One Biscuit Hound

Everyone needs a cheetah around to point them in the right direction

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 16:03:00 +0000

My Family

by Biscuit's Son

My family is a zoo.

My dad is a monkey,

doing funny and crazy things.

My mom is a zookeeper,

keeping us all calm.

My sister is a cat,

smart and clever.

I am a cheetah,

fast and colorful.

I am humbled by the fact that my son sees me as the calm in the storm, because I have spent my entire life feeling as though there was a storm raging inside me. I think his assessment of me is clouded by his love for me, and he unwittingly threw down a challenge.

I accept.

"Most people live and die with their music still unplayed. They never dare to try."

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 15:15:00 +0000

~Mary Kay Ash

So, the exam is over. The day consisted of review (for which I was grateful), a practicum demonstrating the ability to put together an aerobic "routine" (I know...ugh), a practicum demonstrating knowledge of the muscle groups and exercises that would address them, and then the written exam.

I would be surprised if I failed the written portion, although the ~~idiot~~ woman giving the exam failed to the note the time we started, and there was a limit of one hour. With 17 minutes to go, she announced that we had 10. Sorry, but 7 minutes is a lot when you look down and you're on 70 of 100.

"You realize that we didn't start until 4:07?" Trust me, I looked at the clock when we began.

And then I rushed through 30 questions. Ten of them were identifying muscles on a chart, so that was a breeze. It wasn't that I didn't know the information, it was that my language processing conflicted with the manner in which many of the questions were written. Don't phrase a question in the negative (which one is NOT), and then give me D) all of the above, and E) none of the above as choices. What??? Why? Why is it necessary to make a game out of it? Are you saying they all *are*? They all *aren't*? How about F) go fuck yourself.

Crossing my fingers.

I should have done well on the muscle group practicum. It's what I do, after all. The hard part was that we had no equipment. It was like charades. I hate shit like that.

The aerobics. Oh lord. I will not be surprised AT ALL if I failed that and have to do it again. I'm not being hard on myself. I was an uncoordinated goon. I HATE aerobics. I don't move that way. I don't think that way. I am not a "big" mover. I may use my hands a lot, but I don't tend to make big movements with my body. It was awful. I'm just going to go ahead and look for when the next exam will be given after the time in which I should have received my results. Six to eight weeks from now. The Veruca Salt in me is screaming.

Well...I started out with a positive sounding title, and went downhill from there. I dared to try, I'll give me that. My music might have been unlistenable. (It's a word now, shuddup.)

Biscuit...a little more so

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 12:40:00 +0000

I decided to make my other blog private, only because it felt weird to have it hanging out there with no plans to add anything to it in the near future.

If you're familiar with it, you've seen all there is to see, but if you want access to it, all you have to do is email me. :-)

When you get that notion, put your back field in motion

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 14:21:00 +0000

~Da Butt by E.U (Seriously? That was their name? I have no recollection of that.)

Last night, as we sat in the semi-stupor that typically follows my BodyPump class (which I royally fucked up due to events I will get to in a moment), we landed on One Hit Wonders of the 80's on VH1. Oh my god...kickass! I haven't had that much fun cruising Memory Lane in quite a while.

I'm one of those people who ties songs to events, and I can remember a specific event that went with just about every song they played. We only made it to #76 of 100, which was J.J. Fad's Supersonic, but so far, I can tie just about all of them to something from my past. Stupid things like "pulling into my parking space in front of the Delta dorms." Funny enough, many of the related memories were "sneaking into dance clubs with my fake i.d." Nu Shooz, The Outfield, Robbie Nevil, Pretty Poison...ahhh, the good old days of big hair, too much makeup, and too small Bongo jeans. That's me, not them.

I think I giggled and shouted out a year and an event for each one. My poor husband. He kept a smile on his face the whole time, but I'm pretty the last mental straw was when he found out that I know all of the words to Neneh Cherry's Buffalo Stance. Embarrassing confession: That was a "riding around in the car with sorority sisters" song. Singing at the top of our lungs. No, I am not the sorority type. I was coerced.

wearing padded bras, sucking beer through straws, dropping down their drawers, where did you get yours?

I can not wait to see what 77-100 have in store for us!

~*~*~

One reason I was distracted yesterday was that Nimbus was ill. I just went to pick him up in the middle of typing this, so he seems to be better, but it was scary. He wasn't himself and stopped eating, and we were afraid that he had eaten something he shouldn't have, like some object or a poisoned mouse. We have mice in the winter, and Nimbus got into the attic by accident when the Christmas decorations were being put away.

He ended up with 3 xrays, IV fluids, and lots of blood work. It seems that he has thickened intestines, so he may be a cat that is just prone to irritable bowel. In addition to the heart murmur. Did I tell y'all that? He has a class 2 heart murmur, as well. *sigh*

~*~*~

Another reason I was distracted during class is that Mommy had to issue a smackdown to the bad lady in the parking lot at the gym. We got out of our car to go in, and I could hear yelling. As we got closer, it became obvious that one woman had bumped another's car with her door when she was getting out. The woman who's car was bumped was just completely going off, yelling "You're a fucking asshole" and other not-so-pleasant things at the top of her lungs. It was not a day to mess with me, even indirectly. I interrupted her tirade to tell her to watch her mouth. She didn't like that, but she shut up after my reply to her "I'm not one of your children, don't tell me what to do" was "Then don't act like one, and if you were, you'd know how to behave in public."

As we walked away, H said, quite seriously, "That was a very angry woman." Bean nudged me with her elbow and made the cuckoo sign, twirling her finger around her ear. She cracked herself up.

Later, after class, where I got lost and made those poor people do more bottom half squats than anyone should ever have to, Bean started imitating the woman, substituting the bleep sounds that they use on tv for all of the curse words. I giggled the whole way home.

~*~*~

And, last, my exam is 10 days away and I am not ready. And BP launch is that following week. I couldn't sleep night before last because my brain wouldn't shut off. I finally gave up at 2 a.m., and took a valium. My husband let me sleep in and got the kids ready for school. Isn't he a love? Last night, I took a preemptive strike and had a little Mike's/valium cocktail. Worked like a charm.

~*~*~

M'kay, back to ATP, syncopation, stroke volume (heh), medical considerations (Did you know that, if you are a male, merely being over the age of 45 puts you in the "moderate risk" category? What bullshit!), levers and fulcrums, professional responsibilities, etcetera and ad nauseum.

I will celebrate the evening of the 17th, and then again at 2 p.m. on the 21st. And then start studying for the ACSM Personal Trainer exam.

Exercise vs. Training

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 22:24:00 +0000

Every one of us has an athlete inside, if we're willing to look. I don't necessarily mean someone who intends to compete. I mean someone who challenges themselves, rather than simply going through the motions.

I'm not sure if I agree with everything Shawn Phillips says in the article, but I find the message incredibly empowering. Find purpose in your movement, beyond doing it because you know you should.

Training vs. Exercise

I'm going to need to do a lot of laughing if that LMAO thing is going to work

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 17:17:00 +0000

To quote myself, from my Facebook page:

"Goodbye, Processed Food. You make me feel like crap, so I'm breaking up with you. Give me back my abs, and take back all of the thighs and butt you've been leaving at my place. Oh, and by the way, my pants hate you."

This isn't a New Year's resolution. I don't make resolutions. I don't believe in them. They are, the majority of the time, the misguided and poorly thought out result of peer pressure. There is rarely any plan for how to actually accomplish the goal, and most people bite off more than they can chew, get frustrated, and give up. Plus, why wait for that one big day of the year to start doing something to better yourself?

I've gained weight, I have less energy, and I just can't get enough sleep. My clothes are too tight, and, previously unbeknownst to me, my right thigh is bigger than the left. So, not only are my jeans tight in the butt and thighs to begin with, but they are tightER in the right. Every time I take a step, I feel it. I wear a lot of sweats lately.

I found myself not wanting to work as hard in my classes, and I first attributed it to burnout. I realize now that it's because I *can't* work as hard. I just don't have the stamina. It hurts, and it frustrates me.

I have gotten lazy and have depended too much on convenience food. I started cooking a lot of comfort food, or trying out lots of new recipes which weren't exactly healthy (but good lord are they delicious!). And, let's face it, I'm almost 43. The older women get, the harder it is to keep the weight off, especially if you get sloppy.

It's been 4 1/2 years since I lost 30 lbs, and I have disappointed the "me" that worked so hard to get there. The good news is, I know how to fix this. It's time for me to practice the "little bit of common sense, and a whole lot of will power" speech that I always give people.

I don't *do* diets. I don't believe in those, either. I believe in smart, healthy eating that can be maintained as a way of life. So, processed foods are the first to go. It's impossible to eliminate all of it, but the more "real" food I can eat, the better. If it comes out of a box or cellophane wrapper, chances are, I'm going to avoid it. My body is in the protest phase right now. Where are my chemicals, woman??? I know, from experience, that the protest will stop, so I'll wait it out with confidence. If there's anything I have learned over the last few years, it's how to deal with discomfort.

Making my hand pick up the orange while my eyes are on the Christmas cookies definitely constitutes discomfort!

Brain, meet Blender.

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 16:48:00 +0000

My days, and some nights, are all about fitness. I am either doing it, or studying it, and I'm tired. I do have the support of my husband and a few friends who understand exactly how important this is to me, and that means a lot. They understand that what I need is empathy ("That's how I felt about___"), rather than empty platitudes ("Meh, you'll do fine.") Don't belittle my effort.

Or worse, do what most of my extended family does. They act as though this is a hobby for me, and don't understand why I put so much effort into it. Any attempt on my part to explain or discuss is met with awkward silence, followed by a subject change.

Rant over.

You know what I'm really excited about? In a matter of days, I'll actually be able to see what I'm reading and writing! It's been a while since I was able to do that. I've gotten to be a pro at interpreting blurry.

I need bifocals, but given my issues with aging, I skillfully dodged that bullet by having two pairs of glasses. Clever, huh? I should have the reading glasses by the end of this week, and I am psyched! Reading is hard, but at least the fact that my eyes are scanning delays the eye fatigue. Writing is a different story. My eyes are focused in one space for a long period of time, and the fatigue sets in quickly. I don't know if I'm writing on the real line or the ghost line. I don't know if the letters I'm writing are the real ones or the ghost ones. Am I writing real letters on ghost lines? Ghost letters on real lines? Ghost letters on ghost lines?

My exam is on January 17th, and we launch the next BodyPump release the following week. Nice timing, eh? Guess what? I did that to myself. I clicked submit on the exam registration, and then...oh crap. Yep. I've been trying to learn new BP choreography and study for an exam through the holidays. Dur.

I think I picked a really bad time to decrease my coffee and caffeine consumption.

Bulges and Boners

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 18:39:00 +0000

Last night, Bean and I went to see The Nutcracker with her Brownie troop. It was beautiful, the dancing was mesmerizing, the costumes gorgeous, blah blah blah...let's cut to the best part: Muscular guys in tight pants.

Oy.

Being the gym geek that I am, my first thought was "Wow! Look at that guy's hamstrings!" Being a 9 year old girl, one little Brownie friend's first thought was "Look! You can see that guy's pee-pee!"

I didn't verbalize *mine*. Loudly. During a quiet lull in the music.

Bean later said in the car "Mom, did you see that guy's BIG BUTT?" Solid muscle, baby. Solid muscle.

Did I say oy?

~*~*~

I have successfully brain-washed several friends into play Words With Friends with me. One of my friends here in town, S, has been playing me for a couple of weeks. Last night, she texted me to tell me that both of her children, same ages as mine, had gotten an iTouch for Hanukkah, and they might be hitting me up for a game.

Sure enough, I soon got an invitation from Little S. I accepted, and when my first letters to play popped up, there it was. It made me weep. Any other game...why this one?

BONER. Totally wasted in a game with a 9 year old girl.

C'mon...you know you wanna

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 17:25:00 +0000

Hello, my name is MissBiscuit, and I'm addicted. Words With Friends. Do it.

Phallacy

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 19:25:00 +0000

This is what I saw as I walked past my children's bedroom this morning. Click to see what it *really* was.

Hi :-)

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 14:56:00 +0000

I know...it's been a while. And I've broken one of the major rules of blog etiquette by not stating that I'm okay, just not around for a while. One reason for that is that I didn't really intend for it to go this long, but the longer it goes, the easier it gets.

I AM okay. In fact, I am happier now than I have been in a very long time. There are many reasons. My son is a completely different child this year. His teacher likes him and has faith in him. The team working with him is awesome. He's HAPPY. He doesn't complain about going to school, we don't have meltdowns after school, and he even offers, and loves, to help his sister with her homework. There is so much less stress in our home.

I've connected with a lot of old friends through Facebook. Say what you will, those of you who might think its silly for adults to use FB, but it has brought me back old friends, fond memories, and, because a lot of these friends are from high school and college, it's a piece of home.

I am comfortable and confident in my skills at work. I no longer fret *as much* about BP launches. I still get a bit ill (those of you who know that I was about to puke an hour before are raising your eyebrows), but it's a long way from fretting for weeks. I was given the honor of having one of my classes be THE launch class at that location, and it went well. This was two days ago, by the way.

I have learned to let it go. Not any *it* in particular, but it in general. I now ask myself "Can I change it? Do I have any control over it?" When the answer is no, I try to let it roll. My new motto is "Don't let it steal your happy." I worked hard to get here. There are days when I chant it over and over in my head...and it works.

Hmm...what have we been up to...

My son's birthday is September 15, and he had a climbing party at a local rock climbing instruction place. It was the perfect kind of party to reel in the boys, and I was so happy they actually came. I think we won the award for coolest party of the year. No one around here has done a climbing party. My biggest fear was that they wouldn't come. H has no real friends, and has never really expressed a desire to have one until recently. He has started asking "Do you think ______ and I would make good pals?" I know it's not really so much about that boy in particular. It's a declaration that he wants a friend. Y'all, this is a big step. It makes me sad (don't let it steal your happy!) that I can't snap my fingers and make it happen, but we'll do our best.

Bean's birthday is the day before Halloween. She decided that she wants a party at home, and she wants a FAIRY PARTY. Y'all know I'm not a frilly girly girl, and she wants a fairy party??? This has required much googling. We have a plan, and I will pull it off, but I will be so happy when it's over.

She also decided she wants to dress as her character that she created on Animal Crossing on the Wii. Obviously, this equals homemade costume. Geez, kid, you're killing me! This all has to happen in the next week.

Nimbus is a kickass cat! He's a sassy little one, too. Often needs to have the last word when you tell him no. He comes when you call him, and when I come home after being gone a while, he runs to me and begs to be picked up. He presses his little head against my forehead like a different version of a nose kiss. His favorite toys are the fish aquarium, the little leather mice my husband made for him, and a purple stick-on bow that he swiped from a birthday package. He like to take the bow into the bathtub and play hockey with it.

I think that's all. Mostly just life as usual, and stability is certainly a good thing!

Meet Nimbus

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 20:18:00 +0000

I'll get my sickening googly-eyed proclamation of love for my boy out of the way, and try very hard not to mention him anymore!

We adopted this beautiful boy a week ago Saturday. I had fully intended to get an adult, but the ones we looked at were all a bit skittish, and just didn't "fit." Nimbus stole our hearts. My husband actually picked him out and held him a bit while I was visiting with the cat I had intended to adopt, based on the profile given on the humane societies web page. He showed him to me afterwards, and I held him while I talked to the foster "parent." As we chatted, I cradled him upside down like a baby, and he purred up a storm. The foster glanced down while we were talking and realized that Nimbus had fallen asleep in my arms. She smiled and said "I don't normally do this, but...", and we went home with a kitty. I never put him down until I put him in the carrier.

He adjusted to his new home with no effort at all. For a four month old kitten, he is very well behaved. Sure, he gets the screaming mimi's a few times a day, but he's funny as hell when he does it. Otherwise, he's calm and sweet, and very tolerant of being picked up constantly. Sometimes, he pats my face when I talk to him, meets me halfway when I bend down to pick him up, and almost always comes when you call him.

Why "Nimbus?" This entire family is made up of weather freaks, and as has been well documented here, I am a major storm freak. The gray cumulonimbus clouds are the clouds that bring thunderstorms and intense weather, ergo "Nimbus."

One nation, under MY God

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 14:01:00 +0000

It always amazes me that people who say "What's all the fuss about? I mean, it doesn't matter which god." fail to recognize how very patronizing that statement is. It's easy to say when it's *your* god that is being referred to.

But, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. So, let's attempt to compile an all inclusive list of names for deities...God, Allah, Jehovah, Buddha, Krishna, Goddess, The Force, etc...and rotate or pick randomly when we say the Pledge.

I mean, it doesn't matter, right?

Or, how about we let schools be about learning, and sporting events be about playing, and leave the pledging of an allegiance to anything at all for our personal lives? I'm certainly not unpatriotic, but if we can't make it fit everyone, why do it?

Oh, and one more thing. Those who are offended by the gift of positive thoughts - or, positive vibes, as it is sometimes phrased - I have to ask, REALLY? How can one find discomfort in the fact that an agnostic or atheist expresses a heartfelt wish for their well being?

Okay, it was two more things. This really is the last one, then I'm off my box. As opposed to being off my rocker, which unfortunately will remain a permanent state.

Atheism ≠ Devil worship. It is simply a lack of theism. Get over it.

***Perhaps I should have stated the NOT UNPATRIOTIC part a little more clearly. We are a very patriotic family. I never intended for the interpretation of my statement to be that we shouldn't teach our children to love their country.

My point, which I was apparently too subtle about, is that I am constantly amazed at those who ridicule individuals who dare to be uncomfortable with the idea that God is paired with patriotism.

Surprise! Biscuit has opinions, and sometimes they are unpopular.

You may regret encouraging me

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 14:34:00 +0000

Because some of you liked, and wondered if I had more...oh boy, do I have more...here's just a few more that I really like to use lately.

When I was younger, my brother used to say "Broaden your bubble, punkin." Sometimes I try to broaden everyone else's bubble, too. Sorry 'bout that. I promise to keep my music to myself for a reallllly long time. :-)

Let Me Think About It, by Ida Corr (Fedde Le Grande remix)

Bruised Water, by Chicane feat. Natasha Bedingfield - This is a mash up of I Bruise Easily and Saltwater.

Wake Up, by Chicane feat. Keane - Are you getting the idea that I loves me some Chicane?

Dancefloor, by Crystal Waters (Speakerbox Original Club Mix) - This one is just plain fun.

Let the Feelings Go, by Anna Grace (Original Radio edit)

Anthem, by Filo & Peri

Many of these songs, in fact a large percentage of electronica/dance songs, change into something different later in the song. Keep listening. That "something different" might be the thing that grabs you.

There's a reason why they call it a climax

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 12:26:00 +0000

School starts two weeks from today, and (shhh...don't tell anyone)(especially the moms at the bus stop that I make fun of when they pull out their cameras and cry on the first day of school) I think I might actually miss my children. I've always been the one who happily waved goodbye, bid the sobbing mothers a subdued farewell, and then leaped into the air in celebration after I rounded the corner.

I think I might actually be lonely this year. My children have become little people all of a sudden. Plus, there's no other warm body in the house anymore. Unless you count the hermit crab. And I do not.

I've got big plans for what to do with my time. I usually do... It will take pulling out that recipe for *any* goal you want to achieve. Here it comes...Biscuit's words of wisdom. Ready?

A little bit of common sense, and a whole lot of will power. Ta da!

It really *is* that easy, friends. Name a goal, and I'll bet you that it applies somehow. We don't like hearing it, but it's true. We want a magic pill. There's no relief or promise of success when we find out that *we* are the magic pill.

So, two projects. One has been a years long planned project that has never gotten off the ground. Why? Because there is no defined beginning and end, and I do not operate well under those conditions. Add to that a fear of failure, and you've got yourself a big ol' heaping helping of avoidance.

The house. The bain of my existence. My soul sighs and groans at the very thought. It needs to be emptied. It needs to be painted. It needs to be dragged, kicking and screaming, out of the '80's.

The second project is also one that I make no promises about at this time. It's in the investigative stage right now. Kind of like that personal trainer cert I've been "working on" for years, but this one should be a lot easier.

I *think* I'm ready for a new format. I need to add more teaching hours at the gym, but it needs to be something that won't tear up my body. Pilates and yoga fit the bill, and while I LOVE pilates, it's a damned expensive and difficult certification to get. So, yoga it is. Maybe. I gave myself about 18 months to get Spinning under my belt before I took on BodyPump. It's now been roughly a year since then, and I'm starting to feel confident in my abilities, so I think I'm ready to tackle something else. Step 1 is to actually start attending some yoga classes. It's been a long time, and you can't teach something you wouldn't do on your own, so I need to find out if I can develop a love for it. If not, then no loss.

~*~*~

Are you like me in that you get stuck on a song for a while? There are basically three categories to my music loves. New favorites, long term favorites, and lifelong favorites.

While I like just about any type of music, my new favorites these days tend to be more of the electronica/dance variety because that's what I focus on for work, and because they tend to incorporate something that I find irresistible.

The build up. The lonnnng build up that induces goosebumps, makes the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand up, and gives me chills until BAM! the release. Sound like sex? It is, in a way. Those moments? The anticipation that makes me feel as though I'm going to burst? When I'm alone, without distraction, those moments are as close as I can come to grabbing a little bit of the exhilaration of mania.

So, because it's my blog, and I'll ram my music down your throat if'n I wanna, here are a few songs that do that to me right now. I can only think of one of you who might actually click, and *might* actually enjoy them. Don't worry, I won't out you. ;)

Saltwater, by Chicane

What About Us, by ATB (It doesn't hurt that, to me, this guy is just so hot that it's ouchie. It's not the way he looks so much as it is his personality and his energy.)(And if you do bother to watch, 1:27 to 2:12 on the timeline of the video practically makes me jump out of my skin and I smile so hard my face hurts.)

Going Wrong, by Armin Van Buurin. This one does for me what few songs do when I'm riding. I can be completely whipped. Feel like quitting. Totally bonking. Fried. And I hear this and it's like I'm brand new again. Everything that hurts disappears. If you actually listen, I'm sure you'll be able to pick out the part where that happens. The build up...the BAM! And, BONUS!, my version is twice as long as this YouTube one.

Stoned In Love, by Chicane, featuring Tom Jones. It's not so much the build up as it is the beat. I just love this one *so* much.

~*~*~

I've had this HNT in my head since last spring, and missed my chance to do it before school got out. It requires sunlight. And no children to inquire what the hell it is that I'm doing. As good as it has been for me to back away from that for a while, I'm excited about trying this one. For me, not anyone else. That's the way it has to be now.

Ow! That's Gonna Leave a Mark!

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 13:58:00 +0000

As noted by my friend Kelly, this was one of the most often heard exclamations over the weekend. It is impossible for us to get together without bruises occurring. I usually get off easy because, in keeping with my reputation as The Instigator, I whisper "Do it!" and then dive for the sidelines when the melee begins. And when I say "melee," I do indeed mean:

me·lee (mā'lā', mā-lā')
n.
1. a. Confused, hand-to-hand fighting in a pitched battle.
b. A violent free-for-all. See Synonyms at brawl.
2. A confused tumultuous mingling, as of a crowd: the rush-hour melee.

(thank you, Dictionary.com)

I did end up with one little bruise, but I'll save that story for later. It's the missing Biscuitude.

I tried to make this shorter (HA!) by making the pictures small. You can click 'em to big 'em if'n you wanna.

My weekend began with a flight to Nashville, where I was picked up by Kelly. We started our drive to Tunica from the airport, planning to stop somewhere for groceries, beer, and ice for the two coolers she brought. After crawling along the interstate for a while in a bad storm, we decided to stop at a Walmart where we could...

...buy said groceries, and...

matching boxer briefs with Ed Hardy-esque tattoo designs on them.

Yum! FUD! I can't decide if that's the brand name, or some creative spelling of "food."

We arrived at the Goldstrike Hotel at around 11:30 p.m. After dumping all of our stuff into the room, Kelly suggested that she give me a tour of the casino, seeing as I'd never been in one. When the tour of our casino was over, we walked to the next, and discovered a band playing at one of the bars. They weren't great, but you're not choosey in the wee hours of the morning. Plus, there was beer. I had two Coronas, which came with the limes on little skewers. Somewhere around 3:30 a.m., after having been awake for 21 hours, I thought it would be a riot to put those skewers up my nose. Kelly thought it would be a riot to take a picture and post it on her Facebook page. I agreed until I realized that it would also show up on *my* Facebook page, where I am friends with not only high school and college friends who would think this was hilarious, but also co-workers, gym members, and the parents of my children's friends.

The other girls arrived the next day, and the goddess fun began.

One night, we went to Hooters, where we had a really fun and cute little waitress.

I think she's a goddess in the making. This was our empty paper towel roll that we handed her.

The picture taken immediately after this one depicts the early stages of a Kelly vs. Sam smackdown, with me diving out of the way. I did *not* whisper "do it" this time.

Living In Harmony, a still life by Lisa. Five girls crammed into one hotel room, having a blast.

Sam, our soldier girl on leave from Germany, made us all matching bracelets. Lisa made us matching hair rubber bands with little rhinestones on them. If you blow this picture up, you can see them on a couple of the arms.

Our hotel had two saltwater hot tubs, and a saltwater pool. Niiiice. The best part was that when we started sweating in the hot tub, this wonderful woman brought us freezing cold little towels, with ice still stuck to them! Heaven.

Okay, time for the last Biscuitude of the weekend (I think). As I said before, it is impossible to go unscathed. While everyone was displaying their battle wounds, I pointed out the "bruise on the back of my shin."

I'll let that sink in for a moment. I'm sure it'll hit you faster than it did me. In fact, you probably needed no help. Help that might come in the form of, say, "Uh, Biscuit...wouldn't that be your *calf*?"

The fitness instructor in me hung her head in shame. The Biscuit in me thought she was clever and retorted "You can kiss the back of my ass."

Uproarious laughter. Pride. Delayed processing.

Fuuuuccckkk meeeeeeee!

Kelly posted a picture of my bruise on her Facebook page (are you getting the idea that FB is a great place to embarrass me?) along with the caption "The bruise on the 'back of Biscuit's shin'." I can't decide if it's funny or sad that the comments made indicated that people got it right away. Friends of hers that don't know me at all understood exactly who they were dealing with.

I've already become an adjective in some situations. It won't be long before I'm a verb.

it's a question of lust, it's a question of trust

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 11:59:00 +0000

~Depeche Mode

1. How do you differentiate between love and lust?
Love wants everything. Lust wants one thing. Love is emotional. Lust is physical. Love is an enduring attachment. Lust is fickle.

If you're really lucky, you can make them coexist.

2. You are happily married, engaged, or committed in a relationship, yet you have a hot sexy dream about someone you have always wanted to do it with. Have you cheated at least in your mind?
Of course not! One can't control what their brain does when they're asleep. *I* can't even control what my brain does when I'm awake! Thoughts are not actions.

3. Do you trust your significant other?
Absolutely, without a doubt.

4. How important is it to you that your husband or wife wear their wedding band?
I don't see much purpose in exchanging wedding bands if they aren't going to be worn. I would have to question the motivation behind choosing not to wear one. That said, a couple can be just as, or even more, committed without being married, so I'm not suggesting that it's the ring that makes it. Just that if rings are exchanged, they should be worn, unless there's a legitimate reason not to.

5. Do you feel that flirting is OK if you are taken?
It depends on the type of, and motivation behind, the flirting. Some people *ahem* are just natural born flirts, and the behavior is not meant as an invitation. It is meant, I think, as a lure to draw people in, but not in a sexual manner.

Bonus (as in optional):If you were 100% guaranteed not to get caught having a one night stand with someone else, would you?
Just any someone? No. Justin Timberlake? Oh yeh!

~*~*~

I found the Biscuitude that was lost yesterday. I told you it was around here somewhere. I'll save it for tomorrow when I tell you more about Tunica, and show you some pictures. I have to clear the pics with the other Goddesses, first.

Until then, enjoy these...

If you don't have an iPhone, you've at least seen the commercials, so hopefully you can appreciate this.

You know those pretty little icons on the screen? You can move them around to organize them how you want, move them to different pages, or delete them if they have a little red x. The way you do that is to hold your finger down on one of them until they all start to wiggle. You move them, then you hit the home button, and all is well.

The other day, I was holding my phone, and when I looked down at it, all of the icons were wiggling. I had somehow accidentally set it off. After I hit the home button, I realized that there were only 3 icons along the bottom row, instead of the usual 4.

OH CRAP! Did I delete one? What was it?

Email...browser...SMS...

Dammit! What's missing?

I panicked. How would I ever remember? I kept trying to picture the row in my head, but it wasn't working. It finally dawned on me that I should check the other pages and see if I had somehow moved it.

*swipe*

Ahhh, yes. There it is.

Wanna guess which one was missing that I couldn't remember?

The PHONE button. You know, the one I would need to make PHONE CALLS. On my PHONE.

~*~*~

...and speaking of panicking. Have you ever pushed the button on your car remote, only to have it not respond? So, you push it again. And again.

How long did it take you to realize that you could open your car doors with THE KEY?

I'll bet your time beat mine.

Handful of Biscuitudes

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 13:55:00 +0000

I've been saving up for you. iPhones are handy that way. Who else has a Note devoted to recording stupid things that they do?

Dammit. I just thought of another one a minute ago and thought "No need to write that one down. Can't forget it." Guess what? It'll come back to me. It's around here somewhere.

~*~*~

While waiting for my husband to arrive home from work and drive me to the airport, I was doing my last minute carry-on packing and talking to my friend Mark.

Wallet...yep. Itinerary...yep. Valium...yep. iPod...yep. Phone...where's my phone?

I searched the kitchen, the floor, the living room, my bedroom, my bathroom...I panicked.

Where's my phone? Where's my damn phone?!

Mark says "What are you muttering about?"

"My phone! I can't find my phone!"

"Um...Jen...you're talking on it."

So I am...

~*~*~

While in Tunica, I got in the shower to get ready for our hot night out at...Hooters. Hey, it was my first time, so I was excited. We had a cute little waitress, young enough to be our daughter, who thought we were ALL tons of fun. Until she found out that Kelly is a lesbian. The rest of us were boring after that. After several minutes of Kelly hogging all of the attention, I briefly considered raising my hand and shouting "I take naked pictures and post them on the internet!!!" But, I didn't. Should have.

Anyway, I started shaving my legs, but nothing was happening. WTF? This is a brand new razor?

Another attempt. What the hell is up with this?

I brought it closer to my face, which does no good, because the closer something gets to my eyes, the less I can see it. So I felt it. And then I cracked myself up.

You probably already figured it out. In fact, you would have right away, had it been you.

The cover was still on it. D'oh!

~*~*~

So, I use velcro rollers in my hair when I'm actually going to some trouble to look nice. I have bazillions in all sizes, but I packed only the exact ones that I needed.

I was taking them out of my hair and putting them back in the bag, and one was missing. I knew exactly how many I brought. It wasn't on the counter. Maybe it fell? Not on the floor. Maybe it fell in the trash? No. In another bag? No.

I repeated my search, because, you know, maybe I missed it the first time.

Then I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror. In my hair. And it wasn't in the back of my head where it could be easily missed. It was in my bangs.

My husband texted me very shortly after that to ask if I knew where his iPod was. I said that I hadn't seen it before I left, but that didn't mean much because "I was just trying to find my last velcro roller that I knew was here somewhere. I finally found it. In my hair."

His reply? "Give it a shake and see if my iPod is in there, too."

~*~*~

It didn't come back, yet. It will. Eventually. Or not.

We hit the sunny beaches where we occupy ourselves keeping the sun off our skin, the saltwater off our bodies, and the sand out of our belongings.

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 00:54:00 +0000

~Erma Bombeck

View Photo Slideshow

Make a Free Flash Slideshow

I'll have some Tunica pictures for you next :-)

~*~*~

I'm having a hard time with Shelby's death. Although I had been telling the kids for years that she was old and wouldn't live much longer, I guess I wasn't listening to myself. I *knew*, but...I don't know. Hard to explain. I can't get over the last images in the vets office. I won't say more than that because there's no need to put those images in your head, too.

I keep forgetting that she's gone. I expect to see her on her bed. Now there's just a big empty spot on the floor. I drive up and see the gate open and for an instant I worry that she was left in the back yard and got out. I was thinking about how much I want a cat, and that when I'm able to adopt one from the shelter, I should make sure to ask if it gets along with dogs. And then I remembered and had to struggle not to cry.

However, as they did with Baby's death, my children always manage to give me something to laugh at. I mentioned to them the other day that I keep forgetting that Shelby is gone, and that I keep expecting to see her. My son, not gifted with much tact, placed his hand on my shoulder and very matter-of-factly said "Well Mom, you won't. She's dead."

Cracked me up.

Brooklands Shelby Jubilee

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 20:34:00 +0000

April 16, 1994 - July 28, 2009

This is one of the last pictures I took. It's a crappy cell pic, taken while I was driving (shhhh), but she was smiling the best she could in it, so its the one I picked.

I do have Duck pictures, but may not have time to blog them before I'm off again tomorrow to GoG (Gathering of the Goddesses...what my girlfriends and I call our annual weekend together). This year we are headed to a different kind of location instead of the beach. There's a little gambling town in the south that isn't going to know what hit it this weekend, if we have anything to say about it. :-)

Darn these people and their secured wireless

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 15:56:00 +0000

I haven't managed to get a connection, ergo no blog post. So, in bullet style, typed on my phone, I'll try to remember what I was saying when I almost spewed on my laptop.

•Summer has been busy. I've tried to keep my kids occupied, which has been made easier by the fact that...

•They learned to ride bikes! Finally!!! Sheesh. At 10 and 8, it was time. We can finally go for family bike rides.

•I also haven't blogged because I have felt kind of boring lately.

•Sad news. My dog is dying. Shelby is 15, which is pretty damn good for a lab. Her arthritis has been bad for a while, but recently she stopped eating much, started drinking like crazy, and became incontenent in her sleep. The test results suggest that she is in the early stages of kidney failure, and her very high calcium levels suggest cancer. It was very hard to leave her with the sitter.

We're halfway through our week in Duck, NC. We're having a great time, and I'll have some great pictures to share. Kind of the blog equivalent of when our parents used to make their friends suffer through vacation slides. Not quite as bad as being made to watch birth videos. :-)

There would be a post here if I hadn't almost barfed

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 14:57:00 +0000

It'll be here as soon as I can swipe an Internet connection in the house. Blogging on my phone is too hard. I typed up a post in the car on my laptop, but I made myself so car sick that I got the spins. So, it's not finished yet because barf on one's keyboard would be a bad thing.

We're in Duck for the week, which means a bit of free time to catch up. :-)

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 21:55:00 +0000

Okay, here's how fucking out of it I am with that great big nothing hanging out there. It has eaten my brain. I posted the EXACT SAME THING about Bean's expander two posts in a row. With NO RECOLLECTION of having done it before. The words didn't even sound familiar. And NOT ONE of you pointed it out. Some friends you are! ;-)

Y'all think I'm exaggerating when I talk about losing thoughts and whole days sometimes. I'm totally not. Don't you want to be me?

3 hours

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 13:37:00 +0000

That's how long I have left. Three hours until summer vacation officially starts. Don't worry, I'll be just as excited as they are when they get off of the bus.

I'm a really good actress.

Geez, where does the time go? Is anyone else feeling the *insert crickets chirping here* ? You know, that great big nothing hanging out there. The blahs. The I'd-better-think-of-something-to-say-or-they'll-think-I-died thing? Except that I know most of what I have to say amounts to "Dear Diary..."

Whatever. Fuck it. It *is* a journal of sorts, for me anyway. (You don't even want to know how long I have been sitting here trying to figure out how to punctuate that sentence correctly, and I'm pretty sure I still got it wrong. *waving* Hi, Master of Speech, Language, & Hearing degree! If you could only see me now!)

*~*~*

Last week, Bean got her palate expander put in. She was soooo good about it. They put it in to make sure it fit before they cemented it to her teeth, and she popped up with a look on her face that told me she was a little surprised by what it felt like. I asked her if she was okay, and she gave me the "give me a minute" finger. It only took her 30 seconds to calm herself down, and then she went back down to have it taken out and then put back in. Permanently. For 6-9 months, anyway.

She had another little moment when she started to choke on her own saliva. Your mouth mistakes the appliance for food at first, and it goes crazy. Given her very strong gag reflex, I'm surprised she dealt with that so well. It calmed down after a few hours.

It's a similar concept to being stretched on a medieval rack. Every day, we put the key in that little hole and crank the thing open a little bit more. There's a bit of a learning curve to that part. It often takes me a couple of tries before I get it done right. Even though it gets tighter and is uncomfortable for a while, Bean lets me know if I didn't get it.

"You didn't get it, Mom."

"That time?"

"No."

"How about this time?"

"Yep!" and a congratulatory thumbs up. Yay, Mom!

The plan is to turn it every day for 10 days (today will be day number 9), then we see him on Monday to determine if we need to do it more. After we are done expanding, the appliance will stay in place for 6-9 months. There's a whole list of things she can't eat, and she hasn't complained yet. It takes some creativity to find variety when she can't have anything sticky, chewy, or *too* crunchy, and lots of things that are technically ok to eat get stuck and scare her. I got her a waterpik, and she shot me in the face SEVERAL times before she figured out how to keep her hand on the switch to turn it off *before* pulling it out of her mouth.

*~*~*

H made Patrol!!! This is a HUGE deal to him and to us. The Patrols help with bus line up, help children get on and off the bus safely, and deal with any minor safety infractions on the bus. H has wanted to do this since first grade. He had to write an essay describing the qualities a Patrol should have, and why he thought he would be good at the job.

We are proud of him for seeking out this responsibility, and happy with the school for giving it to him. Considering his issues, it would have been very easy to say that he couldn't handle it. It was a nice upturn at the end of a craptastic school year.

I'm going to go enjoy my silence while I can.

Note to Self: Never camp with anyone other than my family.

jenniferklotz@gmail.com (Biscuit) — Tue, 09 Jun 2009 13:06:00 +0000

Bean and I had a Brownie camp out this past weekend. Yay! Camping two weekends in a row!

Except, not. Not yay, because it wasn't nearly as good as camping with family the previous weekend. Not really camping because we were in the troop leaders back yard.

I'll just hit the highlights...

I was the only mom who volunteered to spend the night.
Five logs and ten homemade fire starters do not a fire make. I was a tad dismayed (in other words...WTF?) when I opened the back of the troop leaders truck and that was all I found.
Troop leaders who have never been to the state park should not call the shots regarding which paths to take for the hike.
No, the trail does *not* circle around. No matter how many times you declare that you think it does, it does not.
Why won't anyone listen to me?
If you are not familiar with the flora and fauna, don't improvise! Unless you like having my 8-year-old correct you.
Tree roots along the banks of the creek, still attached to the tree but exposed, ARE NOT BEAVER DAMS.
How do you get to be 40 years old and NOT know how to strike a match???
One must be vigilant about monitoring the look on one's face while watching troop leaders roast hot dogs and marshmallows over burning People magazine pages.
Should I let my daughter eat that? Is it even warm? How about just a bun with some ketchup?
How do you *forget* to bring your daughter's clothes and sleeping bag? How do you not answer your phone or return your daughter's calls asking for her clothes and sleeping bag, well after 9pm? (You'll love this if you've been around here for a while... it was Spam-Me-With-the-Baby-Jesus mom, the one who puts her real estate business card in the Christmas cards she mails to all of her daughter's classmates every year.)
Troop leader's husbands who think it's funny to scare little girls in their tent should not be surprised to get phone calls from the neighbors regarding the screaming.
Little girls will play sleeping spot roulette until half of the girls are crying.
Little girls will miss their mothers and cry.
Little girls who did not let Mrs. Biscuit go to sleep until 12:30 will somehow still wake up at 5am.
Dear Troop Leader...regarding the fauna...it's a Blue HERON. HERON. Not HERRING.

Bean had a blast. All that counts, in the end.

*~*~*

Yesterday, Bean had her palate expander put in. That girl totally rocks! She only had two moments of unhappiness. The first was right after it was cemented to her teeth. She popped up and the look on her face was sad. I asked her if she was okay, and she nodded and gave me the "Give me a minute" finger. I think she spent a whopping 30 seconds calming herself down, and back down she went for them to finish. The second was a few minutes later when she was practically choking on saliva. The mouth confuses the expander with food at first, and goes to town.

She has to learn a different swallowing pattern, and her speech sounds a little mushy, but she's already made significant improvement since last night.

Now if I can just get my part right. I have to turn the key every day, for 2-4 weeks, to crank that sucker open. It's like a car jack, only sideways in the roof of your mouth. Sounds fun, huh?

*~*~*

So, it's the last full week of school, I made the reservations for our Duck house in July, and I've got my plane ticket for GoG in August.

Bring it, Summer.

One Biscuit Hound

Everyone needs a cheetah around to point them in the right direction

"Most people live and die with their music still unplayed. They never dare to try."

Biscuit...a little more so

When you get that notion, put your back field in motion

Exercise vs. Training

I'm going to need to do a lot of laughing if that LMAO thing is going to work

"Goodbye, Processed Food. You make me feel like crap, so I'm breaking up with you. Give me back my abs, and take back all of the thighs and butt you've been leaving at my place. Oh, and by the way, my pants hate you."

Brain, meet Blender.

Bulges and Boners

C'mon...you know you wanna

Phallacy

Hi :-)

Meet Nimbus

One nation, under *MY* God

You may regret encouraging me

There's a reason why they call it a climax

Ow! That's Gonna Leave a Mark!

it's a question of lust, it's a question of trust

Handful of Biscuitudes

We hit the sunny beaches where we occupy ourselves keeping the sun off our skin, the saltwater off our bodies, and the sand out of our belongings.

Brooklands Shelby Jubilee

Darn these people and their secured wireless

There would be a post here if I hadn't almost barfed

3 hours

Note to Self: Never camp with anyone other than my family.

One nation, under MY God