This Girl when to a Seattle Sounders game and holy crap!

Do you know someone that is a freak about their team and their sport? Are you that person? Do they wear their teams colors and shout robustly during the games? Do you? Are you that person?
Do you attend the games with vigorous regularity? Do you bedeck yourself with your teams colors? Do you have capes, scarves, flowers, face paint, hair dye, and jerseys? Have you ever marched in a pre game parade?
Maybe you do all those things.

That is all well and good. Go your team. But have you ever been to a sounders game?
Do you know what happens at a Seattle Sounders game? Are you aware of the following and the passion their fans possess?

Look at them, they literally pay homage to their team. 

I have been to professional sports games. I have watched the Mariners lose, in person. I have gone to Super Bowl parties hosted by crazed fans. I have been surrounded by raving Canucks fans. And not a single one of them holds a candle to the casual Sounders fan. Not. One.

I attended my first Sounders game this last Friday against DC United and let me tell you, there is nothing like it.
It doesn't begin on game day. It all begins immediately after the last game is over.

In the weeks leading I thought I was doing my due diligence and watched a few games and was becoming a 'fan.' My sister spent our time together giving me the low down on every player, their stats and their physical conditions.
She has her favorite players. And one in particular. Remick. And when Remick's name is called and he trots onto the field she jumps up and down and starts screaming and then she leans over to me and says "I have his shorts!"
The way she says it, I get the mental image of her sneaking into his bedroom and steeling them in the dead of night. Really she bought a pair of shorts with his number on them. But her sneaking into his bedroom is a much better story.

Personally, I was already becoming partial to Stephen Frei. Maybe its still the sweeper in me (a defender in soccer terms) that makes me favor and protective of the goal keeper, I dunno. Maybe it's because he's cute, I dunno, but regardless his dedication was winning me over.
And I knew Martians was injured and I was becoming partial to him as well after I watched him play his heart out with a broken nose. No matter what, I was becoming a Seattle Sounders fan very quickly. I liked the way they passed. I liked the way the team still held together without their star players. They were a Team inside and out. That is something I feel is lacking from a lot of other sports. Its about the hero on the team or the best player, not the team itself.
All of this did not prepare me for my first Sounder game.

We started out with a Pre game parade. Parade? Why yes, a parade. The fans, casual and not so casual (aka the super fans) sing and chant. They march, wave their flags and scarves and insult the other team. These are the most organized fans I have ever seen. This is a good time to get a song card. A song card? Yes, but I will come back to that.

Then we found our seats.

Look how close we were! They were great seats. See the people sitting. That is the last time they did that. 

Soon Dr. Stephan Newby came out to the field and the most amazing and brilliant thing happened. He's on the big screen and he begins to sing the National Anthem and he has the most incredible and rich voice but only after a few bars he invites the entire stadium to sing with him. All forty thousand of us.

And as one patriotic voice we sang together with such passion chills ran through our souls. It was an awe-inspiring moment. It wasn't a dull or flat affair, there was no somber note to the tone that I heard so many times when I sang the Anthem in school or at sporting events. Here at the Sounders game we sang with such spirit and loyalty there was no denying who we were. 

It occurred to me as we all bellowed the final notes that this is how it should be at every event and it should be sung as though we were announcing to the world who we were for the very first time. 

The game begins and they stand. All of them. For the WHOLE game. I am not kidding. Every fan stands. So wear comfortable shoes. If you don't have comfortable shoes, buy them. You'll thank me later.

 Pro tip: If you are going to go to a game and you have never been before. Dive into your closet and find something green and blue to wear. It wont matter if the colors don't match, it wont matter if it happens to be the craziest outfit you own, in fact the zanier the better, wear it. 

We were close to the lively end of the fans.

See them over there on the left? Waving their flags? Some where in the middle of all of that is a guy with a very large set of drums and in front of him is a guy with a bull horn. They call out the songs and we all sing. Get your self a song card, even if you don't sing, the lyrics are clever and very entertaining, but I encourage you to go ahead and sing. Sing loud and proud, it's all part of the experience. 

The game was an intense one. There were so many close calls. So many great plays. So many gasps of anticipation and ah's as the play didn't quite make it. There were a few tense moments where we were biting out fingers in fear, but the game was scoreless. 

I had been told by some people that we were going to lose because they were playing without most of their key players due to injuries or being called up to play in other leagues. (I haven't quite figured all that out yet, Ill keep you posted.) 

Finally, near the very end, they scored. It was awesome. We screamed and screamed and screamed. We clapped, we sang. I had no idea how much celebrating I had done until the next morning my voice was horse.

And there were flames!

FLAMES! They were so hot I felt the heatwave from my seat. 

Now sadly early in the game Stephan Frei the goalkeeper suffered a potentially devastating injury. He leapt into the air and was hit by another player sending him to the ground at an awkward angle and he landed on his shoulder and neck. It took some time, but he got back up. Admirably later in the game he took himself out and he disappeared into the locker rooms as the crowd chanted his name. He returned later with his arm in a sling. And we all mourned, silently praying he'd be eligible for the next game and praising the soccer gods that the injury wasn't more severe. 

See him down there in the center with the sling. It was very sad. This pic was taken at the end of the game while the players were shaking hands with fans. 

I had a fantastic time. I will be going again. I plan on watching the games at home when I cant make a personal appearance. 

It is truly a well rounded experience, one that should be had by all. Only, probably shouldn't bring the kids. There was a lot of profanity, and noise, but really profanity. 

Tune in for my next post about the following day...and what I intend to do about it. 

Is Doom Lurking in your Living room?

Is there danger in your living room? Do you even know its there? Maybe it has you right now...and you don't even know it...I blame this hidden danger and all it's evil. They may look innocent, but they are vindictive and controlling and masters of karma. 

Maybe it's a chair. 

Maybe it rocks into your trust.

Maybe it's the corner of the couch. Cushy pillows, soft comforting blanket, and squishy ottoman for those tired feet. 

 Maybe it's a stressless chair with a cuddly lap dog, in front of the roaring air conditioner.

They look nice. They look welcoming. They look and even feel like they love you. They lull you into a trusting ease, making you forget all the things you have to do.

Are you aware of this danger? Do you know what it can do? Are you under it's dangerous spell, even now?

What do these sacred spots have in common?  They suck productivity. Steel time. They convince you that you are too comfortable, too relaxed to get up. They whisper sweet lies to you. 

"You worked hard today, put your feet up. Just relax..." 

"Just a few minutes, that's all you need. That's it, reach for the remote."

They trap you in their vortex and you will never know. 

I have one too. 

My chair of DOOOOOMM! And I blame it for everything. 

Does it look nice? 

It is. 

It has squashy arms. Nice lumbar in the back. It rocks 

back and forth, 

back and forth, 

back and forth, 

with a soothing rhythm. It leans back so completely it could be my bed and I could sleep sweet dreams. 

If I let myself indulge in 'just a few minutes' I find myself coming out of a television induced coma several hours later swearing at myself for the lack of productivity, for the lateness of the hour and the dread of still needing to move the oldest out of my bed and into her own. 

Ive gotta work. All day long I am a single mom, then at night as the sun sets gloriously on a distant horizon I continue to work. I must work. I must work through the physical pains, headaches and stress. I have to make a living for my girls. I have to support them. 

But I am tired. I don't sleep and I walk passed that chair and it beckons me with a little rock and a nod. 

Like the hot guy at the bar drinking a scotch, neat and he's eyeballing you and that dress you weren't sure you could pull off. 

I've been strong though. I've avoided the chair of doom. Two nights ago after a long and difficult day the chair was making every effort to entice me. It yearned for me. But I refused. 

I defiantly pulled out my wire and beads and began to work on earrings, perfecting my craft, for my first Seattle Sounders game. (My sister is super hard core and was very clear about the bedecking that was needed.)

I am very excited. Before I married my soccer hating husband I played and watched it constantly. 

Twelve years later I am totally out of the loop. 

So away I worked. Carefully beading, twisting, cutting and crimping and then the chair of doom got mad. It was feeling neglected. It had not been loved by me in days. 

I had been avoiding eye contact and the chair noticed.

That's when the chair used its power.

Suddenly my bowl of teeny tiny beads tipped. In slow agonizing motion I watched as hundreds of little sounder blue beads spilled all over the hardwood floor. 

They scattered everywhere, like sand from the beach or glitter from your five year olds preschool art project. 

(I would insert a picture of the devastation, but I was too angry.)

I nearly cried. 

These beads were expensive and I am penny pinching as it is and no bead was to be lost.

So there I was, only one pair of earrings completed and near midnight, on my hands and knees collecting every last bead from every nook, cranny and divot. 

Every. Single. Last. Bead. 

Then when I was done and I stood up to stretch my back and rub my knees, there it was. Staring at me. 

I had neglected the chair. I had angered the 'take a break' gods, and I was punished. 

It was mad at me, and I was mad at it. We gave each other the silent treatment. 

All day long it sat in the corner, alone. I glared at it bitterly and it sulked. 

Yesterday with the girls was better. The baby let me sleep in a bit and when they were all in bed I was able to make a few pairs of earrings and even unburden my soul with some writing.

So, In an effort to appease what ever god I have angered, I write this post to you, from the comfy chair of doom, with the soft cuddly lap dog in my lap and the air condition blowing on my toes. 

I did complete my Sounder Earrings.

My glorious sister will be sporting these.

If you see her wearing them, bemoan to her about the sweat and pain that went into their creation, it'll give me a kick.

She'll probably be confused. 

I have a less impressive pair for myself. 

Go Sounders!

Instagram...and beyond

I joined twitter. What a strange place. I haven't been able figure it out.

Bare in mind, I grew up in the birth of the wide spread internet. I remember that god awful squealing sound as I impatiently waited for it to connect before my parents demanded the use of the phone line.  I had a blackberry before it was cool. I have an Ipad 2. I am not opposed to social media, I stay reasonably updated with my technology.

But twitter...its like the 'and beyond' section of Bed, bath and beyond. I have enjoyed the news aspects and keeping up some of my favorite sites like The Chive and Buzzfeed. (check out The Chive...its a pretty awesome place)
But everything else. The conversation with celebrities, like the recent EL James disaster have been entertaining but I still see it as pointless.  I am just not sure I can keep my twenty one followers, most of whom I assume are spam accounts, updated with my every move. 'baby pooped three times, the third time smelled like orange juice' thats a pretty exciting day for me. Who wants to read that?

But Instagram...I was sure I would be lost here too. I was sure I would be just as annoyed with the whole thing. I was sure it would confuse me why countless images of peoples of dinners were fascinating.

And for a few days I was, then after I figured out the hashtag thing. (I thought I was over doing it with four hashtags..,Oh, how I was very very wrong.)  I started to explore instagram and I was entranced by what I had forgotten.

With the birth of each child I was sucked into their world and my whole world was them. And I was okay with that. It wasn't an easy life and their father and I were having a difficult time (I am sure at some point I go into all of that in more detail) but I was confident that we would work it out and this was a particularly rough patch that was affected by events going on around us we had no control over, mainly being the death of my beloved mother in law.

Something that is still difficult for me to discuss, so not now.

I was barely aware of anything else. And then instagram and this thing started to happen. I became aware of the world around me. It wasn't just tasty food and steaming cups of coffee, although there were plenty of those, and artfully done. I could appreciate that.

There was also, trees, flowers, mountains, trails and people. People out experiencing life and their own world around them. I suddenly realized. I am not attached. I am not attached to a man who used me as a surrogate mother. (She was truly a wonderful and amazing woman, who had the capacity to love unmatched by anyone except for my oldest to whom she passed on that capacity, but she also did everything for him...) And while I still have my beautiful babes most of the time, but for two days, two whole days and nights, I don't. I am unattached. I have the freedom to go and experience and step out into the world and see the sights it has to behold, smell the fresh rain in an ancient forest. I can eat in a restaurant that doesn't have macaroni and cheese on the menu. I can enjoy a quiet, but more importantly, hot cup of coffee.

I can go out, I can go do, I can. It's a nice feeling, it is a freeing feeling. It is a high that I hope I never come down from.

Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it...

This Girl's lazy dinner

I was supposed to make leftover tonight. But I didn't. My girlfriend had the brilliant idea of going on a walk today. Which is something we normally do, but its sooo hot. I didn't want to go, I wanted to stay home, play with the baby, take a nap, make some jewelry or really just do nothing at all.
Alas, my friend is a determined little bugger, so we went.
It was pretty, and shaded. But still sooooo hot.

 The blackberry bushes were in full bloom. The harvest will be bountiful this year, and I could care less. Its too hot.

When I got home, sweaty, stinky and gross, I went to pay homage to the air conditioner and suddenly I was hit with a wave of hunger. I needed to eat and I needed to eat now.

You don't know ravenous hunger until you've breastfed a baby. There is a difference between pregnancy hunger and breastfeeding hunger. If at any point during this angry zombie like state you get between me and food...you don't even want to know.

It was too hot to turn on the burner and heat leftover spaghetti, plus that required a certain amount of effort I was not willing to devote to my dinner.
So I went to an old stand by.

 Good old Jif Peanut butter, Zoi vanilla Greek yogurt (the one with all the fatty goodness in it) and a banana. Sadly this banana was a little too ripe.
"A little too ripe" you say, astonished. "Why its hardly just turned yellow!"
Why yes, you are correct. It has hardly just turned yellow, and that's too ripe. Green! I love Green Bananas! They are firm, they are strong, they are hard...get your mind out of the gutter.
Anyway, begrudgingly I survived without a green banana.

Now what I do with it bewilders my father. He thinks its pretty uncouth and will cringe at me every time I sit down with my little bowl of goodness. And it's not just the green banana thing that I have but how I put it all together.

 Place desired amount of yogurt into the bowl.

Scrape the bottom of the peanut butter jar and collect desired amount of peanut butter.

When there are two kids eating solid foods and three adults, there is always scraping the bottom of the peanut butter jar. 

Add peanut butter to your bowl...and mix.

It looks like this. Yummy!

Buy wait, there's more!

Add the banana! 

I meant to take a pretty picture of the banana all sliced on top, but I was hungry and I began to eat. Nom, nom, nom. 

Oh yeah...that's the stuff...

I am sure there is someone who could go off on the healthfulness of this dinner, one way or another. 

I like it cause its tasty, it fills me up and no heat required. 

Its a lazy dinner for a hot and lazy day. I feel better now, full and happy and very very sleepy. *yawn*stretch*

 But the baby is asleep and there is work to be done...

This Girls New World

So here it is: I am a suddenly single mother of three. Twelve years of marriage, done. I have three beautiful, vivacious, loud, busy, girls who can suck the souls out of the most experienced parent. They are great, really, I love them, but some days...
I am starting a new life, entering a new world. And despite the swirling vortex of catch 22's I have chosen to rise above the anger, complications and the weight of being a single mother. I have chosen to move on and be me. Me. All of me. Something I haven't been in a very long time.
I am not going to let standing on the edge of a new and terrifying horizon scare me back into the cave.
I am going to make my own way. I have stepped out into the world and I will carve my own path up the mountain. I will do it under my own steam.
So who am I?
I am a woman. I am an American. I have the vocabulary of a well educated sailor. I am self taught, pretty much everything. Youtube and I are in a deep and involved relationship. We cuddle together, late into the night, sharing secrets. Don't even try to get between us.
I can sew, crochet, read, write and bake.
I am going to take that most American part of me and make my own money. I will work hard, I will survive. I will make a new life and achieve my dreams, fulfill my bucket list and I will share it all right here. The ups and downs. The successes and the failures. I will rant and rave. I will create and sell.

But most important, I will move on. Me, my girls and my dog. See, isn't he cute! How could you not love this guy?

Hair pulling and James Patterson

I want to pull my hair out. And not fist fulls of hair. Just one strand at a time to prolong the frustration.

What a frustrating process. I am beginning to wonder why I started writing in the first place. Grrr. Nothing is magically flowing from my fingers to create anything, well...magical. Grrr.

And by the way while I am ranting. I hate James Patterson. What the hell? Has anyone noticed how many books a month that man puts out? Seriously. Every time I open Amazon peruse new kindle books there he is right on the front page NEW JAMES PATTERSON NOVEL.

Does he have an army of minions caged in his basement being forced as slaves to write for him? How does he do it? Really, I want to know. In the time I have been writing alone he has published FIFTY NINE books.

Yeah you read me right. FIFTY NINE BOOKS since December 2009. Son of a bitch!

How??? I don't understand. I cant get one out. It makes me want to cry. I wonder if he leases his minions? But that probably costs a very shiny penny. All of my pennies are kind of ugly and have stuff stuck to them.

Don't get me wrong now, I am thrilled with how my book is starting. And that's the problem. The beginning is great. But it's a new tone and that leads to different plot developments. So while I have a beginning that I am excited about I don't know where to take it...and thus the one strand at a time hair pulling.

I hate plot development. It sucks.

I believe that there are two kinds of books out there. (If you wonder if I make this shit up as I go...I do.)

There are what I call 'surface books' and 'involvement books.'

Surface books are books that if you don't look too closely or spend time analyzing them they are a pretty good story. But once you look beyond the surface (get it?) the story is week and unsupported.

Involvement books are stories that no matter how involved you get, the story stands up strong and you can look as deep as you want and nothing falls apart. Think Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.

Sadly I am currently in the former instead of the latter. So my little brain continues to mull until the answer comes. So if your talking to me and I look like I am not paying attention. I'm not. I'm thinking about more interesting things.

Back on the rant. I like George R. R. Martin so much better than James Patterson. The last book George published was five years ago. That is a much more realistic timeline than the Evil James Patterson. And the worse part about the all mighty Mister Patterson is he doesn't publish crap.

However there is a twinge of bitterness with George. I happen to be enjoying Game of Thrones and I wish he was more like Mr. Patterson and published the last two books by the end of September. Hear me George? I don't like waiting. Patience was never my favorite virtue.

Okay. Deep breath... 

Maybe some day I will write something about kittens, and flowers. But not today. Today its bitter and angry. Today it's Evil James Patterson. Maybe tomorrow...But I wouldn't bet on it.

Reading and Writing

Again I have been a bad blogger. Slap the back of my hand and send me to the corner.

But I haven't been posting for good reasons. I have been busy writing and reading.

I have been working on expanding my horizons. I have been exploring more genres. Stepping outside of my comfort zone and reading book I never would have expected.

Case in point:

I recently finished Beyond the Highlander Mist. Okay, I will wait while you skip over to Amazon look it up, read the synopsis and let your mouths hit your keyboards...

Tap, tap, tap. Look at imaginary watch on my wrist. Roll my eyes impatiently, scratch my head and heave a great sigh.

Back?

Yes, I know. Shake your head, blush for me and squirm appalled in your seat. I read a romance novel cover to cover. It was very lusty and there was lots of purring. But all in all it was a good book.

This was the debut novel for Karen Marie Moning. If you have been with me this whole time you will have read my review of the Fever Series. This is same author that took me down the romance isle at Barns and Noble. I was curious what her version of a romance novel, was considering Fever was not close to lusty yearnings.
To her credit it was completely different. BHM was sort of a prequel to the Fever series and shared a few of the same characters, which was a surprise. I had no idea.

Another reason to read BHM? It was a debut novel. It was a great learning experience to read the first book an author published and the most recent. If you know what your looking for you can see the author learning and evolving through their writing.

Moving on. I have never been a fantasy reader. I find fantasy novels to generally be more complicated than 'As the World Turns.'  But several people insisted that I read Game of Thrones.
So bravely I did...and what a pleasant surprise it was to find myself getting really involved with the characters and the story.

I will admit there are some parts that aren't for the happy go lucky readers. Bad things happen to good characters  and some ceremonies will make people put the book away in a deep forgotten corner never to be picked up again. If you are not easily offended Game of Thornes offers a lovely ride of adventure through politics, war, betrayal and yes, incest. Gross. My kindle tells me I am only 61% through. So I will be a bit for a thorough review.

Now on to my writing. It's going so well!! Some of you will be shocked to know that I have shared the first twenty thousand or so words with people that have previously never read one word from this particular story. The feed back I have received has been more positive than I could have hoped for. This is good, very good.

I am so please with how well the story is evolving. There are a lot of rough patches that need to be smoothed out and holes that need to be plugged but that will come. I have no fear. I finally have a publishable story!!

I have also taken the stress out of it. I am not working on it every day either. I am letting it come. I am letting my thoughts and ideas work themselves out in my head before I put fingers to keyboard. That was a hard thing to do. Not sit down with it every night and force a few words out. It was like weening myself off an addiction. There was headaches, frustration and sweating...or maybe that's the humid heat I hate so much? Anyway, the story is coming freely and easily. Yay!

Now for an announcement. Drum roll, breathless anticipation, eager bodies waiting not so patiently. I officially have a title! Isn't that great!!  It took so long to find a title I really loved. A title that sets the right tone. That brings you into the story before you open the flap to read the synopsis. This is a title that grabs you, and keeps you. (I hope.)

Bet you want to know what it is, don't cha?