Thursday, April 30, 2009


So evidently I did something to piss Sleep off. You see, Sleep and I have had this kinda "thing" going for years. We never felt the need to "define" our relationship, as boundaries tend to close you in. Besides, we had a good thing going so why rock the boat. I can't put an exact date on it but sometime at the end of 2008 I apparently messed up. I don't know if he thinks I cheated on him by staying out later or spending more time with my family....but he's still upset about it.

I miss you, Sleep.
Please come back to me.
I need you!

Every time I lay my head down on my pillow, I wait for Sleep... Each time disappointed by someONE or someTHING else invading my time. Yesterday's nap went something like this.

Heidi: *lays down in the comfy bed, just about to nod off...drool starting....dreams beginning.*
Cell Phone: *vibrates*
Heidi: "Son of a..." (grabs phone)
Cell Phone: (8472935735 - unfamiliar number, left text) "I love u sweetie pie hunny bunch now im going to have a beer.
Heidi: (texts back) "Who is this?"
surely that will work and they'll leave me to sleep.... 5 minutes later as I'm dozing off...
Cell Phone: *vibrates*
Heidi: "What the heck! Are you kidding me?"
Cell Phone: (text) "Please stop doing this. I dont want to ruin anything."
Heidi: now irritated that the 30 min nap window is closing... (texts back) "I think u have the wrong number."
Cell Phone: (text) "The wrong number sorry"

I think Sleep thinks I have secret lovers.

It's Raining, it's Pouring, the Old Man is Snoring...

As the twangs of Jon Bon Jovi's guitar filled my ears, my eyes began to shake off the morning routine and come in to focus. Caught in the thrill of the mundane; the habit of shuffling to my semi-rusty GEO, climbing in with a sigh, straightening my pants legs (because I always seem to get that annoying crease directly under my thigh which if not tended to early on, will surely result in pins and needles 10 minutes down the road) I set off on my day. Often times I end up at work with not much recollection of the journey I took in getting there. Today, however, is different.

..."I drive all night..just to get back home. I'm a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride. I'm wanted, dead or alive..." Yes Bon Jovi. You are. As the haze of early morning lifts, my hand reaches for the knob on my factory installed AM/FM Radio. For once my head cries for the silence. With a 'click', I'm returned to my reality. I focus on the red light and close my eyes for a moment - drinking in the richness of life around me.

I hear the steady pounding of the rain upon the roof of my car. Without hesitation a smile spreads across my face. This's soo...comforting...

My mind opens to a scene of bright green nylon canvas above me. The sound of thunder rumbling in the distance that causes squeals of fear mixed with excitement. Two girls, roughing it in their parent's backyard - but to us it was the thrill of the adventure. The belief that we were pioneers with only our wits to keep us alive. Well, that coupled with the fact that my Mom always left the back door unlocked for us access to "food and supplies" in the kitchen!

Rainy nights were the best nights for camping outside. The steady beating of the drops of rain, rocking you to sleep... The thick damp moisture of the morning air on your face... Usually followed by the discovery that the tent had in fact leaked, and your sleeping bag and pillow were now soaked. None of that seemed to matter much, though, in the atmosphere of childhood adventure..

Green Light. Go. I'm driving again, lulling myself back into the usual practice of a Thursday morning. Again, revived by the sound of my windshield wipers as they heartily go about redirecting the water from my windshield. Steady is the rhythm....

In the back seat of my Mother's old two-toned blue car I sat, buckled in my seatbelt, smiling. I knew that whenever it rained as we were going for a ride, my Mom would sing. My thick white tights bunched up as I kicked my feet around...waiting. Unable to keep still. Car rides were my favorite and my little body was unable to contain my delight - anything below my waist kicked and squirmed with pure joy. The fixed low tocking of the wiper motor created the metronome to our song...

"Windshield wipers wipe the windshield
wipe the water from the pane
this way that way
this way that way
this way that way
in the rain."

When exactly is it that we grow up? When do we lose the uncontaminated ecstasy that comes with taking the time to drink in the little things?

And so...before I opened up the door to the shop, where I'd punch in and continue my day, I hesitated. Letting the rain drop down on my hair - not caring how it would look, I took a sip of the day that was all around me...and laughed.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

The Happening

Rumor has it that there are two types of people in this world: Becker's and those who wish they were Becker's. I think that's true enough. However, we must beware that there are imposter's! There are actually people who pose as Becker's, but are not. For example; that perverted Mayor of Racine, WI. Not a real Becker. 'Nuff said.

I'm often told that the stories I tell about my life (and/or family) are fantastic. Not that I'm a great story teller by any means, it is just that I HAVE stories to tell. Then again, to me they aren't "stories" - they are memories. To others, they are things you see in movies, I guess.

So today I bring you the story of:

"The Happening" took place prior to my birth. Pictured above are my grandparent's on my Mom's side. My Grandpa always wanted enough children to form his own baseball team. He succeeded by having 10 children. My Grandmother also had 4 other pregnancies: Two miscarriages and two that died after birth. One of which I was named after. At any rate, these are the patriarchs of one of the most creative families that I have ever known.

As with basically anything in our family, "the Happening" was a spur-of-the-moment event. In case you're wondering, spur-of-the-moment is the best way to go. It can't fail. My Uncle Eric (the 3rd born) was home from UW Whitewater. Uncle Eric is one of the most creative people I know. He's an artist with amazing abilities stemming from sketches, to painting, to pottery. At this point in his life he was living life and "experiencing" all he could of it. He returned to his parent's house on a mission to find a way to get others to experience art.

Usually these events would lead to the family (including the older ones that were now married with children) all climbing into their cars and heading out to Pet's Park. Not this night. Quickly, phone calls went out with the basic instructions and a dinner party was in the works. Whomever was available that night was told to wear a toga and to come on over for dinner.

My Grandmother was working at the local Deli and Liquor store which was run by her sister's husband at the time - she had no clue what was in the works back at home. Yet, in true Becker style when she arrived home she jumped right in. No questions asked. In this family, if somethings going's going on! So why ask questions? Things never seem weird to us.

My Aunt Gigi (the youngest of the daughters) was thrilled to help her older brother set up for the festivities. Streamers were plastered haphazardly around the house. The point was to drink in the feeling of stepping outside of the box - outside of the rules and boundaries we tend to close our lives into. To be free. Just to "be"!

The round table from the kitchen, a deeply colored and very heavy wooden table, was flipped upside down and propped up on milk crates. Everything about the house would give a child the feeling of being a part of something special; something no one else would get to do in their house! Pillows were placed on the floor as seats and the guests began to arrive.

Only in this family would you receive a call that instructed you to don a toga and come on over - and you wouldn't bat an eye. You'd toga it up and get on the road! The giant in the background is my Dad, holding my Brother. My Mom is donning a blonde wig and a floral toga which is all the rage this season. ;) F.Y.I. I still own that sheet! Saved it from the trash about 70 times.

The meal was probably spaghetti. Seeing as dinner was hosted by a college man, I'm sure it wasn't anything fancy. None of that mattered though.

Dessert was a giant Rice Krispie treat which was formed not in a pan, but in the large shallow copper bowl that my Grandmother stored in the cupboard above the refrigerator.

That night, the family gathered together dressed in sheets; laughing, talking, sharing life, and passing around one giant Rice Krispie treat. With each pass one would take a bite out and pass it along. Bong style.

Living life "outside of the box".

"The Happening."

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Life, Love and the Pursuit of Normalcy

The scent of garlic fills the air of my bedroom, coupled with the remnants of my perfume sprays from early this morning. My day began as yet another mad rush into work and routine. I barely had a moment to stop and breath in the air of change and drink in the bit of sunshine I saw, before I crawled into the cave where resides my desk.

Today's highlight was that early in the day, let's just say 10ish, the septic company came to clean out the "wash bay" in the trailer shop. For those of you who are as naive as I was, it smells like the thickest stench of rotting eggs that you could imagine. Worse than when they pump the poop tank.

So there I was; once again examining the steps that led my life to where it has gotten. Wondering if choices I made were all that great. I could be a pastor's wife in Tennessee. I could be married and living in England, or St. Louis. I could be an actress. I could be on SNL, maybe. Yet there I sit, day in and day out, in a cave. Like a prisoner, I have no window. Like a lab rat, I have no fresh air. I am a woman sitting in a man's world.

I know that I am right where I am supposed to be, I don't doubt that one bit. However, there are the rare moments in life that I look at this smudged, imperfect, overweight, too tall, fat faced life and think, hmmm. That's not how I pictured things happening. Months away from turning 30 and this is not what I thought I'd be; where I thought I'd be, or what I thought it would look like. Married, a house, 3 or 4 kids (at least) by now. Being Suzie Homemaker 24 hrs a day. That was my dream all along. How come I'm living with my Dad and Sister, working at a Trucking Company and single. What does all of this mean?

The smudges, the choices made, the heartbreaks of giving up lifelong dreams, the sacrifice of any sense of normalcy and girliness that comes with climbing up walls; using grease ladened screwdrivers to change light bulbs in exit signs while sweet talking the fire inspectors hoping that you can pass with flying colors...all of these things add a bit of color to my painting. Yet when I look at it from here, it looks like a blob of mashed potatoes that someone threw on the concrete. Messy, used and useless. It is only when I take that rare moment to Windex the glazed over windows to my soul - only when I drop it all for the second of reflection, that I see. When you are caught up in the daily mess of life; appointments, needs, short-comings, the ever looming knowledge that regardless of how hard you try you are inevitably letting someone down, the stubbed toes and the chipped nail polish - there's purpose in it. Only when you set down your desires, opinions and pre-conceived notions do you really begin to take it all in.

Life is like a painting. A great big, messy, painting. The smears, cracks, faults and folly's all add up. They all serve as a stroke of genius in the grand scheme of things. Even though my life may seem completely opposite of what I wanted.... Even if I am never allowed the awesome joining of lives with a man in this life... Even if I never fully realize, in physical reality, the actual feeling of birthing a new life into this world... As long as I am faithful with what I have been givien, I'm golden. Like Pony Boy.

And returning now to planet earth, I wonder if my Dad will ever clean the splashes on the stove from the split pea soup he made last week. Will Laura's cough keep me up all night tonight, again? Will I ever get more than 4 hrs sleep in one night? Are those 2 oatmeal and m&m cookies still hidden where I put them this afternoon?...

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Say What?

The Internet has given me access into people's lives. Access I wish I could give back. There are some things that I just shouldn't know about people. I'm a woman, and yet knowing certain things about other people's "lady business" is absolutely disgusting to me.

For example, did you know that you "should" buy 100% natural tampons and pads? Right, well, fair enough; I don't think that's all that bad. I am surrounded by extremists in several areas of life - all the way from food, to essential oils, to herbs and garlic, to exercise, to immunizations, to...evidently, pads.

There are people in the world; nay, in the USA, who choose to wear pads (and even grosser yet) tampons that are washable and reusable.

The whole idea of that completely makes this writer want to vomit.

Enough said.

Diet Crush and Patches

It's a Tuesday afternoon and everything about it is usual. Perhaps these are the things that make my life unique; the very fact that everything is ordinary to me and in that is where I find myself. It's odd. It's boring. Maybe I'm boring. I'm not sure. I'm sure the guy at the SuperValu Service Desk would tell you that I am indeed as normal as every other random shopper that cruises the aisles and sings along to the music at the top of their lungs.

I'm as normal as he is, at least. In December a customer reported that the wrapping paper in the Christmas Aisle kept falling down; the tubes wouldn't stand in their box. He assured her he will take care of it and thanked her for her troubles. As she walked away, he called over to one of the teenage baggers and instructed him to go and straighten the wrapping paper. After explaining the story to him, he assumed (naively) life will continue, but no, bagger boy stands there confused. Eventually the following dialogue took place:

Boy: The wrapping paper?
Man: Yes
Boy: Wait...what kind of wrapping paper? Christmas?
Man: (irritated now, knowing the wrapping paper is laying across the aisle) "No, the DICK wrapping paper."
Boy: (still confused, walks away)

I am normal.

As I sit here smelling the smell that mirrors that of paint thinner, I grow tired and wonder if this will eventually kill me. I stip my very-warm-at-this-point Diet Crush and stare at the Trucking Patches neatly stacked on my desk.

If this is normal......

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Shoe of the Day #8

My feet are camouflaged, you can't see them today.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


I love sleeping. It's my favorite. If it were an Olympic sport, I'd train my butt off to qualify for that jazz. Seriously. I wish I could sleep all the time. I'm still not sleeping much. My natural clock wakes me up at night and then by the time I finally convince it to lay off, I close my eyes and BAM, off goes the alarm clock. It's a revolving door policy I guess. To bed then up, no questions asked.

Today I came across this fanatastic gem of an alarm clock:


I also came across one I'd probably consider buying at some point. However, it's on a Japanese website and the site itself is written only in Japanese! I'll have to search the States to see what I can find. I'll let you know.

Shoe of the Day #7

I'm going for a brown pair of shoes today. I know, it's hard to believe. I was looking at my shoes today, thinking, crap, I'm almost out of my comfortable black ones! This is no good! I am the person who wears skater/tennis shoes 95% of the time. I had better use my others sparingly. I guess that means that the guys at the trucking company I work for will have to suck it up (or just laugh at me) when I show up to work wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and some striking pair of heels! It may not go, but it keeps me in my month long quest! ;)

Monday, April 6, 2009

Shoe of the Day #6

Shoe of the Day #5

Shoe of the Day #4

Friday, April 3, 2009

Shoe of the Day #3

The fun thing about today's outfit is that I bought that hat at Shopko a few years ago. Then, last year, I bought those shoes at Payless. Low and behold, same pattern! I feel so coordinated when I wear them together.

I'm such a girl!

Also: Brianne, I laughed when I read your comment about the mound of shoes picture at the end. I laughed as in "yeah right", but after thinking about it I took it more as a challenge - or maybe a victory? We'll see what happens.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

30 Days for 60 Shoes (or 30 pairs)

APRIL 1st:

APRIL 2nd:
I am a pretty low-maintenance gal. I'm most content in a hoodie and jeans, paired with some comfortable skater shoes or something of the sort. It has come to my attention, through the statements of some friends of mine, that I have a lot of really cool shoes - I just never wear them. I am a sucker for a good pair of shoes, most of them dressy. Having said that, when do I EVER dress up!?
It's been many months in the making, but April Fool's Day began my first attempt at going an entire month wearing a different pair of shoes every day. I'll call them my "main pair". Of course if it's snowing or raining I'm not going to wear them out in the elements if they'll be ruined, so I will allow changing. But one rule remains; the majority of the day I will be attempting to wear a "new" pair. 30 days, 30 pairs. Lord, help me. I realize now that I've acquired some truly ugly shoes as well. I've also realized that unless I locate the bulk of my shoes VERY soon (I think they may be in my cousins basement...) I will be forced to wear flip flops and some pretty hideous ones in the meantime...
So far so good.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The First of April

So many pranks.
So little time.