Okay...I'm moving. I'm setting up camp at wordpress for all of it's fab free features...like now I can tag and categorize and have multiple pages...some of which are not set up yet...so cut me some slack on that.
So here it is: www.cmamarun.wordpress.com
and please change it in your fave's or wherever you keep the link, Graci!
I posted a new entry tonight, and if you need a laugh, you should check it out.
Thanks everyone for all of your support and comments. Stay tuned!
-Chelsea
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Rat Race
I was having a lovely dream this morning involving Brad Pitt playing an Olympic diver. I was and "extra" on set and got to stand by him while he was wearing a tiny nothing of a bathing suit....sigh....then Lucas woke up. 6am never seemed so lame. Saying good-bye to Brad, I hauled out of bed to get the babble monster next door.
Oh, these boys, full of hugs in the mornings and by the evening taunting each other to no end. Lately, I feel like I should have a few tape recorders around so I can just hit "play" as I get tired of repeating the same refrain every evening:
"Stop kicking your brother...Lucas, no hit...David, go high if you don't want him to bother you...okay, you are being too loud....AB-SOOO-LUTE-LY NOT, that is unacceptable behavior....."
The absence of Kiel during the day has had the boys and I re-inventing the wheel a bit this week, and I think, is part of the ramped up behavior. I know we'll work it out. It may take another week or two, but we'll get our act together again. We always do.
Oh, these boys, full of hugs in the mornings and by the evening taunting each other to no end. Lately, I feel like I should have a few tape recorders around so I can just hit "play" as I get tired of repeating the same refrain every evening:
"Stop kicking your brother...Lucas, no hit...David, go high if you don't want him to bother you...okay, you are being too loud....AB-SOOO-LUTE-LY NOT, that is unacceptable behavior....."
The absence of Kiel during the day has had the boys and I re-inventing the wheel a bit this week, and I think, is part of the ramped up behavior. I know we'll work it out. It may take another week or two, but we'll get our act together again. We always do.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Not a motorcycle mama-yet.
So I drove into Eagle River Valley this morning with the kids in tow, headed toward the Nature Center for pre-school adventure time. The sun peeked through the heavy drifting clouds and I thought about how many times I'd been down that beautiful road, and how one of my first trips was on a Harley.
Yeah. A Harley. I've been on a motorcycle exactly four times. My first time was on my uncle Shawn's powder blue hog...for a picture only. (Local law had said he couldn't ride it until he put a muffler on-hence the photo op.) I was maybe 15 at the time, it was hot, I was in these remarkably silly black and white plaid shorts, but sitting on that bike was cool, and my tan legs looked great. I decided then that someday I'd ride one. No other motorcycle would do. It had to be a Harley.
Cut to Seward, Alaska, Fourth of July, 1990-my first trip sans parents. Seward is the place to be on the Fourth if you are in Alaska, and back then, all the camping was still in town, so there was party everywhere. It was a hot, sunny day and my friends and I were wandering through the market area. We bashfully went into a stall that had all of this tawdry underwear hanging from the ceiling. Much to my girlfriend's mortification and laughter, I slipped a pair off of the clothesline and laid down a tenner. I said, "I'm gonna wear these the first time I ride a Harley." They were black string bikini's: Harley Honey and a rose graced the rear. I didn't know when, or with who, but I knew they would sit in my drawer until an urban knight showed up to carry me away.
Cut to summer 1991. I come home after work and my dad has a grin on his face. One of his friends just got a new bike and both of them were sitting in our driveway. I made up some excuse to go inside, slip those panties on, and run back out, ready to saddle up. John took me up Eagle River Road. It was awesome, and weird. I mean, a 40 something guy on a touring bike wasn't my initial thought when I purchased those cheap bikini beauties, but, beggars can't be choosers. After that, the panties were free game. They tended to creep, so mostly, they served to remind me of that first ride.
My next ride was on a BMW, which was as smooth, and cool, as the guy who rode it. The fourth and last time I got on a bike was in Cleveland. A smaller bike, and a big man; neither of them took me far.
There is a mystique that accompanies a motorcycle that I still want to be a part of. There is a coolness, a certain confidence that a bike brings...cowboys come to mind, just a different kind of horse is all. My husband talks of his riding days-of the freedom, the open road, the great, and the stupid things he did. He was a single man then. He says he's learned a few things. He talks of when he can get another one, when we can ride together. I've officially said yes, and still, the kids have to be grown. Retirement-it seems, is a long way off. I'd like to sit behind him, my arms wrapped around his waist, and head to the mountains, just to feel the sun, the wind, and the rumble of the wheels underneath the seat. To be in that moment, open, vulnerable, sexy, with the one you love, would be perfect. So, if you come across any panties...let me know, and someday, we'll see you on the road.
Yeah. A Harley. I've been on a motorcycle exactly four times. My first time was on my uncle Shawn's powder blue hog...for a picture only. (Local law had said he couldn't ride it until he put a muffler on-hence the photo op.) I was maybe 15 at the time, it was hot, I was in these remarkably silly black and white plaid shorts, but sitting on that bike was cool, and my tan legs looked great. I decided then that someday I'd ride one. No other motorcycle would do. It had to be a Harley.
Cut to Seward, Alaska, Fourth of July, 1990-my first trip sans parents. Seward is the place to be on the Fourth if you are in Alaska, and back then, all the camping was still in town, so there was party everywhere. It was a hot, sunny day and my friends and I were wandering through the market area. We bashfully went into a stall that had all of this tawdry underwear hanging from the ceiling. Much to my girlfriend's mortification and laughter, I slipped a pair off of the clothesline and laid down a tenner. I said, "I'm gonna wear these the first time I ride a Harley." They were black string bikini's: Harley Honey and a rose graced the rear. I didn't know when, or with who, but I knew they would sit in my drawer until an urban knight showed up to carry me away.
Cut to summer 1991. I come home after work and my dad has a grin on his face. One of his friends just got a new bike and both of them were sitting in our driveway. I made up some excuse to go inside, slip those panties on, and run back out, ready to saddle up. John took me up Eagle River Road. It was awesome, and weird. I mean, a 40 something guy on a touring bike wasn't my initial thought when I purchased those cheap bikini beauties, but, beggars can't be choosers. After that, the panties were free game. They tended to creep, so mostly, they served to remind me of that first ride.
My next ride was on a BMW, which was as smooth, and cool, as the guy who rode it. The fourth and last time I got on a bike was in Cleveland. A smaller bike, and a big man; neither of them took me far.
There is a mystique that accompanies a motorcycle that I still want to be a part of. There is a coolness, a certain confidence that a bike brings...cowboys come to mind, just a different kind of horse is all. My husband talks of his riding days-of the freedom, the open road, the great, and the stupid things he did. He was a single man then. He says he's learned a few things. He talks of when he can get another one, when we can ride together. I've officially said yes, and still, the kids have to be grown. Retirement-it seems, is a long way off. I'd like to sit behind him, my arms wrapped around his waist, and head to the mountains, just to feel the sun, the wind, and the rumble of the wheels underneath the seat. To be in that moment, open, vulnerable, sexy, with the one you love, would be perfect. So, if you come across any panties...let me know, and someday, we'll see you on the road.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
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