Today.

I woke up, put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes and brought the 4-year-old to pre-school.

No make-up. Hair barely brushed.

I dropped her off, got back into my car and decided to spend the next 3 hours shopping for Shelbi’s (13 th) birthday coming up this Sunday.

And while I was shopping for perfume, mascara (this is what my 13-year-old dreams of), jewelry, and whatever . . . . . .I kept catching glimpses of myself in the mirror.

Black circles under my eyes. Frumpy, baggy jeans. A bit sloppy. A lot unkempt. Every time I saw myself, I became a little more worried.

I decided to take a little break, and walked over to Starbucks. I ordered a Hot Zen Green Tea, and then added lots of sugar and cream. I plopped down in a fat leather chair and retrieved my 20 page long list that my daughter gave me highlighting her every want and wish for her birthday. And as I was perusing it over, I looked over my shoulder and saw . . . . the most lovely woman.

Like seriously, if I had to narrow it down. . .

Exactly, my ideal self, if I could match on the outside how I feel on the inside.

She was young-ish. Early to mid-thirties . . . maybe.

Skinny jeans. Tapered dark green sweater with a white t-shirt underneath. Ballet shoes. Cute non-pretentious luggage colored hobo handbag. Hair in a pony. And a darling little 3-year-old, shiny and squeaky clean, as her companion.

Classy. Classy. Classy.

I should do that.

Why don’t I do that?

All this shopping for my kid, and clearly her want to look, and smell, and feel her best has got me thinking. . . . . .When did I stop caring?

And in that moment, I decided to care a little bit more.

I finished shopping. I bought myself some make-up, and picked up the 4-year-old.

I drove over to the car wash, and washed my ride. Vacuumed it out, because. . .my true self. . . .my classy real self. . .likes a clean, sparkly car.

I went home and took a shower.

Washed my hair.

Slipped on jeans (just keeping it real) a tighter, fitted blouse, and earings. Put make-up on and finished my day.

That night, while I was falling asleep on the couch, my husband leaned over me and gave me a kiss. “Did you wash your hair?” he asked.

“yup.”

“It looks nice.”

And it did. Now hopefully, I’ll remember to do it all again tomorrow.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I am as serious as a heart attack.

When I was shopping, and I looked into the mirror, I gagged a little.

Like. . . .got a little bit of throw up in my mouth.

I don’t know WHAT GOT INTO MY HEAD, that would make me think it was okay to walk out the door that way. I used to care more. Now. . .its like I’m so tired, I can’t be bothered. And I was looking around noticing EVERYBODY. And even the people who weren’t really dressed very nicely, but had on sweats and holey jeans, were cute in their own way.

But not me.

I must do better.

No more throw up in my mouth.

Well. . .

unless it’s Owl Throw Up/ Pellets/ Regurgetation. Then, it’s on like Donkey Kong.

 

Owl Pellets

(Yogurt Clusters with Raisins, Pretzels, and Peanuts)

Ingredients:

½ TB Butter, melted

3.5 oz. of Greek Plain Yogurt

⅛ tsp Vanilla Extract

3 ½ cups of Imperial Powdered Sugar

1 cup golden raisins

1 cup stick pretzels, broken into smaller pieces

1 cup peanuts (your favorite type, I used Spanish)

Directions:

1. In a small saucepan, add yogurt, butter and vanilla and whisk together over low heat until smooth, about 30 seconds.

2. In a medium-sized bowl, combine yogurt mixture and powdered sugar and mix with hand-held blender until thick and creamy. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl, combine the remainder of the ingredients, raisins, pretzels, and peanuts. Slowly add the yogurt icing mixture to the raisin, pretzel, nut mixture. Use a spatula to fold the icing into the mixture. Once the mixture starts to come together and bind (you may not use all the icing) drop by spoonfuls onto an aluminum foil or silpat lined cookie sheet. Transfer to the refrigerator for 2 hours before serving. Refrigerate any leftovers.