New adventures because electrons.

So…its been a hot minute and lots has happened. We moved, I started a business, I went back to school (again), The Sir is back in school (again), and I have another blog. Also, I haven’t been taking photos of my cooking or keeping track of my workouts or any of the usual stuff that I used to drone on about here. When I read blogs and the author says, “I’m really sorry for not posting more often…” I always roll my eyes. Who cares? Its a blog. So, dear reader, you get no apology. You do, however, get a lame-ass explanation, if you’re interested.

Yes-I-love-technology...

 

I graduated from Fayetteville Tech with an Associate in Science (this took me longer than the creators of “Community” ever dreamed. Sissies.) I’m now a chemistry major at the University of South Carolina. (Apparently, they are also good at basketball?) I’m finally at a big girl school and I have to tell you: I geek out on a regular basis. Like every. single. day. My school campus is beautiful and there are so many students and most of them are 12 and wear pajamas to class and use “f*ck” like a comma, but there’s also an observatory and laboratories and mass spectrometers and Starbucks. The library is 7 or 8 levels of air that smells like books and coffee and the tears of undergraduates. I transferred in with a ridiculous amount of credits, but only 109 count toward my degree. I’m listed as a senior(citizen) but I’m not scheduled to graduate until Spring 2019.

And I started a couple of little pages on Tumblr. Tumblr is weird and I’m still figuring it out but I do enjoy the memes, the swears, and the obligatory teen angst.

I started a bullet journal. I started a new workout. My husband got injured at work but he’s better now. We bought land. I am a LuLaRoe retailer. I listen to too many podcasts (Behind the Wires. Welcome to Nightvale. StarTalk. Nerdist. This American Life. The Curious Cases of Rutherford and Fry. Anxiously awaiting the new season of Serial. ).

Anyway, I’ll post some more soon, but in the mean time, here’s some new links where you can follow me (stalk much?) around the web. If nothing else, it should provide for some comic relief while I stumble around the world figuring myself out. …because at 41(!) I should, you know, like…start to figure stuff out.

Chemistry Mom  on Tumblr

The blog I started for my undergraduate research. (Don’t get excited; the research hasn’t started yet.)

The FaceBook page for my LuLaRoe VIP group. All the cool kids are there, yo.

Where I tweet, apparently. Because that’s what people do on twitter. They tweet. I am a tweeter.

Thanks for hanging around, dear reader. I hope to make it worth your while. 🙂

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On glycolysis and drinking soap

My A&P professor is brilliant. Like…can teach anyone anything brilliant. And in class we’re talking about glycolysis and the nervous system and how wonderful the human body is. I was inspired by…perhaps an unhealthy dose…of scientific curiousity. I do not blame my instructor for what follows:

I got home from school and went for a run.

Since I hadn’t eaten for several hours, I was pretty sure I didn’t have much free-roaming glucose in my blood stream, so, I reasoned, glycolysis (freeing up stored glycogen from my liver) should follow pretty quickly after I start exercising.

No lunch. Just coffee to drink. It’s hot. It’s humid. I ran.

When a person is dehydrated and hungry on a good day, bad things can happen. When a person runs in the heat bad things can happen. Enter: My Scientific Mind.

I shall, I thought, make note of how amazing my liver is and happily report my findings to anyone unfortunate enough listen. …that’s not what happened.

What happened, gentle reader, is that when I got home from my hour long run, my brain was beset by too many photons of light and not enough energy. My eyes took forever to readjust to the relative darkness of my house and I was dizzy from dehydration. I stumbled upstairs to my bathroom, stripping as I went, to find-eureka!-a bottle of water waiting for me by my sink.

No. It was not water. It was white tea scented soap and it tasted like …soap.

After inventing new curse words in Klingon, and stumbling to the shower, I rinsed my mouth. I became a human bubble machine. I could’ve worked for Lawrence Welk. I looked like Cujo French kissing a car wash brush. I smelled good though, so…there’s that.

Justice, I suppose, for the swear words…

Anyway, folks, please eat and hydrate before you run. Glycolysis is great, and all, but it tastes a lot like soap.

 

I Got Called a Dependapotomus and It Doesn’t Matter

You can find the definition of dependapotomus here.

(I was going to post a picture but you can Google for yourself…the pictures are all very…creative?)

Here’s the scene:

I was sitting in a Starbucks on post working on my nuclear chemistry homework (OMG the brain cells…they hurts us, Precious) and there were two female soldiers waiting in line to order their drinks. One of them starts chatting with me about my school work and what I’m going to school for and what’s what about my life. The other one says, “You don’t even have a job?! It must be nice to be a dependapotumus, but I actually have shit to do all day.” and she laughed with her perfect teeth all over her perfect face. At which point I got all sweaty and nauseated and my vision went all wonky (adrenaline can be so inefficient sometimes) and I said something like, “You don’t know my history, or my spouse, and you should be more careful to whom you speak. And in some cultures having a fat wife is considered a sign of success and virility.”

(Seriously. Where is this culture? I need to move there.)

Then a CWO (Chief Warrant Officer. Respect them. Love them. Fear them.) politely asked the lieutenants if they would please accompany him to a “sidebar”, only he said it like if they didn’t go with him he’d murder their puppy twelve times before lunch. I don’t know much after that because I just stared at my chemistry book, trying not to cry from shame, and cursing my stupid brain for not coming up with a witty, soul-crushing response.  I’m sure I’ll think of something in the shower tonight and it will be epic.

I texted a couple of friends and made a Facebook post. Everyone is on my side and they are all sufficiently pissed off on my behalf. Also, everyone has wonderful retorts and I am going to write them down and keep them in my pocket like Mr. Collins’ keeps compliments. Folks are like “they are just jealous” and “what bitches” and “you are awesome” and “lets cut them” which leaves me feeling incredibly warm and fuzzy. Nothing says love like the prospect of violence on behalf of friendship.

The fact is that I am a dependent. My home, the food in my belly, the clothes on my back, the classes I’m taking, the children (who are clean, well-behaved, and brilliant, by the way) I’ve birthed are all dependent on my husband. I would have none of these things (at least not in their current, blissful iteration) without my husband and the work that he does. I am aware and I am grateful and I won’t spout off about “my role is just as important as his” because that argument makes me very uncomfortable. I am blessed enough to be able to study at a Starbucks…my life is pretty good. We are a team and the execution of our contract isn’t anyone’s business; he’s happy with the state of his life and I’m happy with the state of my life and we will skip off into the sunset together just as soon as the next FTX or JOAX or JRTC or deployment or PowerPoint Rodeo will allow.

I could defend myself with “I’m not fat” (but I could lose some jiggle, its true) and “we don’t have that many kids” (we have 3 and if it weren’t for miscarriages we’d have 5) and “I do stuff all day” (its school work so my house isn’t really that tidy and won’t be until after finals). Really, though, who cares? I’ll be the size I’m gonna be (and finish marathons, by the way) and have as many kids as we want to have (we’re Catholic…we should have a squad by now) and I really am busy all day (with three kids in sports and scouts and clubs-this is obvious to anyone with, like, eyes.) and I was studying fricking nuclear chemistry for Pete’s sake… “I am Spouse, Hear Me Roar” defenses are pretty hollow sounding.

I don’t know why that female thought it was funny but my guess is that she’s seen someone who fits whatever mold she thinks warrants the name dependapotomus and was looking for an excuse to use the word. So that’s fine; she’s entitled to her opinion and I’m grateful for her service to my country. I hope she can get to know other dependents and gain some perspective on military family life. I hope she grows as a person, sees the error of her ways ,and befriends a military spouse in order to appreciate the other side of the tracks. I wish her success in her career.

Also, in the cozy little cockles of my shiny, patriotic heart I kind of hope that CWO made her cry like the crusted over barracks bunny she probably is. 

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. I probably shouldn’t have said anything or made a Facebook post or even written this blog post. But…what is technology good for if not rallying one’s friends for a bitch-lynching?

Sticks and stones, Love…sticks and stones…

Now, I have to get back to my studying for finals, laundry, making dinner, running 4 miles, organizing the garage, getting the oil changed, paying the bills, burying the family pet and consoling kids, getting kids to baseball camp, making everyone’s dentist appointments, electronic griping, preparing Cub Scout meetings, hiding my true emotions about family upsets back home, arranging the prospective purchase of our future home and farm, wrangling the teenager and all of her social contacts, cleaning out the car couch and preparing to get blasted on Easily Offended Military Spouse websites…

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Vampire Weekend and Caffeine

Vampire Weekend and Caffeine

“In December drinkin’ horchata, I’d look psychotic in a balaclava…”

-Vampire Weekend

WordPress tells me that I started this blog 5 years ago.

5 years is a hot minute
5 years is a hot minute

That’s just trippy. I remember my husband was deployed and I was cooking a lot and taking lots of photos and generally wanting to feel productive and connected. So, you know, instead of making friends and getting out, I started a blog. Makes total sense.

The Goods
The Goods

Anyway, I made some coffee stuff just now and since I’m in the kitchen alone, I had to tell somebody.

Iced Horchata Coffee Stuff

1) make some coffee

2) put ice and ^^^ that’s stuff in it

3) drink it and feel awesome

Its pretty good stuff, yo.

Kick Cancer’s Butt

I don’t often use my blog to promote stuff and things, but there are a couple of amazing folks out there doing some super-hero fantastic-ness and you should know about them.

My sister in law, Laura, is up for LLS Woman of the Year! She totally deserves to win, so click here and donate to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

My friend Kristen is trying to get into THE Ironman in Kona. Yes, people run, bike, and swim for obscene distances on purpose for the soul pleasure of the pain  accomplishment. Click right here to vote for her so she can join all the other crazies  athletes in Kona.

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I’m part of this awesome and dumb little club called Idiot’s Running Club. Our esteemed co-leader/guru/crazy person is doing Relay for Life next week. Feel free to drop him some dough.

(I hope the very nice and kind and beautiful author won't sue the spandex pants off me for sharing the cover of her "War and Peace"-rivaling tome...)
(I hope the very nice and kind and beautiful author won’t sue the spandex pants off me for sharing the cover of her “War and Peace”-rivaling tome…)

Also, a while back I promised a winner in the random drawing for the book “Honey, Do You Need a Ride? Confessions of a Fat Runner”. I havent’ forgotten about it (well…I DID forget about it but then I remembered, so its no longer forgotten. See what I did right there?) and that happy event will happen next Thursday. I won’t be using the random widget thingy; my grandmother will be in town and she’s going to choose a random winner.

 

Also, in the same vein as nut-so Superhero stuff, my coach at PRSFit is raising money for challenged athletes. You can help his cause here. (maybe if you donate, he’ll take it easy on me with the push-ups…)

So there. Lots of good stuff and things. Happy Friday!

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Easter Triduum Checklist or How I Need Rollerskates

Last Sunday: Sunday School for the kids at 1100, rehearsal for all of us at 1500, coordinated 1700 Mass.

Last night: rehearsal for Easter Vigil until 2130.

Tonight: Holy Thursday. I am reading, my daughter is an altar server, my husband and one son are getting their feet washed. Set up for Friday. Perpetual Adoration.

Friday: Good Friday. A vet appointment. Kids out of school. Fundraising. Rosary. Reflection. Service at 1800.

Saturday: Holy Saturday. Boy Scout Hike in the morning. Shopping. Meal prep. Easter Bunny Prep. Mass at 2100. Pass out candles. Read. Usher. Lights. 7 Baptisms!! Yay!!

Sunday: Easter.

Easter… ((breathe))…Easter…

The Eternal Work of the universe is done, complete with the Salvation of mankind. We will celebrate that He is Risen! I will rejoice!

This Easter Sunday, after the chocolate and food, after 1700 mass, I will go for a run. I will run to feel my legs and my breath and be grateful for my Savior’s gifts to me.

I will run to celebrate and rejoice and be calm.

Happy Easter Triduum, my friends. Whether you know it or not, whether you like it or not, you are loved and I will say a prayer for us all.

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