgery on May 20th. It wasn't my first surgery or my second, third or fourth. It was my 8th!! OK. Three of the surgeries were to remove babies from my body but that really doesn't make me feel any better... <div>"Am I falling apart?"</div><div>My doctor says No. He just thinks I am "in-tune" with my body and I'm "aware when things are out of whack". He said that it's a good sign I actually take care of myself and get things taken care of before they take over. </div><div>Whatever... blah... blah... blah...</div><div>So now - I am minus a uterus and the tumors entombed in that uterus. There will be no more biological children in my future. Not that I want to get rid of my current husband and search out a new man to provide me with sperm to conceive a child with my own biology. But it still makes me sad to think that part of my life is over. </div><div><br /></div><div>...BUT</div><div>There is a bright side! NO MORE PMS : ) </div>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-65133764032446371922008-03-01T05:34:00.001-08:002008-03-01T05:34:08.339-08:00Writing Really IS Therapeutic!<p>So why don't I do it more often???  Life gets in the way... Stupid answer.  Life is what I like to write about.  It helps me get things off my chest.  I don't do it because I want the whole world to know what's going on. I just do it because I'm not good with whining and sometimes you just need to emotionally purge. </p> <p>I think this may be why I am where I am.  It has been too long since I have allowed myself to let it out.  Could that be why I feel like I've recently fallen in a manhole and no one knows I'm here??? Oh yeah.  Absolutely!!!  Even still, I don't think I'm ready to let it all out. Just yet. I still need time to analyze the crap out of it.  See where I'm going with it.  What the next step will bring.  Then.  Maybe. I will have a good emotional vomit. </p> <p>Until then. I'll just keep writing in my head.</p> *~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-90206834759464534642007-03-19T13:19:00.000-07:002007-03-19T13:44:41.479-07:00300??I know I said that I was going to give it my best shot to do this frequently, and I have. My best shot just doesn't seem sufficient these days...<br />Hence, 300. That's about the # of things I usually have to do in any given day-- I'm probably exaggerating, but I'm a mother and I'm entitled to a bit of exaggeration every now and then. <br /><br />Apparently Lexus is the new standard in Taxi Cabs since that's what mine has turned into. I cart my children to their various activities and sporting events. I bring my husband lunch and dinner and whatever else he forgets to get for himself on any given day. I work full time, do laundry, cook, clean, and sleep very little! I always wanted 3 children (if you know my husband, you know that this is the ONLY argument that he has ever won in our relationship) but I guess God knew what was best for me. Technically, I have 3 children... One is just 6 months older than me :^) <span style="font-size:78%;"> (That said... I still would love to have another person to care for, cart around, and have chats on the couch with. I'm either crazy or a glutton for punishment... Probably both!)</span><br /><br />So that, my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">internet</span> friends, is why I've been lagging in the blog department. Although I love doing it - writing is a release for me - time escapes me! Someday, I will have more time... but then you'll probably find my blogs bitching about being bored and not having anything to do. After my day today... I'd be willing to give it a shot, though...<br /><br />If you are wondering about me and what I'm up to, just shoot me an email. I promise though, I'll keep up as much as the Koreans allow me to!*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-12005520888662845092007-02-12T22:18:00.000-08:002007-02-11T10:17:05.196-08:00Working OutYeah, so working out. UGH! I swear I was sick half the month of January and that was a GREAT excuse to not get my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">assenormous</span> out of bed and to the gym. B-I-G mistake! It would be so much easier if I just didn't have to get out of bed to do it!<br />Here's the deal. The only time I can find to take care of myself is around 5am. Sucks ass! Seriously. Here I am, it's almost 10pm and I'm not even in bed yet. My alarm will go off at 4:45am. Why you ask? Because I roll out of bed looking all gawd awful and shake my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">azzz</span> out into the cold. I have a routine. At least 3 days a week I walk with my friend Kim in the darkness of the morning and the freezing cold. Then a couple of days a week I drive down to Body Exchange to do my hour of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">cardio</span>/weight. That's a horrible name for a gym since I've been going 2 years <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">faithfully</span> and still have an ass the size of Montana. Oh well. Back to the real deal...<br />This past month has been hit or miss when it comes to my work out. I have NOT wanted to get out of bed. Even with my husband's snoring. I'd rather stay there and hold the pillow over his head than do anything to get my adrenaline rushing. Someone please tell me what has gone wrong? At least I have used my home elliptical. It's good in a pinch, but being at home makes it too easy to become distracted and get off "early". My girl Kim has been even more of a slacker than me. She's supposed to keep me accountable. Huh... I haven't heard from her today, so I guess that means she's not ready to jump back into the groove. Or should I say she's not ready to jump out of bed at the butt-crack of dawn to walk really fast and see how much "girl talk" we can fit into one hour.<br />Tomorrow I'll be on my elliptical since I have to be at work early on Tuesdays. Wednesday is a new day. With or without Kim, I'm going to get my swing back. That is, unless, my bed keeps me hostage and makes me hit the snooze til 6am...*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-18721704875960634302007-02-10T20:53:00.000-08:002007-02-11T08:51:52.959-08:00How we get where we are...Remember that feeling that love was EVERYTHING? Like seriously, all there was and all you thought you needed. What happened to the excitement of that 1st love? Have you ever asked yourself this? I can honestly say that I don't. I mean don't get me wrong... I would NEVER discount that very important journey. I'm sure that my experience was unique. How many people can say that their 1st love died in a car accident on Valentine's Day when they were 16? Yeah... I'm thinking not many. Tragic. Life changing. That's what I remember about my 1st love. That took a while to get over. It will be 20 years on Wednesday. I still remember it like it was yesterday. <br />I think in some ways it still haunts me. I could have been in one of those cars that rainy night. I wasn't. Eleven of my friends were. Six of them died. I didn't.<br />Here I am, 20 years later. I have the greatest husband. I have two damn near perfect kids. I have an awesome house, nice cars, a dream job. I also have the knowledge that everywhere I've been has brought me here. The good AND the bad have led me to where I am. I appreciate every bit of it. It's how I got here.*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-74527772149098963372007-02-06T21:43:00.000-08:002007-02-11T09:46:15.785-08:00ScaredOK, so I have a sister. My sister has 3 kids. I have an unbelievable attachment to these kids. Technically, they are my niece and my nephews, but actually, I couldn't love them any more if I'd birthed them myself. Now, I know that people have nieces and nephews that they love. I don't think I'm *special*. But I sure think those kids are ; )<br /><br />Recently, I broke down and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">opened</span> up a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">myspace</span> account. My husband had one, some friends had one, and after I checked theirs out, I realized that its only a bad place if you allow it to be. So I broke down and did it. I spend hours "pimping it" (learned that from my niece...) and making it "fly" (that too). Then I started added my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">myspace</span> friends. First was my husband, then my boy Ryan, then my sister... I had to wait a few days to get my niece and nephew added because we all have "private" spaces that had to be "accepted". Haley's was cute. Your typical 17 year old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">myspace</span>. Nothing too out there. I was proud!<br /><br />Masons.... Um... let's just say I was shocked beyond belief. His user pic was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Tupac</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">WTF</span> is that all about??? My sweet boy. Apparently, I was out of touch. Now back up (just a millisecond) the last time he had logged on was a couple of months ago and my sis had said he rarely gets online, but seriously. He had 101 "friends" and at least 30 of them had total thuggish profiles with gang references. I cried. A lot. This was a topic that we had discussed back at Christmas, but I guess I didn't understand the seriousness of his situation. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Every time</span> I'm around him, he's a darling 13 year old playing with his cousins or showing off on the football field. Apparently, at school, he's a different kid :(<br /><br />I called my sister the next day and asked her if she'd ever checked out his site. She said he never goes on there and she hadn't really paid much attention. A long <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">conversation</span> ensued... It ended with her giving me his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">login</span> info and me going home and re-doing his site. No more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Tupac</span>. His background is football. His user pic now him before a game. I didn't *edit* his friends, because I felt that would be to invasive and that was something he should do with his mom. When I was done, I felt somewhat better but uneasy....<br /><br />A few days later, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Mase</span> got suspended from school for fighting. Lovely. Now I can't say much about that because even <strong>*I*</strong> was suspended from school once for fighting. (I know, I know...) So I decided to go back to his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">myspace</span>. I know you're probably screaming invasion of privacy. Shut up. He hadn't logged on since I changed stuff. He may still not even know. But there was was a comment on his user pic. I read it. It said, "Fuck the Roadrunners." The Roadrunners is his football team. I went to the profile of the thug who left this comment. Total gang appearance. Quotes on "Red for life. Put a bullet in a blue boy's head". So on... I became physically ill. So I went back to my nephew's friends page and started deleting. Everyone that had a thug profile. I called my sister.<br /><br />I know that deleting these kids from his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">myspace</span> will not save him. But seriously. It's all I could do from 200 miles away and I had to do something. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Mase</span> is a good kid. He's at a point in his life where he's either going to take the good path or the bad. I don't know what to do to steer him in the right path. Hell there were a few "thug friends" I couldn't delete because they are his cousins. One of them dead killed in a drive-by... Sad for sure.<br /><br />Anyway, I feel better to get this off my chest. I'm not giving up, though...*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-22758986437472694572007-02-05T20:55:00.001-08:002008-05-25T14:22:46.462-07:00100 Things about KarlaHere are 100 things you may like to know about me. Some things are pretty obvious and I'm sure a few things will make you laugh. Either way, enjoy!<br /><br />100. My middle name is Rae<div>99. That is also my dad and grandpa's middle names.<br />98. I'm pretty sure my dad really wanted me to be a boy.<br />97. I'm actually a really girly-girl.<br />96. Not as in frills and lace, but like in make up and pampering.<br />95. I do love sports though.<br />94. Football is my all-time favorite.<br />93. I got my love for football from my mom and not my dad. Go figure!<br />92. I'm a sucker for a guy with a sweet smile and a nice ass.<br />91. I also find hot and sweaty pretty sexy.<br />90. Number 91 and 92 add to my love of watching football ; )<br />89. I 'm a "hugger".<br />88. I truly believe that a good strong hug can completely fix a bad moment.<br />87. I am a romantic at heart.<br />86. I met my husband on December 26th 1995.<br />85. We had our 1st kiss on February 15th 1996.<br />84. I still get butterflies in my stomach when he kisses me.<br />83. I knew the 1st time I met him that I wanted to marry him.<br />82. It took him almost 3 years to figure that out.<br />81. We were married on March 20th 1999.<br />80. I never wanted a big wedding.<br />79. We have a daughter and a son.<br />78. Our daughter was at our wedding.<br />77. I have a sister who is 6 years older than me.<br />76. She used to beat the crap out of me when I was little.<br />75. She'd never let anyone else lay a hand on me though.<br />74. Some days I feel sad that my daughter will never know the bond that comes with having a sister.<br />73. I wouldn't trade having a son for the whole wide world.<br />72. I honestly remember praying to God the day I found out I was pregnant to give me a boy.<br />71. My husband wanted another girl.<br />70. I always wanted to have 3 kids.<br />69. My husband only wanted 2 kids?<br />68. So far, that is the only argument he has ever won.<br />67. I'd adopt another child right now if I could afford it.<br />66. My husband thinks I'm crazy for this.<br />65. I think I have more than enough love to go around.<br />64. I am a very caring person.63. That might be one of the reasons I became a nurse.<br />62. I think I'm a good listener. 61. I think everyone should have one person that they can talk to.<br />60. Like REALLY talk to.<br />59. I'd have never survived high school if I didn't have people who I could talk to.<br />58. When I was 16 years old, my boyfriend was killed in a car accident.<br />57. It happened on Valentine's Day.<br />56. It still hurts me after 20 years.<br />55. I was not very nice to him on the night he died.<br />54. That was a really sucky way to learn a lesson.<br />53. Now I go out of my way to make sure that people know I care about them.<br />52. Life is too short to live with regrets.<br />51. I grew up in a very small town.<br />50. I was a cheerleader in high school.<br />49. I cheered in the Hula Bowl my senior year.<br />48. I met Troy Aikman there.<br />47. He wasn't as hot as I expected him to be<br />46. I graduated in the top 5 of my high school class.<br />45. But didn't manage to get any scholarships for college.<br />44. I have friends that live all over the country.<br />43. We chat online everyday.<br />42. They all know more about me than most people I see on a daily basis.<br />41. I love traveling to new places.<br />40. I hope I have the opportunity to travel a lot in my lifetime.<br />39. I love my job.<br />38. I take my work very seriously.<br />37. I am one of the most responsible persons you'll ever meet.<br />36. When I turned 30, one of my friends told me that I'd been 30 for 10 years already.<br />35. I still don't know if that was a compliment or an insult.<br />34. I don't do drugs… unless you count alcohol.<br />33. In which case, Lemon Drop Martinis and wine are my preferred drugs. Or beer I like an ice cold beer every once in a while.<br />32. I did smoke pot once.<br />31. I was in Jamaica and it was legal.<br />30. I've had plastic surgery on my tummy.<br />29. I exercise three or four times a week.<br />28. I don't smoke.<br />27. I overuse the phrase: Are you high?<br />26. I don't like naps.<br />25. It takes me forever to fall asleep after sex.<br />24. Unless I'm expected to stay awake….<br />23. I prefer to be too cold over too hot.<br />22. I'm double-jointed (at the hips).<br />21. My parents are still married.<br />20. They probably shouldn't be.<br />19. That's one of the reasons I waited until I was older to marry.<br />18. My blue eyes are my best feature.<br />17. I get irritated by people who are disrespectful.<br />16. I like harmony (can't we all just get along?)<br />15. I live vicariously through others.<br />14. I'm addicted to coffee.<br />13. My husband feeds my addiction.<br />12. I have a very strong personality.<br />11. If a friend were to describe me they would probably say "What you see is what you get."<br />10. I'm not one to beat around the bush about things.<br />9. This has gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion.<br />8. I sing in my car.<br />7. Loudly.<br />6. I like to dance.<br />5. I love all kinds of music.<br />4. I'm a pretty good cook. Not gourmet... but to my knowledge, no one has ever barfed from my cooking.<br />3. I like to have a clean house.<br />2. I like a well placed tattoo on a man.<br />1. I've always wanted a tattoo but I'm way too chicken to get one.</div>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-37563096498237956672007-02-04T21:03:00.000-08:002007-02-11T09:03:10.773-08:00Butterflies...Ok, so I love my husband. No seriously... I love my husband, LOL. Duh... I'm not retarded. I know a woman is supposed to love her husband, but I've loved my husband for 11 years. Yes. ELEVEN YEARS. Ha! Who'd have known?<br />The reason I'm bringing this up is because we met the day after Christmas in 1995... we started "dating" the day after Valentine's Day 1996. I still remember our 1st kiss like it was yesterday. We were in my car (1995 Nissan 240SX - man that was a hot car) in his driveway. I can still remember those butterflies I had in my stomach just wondering if he was going to kiss me. I was 25 freakin' years old and I felt like a silly highschool girl at that moment. When my best friend Mari (if you really know me you've heard the story how he really wanted to go out with her) came out of his house she just knew. I can still hear her say to me on the drive home, "Seriously? It's about freakin' time." That was 11 years ago. We're still kissing. I still get butterflies!<br />We went out last night. We had a nice dinner at Mama Tosca's (I had a little too much to drink, but I think that's a whole different blog) then to a late movie. As we were getting dressed to go, I couldn't stop thinking about that 1st kiss. I still get butterflies! Amazing. I'm so very thankful that he decided to make that move when we were sitting in my car in his driveway that night. I'm so glad that we stuck it out through the hard times during those first few years. Yes, I'm even glad that he trapped me and married me I'm blessed and so very thankful for the butterflies...*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-87465414686538324202007-02-02T21:04:00.000-08:002007-02-11T09:05:57.918-08:00Live and love like there's no tomorrowOK, so it's no secret that I work in what a lot of people consider a "depressing place". I can't really say I agree with that, but I do understand why people would think it. Cancer SUCKS, but I've never felt depressed about my place of employment. If anything, working there for the past 4 1/2 years has taught me a lot about myself, my strength, and how even the littlest joys are still just that... JOYS!<br />Don't get me wrong. I've had days where I can't stop crying. I've had nights where I couldn't sleep because I was thinking about one of my patients. Even still, I wouldn't trade where I work for anything.<br />Today, a friend of mine led me to read this: <a href="http://jenniferireland.blogs.com/weblog/" target="_self">Jennifer Ireland</a> Today wasn't the first time I'd known of or heard about or read a story like this. This is different, though... This touched me in a way I didn't expect. In ways I never believed. Tonight I'll pray for Jennifer Ireland. I'll pray for her husband and her beautiful little girls and her family and friends.<br />I'll also thank God (again... and again) for my blessings. There are a lot of trivial things that I may stress about but at the end of the day I know I'm blessed. And greatful. Live and love like there is no tomorrow. This is my plan....*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-85547711492705757122007-01-29T22:08:00.000-08:002007-02-11T09:07:10.360-08:00A Better Day...OK, I just typed out a huge sappy blog and it got lost. WTH??? You can't do that to a woman who's had 2 glasses of wine! <br />Any way... the sweentend condensed version is that they are digging my pool next Monday. .. ..<br />I'm soooooo excited! Actually, I'm so excited that I'm celebrating. Yep. I'm on my 2nd glass of wine. I haven't drank since I was in San Diego last month, so I was due. That and my husband left me to go to some crazy Cross Country Coaches meeting on the other side of town. Whatever.....<br />You have a half drunk wife at home. That most certainly means nookie and you leave. Not the smartest cookie in the box. Oh well. Lucky for him I love him so much! <br />That's all I remember from my lost blog. Read above drunk statement... Sorry about that. I'm sure it was pretty good. I promise to keep posting updates on the pool. Don't get too sick of them!*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-54491138465142475472007-01-25T21:11:00.000-08:002007-02-11T09:09:41.235-08:00Sick of being sick...I feel like I've been in this house forever! It started wih Luka puking on Friday. Poor thing was an awful shade of green and green is NOT his best color. Then the weekend just drug on because my hubby wasn't feeling so hot Tuesday morning was wierd, I kinda felt OK, but something wasn't right. Then... BAM. It hit me. That OMG I'm gonna hurl and I hope it doesn't land on my shoes feeling. I swear the bathroom couldn't have been farther from my office that day. I hung around for a bit but realized this was no one time deal. I came home from work and prayed with to the porceline god. Then the phone rings about 3:15. Ava was puking at school. Lovely. I couldn't go pick her up. I couldn't even pick myself up off the floor! As bad as I felt about it, I knew she'd be better off then if I tried to drive while hurling. Once hubby brought her home, we were quite the threesome. He still wasn't feeling so great either. I think Luka was the only one feeling very well at this point. What a trooper. At least he lost the demons and was cooperative for a change... <br />Now here I am 2 days later. I'm not puking anymore, but now I have a sore throat and no appetite. The no appetite thing doesn't bother me too much since losing a few pounds would actually be a good thing, but coughing and sore throat. Is this a bad joke? Did I piss of the Gods in a former life? UGH... <br />I'm going back to work tomorrow. Maybe it all just boils down to I am just sick of being in the house.*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-51469589073226673572007-01-22T22:04:00.000-08:002007-02-11T10:11:05.676-08:00It's been a whileYeah... I started this whole blog thing over a year ago. Partly because my friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">LeeAnn</span> had one that I loved to read (Cactus Jelly) and partly because my inner self knew it was a good idea. Well what happened? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hmmm</span>. Life? Yeah, life happened, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">LOL</span>. What kind of stupid excuse is that???????????? Life happened? Seriously. Life is supposed to be what this blog is all about.<br /><br />I guess what I really meant to say is that I don't have an excuse. All I can say is that I'm starting over. Right here, right now. I used to take much better care of myself. I used to do a lot more for <em>ME.</em> But, with the new house came larger house payments and more guilt, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">LOL</span>. I'm going to blog more. For me. Can I just say how I've missed it?????<br /><br />Welcome back, Karla.*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-1137876264624768422006-01-21T12:28:00.000-08:002006-01-21T12:44:24.633-08:00Ahhh the sad facesWhy is it that every time I grab the camera, my children distort their faces into the most obnoxious smiles they can possibly make up? They think it's funny. Oh they'll really think it's funny when they are older and all they have to share with their own offspring about their youth are crazy-faced photos.<br><br />So this morning they were dressed and looking exceptionally cute. I tend to think they look very cute on a pretty regular basis. So anyway, I grab the digital camera and procede to snap an eternal remembrance of the cuteness. Out came the silly faced grins. So I politely asked if they, just this once, could look natural and NOT smile.<br /> <br /><a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v93/Kargirl/100_1081.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v93/Kargirl/100_1081.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v93/Kargirl/100_1082.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v93/Kargirl/100_1082.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Not quite the look I was going for, but I'm glad they were both on the same track with this one. I promise, these children are not abused. Though their adult therapists may hear otherwise in about 20 years....*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-1137430976568856502006-01-16T08:22:00.000-08:002006-01-16T09:02:56.596-08:00She who angers you, controls you.It's been 10 years. You'd think I'd be over it by now. My husband's mother just really gets under my skin. There is something about that day when I was 5 months pregnant with my daughter and not yet married to her son that still burns me like salt on a fresh wound. She looked straight into my baby blue eyes,<br /><blockquote><p><em>"What kind of girl are you to be pregnant like this?" "Your not getting my money so if that is what you are here for then forget it."</em></p></blockquote><p></p><br />Yeah, that was just the 1st impression. There have been many since then and I'm confident that there will be many more in the years to come but those are the words I hear over and over in my head. So you can only imagine that whenever my husband agrees to work for her on his day off so that she can go have fun in Las Vegas, I become a tad bit bitchy.<br /><br />Now don't get me wrong, I know we need the money. Dream House payments aren't cheap. But still people, this woman is his mother. My husband works 7 days a week as it is. Would it kill her to realize that a day off to spend with his wife and kids would be nice? Evidently she's not taking any chances to find out.<br /><br />I couldn't sleep last night. Now I'm mad that she has so much control that I lose sleep. UGH! This is all just her manipulative way to keep tabs on my husband. I hate it. I hate it even more that I know that it will always be this way. How's a girl to let go? I guess that's just not in my blood :(<br /><br />So here I sit. In my beautiful dream house. With 2 Lexuses (or is it Lexii?) in the garage. Five kids playing joyfully in the living room and I'm sad. I'd give it all up in a New York minute to be able to have more family time with my husband...*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-1137112637464539952006-01-12T16:10:00.000-08:002006-01-12T16:37:38.976-08:00The "white" thing.OK, so recently, my family moved into a new home. We'll call this our dream house. I've been dreaming of moving since my husband and I married 7 years ago + we finally found and purchased a house we both like = Dream House! Now our old house was a nice house, don't get me wrong. We had fun there, hell, I got pregnant there 3 times so it couldn't be all that bad, right? Well, our new house is MUCH nicer. Bigger. Better. Newer. Just nicer.<br /><br />Here's the deal. We moved here and my family can't find things. Somehow, since we've moved, dirty laundry now goes on the floor instead of the laundry basket. Dirty dishes usually sit on the counter, but sometimes they will make it into the sink. The other day, my husband sat and <em>watched</em> me put all the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher (that is right next to the sink). He boldly gets up from the table, walks to the sink, and puts his dirty breakfast dishes into the sink. I just DON'T GET IT!!!<br /><br /><em>"See that white thing?"</em><br /><em>"Yeah"</em><br /><em>"That is called a dishwasher."</em><br /><em>"See this white thing?"</em><br /><em>"Uh-huh."</em><br /><em>"I am NOT a dishwasher!"</em>*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20848190.post-1137028172557218752006-01-11T17:00:00.000-08:002006-01-11T17:20:36.763-08:00I'm not Korean"Luke, Is that your Mommy?"<br />"Yeah."<br />"She doesn't look like you."<br />"Yeah. So."<br />"How come?"<br />"Because."<br />"Because why?"<br />"Duh! She's not Korean." :insert eyeroll:<br /><br />The conversation that took place this morning when I dropped my 4 year old off at Pre-School.*~Kar~*http://www.blogger.com/profile/15815926002860096815noreply@blogger.com0