I Wish We Had Bagpipes and Kilts at Our Wedding

Today, November 30th is St. Andrew's Day. Now while I'm Mormon, I find that just because my religion doesn't believe in saints the way other Churches do, I don't see that as a reason to throw away a perfectly good holiday.

St. Andrew is the patron saint of Scotland, and all around the world today, those of Scottish ancestry celebrate their heritage. One of the traditions in Scotland is to fly the nations flag. Since I don't own one to put outside my house, I figure posting one on my blog (my second home) is as good as any.

I know that I post a lot on my blog about being Irish, but I am a number of other things, one being Scottish. I didn't know much about my Scottish ancestry until I got in touch with a cousin of mine from Utah who had some names and information for me.

Our ancestors came over from Scotland in the mid 1800's. In Scotland, they lived in a town called Paisley, in the area of Renfrew. Though I can't tell for certain, the documents I have add "Abbey" beside the location of Paisley referring to the local Abbey, which was a former monastery and a place where Kings of Scotland have been buried.

While we haven't researched our Scottish history (Matt is Scottish too) as detailed as we have done with our Irish traditions, we wanted to celebrate St. Andrew's Day. Unfortunately since Matt works late, there's little celebrating going on in this house right now. However acknowledging the day is enough for right now. If you'd like, Scotland's First Minister sent out a message to wish all Scots across the globe a good St. Andrew's day. It's really a great read.

So while I'm not Catholic, I can appreciate the history of Scotland and their patron Saint. After all, all things happen for a reason and if it weren't for the circumstances that my ancestors were in long ago in their homeland, they never would have eventually come to America where they in turn settled, started families of their own . . . eventually making me.

And for that, I can be very grateful.

What's on Jia's Phone?

Other than the massive absence of Thanksgiving pictures? Oh not much. Seriously, wtf is wrong with me? I can't even pop open my phone for two seconds to take a picture of my amazing food? And my phone doesn't even pop open! It's already set to go! There's like no extra work whatsofrickin ever.

Oh well. I'll somehow make it up to you.

Willow having freshly knocked her bowl over
because she prefers to eat her food on the floor
but she refuses to vacuum . . . how's that for ungrateful?

Willow having playtime with her box of goodies.
Yes she's tied to the door.
She's being re-housebroken and she gets "play time"
by the front door until she tells me it's time to go outside.

I don't even understand this one.

My sweet hubby relaxing with the sweet puppy.
And a massive pile of folded towels overlooking the whole thing
begging for me to put them away.

Josh came over to kill zombies. I think.
They shot things on the Xbox, I don't really ask questions anymore.

She looks all sweet and innocent, but in about two seconds
she's about to run up, punch me in the thigh and then run away.

Ten Things I Learned This Thanksgiving

1. Eating a brined turkey is like falling in love.
2. Eating a brined turkey that's been stuffed with bacon, herbs and butter is like awesome sex.
3. Matt is not to be trusted around a freshly carved turkey. I may have cursed.
4. If you are properly organized, it is completely possible to cook an entire Thanksgiving menu on your own. It is however impossible to take enough pictures of said dinner, without the use of a tripod. 
5. If you clean as you go, it's doable to have a clean kitchen by the time you serve dinner.

6. You're allowed to bake a green bean casserole in a bundt cake pan because you ran out of casserole dishes.
7. "This is an Irish household. We even cook our poultry in pork" needs to be pasted in vinyl lettering on my kitchen walls.
8. If cleaned properly, a refrigerator shelve can be used as a cooling rack for cookies. I'm all about improvisation.
9. If you ask your Mother in law to bring sweet potatoes and rolls and she can only remember one, it's always the sweet potatoes. Always. 
10. It is a sad, sad day when you finally run out of leftover stuffing. We all cry.

Self Esteem Saturday: Validate Yourself First

Featuring Amberly, from The Haney Family

Thank you Jia for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on Self Esteem. It was difficult to dredge up the emotions that surround my self-esteem, but I appreciate the opportunity, and hope that my thoughts help someone else.

You’re too short. You’re fat. You’re different because you are Mormon. You’re not smart enough. You’re not funny. You are a snob. You are not good enough. You are not talented enough. And so on and so forth.

Those are what the voices say, the voices that I constantly hear in my head day in and day out. I know that my self-esteem should be inward, but I know that my difficulties with my self-esteem begins with me, but have been woefully affected by outside influences.

I have battled self-esteem from the time that I was little.

I am the oldest of five sisters, and felt that I have been in a competition for love my entire life. In that competition for love, my self-esteem came under attack much of the time. The competition to be the smartest, cutest, most talented, and I have never been able to win that competition in my mother’s eyes. The self-esteem battle for me truly started at home.

I wanted to excel, but was always held to a higher standard. When I didn’t achieve that standard, I was looked down upon. This has continued to this day. I have a very difficult relationship with my mother. I realize that some of the issues come because we are very much alike, though I have never been perfect enough in her eyes. The defining moment in that relationship came when I finally stood up to her four years ago, and said I didn’t need to take it anymore and walked out. I know that she does love me, though; she has truly affected my feelings of self-worth.

I began to think of the experiences in my life that have affected my self-esteem, and the experiences have happened when I was in school. When I was in the sixth grade, I had a teacher who loved and encouraged me, and I felt like I could do or be anything, and I remember that year being fantastic. I had friends, and I was the “cool” kid in school. I was feeling confident and happy, and on top of the world. Then I went to the Seventh Grade, and as I went from being the “cool kid” to someone who was different, and suddenly not so confident, and I also became more challenged in school. Shortly after this time, we moved from a typical school to a K-8 school with a class of 13 kids. I became even more self- conscious, as I was very different, I came into a new class, and I was the “Mormon” girl who was not as cute or small as they were, and came from a huge family, with all of my sisters at the same school.

I tried really hard to fit in, but I believed different from them, and when my “best friend” was out doing things that I didn’t really believe were good choices, I didn’t feel like I could say anything, because I wanted a friend so very badly. I ended up ending that year with 12 kids passing the 8th grade with me, and being the Salutatorian. I finally felt like I had accomplished something, and pleased myself, it was a great day. And then I went to high school. This was an eye opening, and challenging experience. I really became the different girl, and felt that I didn’t measure up. I vividly remember sitting in drama class, and having a teacher tell me that I couldn’t be an astronaut because I was a girl. I told the teacher that I could be anything that I wanted to be, and walked out, and ended up getting out of the class. I felt proud of myself, but also felt like I was looked down upon because I was different.

Throughout high school, I just wanted to have friends. I tried so hard to be liked, but I was always seen as “the girl who was different, whether it was because I was fat, or not as funny. I know that a lot of this was in my head, or things that I felt. I ended up starving myself my senior year and felt so much better about myself, because I was thin. I started working, and after a month of working there, a boy that I had a huge crush on asked me out, and we started dating. I was on top of the world. And three weeks after that, he dumped me, with no reason, and like that, I was suddenly at the bottom of the barrel. The worry, fear and self-doubt settled in again.

I continued working, and ended up making friends from other schools, and life was turning better. I was asked to prom, and was so excited. I remember thinking that I looked so good that night, as I had lost a lot of weight, and finally felt cute. Then on the last day of high school, we were all signing year books, and in one of my “friends” year books, someone had written, “So glad, high school is over, we don’t have to worry about Amberly following us around anymore." That comment has stung for years. I have carried that hurt for years. 

After high school, I went to Ricks College. I finally wasn’t the weird Mormon girl, and I made new friends. I left all of the pain of high school behind and tried to make a new name for my self. This was a defining moment for me in my life. I felt confident, and happy. Fast forward 10 years, I have now been married for 9 years, and am very happily married to a man who has truly helped change the way I feel about myself.

However, there is a large part of my self-esteem that comes from not being a mother. I have battled infertility for 9 years. I have heard the comments, answered the questions, and cried every Mother’s Day. I feel the hurt, and am trying to work on the emotions that come from wanting to be a mom so badly.

I wish I could say that I truly love myself, and at 31 years old, I think I am starting to finally like myself. It has taken being loved by my husband, and friends who support me in my life. I have been battling my weight my entire life, I have finally begun to really enjoy exercise. I love the way I feel when someone I haven’t seen tells me I look great, it means the world. I know that my self-esteem is closely related to what others think of me. I also know that the media plays a part, as you see the commercials of skinny girls, or the diet pills, or the things that make people feel like that’s the way you need to look. I appreciate the ads for “normal size girls” and the platform for the self-worth of women. I feel like I am constantly trying to still keep up to be the cutest, smartest, or most fun girl there is. I know that this will be a continued battle for me, as it is for so many women.

Jia did ask me to share the one thing that I love about myself. This was a challenging question, as I know that I along with so many other women look in the mirror each morning and look at each of the flaws. I can say that I love my eyes, I love the color, I love that I smile with my eyes, and that they are different. I also love that I am a good teacher and friend and from what my husband says, an amazing wife. I have spent my entire life feeling the need to just be loved, and validated, and am finally beginning to realize that I need to validate myself first, before I can accept anyone else to do that for me. Thank you Jia for allowing me to share my thoughts, and to hopefully allow others to recognize how beautiful and wonderful they are.

---

You know the type of person that seems to light up a room when they enter? I feel like Amberly does that for the blogosphere. Her smile is completely infectious and there is so much strength in her I find it easy to compare myself . . . but that goes against our self esteem rules, so I won't.

But I will say how much I adore Amberly and her infectious smile and her bright, shining spirit! And her bright eyes and adorable hair-do!

Each week we will use Self Esteem Saturdays to spread joy and love to one another.  Please show love for Amberly in the comments below, for being brave and putting herself out there on display to the world. 

If you are interested in being featured on Self Esteem Saturdays, please send an email with the title  "Self Esteem Saturday" to untypicallyjia@gmail.com


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Santa Baby

I know that it's the day after Thanksgiving and I'm supposed to post pictures of food that was eaten and talk about wonderful visits with family and friends, and did I mention the food? Well, I'll get that in all good time.

But I couldn't wait to share this little thing . . .

Christmas is already in full swing in our house. Matt can never stand waiting until the 25th. Our first Christmas he came home from Walmart with my gifts in plastic sacks and he just couldn't take it. I had to open the bags then. His excitement of gift giving is adorable.

Tonight after all the eating was done, Matt said he wanted to show one of his friends the Zombie feature on Picnik (my favourite online photo editing site) and I told him that they didn't have it anymore. "Fine, come turn me into Santa Clause or something," he said.

So I sat down at the computer and began fiddling with the freebies which have never really impressed me.

"You can't add that, you have to have a premium account." I insisted when he asked about adding the Christmas hat and beard.

"Just try it."

So I did. And it worked.

I've been wanting a premium account with Picnik for months, and my personal Santa brought my first gift early this year. All I had to do was violate a turkey with bacon, herbs and butter and then finish it off with homemade apple pie. My man is so easy to please and he repays in amazing kindness.

So thanks Santa, baby. I'll put this gift to good use this year!

Update: I loved this picture so much that I used my new Picnik account to create a holiday card with it! I only wish that I was in the picture too, but really, my husband is cute enough to pull it off going stag.

Thanks

I decided that before I dive into the hours of cooking and cleaning I still have ahead of me before the reveal of Jia's Thanksgiving Spectacular 2010, I would sit down and take a moment to reflect on what I am truly thankful for.

I am thankful for my parents. All of them. I don't have a typical set of parents like everyone else. One Mom, and one Dad. I don't even have the double set you get when your folks set up. I am blessed in so many ways to have so many parents in my life, even those who have passed on. I am thankful for my mother, Lisa, who gave me life and then possibly saved it by sacrificing her own. I am thankful for my father, Carl, for doing what he could to be a good Dad to me when I was a little girl . . . when a girl really needs to have a Daddy.

I am thankful for my Grandmother Margaret, who became my mother when I was little, and gave up what should have been her retired years to raise a two year old. I am thankful for my aunt Paula, whom my readers know as Motherly, because that's just what she is, motherly in every way, shape and form. She is my Mom. I likewise am thankful for my uncle Fred, Paula's husband who may not have been my best friend while growing up, but became quite the friend and role model that I eventually needed. I am thankful for my aunt Debbie, who had to raise me during my rotten years. When I was a spoiled little child, and when I was an inexperienced young adult, new to the real world. I am thankful for my Grandmother Betty, who didn't get to raise me, but is in turn helping to raise my little brothers, and because of that, I know that they will be okay. I am thankful for my step-mother, Miki, who has proven that she is a strong and independent woman, and who does what she can to provide a stable environment for my brothers, in a world that sometimes is not so stable.

I am thankful for my dear in-laws who have raised me in spirit since I was a fourteen year old girl they caught crawling out of Matt's bedroom window. Steve, Matt's Dad, is my father. Emma, Matt's Mom, is my mother. There are no two ways about it. She is also one of my best friends.

I am thankful for aunts and uncles, all of which I love and adore. Kathy, Joe, Kathy, Elden, Marilyn, Johnny, Terri, Kim, Debbie, Hal, Becci, T, Carol, Jack, Curtis, Sherrie, Mark and Patty. And the many more great aunts and uncles that still remain here on this earth, as well as those that have gone too soon, including my sweet aunt Vera, who passed this year.

I am thankful for my siblings, whether they are siblings in spirit, blood, or whether blood has nothing to do with it. Tiffany, my oldest sister who is my shining example of how to overcome adversity with grace and a shining dedication to motherhood and hard work. I'm grateful for her husband Rob, who has helped to give her the life she deserves. I am grateful for my younger sister Kristine, one of my best friends, who can laugh with me over the fights of our youth, and celebrate memories at the same time. I'm grateful for her boyfriend Alex, and his family, who help to care for her and be a family for her while the rest of us are further away. I'm grateful for my younger brothers, Johnny and Nico, who have had to grow up a little too fast, just like I had to. But despite the distance between us, they have a big sister who loves them completely. I'm grateful for my brother and sister in law, Andy and Megan who I love completely and who I hope to see more of in the coming year.

I'm grateful for nieces and nephews, and those are adding up. Samantha, my first little niece who is now twelve and going to the temple. Isabel, my sweet little growing up too fast Isabel. Emilee, the sweet snuggle bug I miss so much. Lily, who I've yet to meet (and that hurts). Noah, my first nephew who is so energetic and smart. Hannah, the little talker who makes me laugh. Leah, my beautiful little niece. And the newest addition, Trey, who I watched come into this world.

I'm grateful for cousins, who may not have been my actual siblings, but let's face it, they might as well have been! There are just too damn many to name here but I'm going to try... Jimmy, Christine, DJ, Ricky, Robbie, Tina, Mitzi, Jason, Tory, Holly, Stevie, Joey, Joshua, Emily, Amie, Josh, Jamie, Greg, Mandy, Brooke, Johnny, Anthony, Max, Alle, Chelsea, Sterling, Jared, Derek, Sheila, Hollie, Golden, Weston, Logen, Samantha, Candice... and so many second and third cousins I grew up with. Especially Brandon who needs prayers right now for his little girl.

I'm grateful for Matt's extended family as well. The cousins I have recently gotten to know over Facebook, Wendy, Carmel, Kristi and more.... as well as his aunt and uncles who have become a part of my own family. Especially Dawn, Don and Tammy who came to visit us this year.

I'm thankful for the Church, and especially the Cherry Hills Ward that has provided the spiritual family that we've really needed this year. They have helped to support us so much and that can never be properly repaid, but we will try. I'm thankful for my visiting teachers this year (Rachel, Jill and Ashley), who have helped to lead, guide and sometimes drag me kicking and screaming out of my house in an attempt to overcome fears, make new friends and seek a healthy life. I'm thankful for a loving Heavenly Father, and for Jesus Christ who gave the ultimate gift.

I'm grateful for the friends I have here in the state that I can see in person, Jen, Joe and especially the Mittons.

I'm grateful for our best friend, Josh, who is as much a part of our family as any blood relative.

I'm thankful for friends I have made in other states, and I'm thankful for Facebook so I have the ability to stay in touch with them. Audra, Desi, Chrissy, Steph, April, Jessica, Dana, Caroline...

And I am thankful of course to my amazing readers. You bring a light into my life. You have made this year easier in times of darkness and stress. You have prayed with me, laughed with me, and cried with me. Sometimes you've laughed at me, which frankly, I encourage. And you've shared you lives with me too.

And most importantly, I am thankful for my husband, my best friend, my soul mate, my other half,
my big bear, my pain the backside, my cover stealing, leaving socks in the living room, singing Christmas Carols too early, weird, amazing, handsome, admirable and wonderful man you.

Thank you.

All of you.

Have a blessed Thanksgiving.

The One Where I Go Crazy

Anyone else ready to lose their cool? Just me and every other woman on the planet you say? Okay, as long as I'm not alone.

Honestly, despite my crazy to-do list, I'm handling Thanksgiving prep okay. Thank goodness I got a random spurt of energy last week and went into germaphobe mode, cleaning my house. Gives me plenty of time this week to concentrate on the most important part of Thanksgiving -- the food.

(You totally thought I was going to say something like gratitude, blessings or family, didn't you? Well I'm grateful for savory goodness, which is also a blessing. And butter is like family, right?)

Yesterday I got a bunch done. Made my Hot Orchard Apple Spice Pies, tested a few last minute recipes, cleaned my turkey and started the brining process and I even got all of my veggies chopped and ready to go. Oh, I also made my bacon herb butter and froze it ready to be cut into slices and stuffed violently under the skin of my bird. It's painfully delicious.

Today I've got a massive list of things to do before tomorrow.. so until then, here's a gorgeous picture of my bird sitting in it's pretty brine, just begging to be stuffed.

Before y'all ask (I know you will cause we're that close), the brine I use on my turkey is a variation of Pioneer Woman's. I cut out the apple juice completely, half the salt (because my turkey was frozen, not fresh) and I double the garlic and add about a tablespoon of mustard seeds as well.

Hot Orchard Apple Spice Pie

I've been making apple pies for Thanksgiving for the last few years now. It's become a yearly staple. Matt took one of them to work last week for a competition. I lost out to another apple pie that came with a drizzle. I consider that cheating. Despite not bringing home the gold, there wasn't any pie to bring home at all as Matt's co-workers devoured it. My apple pie may need to become a weekly staple instead of a yearly one. Anyways, I promised that if I won the competition, I would share the recipe. Even though I didn't win, a massive demand for the recipe came from many readers. So here it is.

Hot Orchard Apple Spice Pie

This batch actually makes two pies. Because I'm making these for Thanksgiving however, I'm doing one non-spicy and one spicy because my mother in law has a sensitive palette and I'm an awesome and thoughtful daughter in law. So if you're wanting to make it less spicy, just cut out the hot items and it'll still make your mouth water.

• 8 pounds Granny Smith Apples
• 4 Tablespoons of Butter
• 2 cups Granulated Sugar
• 2 Chai Spice Tea Bags
• 1 Cup Water
• 4 Tablespoons Cinnamon 
• 1/2 Cup Brown Sugar
• 1 Teaspoon Sea Salt
• 1/2 Teaspoon Chinese Five Spice
• 1/2 Teaspoon Cayenne Pepper
• 1/4 Teaspoon Red Pepper Flakes

* For the pie crust, I make my own half of the time. When I'm in a rush or have a whole Thanksgiving meal to prepare, I buy the frozen Pillsbury Dough Pie Crusts. They've worked really well for me in the past. If you're wanting to make your own pie crust, I recommend Pioneer Woman's Perfect Pie Crust.

Take a large bucket and peel all of your apples. After tossing aside the peels, quarter the apples and then take out the core and seeds. Put them back in the bucket and rinse with cold water to get rid of any remaining seeds. Slice the apples to your preference and set aside to drain.

In the largest pot you can find (or preferably two considering the massive amount of apples) add the butter and heat the pan to medium high until bubbly. Turn the heat down to medium and add the apples and the salt. Meanwhile add the tea bags to the water and microwave for two minutes and let it sit for five minutes. Stir the apples every few minutes to get equal cooking on all pieces until fork tender, then turn the burners down to the lowest setting. Remove the tea bags from the water and add tea mixture to apples and stir. Add sugar, brown sugar, Chinese five spice and cinnamon and stir together. Cook five minutes on the lowest setting.

If you're wanting to make the pie spicy now, add the red pepper flakes and cayenne pepper. Stir together.

Around this point the apple mixture may have a lot of juice. If it's runny, I add a small mixture of cornstarch and water to thicken it up the way one would with gravy. The perfect consistency of the apple mixture is if you'd be able to eat them on their own using a fork and not a spoon. Make sense? When the mixture has reached this consistency, remove it from the heat and let it cool.

 Preheat oven to 375.

When it's a little warmer than room temperature, add filling to pie crusts and cover with second pie crust for topping. If you're making a regular AND a spicy pie, make sure to mark them appropriately. I usually cut slits in the pie in a certain way to distinguish one from the other.

Place in oven and bake until the crust is nice and brown (approximately 45-60 minutes).

Naturally let it cool before you take a bite, but eat it warm. You just don't get the full effect of the awesomeness when it's served cold. I make my pies Tuesday nights when I plan on serving them for Thanksgiving and I just reheat in the oven on the day of.

Tips:

• Place the pies on a large cookie baking sheet, or a layer of tin toil when they go in the oven. There's a strong chance that they could overflow a bit and drip on your oven. 
• If the top starts cooking too fast, cover the top with tin foil for a while in the oven to keep from burning.
• You can also add a crumble instead of a top crust and the pie turns out just as amazing!

Thanksgiving Traditions

I was talking to one of my best friends, Chrissy, today about getting ready for Thanksgiving. I often forget that everyone doesn't have the same holiday traditions as us. Talking about my holiday traditions also made me miss living in Utah.

Thanksgiving among my family is not a sit down dinner event. Thanksgiving begins early in the morning when we bundle up in the car and begin the drive all over town. The times of meals may vary, but the events last hours long anyways, so you're allowed to show up late. My older sister, the Italian in the family, makes a lemon herb turkey with the most amazing Italian seasoned stuffing you've ever had in your life. My aunt Debbie used to host the big meal, but now she is responsible for bringing her famous cranberries to each and every table.

Around lunchtime, we head over to my Grandmothers house, or Q4U, a restaurant owned by my aunt Becci and uncle T. My Dad's side of the family gathered together for that good old southern home cooking. Grandma makes about a dozen pies and hopefully her creamed pea salad that makes me tear up just thinking about it. The boys will discuss sports while the female cousins will get together to figure out who has the most impressive rack.

When it's time for dinner, we drive to visit more extended family. My uncle Joe and his wife Kathy invite the family over to Kathy's sisters house, where the two families gather together. I remember being young enough to recall only one table. Now there are three. The first generation gathers in the official dining room, and we, the second generation sit in front of the television, stuffed together close enough to be able to pick off of one anothers plates. And then the little ones sit at the kids table in the corner. We all stay to help clean up, after seconds of course.

In New Mexico (years previous to this one) Matt and I would drive over to Motherly's house where her other children from northern New Mexico and even some from Texas have driven down. Other inlaws come as well. My cousin Tina's mother brings her homemade German potato salad and baked mac n cheese. The women manage everything in the kitchen while the older men watch Football in the living room. The younger boys are outside on the front lawn tossing the pig skin around until the food is ready, and then we all watch the game together. We trade funny stories about one another, and sometimes even play a few games (as long as they are embarrassing.)

In previous years, we used to go to Matt's parents house for Thanksgiving. But now that honor has been passed to me. Matt's brother and sister in law usually spend the day with her family, and sometimes we all go as well. My sister in law Megan makes a cheese ball that is just amazing. My mother in law loved it so much she replicates it on a monthly (if not weekly) basis.

Last year Matt took over Thanksgiving and raised the bar, like . . . massively.

This year we'll be hosting Thanksgiving again where soul food meets the southwest with an Irish flare. Bacon and herb butter stuffed turkey, hot orchard apple spice pies, chocolate chip pumpkin cookies, colcannon, green bean casserole, and of course my mother in law will bring her brown sugar and maple glazed sweet potatoes.

It's odd only having one Thanksgiving this year, but as long as it involves good food, good friends and family, the message of gratitude and the hope that the Cowboys will lose . . . then it's a traditional Thanksgiving for me.

The Trouble with Luggage and Airports

The last week of December, I'll be going to Denver.

I don't even think I have proper luggage. I could of course head over to my favourite place, CSN to get some fancy luggage, cause they've got everything from rolling bags to stylish briefcases. I'm looking at the site right now as I type this. I'm envious of people who have pretty luggage like this cause seriously, I usually have a backpack as my carry on and an old suitcase that once belonged to my Grandmother.

That suitcase is now sitting out on my front porch because it was recently found buried in the depths of my in laws garage and I'm certain that spiders got in it somehow. Just because spiders are out to get me all the time. You have to be alert 24/7. Since we never really travel, we had apparently been using the suitcase for storage of just random crap cause whenever we move, we skip the whole organized box packing and go straight to storing our junk in whatever receptacle we can find. In this situation, a suitcase.

Matt's mother insisted that we go through all the junk we left at their house because they were getting ready for a garage sale and wanted our crap to either be sold or taken away regardless. I was eager to toss the suitcase in the garbage myself (because of the potential spiders) but Matt insisted that we could have stored something valuable in it.

Once the case was opened, I was surprised to see an old Family Guy trivia game, a blanket that turned into a pillow, and among the action figures from Matt's childhood that we've lugged around with us these past 6 years of marriage, I spotted something oddly familiar.

"Shut the suitcase!" I shouted and then quickly leaped in front of my mother in law, thus blocking her vision.

"What's in the bag?" She asked.

"Hey, look at that!" I shouted and pointed in the opposite direction, kicking my foot backwards to point to the item in the suitcase that needed to be immediately hidden from sight.

Being the good Mom that she is, she did as she was told and turned away in order for Matt to quickly remove the secret item from the case and hide it in our car.

When he gave the clear for me to reopen the suitcase, I did so only to find the same secret item staring me right in the face. I screamed, jumped and repeated the process of keeping my mother in law in the dark by dramatically waving my hands in front of her face in order to disorient her and keep her eyes preoccupied while I proceeded to yell at Matt.

"I didn't see that there was another one!" He shouted back and then removed the item.

"What are you two hiding from me?" She asked.

"Certainly not sex toys that we got from a friend for our wedding six years ago and then apparently forgot about and shoved in a suitcase and left in your garage for the past four years."

No. Certainly not that.

So when I begin packing for my trip to Denver, I will need to double check the items in my suitcase. Cause I have a feeling that since TSA will probably end up trying to molest me anyway, finding a sex toy in my belongings during the luggage scan will only add to the problem.

In regards to the whole TSA issues that have gone public lately, I'm not even sure if my airport has those scanners right now. I think it's ridiculous some of the things that certain passengers have had to deal with in regards to the new "security" measures. I'm still wondering why we're not hiring Tim Roth to look for terrorists in the crowds. From what I've seen, he's pretty good at it. And he's sexy British. I'd much rather have Tim Roth accuse me of lying than have some angry TSA agent try to fondle my rack claiming that I could be hiding explosives in my cleavage.

I've never been to a Denver airport either. I wonder if their agents will be equally fascinated with my orifices. My guess is yes. Because I'm pretty hot regardless of what state I'm in.

I'll be traveling alone, which is really depressing because since Denver is also called the Mile High City because it's a mile above sea level. But since Matt is staying in New Mexico, that drastically limits my chances of getting in the mile high club.

Unless TSA hires Nathan Fillion. 

In which case, Matt and I have an understanding.

Self Esteem Saturday: Out of the Closet

Featuring Kimberly, from bugaboo, mini mr & me

I’m in kindergarten. The girl who sits at my table is laughing with her friend about the shirt I’m wearing. It happens to be a hand-me-down from my brother. I am embarrassed.

I’m in fourth grade and wear my brand new (and totally rad) hot pink glasses to my school holiday concert for the first time. The boys behind me laugh their heads off and call me four eyes. A boy a year older than me tells me I even LOOK like a bookworm now. Suddenly I don’t feel so cool.

I’m in fifth grade. Two boys from my class follow me all the way home, taunting me and making crude and revolting comments regarding me and another boy in our class - whom I hate. I am mortified - I’ve never even heard some of the phrases they use. I cry all the way home.

I’m eleven. The boy who lives across the street makes fun of me for having hairy legs. He tells me I look like a monkey. I go home and tell my mom she has to teach me to shave.

I’m in sixth grade and walk home in front of a boy two years older than me. He begins to yell insults and I try to ignore him. I walk faster. So does he. He starts to throw things at me. A pine cone strikes my cheek so hard it gets stuck for a moment. I walk the rest of the way home with a bloody, stinging cheek, but manage not to cry until I’m in my living room.

I’m 13 and a girl tells everyone in class that I’m going to Hell because I’m a Mormon. She tells them I don’t believe in Christ or the Bible. I’m confused. I never knew people thought that. I try to stand up for myself but no one’s listening.

I’m a freshman in high school and I’m at a dance with my biggest crush ever. A girl I used to be friends with comes up behind me and spits her pepsi all over my hair. I guess she was upset that he went with me and not her. I wash my hair in the bathroom and go back to find her dancing with him.

I’m 16 and have never had a boyfriend. I’ve never been kissed. I’m the only one of my friends.
I wonder what’s wrong with me.

And the stories continue. Stories much like yours. Stories worse than yours. Stories nowhere near as bad as yours... but that’s not the point. The point is that we all have something in common. Somewhere, at some time, someone or something has made us feel small. Sad. Ugly. Stupid. Just plain bad.

Through every disappointment, big or small, I feel as if it is my fault. I am not as pretty as, as skinny as, as smart as, my friends. I have acne, huge glasses, crooked teeth, thick ankles. I fail tests. I lose contests. I audition for plays and am rejected. My fiance calls off our wedding. I’m lied to, manipulated, left drained - a shell of someone I thought I was.

The truth is that I’m a closet no self-esteemer.

I have never had good self esteem. My body image has never been very healthy. Why? Because someone in elementary school made fun of my freckles? Because I got dumped time and time again? Because I don’t look anything like the models and actresses on TV or in the movies? Yes.

And no.

All of these things contribute to the self-image I built in my head, sure. It’s hard to ignore cruel comments and jokes, no matter how many times your mom tells you they don’t mean anything; to stop caring what people think. But I believe a greater evil is at work than the gangly (and probably insecure) boy across the street.

See, I’ve been taught since I was young that I am a child of a very loving Heavenly Father. I was created in His image and He knows and loves me. He gave me talents and abilities and supports me in my need. Did I believe this? Yes - all of it. I still do. So how can I feel so unloved and insecure? Why do I feel useless and ugly?

Well, I was also taught that there is an opposition in all things - and the greatest opposition we’ll face in this life is The Adversary. He delights in my despair. He laughs when I feel hopeless. His greatest joy would be in watching me drop so low I lose hope completely. Hope in God, Eternity, and blessings to come. Then he will win. So he works at my inadequacies. He uses them to his advantage. He needles and needles me.

But I really can’t blame it all on him, either. Over time, I’ve learned what I never would have admitted earlier in life. And that is this: A lot of this rests on me. A lot of this is MY doing. Yes, I have - along with society - been conditioned to expect certain things of myself. But it is me alone who judges so harshly when I fall short. Yes, I’ve battled teasing and failure and health issues and depression. So many of us have. It is me alone who internalizes criticism, who remembers taunts best forgotten, who believes the bad and never the good.

And it is me alone who continues - to this day - to compare myself to other people, real and fictitious. Yes, I said fictitious. You know you have an issue when you say to yourself, “Wow. Sydney Bristow is quite possibly the most amazing person alive. Why can’t I be like her?” or “If only I had powers like Vin.” (And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go watch Alias on hulu and read the Mistborn series. Now. I’ll wait right here for you. Done? OK.)

Comparing yourself to others is a sure way to completely and totally lose sight of who you are. It is the best way to make yourself feel as if you will never measure up. Because you’re absolutely right. You WON’T ever be like that person. You are you. And when you try to be someone else, you inevitably and epically fail. But there it is: the constant urge to be beautiful, smart, talented and make my parents proud, like my older sister or be in honors history classes like my friend or receive a full- ride scholarship to college due to a stellar GPA like my husband. Why do I do this to myself?

So I’m a theatre major. An actor by nature. That means I have an excuse for being overly-emotional, melodramatic, loud and animated. It also means I’m a magnet for rejection, criticism, teasing, and being overly-emotional, melodramatic, loud and animated. But the upside is that in moments of stress or vulnerability, I’ve always been able to fall back on my training. And this is why I’m a “closet” no self-esteemer. Because people are always so shocked to find out my dirty little “no confidence” secret. I fool them all. Sometimes I fool them too well, because I’ve been seen as a snob by some until they get to know me. (So I guess I question whether that’s really an upside or not?)

If I’m being honest with myself, I know that the times in my life when I was happiest, were the times I was truest to ME. Not the me I thought I should be, but the me I really was. The theatre major who bounced back from crummy auditions, the actor who worked hard to get cast and achieved the results she wanted. The girl who laughed too loudly and freely, who cried too openly, who wasn’t ashamed to show emotions and knew that being dramatic was her strength. The optimist who loved so hard and so easily her heart was broken a million times. The person who forgot about what others thought and what others said and just lived and loved and laughed. The me who focused on other people solely as OTHER PEOPLE - people to connect with and help and bolster and love - just as I wanted others to do for me - instead of viewing them as competition or critics or impossibly high standards.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had periods of great happiness and joy in my life. I have had moments of confidence. I’ve felt loved and needed. I am so lucky in so many ways. I’ve always wanted a happy marriage with my best friend. And I have that. I’ve always wanted to be a mama. And I’ve got some adorable kids. I’m close to my family whom I consider my greatest friends. I know a lot of people may look at my life as “charmed.” Maybe it is. But the spectacular moments and wonderful blessings don’t cancel out the image I have in my head.

With age comes wisdom. And because I understand myself better now, and understand my personal pitfalls and the contributing factors to my negative self esteem, I should be completely cured. Right?

With each new role in life, there are added stressors. With each new experience there are more expectations. Why can’t I be a better wife? Why can’t I be more supportive? Why can’t I keep my house clean? Why am I so impatient with the kids? Why do I let my two year old get the better of me? Why can’t I be more fun? Why can’t I lose just 20 pounds? (ok, that last one doesn’t really have to do with new roles in life... aside from the fact that we all know the best way to gain weight is to get married...)

When I became a stay at home mom, I felt pressure from all sides... I should contribute more to my household. I should bring in some sort of income. I should be empowered by working. I shouldn’t be satisfied by “just” being a babysitter. On the other hand, I felt torn up by other stay at home moms who had everything together. I should be homeschooling my kids starting at 18 months. I should never let them have sugar. I should only redirect, never reprimand. I should never lose my temper. I should always be fun and loving and laugh and praise my children. I should love every. single. moment. And I don’t. (Though I do love many of them...)

Well, now that I’m out of the closet, I may as well tell you that blogging is no different for me than any other experience in my life. When I started blogging, another role was added. I’m a blogger. I felt measured by followers and comments. When I got my first follower who was not related to me or real-life friends with me I was shocked and elated. And I became an addict. And although I love blogging, it does make me even more aware of my tendency to be overly critical of myself. If I don’t have any emails after I
post, I wonder why no one is commenting. Don’t they like me anymore? Isn’t anyone really following me? I admit to checking Google Analytics (though not obsessively, I promise). Why do I have a high bounce back rate? Why are people viewing this and not that? Why aren’t more people staying to look around? Why don’t you like me???? And I hate that. I have to take a step back and remind myself why I do this blogging thing in the first place. Yes, I love my followers (they’re like chocolate, or pepsi) (Oh, I know you know what I mean...), and yes I love comments and connecting with people. But I blog because I love to create. And that should be good enough for me.

I should be good enough for me.

I just can’t live up to unrealistic expectations or romanticized images in my head. And I struggle, obviously. But I’ve found a few things that help de-romanticize what I “should be” and keep me focused on who I am, which is really who I want to be.

Here’s my top ten list.

1. Do things I love. I love to act. I miss this. Right now, it’s not really a viable option in my life, but I can keep it alive by watching live theatre or reading plays. I love to write. Ever since I was in second grade. When I felt I’d lost my flair for writing I started blogging. I love my blog. I love to create. This is why I craft, sew, paint, sing. And why my blog is what it is. I try to make all of these hobbies and loves as much a part of my life as possible (while juggling other duties, of course. Like dishes. What am I saying... we all know there’s been a huge pile of dishes up in the sink since Monday.)
   
2. Be around people I love. I know this seems like common sense, but often we accept subpar friendships or acquaintanceships for a number of reasons - proximity, lack of options, guilt, feeling unworthy of anything better... blah, blah... But the real point is that I need to separate myself from negativity and surround myself with the positive. I’m lucky to have a supportive family and a few loving friends.
    
3. Be open with hubby about everything. Everyone needs someone to talk to. Someone to keep them in check. Someone to offer advice. Someone to say, “Hey, you aren’t allowed to say things like that about yourself in this house.” (which comes out of my hubby’s mouth at least once a month). Someone to just listen. Because they care. Hubby, Mom, friend, counselor... it doesn’t matter who. Being open just helps.
    
4. Allow myself to feel. Even if that means crying. Even if that means crying three days in a row. Even if it means being enraged. Or going out into the garage to scream in order to avoid screaming at the kids. I used to be picked on a lot for my emotional nature. Now I embrace it. And I don’t care who sees it. I consider it one of my strengths. Not everyone can allow themselves to cry in front of a huge room of people. But I sure can.
    
5. Keep busy. I feel utterly awful with myself on the days I am unproductive. In any capacity. I must get some cleaning done, some playing with the kids done, some time with the hubby done, something creative done, EVERY DAY. If I laze on the couch all day, I feel horrendous. Like a beast. Even my husband can tell when I’ve had a lazy day. Not that I never relax. That would be silly.
    
6. On the same note, clean. Organize. Me, my house, all of it. You know how they say that a clean house is a happy house? Ok, I don’t know who actually says that except for maybe June Cleaver, but I can attest that it’s true. Not because my house is clean. Just the opposite, actually. And while we are happy as a family even with a messy house, I can tell you that the state of my psyche directly correlates to the level of disorganization around me. And as for the me part, well who DOESN’T feel better after a shower?
    
7. Drink lots of Pepsi. Ok, no, it doesn’t really help with my self-esteem. Actually, it’s probably part of the issue since it contributes to my weight gain. But some days you just need one.
    
8. Make fun of myself. I know, I know. If done in excess this is unhealthy, and actually pretty annoying. But there’s nothing wrong with a bit of self-deprecation as long as it’s funny, right? Besides, we all need to be able to laugh at our mistakes and then carry on.
    
9. Most importantly, remember that there are people who care about me. Not the weird built up me in my head, but ME. I have to remind myself of this. I have to remind myself all the time that there are some people who really know me - and they love me in spite of it. (Or because of it?)
    
10. Pray. I know that not everyone is a religious type. I know we are all at various stages with our faith or spirituality. But this is what has worked for me. Through prayer, I’ve been able to feel Heavenly Father’s love for me, and that has helped me more than anything. Through prayer, I’ve been able to catch glimpses of the way Heavenly Father sees me. And THAT is simply miraculous. Through prayer I’ve been able to gain strength. Because whatever I am lacking, the Lord will make up for. I know, I know. It’s not a belief that’s common to us all, but it’s one that buoys me up when nothing else will.

It would be easy for me to end with another list - one a mile long of things I hate about myself, or things I need to do better. But Jia asked in an email to me what I truly loved about myself. And that made me pause. Why is it so difficult to honestly answer that question? Well, for one, because I tend to focus on the opposite, of course. But also because I’ve been taught to be modest. And I hope this small list of loves doesn’t translate into being prideful or braggy.

I love my green eyes. I am the only one of my siblings that got my dad’s eyes. And I like them. I love my dramatic flair. I don’t ever feel anything halfway - it’s all or nothing - I think it’s a strength, not a weakness. I love my kids. I know, I know. They aren’t ME... but in a way they kind of are. They have parts of me. And I define myself at least partially as “mom.” I love my honesty. Sometimes it’s hard to be honest. Sometimes I
don’t want to be. But I usually am anyway. Even with my failures.

I think we all need a little list like this that we can look at from time to time. A love letter to yourself, just so you don’t forget that that’s what you should be aiming for.

---

Reading Kimberly's blog, it's so easy to get caught up in the beauty of her. Regardless of how she sometimes feels about herself, Kimberly has a way of capturing the beauty of the world and people around her, and I think that strongly reflects on her as well.

I agree with Kimberly that we should all have lists to remind us to take care of ourselves, physically, emotionally and spiritually. And love letter to yourself every now and then can't hurt one bit. 

Each week we will use Self Esteem Saturdays to spread joy and love to one another.  Please show love for Kimberly in the comments below, for being brave and putting herself out there on display to the world. 


If you are interested in being featured on Self Esteem Saturdays, please send an email with the title  "Self Esteem Saturday" to untypicallyjia@gmail.com

This One's for the Girls

Seriously. If I have any male readers, you would do best to go play video games right now. Tell your wives I gave you permission. They'll understand. Because if you do stick around, you'll be the unpleasant reader of the subject matter of menstruation. 

Right then, they all gone now? I figured as much.

I received an email recently from someone asking me about my health progress as they observed I was on a path to losing weight. They also mentioned my complaint of infertility and offered the solution that somehow the two could be connected. Since they weren't a regular reader (and in fact offered me diet pills at the end of the email) I had no problem emailing back with a few choice four letter words, as well as some that I made up on my very own.

But it did bring about a question. I get emails from time to time from other readers who are over weight, have health issues they are dealing with, and even those who have dealt - at one time or another - with infertility. Many have been properly diagnosed with things like PCOS (poly cystic ovarian syndrome), tilted uterus, hormone imbalance, or like me they've had twelve different doctors tell them twelve different things and they've had to just figure it out themselves.

So here's a bit of my story.

During the course of our marriage, Matt and I have never been pregnant. Year one we were told to just keep trying. Year two we were told that I was too overweight to conceive. Six months later we were told that I was the problem (after no tests or examination) and I needed fertility drugs. Year three a doctor diagnosed me with PCOS (again without testing). The medication he put me on then had be bedridden for a full month. Year four it was suspected that I had a brain tumor causing hormonal imbalances. I didn't have a brain tumor, and my doctor tried to make me vegan instead. It usually comes back to my weight, which makes sense. Obesity causes hormonal imbalances. Obesity causes a lot of problems. But the hormonal imbalance was there before the weight gain.

Certainly if I lost the weight, things could change. But I have many reasons why it's hard. One of which is because I'm fairly anemic and that kills my energy. I've noticed it a lot lately over the last few months especially. I sleep a lot, and I'm tired most of the time I'm awake. Mild exercise feels like an overload, and frankly, daylight savings is not helping my sleep regularity.

It's hard to explain to people what's wrong when you can't get pregnant. Especially when you don't have all the answers. So I'll show you. Most women know how to track their cycles. There are computer programs to even help. Some color their calendars pink when it's "that time" and add numbers by the days so they know how much longer it'll last. 5-7 days is the usual. I began tracking mid September.

Anyone see a pattern? I'm so tired. Tired of being tired and tired of being questioned about my health. Tired of being told that if I wanted it badly enough I could do anything. It could be a number of things. A number of things most doctors won't take into consideration because they ignore the zebra and shoot straight for the horse. I'm overweight. It's a simple answer.

But being overweight and struggling with infertility is not simple.
There's also not a simple fix.
It takes hard work.
It takes a strong support system.
It takes a dramatic amount of faith and hope.

And I am not alone.

PS: This is not a pity post. Just informative. Just me venting. Hell, it's just me bitching a little cause we all need that sometimes. So anyone who want to post comments saying "Sorry" and other nonsense like that can feel free to leave your favourite joke instead.

Camera Phones Are Great! Especially When You're Stupid and Leave Your Real Camera at Home

I totally meant to take more pictures this week to post for today. I really meant to. Like for instance today I made two apple pies. I made the best damn apple pie you've ever shoved into your face. My apple pie is like sex in your mouth.

But I didn't take any pictures of it.
Because I am against pornography.

I do however have these pictures. Enjoy.

Willow sitting on the top of the couch
Instead of on the couch (or the floor)
like a normal dog.

The two things I love most in this world:
My husband and
A Pepsi

Our car being towed a few months back
when our clutch went out in the middle of a Walmart parking lot
Good times.

Rare footage of the wild Pug species sleeping
Never before caught on tape as most Pugs
spend their days barking, jumping, running and sneezing.

When you're married to me you get packed lunches
that come with a fancy theme for your co-workers to tease you about.

Nephew crying. He's one month old and already feeling it.

My sister changing a diaper.
She didn't throw up once.
Such a pro.

The Motherly returned to New Mexico for one night.
She spent it slobbering kisses over the baby
while my sister and I looked at Twilight parody videos.

Me feeding my nephew.
My boobs came along for the ride.

When I complained about my over abundance of cleavage
Motherly said, "It's okay. Sex sells."
This is why she's one of my favourite parents.

Self Esteem Saturday: Changing 'The Playground Education'

Featuring Charlie, from Operation Shrink Charlie's Big Butt

 So a few days (er…weeks)(Ok, months actually) ago, Jia asked me to write about body image.

And I stalled and procrastinated as long as I could. Because although I have a weight loss blog, and discuss my body in depth often, talking about my body image makes me very uncomfortable.

Charlie, before she began
her weight loss journey

Probably because I don’t have a healthy body image.

I’m not sure how many of us have a healthy view of ourselves. From the time we can remember, we are given toys to play with that show us unrealistic sizes and shapes of a woman’s body. (Seriously, Barbs, if your boobs were that size naturally, no way would they be up there. They’d be down low. Near your bellybutton. I know this for a fact.)(And unless you have a rib removed, your waist can never be that small. Looked into it. Insurance doesn’t cover the procedure, either.)

We also are given what I like to call “The Playground Education.” Fat girls get picked last. They get teased. They cry, and then teachers tell them platitudes like “just ignore the other kids.” I learned it was harder to hear the voices of mean kids if I shoved 4 twinkies in my mouth. That’s what I learned on the playground.

Then we hit puberty. All of a sudden, everything we thought we knew about the bodies we hated so much begins to change and morph into a whole new body. And with our already distorted body image, we see the widening of our hips as getting fat. Our blossoming bosoms as embarrassing. And off we go into the world of dating, where boys are cruel, and popular girls are even crueler.

We keep tumbling into the changes of life, one right into the next. Before you know it-

YOU ARE 30. (…ISH…)

And your body image is no better than when you were 8.

I have come a long way on this whole weight loss journey. I’ve changed so much on the outside- losing inches and flab, and am starting to tone up. But do I feel different?

Despite losing 60+ pounds,
Charlie still has body image issues

I dunno. A little. But I still consider myself a bonafide fat chick.

And it’s weird, because I hear comments from girls who are a little bigger, and they tell me how they would love to be as thin as me. Inside my head, I’m screaming “We are exactly the same!!! Can’t you see that?”

My body image is stuck on being fat.

To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ll ever recover from this. Some days, I can feel confident about what I have accomplished. I feel like queen of the dieting world. But all it takes it standing next to one skinny mini who has never been fat a day in her life, and I immediately feel like the Goodyear blimp. I’m reminded of everything I learned from Barbs and on the playground. Or while going stag to homecoming.

I’m reminded that I am set apart from the pack.

HOWEVER (You knew there was going to be a however! Like I’m going to let this be a depressing post…) being set apart isn’t so bad. For starters, I can have a conversation with anybody. Have you ever met one of those people who was so good looking (and knew it) that they can’t really talk to someone “beneath” them? Heck, I don’t have that problem at all! In fact, because I’m not trying to act like the sexiest person in the room or be uppity, my personality shines through. In a world of people who are forced to fit into convenient predictable boxes, I have no fear of being a wild card. And trust me, being the wild card is a whole lot of fun! You can surprise people with wit, intelligence, whatever you have got in your personality arsenal, WORK IT! Just because you aren’t confident with your body doesn’t mean you have to be the wall flower!

Another perk of being unsure of how you measure up is the amount of compassion you will have. We have all been that girl, hiding in the bathroom at the party, scared to face the life on the other side. NOW, when you see someone else doing it, you can reach out. Cause we know how it feels. Some of the best friends I have made are women who don’t like their bodies. But around me, they can be themselves. (Their selfs? Them selves? Them selfs? Who the heck knows?!?) But the friendships you create (Like me and whoreface Jia) will last a life time. We get each other. We are both scared of the world, but when we have each other’s back, the world isn’t so scary. No matter what we look like.

I wish I could tell you I am a sexy beast. Right now, I don’t feel like that at all. (Then again, I’m riding the kotex pony this week, so whateves. Wouldn’t do me any good if I DID feel sexy!) But I can tell you that I love who I am. Inside. I’m learning to love the outside too, but I’ve got a ways to go. (And as long as I fight this fight, stock prices for Lycra will continue to rise.)

The more I empower the inside of me- with my personality and my compassion- the more willing I become to work on the outside. It can only get better from here, right? 

---

When you read Charlie's blog about her weight loss journey, you'll not only witness the amazing strength that a woman has when making great physical changes, but emotional changes as well. Charlie is honest (almost unbearably so) and shows that changing your physical appearance does not automatically give you an ego boost. It's a process and you have to work on the inside as well. She also proves that you don't have to be the media's idea of perfection in order to be gorgeous.

I suggest we all be a little like Charlie in our own quest for improving our love for ourselves, and not fear being a wild card!

Charlie, you are great for doing this! You are inspiring, beautiful and I love you too, whoreface.

Each week we will use Self Esteem Saturdays to spread joy and love to one another.  Please show love for Charlie in the comments below, for being brave and putting herself out there on display to the world. 

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