I called this blog "rantings" for a reason.

While most people have been writting blogs about the beauty and joy of christmas, perhaps writting reflective thoughts after the holidays and looking forward to the new years resolutions...I have decided to spend my writing efforts trying to get my favorite chocolate back.   Below is an email I sent to Godiva today... I hope it works... it'd probably work better if each of you would also email them and let them know you'd wish the same:

I'm sending this email in hopes that if Godiva is made aware of how incredibly terrible of a mistake they have made that they may fix it.  The chocolate raspberry stars have by FAR been my favorite chocolates ever made.  I found out awhile ago that they stopped making them, which in my opinion is the WORST mistake that has ever been made in the history of chocolate making!  I tried a white chocolate raspberry star... disgusting.  I'm sure if I had never experienced the greatness of the chocolate raspberry stars that the white chocolate one would seem delicious enough, but I am not fooled by this unsatisfactory available option.  My husband for years had gotten me this special treat for our anniversary, and the  poor man is set up for failure every year when he knows I will only be disappointed no matter how great his efforts of spoiling me for our special day are.  Diamonds?  psh.  Flowers?  whatever.  white chocolate raspberry stars?  our marriage may very well be on the rocks!  Maybe the chocolate stars were not your highest selling item, and I understand marketing and making money in most businesses.  However, I had hoped Godiva was more passionate about the art of chocolate than the business.  Please, bring back your mastering the arts of chocolate with the chocolate raspberry stars.  For me, for my marriage, for the art of chocolate.
Sincerly,
   Sasha Logan

If you have not had the said chocolates, you should still email them, so you can try them.   Ridiculous?  Absolutely.  But hey, if it works, then it was well worth it!   Hope eveyrone had and wonderful Christmas.  We had a great Christmas, but I've wasted all this space about chocolates and don't much feel like typing anymore.

Hip, but not hipster!

As I sit here listening to Fleet Foxes, in my hoody, next to my daughter (who is pounding her bottle faster than I'll probably be able to post this blog)... I'm realizing how much I secretly wish I were a hippie.  The thing is, if I were a hippie at least I'd BE a label.  Everyone says they don't want to be labeled anything, individualism and all that crap... but truth be told, it's easier to have a label, people like them more than they know, because it gives people an idea of the kind of person you are without them having to really know you.   I have this new book called "The Creative Family", it is AWESOME.  It pretty much sums up my theories on toys that I try to describe to my family members on the types of toys I want for Vi and why. (See paragraph at bottom) It'd be easier if I were just a hippie and could get away with "she's just a hippie, and won't let her kids have anything but natural toys, what a weirdo".  But instead I have to explain myself. (I know i don't HAVE to explain myself, iI just feel that way more.)  I also like how hippies do the whole "all natural" lifestyle...or at least try to.  It's honestly just a great thing, health wise and stuff.  I do this for my daugther and wish I did it more for me. Also if I were a hippie, I'd have a lot more friends who share my AMAZING taste in music (I'm not biased, I just know the best music to listen to is all.)  It seems when I go to any show of the bands that I love, there's a bunch of hippies.   Also, if I were a hippie, I could dance with a hula hoop at shows.  I mean, who doesn't want to do that?!  I do. 

But I don't have the hippie look that goes with the hoola  hoop... I think you need the look.   If I were a hippie I also could smoke pot.  JUST KIDDING.  geez, don't freak out.  I don't want to smoke pot (nor have I ever even considered it for a moment, I don't want to be stupid.) 

There are just as many reasons I am glad I do not fit with the hippie stereotype.  One, I hate pot.  I mean, not just cause it's illegal and I think following the law is typically is a good idea.  Or not even because it's a drug and well, drugs are bad (I learned that in 6th grade, thanks DARE!).  But mostly because it smells bad... really, really bad.   Which brings me to point number two:  Hippies smell bad.   I'm actually all about natural stuff (like I said in my last paragraph on what I like about hippies) however, not in regards to your body.  I don't care if deodarant may have terrible chemicals, it's better than smelling a person from across the room.  Since we're on the topic of bodies, I could never be a hippie because not shaving is GROSS.  It just is, shave your legs (you know who I'm talking about here)
I need some kind of label for a half hippie... I guess I'll just be hip.   yeeeaaahhh... I'm hip!  Very original I know.  Not ridiculous at all that I just went there.   Don't even get me started on hipsters.  Vi is done with her bottle anyway, no hipster rant today.


From "The Creative Family" by Amanda Blake Soule
"Do the tools and toys around you evoke a feeling of beauty?  By choosing carefully what toys you bring into your home, you can encourage a love and appreciation for good design and craftsmanship. "
"Many modern toys are sophisticated and technologically complicated, which certainly have their place and importance in our lives.  But the downside is that they often eliminate a need for imagination when playing.   If there's a toy that does it all for you, there's little room left for creativity."
"When it comes to playthings for our children, I can't emphasize enough that for creative play, less really is more in regard to toys.  A sad product of our modern world is that our children are taught early on to over-consume and to want more, more and more.  When there are too many things around, there's little room for imagination."

i can touch my toes and so much more!

Here's some advice I've learned as a new mom for you future moms out there.   Stretch.   I mean, really stretch out your limbs with some yoga or pilates or something... it's amazing the weird positions you find yourself in with a child.  Carrying a carseat and bending over to get something, or crawling across the floor on your feet and hands just to make your kids laugh.. your body  is going to need to be a little more flexible and strong that you realize for motherhood.
I find myself in the most awkward positions at naptime.  Every once in awhile if it's a rough day or we are at someone's house without a pack and play or maybe just because I want a nap, Genevieve and I will lay down to nap in a bed.  To leave the bed without waking up the kid is a paranoid filled journey.  First I listen for her sleepy breathing and I start by opening ONE eye to see if her eyes are closed.  If not I quickly close mine, and lay still.  Once I see she has both eyes closed I slowly lift my head.  Then wait.  Then one foot slides off the bed.  Then wait.   Then I slowly shift my weight.  And wait.  Sometimes she will sense I am leaving and open her eyes and I quickly close my eyes and put my head down regardless of the position I am in (one foot on the ground and my body at some weird angle).   Then when all is clear I start slithering like a snake, sliding off the bed an inch at a time.  One wrong move and she wakes up crying so it's very important to shift, slide, and move body parts accordingly.    The last time I was in this position I realized how ridiculous I would look had anyone been watching, but it didn't matter, I had made it off the bed and she was sleeping soundly!   The most annoying part is, once I'm out the door I can talk, play music and walk around normally and she sleeps soundly... but if I so much as move my finger wrong while sneaking out of bed, she wakes up crying. 
Anyway,  all that to say to you future moms, do some stretches, it'll really help you out.

shopping.

So I know this may come as a HUGE surprise to most people...but I hate shopping.  Clothes shopping that is.  I don't mean like, "oh I just feel so fat" or "it takes me forever to pick something" or other things I hear some women say... I mean, I hate every single thing about it.  I hate trying on clothes, I hate looking when I know I won't like anything, I hate the smell (don't pretend you don't know about the clothes department smells), I hate walking by store fronts and feeling so confused at what people are willing to buy in the name of "fashion", shoot, I even hate having to walk by (or *gasp!* sometimes even into) the stores and having to THINK about shopping.  What I hate most, is spending one cent of our money towards something I don't care for, especially when there are SO SO many things I enjoy spending money on.  Namely music.   However, because I do in fact prefer wearing something rather than walking around naked, inevitably I have to go shopping for clothes...sometimes.  I dread these moments in my life with a passion.

A week or so ago my mother-n-law informed me she had a coupon for some percent off of total at Kohl's and asked if I needed anything.  I said no.  To which my husband replied "Sasha, you have ONE pair of jeans, go get some freaking clothes"   Whatever.  Fine.   I couldn't deny it was somewhat easier to start the process when I knew someone else was willing to buy the clothes for me.  I got a pair of jeans, and was ready to go.  My mother-n-law insisted we should get more, and I said I was fine, but she kept insisting.  Ok, I think, I'll go grab a couple guy t-shirts and THEN we can go.   Not so easy.  She wanted to at least get me a couple women's shirts.  I must say, I was fairly surprised when she picked up a couple pieces that I thought looked comfortable, and wearable.  Granted, they were flannel shirts... I am ALL about flannel.  A couple years ago I bought a brown flannel shirt in the men's department at Walmart for a cowboy costume at the daycare I was working at.  I realized I loved the shirt and much to Tyler's dismay, I kept wearing it.  I personally thought it was the most wonderful shirt I had ever owned.  

best shirt ever and best dog ever.

I'm not sure what happened to that shirt, but I'm fairly certain Tyler got rid of it.   So, a flannel shirt in the women's department?  Yeah, I'm down.  Not only was it flannel, but it had little flowers or something when you rolled up the sleeves to prove it was a women's shirt.   I really don't see what the big difference is besides the not so noticeable flowers, but apparently this one is "tyler approved" as well as "women's department" approved.  Anyway, needless to say, I own a new flannel shirt, I'm happy about it, and I had to go shopping to get it.    I feel all grown up and responsible.



The hazards of cleaning

I decided to be all housewifey the other day and dust every surface of my house.  This doesn't happen very often, I mean, I dust, but not everything.   You know what I'm talking about, you clean the same basic things over and over...but every once in awhile the tops of your dresser and books and windows have to be wiped down when you can see 2 inches of dust on them.  Or maybe you don't, maybe you regularly clean everything all the time...but I doubt it.  So since I'm too short to reach the top of the windows, I decided to stand on the bed to dust.  Rather than step gracefully down like a lady (which normally I do) I decided to plop down on my bottom from standing up, kind of like you did when you were a 8 year old on the trampoline.  It seemed like it'd be fun, jumping down on my soft bed and jumping to the floor, sprucing up cleaning time a bit.  Instead I jumped down and sprained my wrist.   
The  hazards of being a housewife.   I kept rehurting it trying to take care of the baby and various things until I finally got a brace.   Moral of the story:  only I could make house cleaning a dangerous job.  I'm pretty sure I should play it safe and never clean again.

Dream on dreamer.

Potty mouth!

About five different times this week my mom asked me, "when are you going to update your blog again?  It's so funny!"  Which, I'm  glad my mom thinks I'm funny, when I was younger I don't think she thought I was funny as much as a smart ass.  Now that I don't live with her I'm "funny".  Well, all this pressure to update has made me kind of anxious about being funny enough.   I thought, maybe this time I'll just reveal some deep thoughts about being a mom.  Truth being told though, I'm not really deep.  Whenever I try to reveal some deep thoughts (usually in various journals I've started and stopped through the years), I hope I'm coming across as intellegectual, enlightened or thought provoking.  Then I go back later and read something like, "it's amazing how blue the sky can really be sometimes.  I mean, somedays it's just kind of blue, and other days it's strikingly blue, like saphires."  I realize not only was I not intellectual, but it kind of seems like it could have been written by a hippie...high on pot.   To be an intellectual writter I think it's best if you use big words followed by good adjectives.  I find I spend too much time trying to think of fancy words to try to be intellectual so I think I'll stick to what I know.  Which is being a smart ass.  

In other news, I ran my first 5k yesterday.  I feel great about it!  Do I consider myself a runner now?  Not at all, in fact, just this week when I was running with my friend, a couple blocks into it I turned to him and said, "I hate this!"  Seems to me most runners I know, truely love it. 

You can see here, my friend Stephanie who loves running, smiling and waving at the camera, she looks like she's thinking something like "I'm running and I'm super excited about it! Hello photographer!".  I put my hand up to flip the photographer off, then decided that was inappropriate so I have the "I'm going to smile and put my hand up to wave but I'm thinking bad thoughts about you taking pictures while I'm just trying to breathe" (look closely for the slight grimace)

                               

 However, I do feel accomplished, for finishing something that was difficult, completing a goal I had set, and doing it regardless of how much I disliked it.   Everyone keeps asking if I caught the "running bug",  but the truth is I just want to feel healthy, and I don't like bugs.  

dreadlocks?

I got to work this morning and realized I forgot to brush my hair.  Not that it really matters that much, it would have looked nearly the same, but the ponytail would have looked a little more "finished" under my headband.   I wear my hair the same everyday.  On special occasions I will straighten it and wear it down... that means I am "dressed up".   I HATE doing my hair.  One of the many things that I guess would put me in that tomboy category.  I talk to girls who literally spend an hour on just their hair... AN HOUR!  Good lord I have better things to do with my time in the mornings...like sleeping in.  However, it's these same girls that do their hair for an hour(and that I think are a little crazy), that I feel insecure around.  What sense does that make to feel insecure around someone you think is a little crazy?  This is only the beginning of my silliness.  Because when I feel insecure I have a tendancy to make a complete fool of myself.  Words just start falling out of my mouth and the whole time I find myself thinking "STOP TALKING!  CLOSE YOUR MOUTH!"  I rarely listen to myself, and instead lay awake at night replaying my stupid comments over and over again in my head till I drive myself nuts.  Am I alone here? 
In other news, a three year old called me crazy today.  I told him he was right.  He was absolutely right, "your teacher IS in fact crazy".  I wonder how that conversation will replay at home.  "Mom, Miss Sasha told me she was crazy today!"  That doesn't sound too bad I guess.  It has to be better than the time my preschoolers went home and told their parents that I dumped the class fish down the sink.  oops.  I meant, let "Toto" go free to the ocean.  That's right kids, the drain from our class sink (in Kansas) leads to the ocean where Toto is now free to find his family. 
I think I'll go brush my hair.

Tyler made me do it.

Probably because I'm a preschool teacher, but before I type anything that offends anyone, I must first place the blame on someone else.  My husband insisted that I begin blogging.  Therefore he is to blame for just about anything said here.  Ok, now that that's out of the way.  Let the blogging commence.