The Most Sophisticated Thing I've Ever Peed On...

...came back positive.

Disclaimer:  Not me or my actual test.

That's right folks, I am knocked up.

As I am writing this, I have only told a handful of people.

I didn't even tell Joe I was taking the test.  I just walked out and said, "I have news."  He handled that very well even if I didn't.

Disclaimer:  Not Joe.

I have seen an actual professional doctor and received confirmation that I am indeed "with child."  I am due on July 27th.   And, Mc-Kill-Z, you can rest easy for a while...they only saw one baby.

Note:  1 baby, 3 poses.  Not 3 babies.  Breathe, Mc-Kill-Z!

The Life and Times of a Farmer's Daughter - Part Two

Everyone has creepy baby photos, right?   I find the "I Love You" blocks add an additional level of creepiness. 

 

Also, I am not a redhead.  It's just weird.  These were probably the first awkward photos of me, but be assured that they were not the last.

Apparently, I have always taken interesting photos.

See if you can spot the theme in these next few...

Neenie's Toy Ottomon

The Always Popular Fry Daddy box

With Seth, my cousin, in a random crate.

Can you see the theme?  I think that my whole family thought, "Hey, Karen is small.  Let's shove her in a box!"  

I have only posted a small sampling of the "Karen Shoved in Something" photos.  

Apparently, I became a source of entertainment for my family at a young age.

Perched Upon a Jagged Boulder...Yay?

Nice picture, right?  Notice the puffy eyes.  And yet, an adorable smile.  Don't let it fool you.  I was miserable.  Mom tells me that I cried the whole way to have this picture taken.  I continued to cry once plopped upon that rock.  I can't imagine why I would be miserable.  Dragged into the middle of nowhere to be placed unceremoniously on a jagged boulder under glaring sunlight in clothes that only a deranged 1950's logger would put upon her child.   No reason to be miserable.  None at all.

Why do I have an adorable grin on my face?  Apparently I am susceptible to bribes.  

All Mom had to do to induce me to break into smiles was dangle a bag of M&M's from her hand.  What can I say?  It was chocolate. 

The Life and Times of a Farmer's Daughter - Part One

I am born.

Apparently, I have always been talkative.

Within days of being born, I had already driven my mother to tears and beyond.  The grandparents were called in to calm someone.  Whether it was Mom or me, I'm not sure.  I just liked the sound of my own voice.  Also, I liked my mom.  No one else would do.

 Sexy glasses, Mom.  I won't mention the...is it a housedress?...

There are several stories that still get told on a regular basis at family functions about my early oratory performances. 

For their anniversary, my parents decided to have dinner out.  They left me in the care of my Uncle David.  I was approximately one week old.  He was approximately 12 years old.  I tended to cry at that  age.  A lot.  He was not aware.  As the tale goes, when Mom and Dad got back from their dinner both David and I were bawling.  I think it scarred him for life.

Apparently, I have always had the power to bring others to tears.

Later that summer, Mom and Dad decided to go fishing one afternoon at my grandparent's pond.  They left me at the house with Grandma Lois and poor Uncle David.  Grandma and David were watching a lovely television program.  I was having none of that.  Television rots your brains.  I knew it even then.  Every time they would turn up the volume, I would turn up my own.

Apparently, I have always been stubborn.

I remember none of this.

The earliest memories I do have are strange and have a dreamlike quality.  In fact, I am quite certain that I am actually mistaking some memories for the dreams they actually were.

Did I just blow your mind?

Well, if your brains haven't exploded.  Good.  Keep reading.

Go, Pack, Go!

I grew up watching sports on TV.  My father was a bit of a television dictator.  Basketball, baseball, football, golf, women's softball, drag races, tennis.  We watched it all. 

Sometimes we watched more than one game at a time flipping back and forth every few minutes.  This happened at a greater rate during March Madness, the Olympics, and on Sunday.  Apparently, Sunday is the unofficial official day for the most boring sports on TV. 

Painful.

Kill me now.

Since escaping the grip Dad had on the remote control in my childhood home, I have avoided a great majority of sports.  I still watch quite a bit of the Olympics when they roll around.  I watched some rugby once.  That was interesting.  I like the vocabulary.  Scrum. 

I also watch football.  NFL football.  Green Bay Packer football!  


Yes, I am a Packer fan.  No I am not a Bears fan.  Get over it.  

Most people are fans due to their geography.  People who live near Chicago default to being Bears fans.   People who live in Indiana are Colts fans.  I am not that simple.  

I will admit that before I knew any better I liked Jim McMahon.  He wore sweet sunglasses.

See

When I was about nine years old, our family was going on vacation to Door County, Wisconsin.  Because I was nine-ish and my brother was seven-ish, my parents decided to make the drive in two parts.  This plan gave us time to make a lot of fun stops.  Dad wanted to see Lambeau Field.

It is green.

As we drove into the parking lot, Dad exclaimed, "Ray Nitschke just waved at me!"  Adam and I were confused.  Was this a good thing?  What was a Nitschke?

Obviously, something was up.

Obviously, we were going to find out what that something was.

We parked and followed the crowd across the street to the practice field.  Dad thought that they might be having a scrimmage.  How cool would that have been!  

What was actually happened was even cooler!

It was...

MEET AND PHOTOGRAPH THE PACKERS DAY!!!

So, we met the Packers.  And we had pictures taken with the Packers.  Wouldn't this be a great place to put those pictures...  Mom... wouldn't it?   She says they are somewhere.

My stories of the day will have to suffice.

As I said above, I was nine-ish.  I remember the highlights.  

This was not the Packers of Aaron Rodgers.  This was not the Packers of Brett Favre.  I can't tell you one name of one player that was there that day.  I do remember waiting in a short line to get a young quarterback's autograph.  When we got to the front of the line, he scooped me up and plopped me on his shoulder.  Dad promptly asked if he wanted help with the other one.  He set me down before Mom even thought to snap the picture.  

Later, across the field, we came upon a player sitting with his legs out in a V.  Even sitting, he was about four feet tall.  He had his head down while he wrote his autograph for the kid ahead of us.  Dad told Adam and I to jump on him and tackle him.  I am sure my eyes about popped out of my head.  I got his autograph despite the terror running over me in waves.

After we got our fill of pictures and autographs, we went to the Packer Hall of Fame and Gift Shop.  I got some sweet sunglasses.

Like these, only dorkier.

I remember a few details of the rest of the vacation.  There was water.  There were seagulls.  We ate cheese curds.  

Geography didn't cut it for me.  I needed to meet my team.  

I have not faltered from that day.  They were not a great team then.  They were not a good team then.  I was still a fan.

Now, they are the defending Superbowl Champions.  So, that's nice.  I knew they would do it.  I know they will do it again.

I now know who Ray Nitschke is.  I now know that he was actually waving at me that day.

 

Roller Derby 101

It is hard to explain roller derby.  The rules, while simple in theory, are hard to communicate in a simple manner.  People who have played the sport for months and even years are fuzzy on all the nuances of the rules.

It is even harder to explain why I love playing roller derby.  It is hard to describe the agonizing fun of a really intense hit.  It is difficult to put into words how good it feels to pick yourself up off the floor for the twelfth time in one jam only to trip over your own feet in exhaustion and have to get back up all over again.  People think you are crazy when you tell them that you love to take the big hits just to hear the crowd gasp in horror. 

When I tell someone I play roller derby, I get a lot of similar responses.  Most people have a dazed look of horror on their face as they say, "...But, you are so little."

First of all, I am only one inch shorter than the national average of 5'4".  Second of all, being small makes me a small target.  When you add in speed and agility, you get a hard-to-hit target.

The next question I usually get is, “What made you want to play roller derby?” 

I seem to have a little more trouble explaining why I wanted to play roller derby.  My immediate gut reaction is, “Who wouldn’t?”  Apparently, a large majority of the population would not.  I guess I am just weird.

By the way, I love being weird.  Normal is boring.  Weird is fun.  Normal is tired.  Weird is unpredictable. 

“Well, how did you get involved with roller derby, Smartass?”

I saw a flyer.

I went to try-outs.


I skated.

I made the league.

It wasn’t hard. 

                                                         My First Practice

Practices can be hard.  It is the good kind of hard.  It still isn’t any harder than high school volleyball practice.  In fact, I think it is easier.  They made me run in every volleyball practice.  I only have to run about 3 times a month at roller derby practice.  I hate running.  I like skating.  It makes sense that I would enjoy roller derby practice more than I ever enjoyed volleyball practice. 

I guess that I wanted something fun to do where I would get to meet interesting people.  Some find book clubs.  Some take a cooking class.  I started playing roller derby.

I doubt very much that you could find the kind of friendship I have found in derby in a book club or cooking class.  I think that what derby offers is a rare thing.  Aspects of it remind me of a lot of things I have been involved with in the past.  Like a church I attended in my youth, it is a broad community with common values.  Like the sorority I belonged to in college, it is a group run by women, governed by women, and set up by women with all the craziness that that entails.  Yet, it suits me more than both of these ever did.

                                              Brawlberries after Our Debut.

To the skeptics.  I have a few questions for you.

Do you think it is crazy because women are playing a contact sport?  No one seems to think football players are crazy.  Women can be strong, too.  In a lot of ways, these women I have come to know are stronger than any man I have ever known.  Not only do they play this grueling sport, but they also work multiple jobs, take care of their families, run businesses, go to school, and so many other things.

Do you think it is stupid because we are not all young and thin and gorgeous?  Not all women are young, thin, and gorgeous.  The world just can't seem to figure that out.  Roller derby makes me feel young.  It makes me feel invincible.  Plus, bruises are sexy.

Do you think it is a waste of time and money?  A lot of things that people enjoy seem like a waste of time and money.

I pay less to play roller derby than most people pay for a gym membership.  Our league is a not-for-profit organization.  All of our bout and event proceeds are given to charities.    

            With Moms and Pops at the bout where we raised over $27,000 for cancer research. 

It isn't always fun and games.  We have had broken ankles, a blown out knee, broken ribs, bruised tailbones, gashes in faces, and endless contusions and sore muscles.  We have had conflicts and we will have more.  Some have been minor and some have been major. 

What makes roller derby great is that we are all determined to do whatever it takes to keep playing the sport that we love with integrity and a sense of family. 

I feel blessed to have roller derby in my life. 

My Demon Children

Joe and I are not very traditional.  See Serious Relationships - Part VI for clarification.

                                                    We got married on September 1, 2009.

                                           We moved into our new house on October 31, 2009.

                                                 We got these guys on November 1, 2009.

Sam is the black male demon on the left.  Charlie is the fawn female demon on the right.  Yes, my demon children are pugdogs!  I know you are all very jealous that I have such wonderful and adorable children.  If you are lucky, I just may call on you to watch them someday.  They are not allowed to have chocolate, raisins, or garlic.  They do enjoy a tasty marshmallow, pork rinds, and anything else you may happen to drop on the floor in their vicinity.

You may think calling them my children is weird.  Good!  I don't really call them my children.  Neither do I treat them like children.

                                                  These are their Christmas jam-jams. 

I know, I know.  I just said I didn't treat them like children.  And, I didn't do this.  Joe did.  He actually sewed and embroidered them both hooded fleece jammies.

If you watch them for us, you may need to know a bit about them.

They are pretty idiotic.  Until you don't expect them to be.  Also, if food is involved, their IQ's seem to rise.

                                                      Sam is special.  Very special. 

Sam will never stop eating.  Example 1:  We take them with us to my parents when we visit for Christmas.  The first year we took them, Mom claimed that she had doggie/childproofed the kitchen and we could let them loose instead of kenneling them while we visited her sister's family.  When we returned from Family Dinner, Sam and Charlie were very thirsty.  We walked them and they drank all the kitties water.  We brought them in and  refilled their empty water bowl which they promptly drank.  I looked down at Sam and noticed that he was pear-shaped.  He was so fat that he couldn't scratch his own ear.  Searching around a bit, we found out that he had been eating out of the bag of Dog Chow that was on the porch for the whole time we had been at Aunt Tracy's.  Four hours of gorging will make one fat pug.  He did barf.  The next morning.  For Joe.  Outside, thank goodness.

They clear their tiny nasal passage by snorting forcefully.  Usually when they have their nose near your bare leg or unsuspecting face.  You get used to it.

They will try to make out with you.  Charlie is especially adept at getting a quick French kiss just when you least expect it.  It is only really disturbing when her tongue touches yours.  You may feel the need to shower immediately following her well-meaning but unwanted smooch.  She has not yet learned that "No!" means no.

                                                 They like to watch anyone (usually me) cook.

                                                   Sometimes I drop stuff.  They don't mind.

Joe keeps asking when we can get a real dog.  His definition of a real dog...

                                                                         or...

I like my toy dogs.  They are entertaining and don't eat much (if monitored).  They have a ton of personality.  They love me.  And, perhaps best of all, their poop is small.

Serious Relationships - Part VII

Let's review once again.  I have a Hetero-Lifemate, Leslie.  I pet her when she is frustrated.  It does not please her.

                                                              After my first bout eva!


I have a husband, Joe.  He is nice.  He likes cereal.  A lot.

                                                     ...and he wears Malcom X glasses.

You may think that two Serious Relationships would be enough for any sane person.  Most people are lucky to be able to maintain one.  Well, I am extremely blessed and gifted and most likely not entirely sane.  And, I have a third (and final) Serious Relationship to tell you about.

I play roller derby.  I will tell you about that in the near future.  What you need to know now is that in roller derby there is a Serious Relationship status called a derby wife.  In a nutshell, a derby wife is the skater you are closest to and who has your back in any situation.  If your eyes are rolling right now, it's all right.  Mine rolled, too.

When I first started playing a little over a  year ago, I thought the derby wife thing was very silly.  It can be.  It can also be a lot of fun and very rewarding.

As I have just mentioned above, I was not a big fan of the derby wife system when I first learned of it.  My mind was changed for me on two trips to the St. Louis area.

The first derby bout our league played in was in St. Charles, Missouri.  I can't remember now if I had even started skating or if I was still waiting for my gear to arrive.  Either way, I wanted to see a bout.  Yeah, I signed up for roller derby without actually ever seeing a real live bout.  I had seen Whip It, so shuddup!  I especially wanted to see our skaters bout.  I didn't know too many of the girls, so I decided to ride in the RV with a group of them.  I figured close quarters would force me to befriend one or two.  That isn't exactly what happened on the RV.  That, however, is a whole other story.

We got to our hotel and promptly found out that it was extremely overbooked.  The strongest theory for what happened was that a disgruntled recently let go employee deleted the booking for the league.  I had booked through the glorious internet and had a room with two double beds.  Most of the girls were quickly doubling up and I offered to share my room with Mc-Kill-Z.  Leslie, my infamous Hetero-Lifemate, was joining me, but I knew she'd be cool with an extra roomie.  Since Leslie was driving in from the Hill, we had transportation and promptly headed to T.G.I. Friday's.  Mmm...

We had a blast eating mass quantities of greasy food and then headed to the event center for Live All-girl Roller Derby Action!

At the bout, Mc-Kill-Z, Leslie, and I sat and rooted together.  Our girls played well for their first bout, but were defeated.  However, no one was injured, hurt, or dead.  To me, that is a successful bout.  In addition, I think everyone who played in that bout learned more in 60 minutes than they could have learned in 6 months of skating.  A small price to pay for such a large quantity of knowledge.

After the bout, we went to the requisite After-party.  While being serenaded by the impeccable karaoke stylings of Pixie Whiplash and Kiote among others, I experienced the dancing skills of my future derby wife for the first time.

                                                        This move is "Jazz Hands."

The next day we played Set on the RV for most of the ride home.  Set is a fun game that is supposed to work your brains.  Apparently, MENSA approves of its challenges.

That road trip laid the foundation for the derby wooing I was about to receive.

A few weeks later, ARRG was having a bout.  ARRG stands for the Arch Rival RollerGirls.  Our head coach, Pro-Agonist, was a skater for their league before she helped our league get started.  I wanted to see real roller derby!  At least, roller derby with skaters that had been playing for more than a few months.  A big bonus to having a real bout to see was that is was conveniently located about 15 minutes from Leslie's apartment.

St. Louis is about 3 hours of very boring driving from where I live.  Mc-Kill-Z got along with Leslie at the first bout, so I invited her along.  She accepted.  Yay!

When we got to Leslie's apartment, we had some time before we had to leave for the bout.  Leslie's eyes lit up when we agreed to watch New Moon.  I should have known I was in trouble at this point.  We didn't really watch the movie as much as make comments on who was the better choice for Bella, Edward or Jacob.  I apologize that I even know any of this information.  Mc-Kill-Z and I were unable to make Leslie see that Jacob was obviously the better and more attractive of the two young men vying for Bella's love.  After you finish retching, wipe your mouth and rest assured that this will be the end of Twilight-talk for a while.

At the bout, Mc-Kill-Z and I were riveted on the action and pretty much neglected Leslie.  She had PBR so she was not too cranky.  After purchasing Smashinistas T-shirts, we all headed back to the apartment for after-derby drinks.  Mmm...drinks...

The wine flowed.  A whole bottle of it.  I know.  Derby girls are supposed to be hard-core.  You can pretend I said the Jack Daniels or the Wild Turkey flowed if it makes you feel better.  Truthfully, that is more often the case when we don't have a three hour drive to make the next day.  But, I digress.

It was at this time that Mc-Kill-Z started to explain the derby wife status to Leslie.  She went on to inform her that she knew I didn't really care for the rigamarole of the practice but she wouldn't let that deter her.  She was wooing me.

After that weekend, we were derby wives.

                                    Ready to bout in Bloomington.  I may have puked at half-time.

It is a bit sickening.  In the good way.

                                                Brawlberries vs. Polka-bots After-party

We try to protect each other on the court and off. Sometimes I forget about the whole "protect your wife" thing and knock her down.  It isn't spousal abuse; it's roller derby.  Plus, it's funny when she cusses.

                                                                           See.

We entertain each other immensely.  She is especially entertaining when she is wearing her "Pissypants."    



I believe you will remember that she has awesome dance skills from the photo above.

                                                      The blades often come out, also.

I bring her donuts and silly things I make.  She is a donut junky.

                                                            ...and she likes cupcakes.

If you find the right one, having a derby wife is tons of fun.

Side Note:  Derby marriage is not necessarily monogamous.  Some skaters have small or large harems of wives.  Mc-Kill-Z and I have pledged monogamy.  However, we share a mistress.  It just can't be any kind of normal with me.

Perhaps there will be a Serious Relationships - Part VIII.   

Serious Relationships - Part VI

**Disclaimer:  This was mostly written for our Wedding Reception in October of 2010.  I have added a bit and tweaked a bit and thrown in photos.**

If you haven't read the first 5 parts of Serious Relationships, I forgive you.  For now.

This is a big one. 

Joe and I decided to go on vacation this one time...

The Short Engagement   

    We flew into Las Vegas on Suday, August 30th, 2010, and checked into Excalibur.  On our way through the lobby, we got suckered into going to a time share presentation early the next morning. 
    Around 8am the next day, we reported to the group tour desk and were shuttle-bussed to the sales pitch.  On the bright side, we got as many free doughnuts as we wanted.  We said no in a variety of ways for a couple hours, and finally were rewarded with two tickets to the Tournament of Kings and $75 worth of food vouchers for MGM Grand. 
    On the shuttle bus home, we started to plan the rest of our week.  One of the first things I asked, was if Joe wanted to go downtown…meaning to the courthouse.  Joe said he definitely wanted to do that.  I was a little surprised at the quick ok.  To clarify, I asked, “What downtown are you talking about?” 
    “Oh, that downtown,” he said.  “I think we should.”
    “Me too.”
    A few seconds passed in silence.  Then, “Does that mean we are engaged?” he asked.
    “I guess so,” was my reply.


The Quick Preparation

    When we got back to the hotel, we went to the information desk to ask the best way to get downtown.  The lady behind the counter gave us the lazy answer of “take a cab.”
    A $25 cab ride later, we were at the Clark County courthouse.  Inside we filled out a form stating our names, our parents names, and checked the box that said we weren’t second cousins or closer.  Reassuring isn't it.
    Fifteen minutes or so later we forked over $60 cash only please and had our marriage license.
    A $20 cab ride later, thank you dumb cabbie for forgetting to switch the little lever, and we were back at Excalibur.
    We headed out to look for rings and clothes for the “blessed event.”  We checked a few places and saw a couple tuxedo t-shirts, but we wanted a blue one with the ruffles.  Unfortunately we couldn’t find one. 
    That night we went to the Tournament of Kings and managed to stay up until about 10 o’clock Vegas time.

                                                                        Mmm.  Soup.

                                                               Yeah!  Soup!  Yeah!

    The next morning we power-shopped.  We got Joe’s tuxedo t-shirt and shortly after that, he found a ring he liked for $10.  It was a spinner with a sweet dragon on it.
    I decided to buy one of the wrap and tie dresses and found a kiosk with a black and white one and a pink one.  Then we found another kiosk with rings and such and I found my $6 ring.
    We headed back to the hotel after lunch and got dressed.  I gathered my old bracelet, my new bracelet, my borrowed pen, and my blue playing card and we headed up the strip.

The Actual Wedding

    We hadn’t gotten up the strip very far before we headed out to pick our chapel.  While riding on “The Duece,” the Vegas strip bus, we saw A Little White Wedding Chapel and got off at the next stop.
    We chose the package with a few photos and Joe added a rose.  While Joe was paying Roxanne, who would later be our witness, I remembered we needed cash for the minister and the photographer.  Roxanne directed me to the ATM in the chapel, but it was out of cash.  So, I headed next door to the Howard Johnson’s.  Their ATM was out of service.  So, I headed back to the chapel to let Joe know I had to go elsewhere. 
    Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Vegas, but it gets warm there.  I had to walk about a half a block to Wells Fargo.  And, half a block back to the chapel.  I believe that works out to approximately 29 miles.  I was gone long enough to make Joe nervous.    I had a few minutes to cool off back in the air conditioning while we talked to the minister.
    We chose a non-denominational service.  He asked if we wanted a prayer and we said not really. 
    Inside the chapel, Roxanne helped us prep.  She sent Joe to his place and had me stand back so I could walk down the aisle.  I had not planned to do that.  Our minister gave us some last minute cues and we got started.
    The service was a little different than we were expecting.  After a quick prayer we heard him read a verse (1 Corinthians) which threw us off a bit.  We kept it together and a few minutes later we were married.
   

“We can do it again.”

    The minister caught us outside as we were heading to the photo studio for our twelve pictures.  He asked us if that was the service we had asked for.  When we said that it actually wasn’t, he said we can do it again.  We said that it was ok.  We felt better about only giving him the minimum recommended tip.


Photo Photo

    Inside the photo studio, we had to wait on the couple ahead of us to finish up their photo session before starting ours.  The creepy photographer waved us over and we had our twelve poses.  He showed them to us on the computer and gave us our CD.  Joe tipped him since they were not completely hideous.

The Extravagant Toast

    We headed to the bus stop, but I was extremely parched.  That was the only day I forgot to bring a bottle of water with me.  We ran into the 7 Eleven on our way and got a some water and iced tea.  Joe said I couldn't get my picture taking with the nice lady standing by the curb even if she was "Our First Hooker Spotted while Married."

The Wedding Feast

     That evening we headed downtown to eat at an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet.  After crab legs, oysters, and several other varieties of seafood we had some carrot cake and headed back outside to see the “Fremont Street Experience.”

    We worked our way back down the strip on the Duece watching the Treasure Island Pirate Show, the Mirage volcano, and the Bellagio fountains.

                                        I think Joe visited a restroom in every casino we entered.

                                                                I did a little shopping.



    We had a great time getting hitched Las Vegas style and the rest of the week was just as fun.  I highly recommend it.