Bigger or Better: Life outside of Texas

I write this in support of mothers. Granted, I am basically unqualified on this topic. [Yes, I have a cat, and it's kinda like she's my baby, assuming that I would as a mother just leave dry cereal on the floor and a bowl of water that I maybe change twice a week, and who I bathe and brush like once a month. Don't look to me for an example.] Since 1st grade I knew I wanted to be a mother. Amazingly, even though I see how hard being a mother is, [feeding and clothing and teaching and cleaning and praying, all with a sleep deficit. I don't function well with sleep deficits.] that is still my goal. I am beginning to suspect that it is because  of the hard work that I want to be a mother. No, I'm not a masochist. I can see  how honorable the calling of motherhood is. It is the honor that draws me; not for fame or praise, but for the sense of fulfillment inherent in mothering. Today I was reading a short history of a faithful mother in the 1800s who opened her home fo

There are just so many phrases around the word 'butt' that it makes for easy title creation. Well, as long as my post is about butts. Two weeks ago I started physical rehabilitation for my spinal surgery. I will freely admit that I thought I was a star patient going in; I was exercising on the elliptical, I could do upper-body weights as long as I was lying flat, I could balance on a yoga ball, I practiced planking.... I quickly realized that the physical therapist figured out where in my core I was most weak, and made me work on that. Silly competent therapist. He wasn't even impressed with the exercises I was already doing. Except for the yoga ball. He was impressed by that. I have learned valuable lessons. Such as      Cycling leisurely for 8 minutes burns 17 calories.      Rehab is work. And it hurts.      A surgical incision in the "core" area affects a whole lotta movement.      My "core" includes not only my abs and lower back but also m

Because of school and my spine problems, Mark and I have gone on Zero fun trips this summer. It made for a boring Instagram feed. Fortunately, my car registration and vehicle inspection expired 3 days ago, and it forced our hand into a trip. No, we did not do anything illegal. So now that you are not accomplices, how, you may ask, does vehicle registration have anything to do with fun trips? Strangely, the answer is: car repairs. A month or two ago, for a reason that I don't remember (I was otherwise occupied with back problems, if you recall), Mark took my car in to get its struts replaced. Unfortunately, that led to my Anti-Lock Braking System malfunctioning, which led to 2 more trips to the mechanic last month. Because we had to wait for ordered car parts to arrive, that meant that my car finally got released from the car 'clinic' on the 2nd-to-last day of August. The very next day, I took my car in to get inspected. It failed. The mechanic must have disconnected