With a rebel yell, she cried mo', mo', mo'

I have a few friends who knit and blog and we've decided to embark on a blog project that has nothing to do with knitting. We're going to take turns coming up with a topic every Thursday and we each have to blog about it by the end of that day and post links to each other's blogs so that people can see our different perspectives on the same topic.
-Thanks to Merryland Girl for this explanation of the Thursday Blog Project.

This week's topic comes from me!

"Tell me about a time when you were rebellious - whether it be from your parents, a boss or even "The Man"."

Other contributors to the Thursday Blog Project are:

Froggie Knits Like Crazy

Desperate Madness

Merryland Girl

So, this evening while contemplating this blog and chatting with Tracey (Froggie Knits Like Crazy) it dawned on me that I wasn't very rebellious as a teen or now.

I did the usual crazy teen stuff.

I suppose I will give you a glimpse into my "wild side".

Not very many folks outside my immediate social circle know this, but now the whole internets will know: I used to smoke pot.

It all started in high school, when I succumbed to peer pressure.

I spent many nights, high as a kite and hiding from my mom.

I have to admit that I really enjoyed it, I felt more level headed, albeit, a little paranoid.

It was in my rebellious teen years when I was into whatever trouble I could get into. Granted, nowadays, I hardly regard smoking marijuana and skipping a few days of school as being that bad but at the time, it sure was.

Like most self-destructive phases, I grew out of it. It did resurface several years later, when I started a job that required me to be up very early, and I was having a hard time going to sleep at night. After awhile, it just phased itself out.

So there you go. The extent of my rebellion was that I used to smoke pot.

"We can work it out, we gonna work it out baby"

I have a few friends who knit and blog and we've decided to embark on a blog project that has nothing to do with knitting. We're going to take turns coming up with a topic every Thursday and we each have to blog about it by the end of that day and post links to each other's blogs so that people can see our different perspectives on the same topic.
-Thanks to Merryland Girl for this explanation of the Thursday Blog Project.

This week's topic comes from...Shara @ Desperate Madness:

What is your favorite thing to do when you are down and out/having a bad day?

Other contributors to the Thursday Blog Project are:

Merryland Girl

Froggie Knits Like Crazy

This may seem odd, but...I rarely get down.

I get into "Funks" as my mom describes them. "Funks" are intermittent periods of time in which I am feeling not like myself - it's usually emotional, as I have my own patented remedy relief from all common physical illnesses (I take baths, for the sole purpose of napping in the bathwater - don't mock me, I swear it works. And for the record, I have obviously never drowned, although the thought has crossed my mind.)

During these "Funks", I may or may not have a "Pity Party" for myself. I have also been known in my younger days to be a "Wendy Whiner".

"Funks" are a close relation to "Having a bug up one's ass" - I get those a lot.

During said "Funks" I don't really do anything different than I usually would. I go to work, watch TV, knit, what have you. I don't really do anything specific in regards to "Funk Removal", it just dissipates. Sometimes it's an hour, sometimes its a few days.

Charmingly Random brand "Funks" are short-lived. I think I have some kind of ADD that allows me to recover from things faster than other people.

I just can't stay down, and approach my "Funks" as hurdles to jump over to get back to feeling like me again.

Maybe that's what it is - I just don't like feeling bad.

I can't imagine anyone wanting to feel bad. In my case, I work through the "Funk" by identifying what caused it. Once I have figured out the WHY of the "Funk", it's not too long after that the "Funk" has gone.

To any readers in a "Funk", I'd like to offer this:

Jurassic 5 feat. Dave Matthews - Work It Out

PS - After I added the Dave song, I realized that usually I listen to a little bit of Dave during a "Funk". Dave always makes me happy.

Only my mother calls me Jennifer!

I have a few friends who knit and blog and we've decided to embark on a blog project that has nothing to do with knitting. We're going to take turns coming up with a topic every Thursday and we each have to blog about it by the end of that day and post links to each other's blogs so that people can see our different perspectives on the same topic.
-Thanks to Merryland Girl for this explanation of the Thursday Blog Project.

This week's topic comes from...Tracey @ Froggie Knits Like Crazy
Just one word: Nicknames

Other contributors to the Thursday Blog Project are:
Merryland Girl
Desperate Madness

In my 31 years, I have had a lot of nicknames.

For reasons unknown, my mom used to call me Punifer Baa Baa - to this day, she doesn't know why. And because I am a Jennifer, I have had all the nicknames that go along with that Jenn, Jenny, etc.

In 8th grade, I decided that I wanted to be called Jenna. That only ever stuck with my best friend's family.

During my brief stint in cosmetology school, I was called Shep - my last name was Schaeppi (pronounced Sheppy) - but that was a nickname only for beauty school.

As an adult, I decided that I wanted to be called Jenn - making it very clear that I was Jenn with 2 N's.

My family still calls me Jenny, and that's OK because I am used to it.

One thing I cannot stand is being called Jennifer by anyone other than my mom. All my life, she is the only one that can call me Jennifer without me being totally annoyed. I don't know what it is, maybe its the tone of her voice, but she is the only one I can tolerate.

Since I work in a call center, and introduce myself all day long to callers, I have a list of what people "think" my name is:

My favorite is a woman from West Virginia who said "What did you say your name was? Shenza?" - really? Is Shenza such a common name? I get called John, Joan, Jane, Jan. Sometimes, I get called Debra (?)

I actually get people who argue with me, when I say "Thank you for calling, my name is Jenn, how can I assist you?" and they say "You're name is Jennifer?" and I say "No, my name is Jenn." and they go on and on "But Jennifer is your given name!?" Why does there have to be any discussion? You are calling about your payroll, what difference does it make? I see that you're name is Dan, you introduced yourself as Dan, I am just going to call you Danny, or Daniel because after all, it *IS* your given name!

Sigh

And if nothing can be done, we'll make the best of what's around

I have a few friends who knit and blog and we've decided to embark on a blog project that has nothing to do with knitting. We're going to take turns coming up with a topic every Thursday and we each have to blog about it by the end of that day and post links to each other's blogs so that people can see our different perspectives on the same topic.

-Thanks to Merryland Girl for this explanation of the Thursday Blog Project.

This week's topic comes from...Melissa @ Merryland Girl:

what is your theme song? (if possible, share lyrics or a link to a website where people can play the song.)

Other contributors to the Thursday Blog Project are:

Froggie Knits Like Crazy

Desperate Madness

My theme song? That's easy: The Best Of What's Around - Dave Matthews Band

Dave's (yes, in my mind we are on a first name basis) lyrics always have a way of luring me in with familiarity.

There are so many of his songs that speak to me, and The Best of What's Around really appeals to the uber-optimist in me.

I am, in fact, dangerously optimistic. I have yet to determine if this is really such a bad thing, as historically speaking, things *do* work out for the best for me.

Sure, I have struggles. I suffer from the blahs, and get down and out (feel free to insert any other cliches here)

I truly think that the thing that gets me through is my perpetual belief that "everything's gonna be alright".

Most importantly, this song reminds me of my best friend, Christy, especially this verse:

See you and me Have a better time than most can dream Have it better than the best So we can pull on through Whatever tears at us Whatever holds us down And if nothing can be done We'll make the best of what's around

It's really a nod to our early 20's, when we would get ourselves into some crazy shenanigans, but it didn't matter 

the trouble we got into, we had each other.

Also, I find Dave Matthews to be incredibly attractive, in a completely non-sexual way.

I often have very odd dreams of him and I performing good deeds and having a good time.

Like I said. Odd.

And, without further ado, here is a link for your listening pleasure.

And here are the complete lyrics (which may or may not be the same as what you hear in the version I posted

the link to, Dave has a penchant for improvising when lyrics slip his mind)

The Waiting Game

Admittedly, I have been pretty checked out lately.

Since deciding that NOW is a good time to start trying for a baby, I find that I am COMPLETELY obsessed with all things regarding conception.

I am on Ravelry 24/7, as a member of a group called Knitters Trying To Conceive.

I know so much about cervical mucus and the exact timeline between ovulation to implantation.

Remember how I said I didn't want to be like that? Guess what. I totally am.

I have watched documentary after documentary on conception and am truly amazed that pregnancy could ever occur on its own.

As of right now, I am playing "The Waiting Game". This is the 2 week wait between ovulation and when the levels of hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) are high enough to take a home pregnancy test.

I am terrified.

Afraid of how I will feel if I am not pregnant, will I be sad? Relieved?

What if I am pregnant? That all it took was some proper planning and bam! Knocked up on the first real try?

I have spent the last 10 years wishing that I was pregnant, I am kind of scared of actually being pregnant.

I am (and will continue to) blame this post on my hormones. If it isn't because I am pregnant, it's because I am PMS'ing.

Good day!

It brought a tear to my eye..

I have often posted about how full of fail my first marriage was, but there is one thing. ONE. That truly, truly upset me.

My ex was neither religious or spiritual, was not raised with anything more than a belief in God and at 25 years old, didn't even know the true meaning of Easter.
At the time, this wasn't a huge issue because I wasn't a frequent church goer myself.

Several years ago, my nephew Jordan was being confirmed. My sister and her family attended a small church in Spring Grove, IL and we were invited to attend the confirmation ceremony.
Now, I have no objections what so ever to attending church, I just don't.
My ex-husband hated church, I was able to get him to agree to come with me. After all, it's just for an hour.
He went out "fishing with his dad" early that Sunday morning, with strict instruction to be home by 1pm so he could get showered and change clothes.
I called at 12:30pm to remind him to be on time, no answer on his cell phone.
At 1pm, I got dressed and ready to go, thinking that even if he showed up at 1:30pm, he'd still have plenty of time to get ready.
1:30pm passed, so did 2pm. I called and left him a voicemail message that said he had better hurry home and get changed, and meet me at the church and I headed out on my own.
He never showed up to the ceremony, I went out with my family to have dinner afterwards, and left him a voicemail through my gritted teeth about how he had better meet us at the restaurant.
He didn't.
I arrived back home around 6pm, he was not at home.
I called him, no answer.
7pm, 8pm no phone call.
At 9pm, he finally sauntered in. Oblivious of my fury.
I was in tears, asking how could he just blow this off?
His response? "You know I don't like church."
I screamed "It's not about you! It doesn't matter if you like church or not, it's about being there for our nephew during a very important event in his life! It's about honoring your commitments!"
He just shrugged his shoulders at me.
I still have no idea where he was all that day, or why he wouldn't answer his phone.

This long story came to mind yesterday, as my husband Kosta and I sat in St. Patrick's Catholic Church watching my dear friends' baby being christened.
I thought about how important the day was, and how glad I was to have my husband at my side with me.
My eyes welled up with tears that I had to blink back.
When we got to the car after the christening, I thanked him for coming with me and he looked surprised, as though there was never any question of whether or not he would go.