It’s supposed to be easy.

And quite frankly, the box made it look easy.  In fact, when I walked past it at the store, I was convinced that I had to buy it, because it promised to help me create a wall that screamed “Yes, the woman of this home has a clue.  She is an interior decorator at heart and just hasn’t discovered it yet.”

This brings me to the following conclusion:  either the box lied or my husband and I have the decorating skills of a six-year-old.

We spent over an hour taping pieces of paper to the wall, trying to figure out an arrangement that we both agreed on.

(Taping paper to the wall before banging in nails is an ingenious idea, by the way.  Had my husband and I not been given this advise, our wall would now resemble a slice of swiss cheese).

Once we came to an agreement on how we wanted to arrange all the frames, we then had to take out the leveler to make sure everything was straight.  (Nate insisted on this step, since my idea of guesstimating would have been much faster… but not quite so fool-proof).

Unfortunately, we ran out of time last night, so we still have a few more frames to hang up.  Obviously. 

But I am happy to report that everything is straight so far… Well, everything except for our strained necks.

I think we may be in this position for a little while yet.

And it mocks me on a daily basis…

I have to admit that I’ve always wanted to have the upper-body strength to be able to pull myself up on that bar.  I’d even settle for once to start.  But right now, it’s all I can do to just hang there and carry my weight.  And using just arm strength to carry my entire body-weight is a lot tougher than I thought it would be.  In fact, it kind of makes me appreciate my legs more.

Which brings me to another point… You know those action-movie scenes where the guy hangs from the bottom of a helicopter and is flown to some safer spot where there isn’t machine gun fire and explosions?  So not as easy as it looks.  Not that I’ve hung from a helicopter, but I’m not having an easy time hanging from my doorway.  Sooooo, yeah, I’m pretty sure that if you threw a helicopter and heights into the mix, I’d take my chances with falling into the ocean.

I did notice this morning that I was able to lift myself up a little.  Just a bit.  Just enough to let me know that a pull-up is not out of the question.  It’s just something that I have to work towards.

So you read it here first, folks. I’m going to start practicing and working my way up to completing my first pull-up, at which point I’ll hopefully find the strength to do a couple.

The only question is, how long will it take me to get there?

Have you ever completed a pull-up?  How about hung from a helicopter while it was flying?  (Tom Cruise, this is your chance to brag here).

Or maybe, better yet, it’d be a ‘clap-on’ and ‘clap-off’ kind of gadget.  You know, just to keep up with the times.

Yes, I’ve decided that would be nice.

But apparently, since we humans weren’t created with robot-like switches, God decided to give me the next best thing.  I married a man who has nerves of steel.  Actually, I’m not even sure if he has nerves.  He is that calm.  I, on the other hand, am quite the expert at running through the house, screaming, and pulling out my hair.

Like last night… One of my cats found a small, jiggling packet on the kitchen table, and decided that it would be fun to carry it off in his mouth and leave it in some undesignated location.  The situation may have been cute had that jiggly package not been my birth control.

“I cannot get pregnant because my cat stole my pills,”I fumed, imagining my future child finding out that his existance was made possible thanks to our cat’s ability to play hide-and-seek.

Long story short, I ranted and raved and panicked.  And Nate calmly helped me search… and then helped me calmly come to the conclusion that a trip to the pharmacy in the morning would solve the problem.  And all would be well.

And all will be well.  As usual.

I just guess I’m still learning how to stay calm in the circumstance, rather than letting the circumstance rule me.    What can I say, I’m a work in progress.

And so is my cat, I’m thinking.  Because how many times have I told him not to jump on the kitchen table?

The big reveal is here… The moment you have all been waiting for.  The picture that’s worth a thousand words.

Ta da!

We have something hanging up on one of our walls!

Yeah, you’re right… Not enough enthusiasm.

Here we go, this is better.

Only like 15 walls left to go! 

But if I had to pick one girl with whom I would most prefer to go on adventures with, Liz would definitely be a major contender.  Because crazy adventures follow us.  So much so, that she and I used to talk about writing a book entitled The Adventures of Nicole and Liz. 

I’m also thinking that a screenplay should be in the works, but then again, I may be getting a bit carried away.

One of my favorite stories just might be the time that she and I were at a sandwich shop eating dinner….  A creepy man decided to sit at the booth across from us and blatantly watch us as we ate.  Actually, ‘stare at us’ is probably a better description.  Liz was able to keep pretty calm for the most part, but I  — on the other hand — burst into laughter until I cried.  (Have I told you that I laugh when I’m nervous?  No?  Well, I do).  I mean, seriously, there I was, gasping for air, leaning over the booth, and trying not to choke on a bite of meatball grinder.   The good thing is that the man became so startled by my reaction that he quickly left the sub shop, and we were left to finish our dinner in peace. 

And then there was that time that we got locked in a restroom in Subway.  Or we got lost in the backroom while we were looking for the restroom? Liz might remember more than me…

But, yeah, we tend to have some pretty funny escapades when we’re together.

So it was great to have Liz, her husband Jason, and their daughter Alannah over this weekend to catch up.

Alannah is as cute as a button, and is my new favorite person to bake for.  She made a ton of lip-smacking, ‘hmmm’ noises when she was eating my banana muffins.  If that’s not enough to make a cook feel special, then I don’t know what would.

I was thinking about teaching Nate how to do that, but I’m not sure it would have the same affect. 

But, yes, adventures.  Liz and I have most definitely had some good ones, and we most definitely have some fun ones planned…

The best one yet, though, might happen this week.  They put an offer on a house up the street, so there’s a chance that we’ll be neighbors! 

I just can’t wait to see what happens next!

Check  out Liz’s new Blog: A Journey in My Shoes.  She’s writing about her new-found love of working out, eating healthy, and even home decor.  It’s a fun read!

And check out Jason’s Blog:  Steve and Harry 

Nate had promised to keep the TV low last night, so that I could sleep, but he apparently couldn’t control his excitement during the game.  Because he was bouncing all over the place, yelling and waving his arms. I, meanwhile, was pretty much hanging onto the mattress for dear life, hoping that we wouldn’t flip over or maybe even take flight.

So apparently, the volume of the TV was the least of my concerns. 

I finally decided that if you can’t beat them, join them.  I do like football, after all.  So we both stayed up to find out that it will be the Giants playing our Patriots in the Superbowl.  Nate then tried to explain to me — in great detail and with much gusto — why this will be a great match-up.  But I’m fairly certain that I fell asleep to the lullaby of him talking, so in other words, I can’t remember a thing.

But it’s funny how all that excitement kind of melted away during the night and disappeared into our thick carpet.  It definitely went somewhere, because there wasn’t a bit of it left this morning.  Nate and I took turns groaning and stretching and mumbling about how Monday mornings should be illegal.

And really, I think that they should be. It’s not our fault that sometimes, Sunday-night football games run late.  Monday mornings just always show up too soon.

I wasn’t paying much attention, until I over-heard the woman tell her friend, “Wait, you have to listen to this, it’s so cute.”

She bent down to her little girl, who was about six years old and as cute as a button, and asked, “Would you like some chocolate?”

“No,” the girl shrieked.  She had obviously rehearsed this response many times, as her eyes widened and her hands spread out into the air dramatically.  “Chocolate makes me fat!”

Both woman burst into laughter, and the woman gave her daughter an approved pat on the head like one would congratulate a dog for sitting on command.

And I left, feeling disgusted, realizing that sometimes it’s not even the media’s fault.  Sometimes the downward spiral of I’m-not-skinny-enough-feelings can be planted even younger.  They can even begin at home.

And it broke my heart.

I vowed to myself that should I ever have children, they won’t see me diet.  See me pose in the mirror and ask if I’m fat.  Or see me eat completely different meals than the rest of the family, just because I’m afraid of gaining an ounce.

The struggle to be super skinny for the sake of fitting an image isn’t important enough to me.  And that struggle is not something I would want to pass onto my children.

I’ve personally gone through that struggle of trying to fit a perfect image of skinny before.  It’s over, thank God, but the memory of all the hurt and pain is not.

Healthy is beautiful.  But Skinny?

Skinny is nothing.

How do you feel about that?  Do you think that comments made by parents, although meant to be harmless, could instill some dangerous thoughts about body image into their children?

I mean, I know that it’s not good to live for the weekends and all, but this past week was busy.  Between work, church, and errands, I was out late every single night, and because of that, I think I made it to the gym only once.

(Actually, I never did make it to the gym, but ‘thinking’ that I made it once makes me feel a little better).

Thankfully, next week slows down to a regular pace, so I should be able to fill up my free time with things I want to do… Like working out, spending time with Nate, reading, and posing for random pictures that I can put on my blog.

You know, the important things of life. 

Oh, and speaking of important things, Nate and I finally hung something up on one of our walls!  At this rate, we’ll have two things hanging up by the year 2014!

Awww, I love progress!

But I, on the other hand, waited in eager participation of someone a little less traditional.  My hero – dressed in a brown suit and a faded cap – didn’t sport a snow-white beard and most certainly couldn’t fly.  Or at least not that I know of. But he certainly was just as amazing.

I was enraptured by the UPS delivery man.

Somewhere along the way, no thanks to an avid imagination gone wild, I had convinced myself that the UPS delivery man brought us presents just because he felt like it.  I didn’t quite understand how the mail-order-catalogue worked and no one was ordering merchandise online yet.  No, I was pretty sure that Mr. UPS was just a really nice guy who stopped by our house if we were good.

He didn’t even always wait for Christmas. It could be the middle of summer, and he’d pull up in his large brown truck to deliver a present.

Take that, Santa!

Upon first sight of that brown truck rambling down our bumpy road, my brother, sister and I would tear into the house, screaming that he was here. He had brought us a surprise. And my mom would sign for a mysterious brown package that would have one of our names on it… And suddenly there would be some fun new clothes. Crisp new books. Or, sometimes, even a toy.

It was always something wonderful.  Sigh.

These memories all came flooding back yesterday when Mr. UPS delivered, not one, but two packages.  For me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a package arrive in the mail.  But it’s no less exciting.  And the surprises were no less amazing.

There was a Kindle… for me.  And a beautiful, Paris-themed tank top. Long and flowy, it’s perfect to pair with skinny jeans and some black boots.

Wow, Mr. UPS man still gets it right every time.

How does he do it?!?

P.S.  Turns out that my hubby actually told Mr. UPS to bring that Kindle to me…  Nate was so excited about his own, that he wanted me to have one too.  So nice of my husband to put in a good word for me! 

Plot (no spoilers):

What if you knew that your parents conceived you, not because they wanted another child or because you had been a mistake, but because they knew that your body could save their first child?  What if all you can remember are long needles and visits to the emergency room?  And what if it’s not because you’re the one who is sick?

What if you were born just so that your blood, marrow, and organs could be used to help save your older sister from leukemia?

When would enough become enough?

My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult opens such ethical questions for discussion, following the heartbreak and struggle of a family dealing with the horrors of leukemia.  Thirteen-year-old Anna Fitzgerald is a perfect match for her older sister Kate… and it’s all by genetic design.  She has spent her entire life following her sister to the hospital so that vital blood or marrow could be drawn.  But when she hears her mother talk about the need for a kidney transplant, Anna decides to hire a lawyer and sue her parents for the rights to her own body.

Because she has had enough…  But at what price?

My Thoughts:

This was my first time reading a Jodi Picoult novel, and I am already a huge fan of her writing.  She brings the characters to life and has a conversational writing style that draws you into the story.

I also loved how she wrote the novel from the view-point of several main characters.  You not only get Anna’s point of view.  You also are introduced to the thoughts and emotions of a mother, father, lawyer, brother, and even Kate who is struggling for her life.

That being said, this novel was SAD and almost overwhelmingly so.  There is no effort made to mask the horror and devastation parents feel when they find out that their beautiful little girl has leukemia.  No sensor on how such fear and uncertainty can weigh on a family and strain it.

It was hard to read.  But it was a good read.  So I leave you with this… If you haven’t read this novel, you may want to.  But don’t do so without a box of tissues handy.

Have you read My Sister’s Keeper?  There is also a movie out, if you’re interested, although the ending is different from the novel’s.