I'm still in process of proofreading. Please be patient with me as I make changes over the next few days. :)

I don't know much about astrology.

All I know is that the full moon can give me anxiety...even though I usually feel the effects of the full moon a couple days before. I don't know why that is...I don't know why a lot of things are. They just...

ARE.

For all those that say that the full moon and the "tales" that happen during the full moon (example: heightened violence--police reports, increase of women going into labor, people having exceptionally bad days) is nothing but that, just tales, I must disagree.

I did a video about it a year or two ago but the video has since gone "unlisted" (here's a short post about it instead). Long story. If you read my most popular posts, you'd probably gather why that is. But the long and the short of the video was this:

The full moon does affect people.

And just as the full moon affects people, so does what is called Mercury in Retrograde.

Here's a definition of what that is:

It's because Mercury rules communication, clear thinking, truth and travel, so when the planet goes retrograde — which means that it looks like it's going backwards in the sky — all those things go backwards. They start to get ugly and tangle up.

(Source by Gala Darling: http://galadarling.com/article/how-to-survive-mercury-retrograde/)

Urban Dictionary put it into these words:

A three week period in which the planet Mercury to appears to be in backwards motion. 
During this time human beings experience many adverse effects, such as memory loss, loss of time, loss of items, loss of common sense. As for technology many unexpected glitches occur during this time, such as software crashes and emails getting lost 

One lady I am subscribed to on YouTube posted this video and goes into even better detail as to what Mercury Retrograde is:

Thanks Kendall!

(Please Note: Some--albeit very little--language is used)

If you were to ask me, Mercury in Retrograde is nothing but a three-week-long full moon.

I'm affected the same.

I get just as much anxiety, if not more.

I remember a week ago a friend posting on Facebook about Mercury being in retrograde and while I scrolled through my newsfeed and caught a glimpse of her post the thought that crossed my mind was, "AGAIN?"

This unfortunate season happens three to four times a year.

The last one covered May and June and I still carry scars from the mess that had me in. I was counting down the DAYS and then the HOURS until it was over. I woke up to anxiety. I felt it all day long. I slept to avoid it, only to bring morning sooner with more anxiety.

Well, a couple weeks ago I noticed something.

A lot of the people I normally come in contact with have been acting irritable, stressed, absent-minded, or lax. 

Even people I hardly know seemed to give off the impression that they are on edge.

This started with my friend that I see maybe once or twice a week at the gym. A couple weeks ago he stopped keeping up with our usual conversations. Usual conversations = the weather (literally), work, hobbies, what we did for the weekend and what plans we have for the weekend.

Between those topics, we can keep a conversation going without a hiccup.

But last Monday he just stopped keeping up with the conversation. And I, in turn, had to drum up more topics to keep our chat going. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk to me, he just seemed stressed, like his mind was somewhere else. 

Another example is a good friend of mine. I haven't seen her in over two months, which is typical as she's very busy and between our two schedules, getting together is harder than we'd like. I finally saw her a few days ago but felt like the cohesiveness between us had been jilted. Even her husband seemed out of sorts. She left the activity we usually attend together without saying goodbye, sat in her car and didn't look up at me as I passed.

Another friend, whom I've known to be quiet and reserved was now rude, talked down to me and showed no remorse for it.

The neighbor's boyfriend, whom I've talked with a couple times, has been irritable the last two times we dropped the kids off at the bus stop.

And I could list several more.

"What is going ON?" I found myself saying the other day; a knot of confusion weighing down the pit of my stomach. I spent an afternoon wondering what I had done. Surely if the majority of people that I'm running into or talk to on a normal basis are not treating me the same as they usually do, then I'm the problem, right?

And then, while gathering groceries at the store it was as though an angel walked up and talked into my ear. My thoughts on what vegetables I needed to buy suddenly shifted. I found myself whispering under my breath as I exhaled, "Oh right...Mercury is in retrograde."

My friend, Jonelle, sent me this image. How perfect it is for explaining and preparing for the funk that we'll be put in.

Thanks, girl!

So if you ever find that you're going through a funk that's lasting longer than a week, consider that it could be Mercury in Retrograde...and know that it will soon be over, after those long, dragging three weeks of sun-rises and sunsets are done.

AND GOOD LUCK!

Note: Just as the full moon doesn't affect everyone, Mercury in Retrograde doesn't affect everyone either. While the last session of MR for me was terrible, I had friends who had little effect from it. While I have little effect from this round of MR, it seems like many of those around me are affected by it. It all boils down to astrology and where Mercury is stationed at the time of retrograde...which is information and details that go way over my head, as hard as I try to retain it.

Google is your friend though! What I can't help you with, it can.

I don't know how often I'll write these, even though at the moment I would love to say that every day I'll sit down and say a little something to my kids or to my family. I know that my writing falls short, is sub par. I know I'm not perfect, nor do I claim to be the world's best mother. But I do strive to teach my kids as God would have me. I don't care how any one else thinks I should rear my kids. No one has my same three kids and no one knows them like my husband and I do. But before that, not even we know them as much as God does. Therefore, we try our darnedest to hear the Lord, to hear our angels, to hear the Holy Ghost as they instruct us on how to not just raised good kids, but GREAT kids.

Tonight while tucking in my boys my youngest, age seven, held a small ice pack over his finger, just twenty minutes prior he jammed it and is now feeling throbbing pain from it.

As I go to kiss him goodnight he says to me something I've been hearing him say more often lately, "Every day is a bad day!"

I somberly told him that I didn't want to hear such words come out of his mouth anymore. How I want every day to be the best day for him. How I know that his future will have moments where every day WILL SEEM like a bad day.

But for now, while he's still little, while he still runs to me for hugs and kisses, while he's still under my care and concern, I don't ever, ever want him to believe that every day is a bad day.

The tears slid down his temples into his hairline, "It's because yesterday I fell down and then the day before..." as he goes on to justify why his days have been so bad, "And then tomorrow will be a bad day because my finger will still be hurting probably!"

I explained to him that the more he found each day to be a bad day, the more likely it was that the next day would be one too. "If it's our attitude that gives us a bad day, then our attitude can change it to make it good. And if it's not our attitude that makes it a bad day, maybe we can have a positive attitude so it won't get worse," I say.

My eyes looked at his sore finger, ice pack carefully placed on it, and considered this "bad day". I wanted to say more to him, things that wouldn't stick into his understanding at this age, especially right now while his mind was on the pain. But what I didn't tell him was my desire to ingrain those couple sentences so heavily into his subconscious now, while he's still young, before he grows to be an adult and either spends his life in "bad days" or spends a wrenching season of his life trying (if not his whole life) to remove what may be so seared into his soul that is deems nearly impossible.

I've been told, by just about everyone, that I think too much. That I over think things. That I could over analyze just about any situation.

And they're all right. But at that time I saw my little boy become a teenager, and then a grown man, going to bed every night with a lonely, heavy heart that I KNOW can be mended, but can be AVOIDED if my husband and I will do all we can to give him the tools he needs to take on the world, to rise above the hard times, to see the silver lining of his clouds, in other words, so the world doesn't take on him.

"You must understand that every day is a gift from God. Every morning when that sun rises that is Heavenly Father blessing us with another day to start fresh, even if it starts out with a sore finger."

He sighs, "OK...."

How I love my kids. How I hope that when I open my mouth to speak words of wisdom, comfort, guidance, love, that it is exactly what their souls need to hear. And I know that anything that I say that may be of help to them is not by my own voice. It's from God's.

My Dad had quite the tight spring in his finger. My siblings and I know this all too well. Being one of seven kids, I figured my Dad resorted to a good head-thumping to keep us in line as it was quick and easy, got the point (read: pain) across without raising his voice to us, no spanking needed, no dragging a kid to their room to think it over as being alone in our room was, let's get real here, with a small neighborhood living under one roof, a luxury. 

All he had to do was pull back his finger with his thumb and raise it over our head that had us shutting-up the "foul" language we were using, begging our teased siblings for forgiveness, instantly cleaning up our mess, whatever it was that we, the children, knew that he was coming after us for.

It's the worst when we didn't see it coming. We'd taunt our sibling in quiet, thinking everyone is out of earshot, when the world would shake with a loud crashing sound as our eyeballs rolled around in our head. Before we could come to, the swelling pain from one small spot on our head told us we were in big trouble mister. 

Yesterday I felt compelled to go on a genealogy site I'm a member of. In my search, in my father's ancestry line, I read the memories of his great grandmother. 

Needless to say, I laughed. 

Out loud. 

While we hated, HATED Dad's head thumping, at that moment I looked back on it with an amused grin, no doubt. Funny how odd characteristics (be it good or bad) are passed down from generation to generation. Old habits we have our children see and replicate.

I'm just grateful Dad didn't carry around a thimble.

I'm making THESE tonight.

And not once have I heard anything but raves reviews once someone has finished these twice baked potatoes.

Sometimes I wonder if the only reason we get invited to ANYTHING these days is because people will know I'll make these on request so they don't have to.

One day a family invited us over for a BBQ. The husband/father of this family is a professional cook, and has a powerful, intimidating presence and personality; standing over 6 feet tall and weighing well over 400 pounds. His fuse is short and he refuses to take crap from anyone. Most importantly, this man knows his food. And I'm not just saying that because of his title, I've had the food he's cooked and he's a food genius.

It was originally planned that I make potato salad for this BBQ, another delicious side that is derived from a great recipe a good friend gave me.

And that was the plan, according to this chef.

That day I decided I didn't want to make my potato salad, but these twice baked potatoes. I had no doubt this chef would like them as I confidently carried my cookie sheet into his home, full of 16 halves of potatoes, stuffed with everything fattening and cooked to heaven's perfection, and set them gracefully on the table as they glowed so bright I could hear the song of angels.

I take my seat on the couch with the ladies when five minutes later I hear a booming voice from the dining area, "LADEE, THIS ISN'T POTATO SALAD!"

Clearly, he was irritated. I look to meet his gaze and knew he was fighting the urge the strangle me, said the hint of fury in his eyes.

"I know. I--"

"WHERE'S MY POTATO SALAD?"

I felt backed in a corner. At that moment it didn't matter what I said to him. I ruined his meal plan. Which I should've known better considering his love for food. I should've given him a heads up. But that thought never crossed my mind.

His harsh attitude had my mind screaming, "Be happy I made ANYTHING, sweetheart." I didn't care at that moment that he could very well break me in two as easy as I could the BBQ skewers that were being used for dinner, I refused to be talked to like that. But, BUT, I was the guest, and I was at fault for not considering how much a food change could upset this food genius.

I bit my tongue, told myself not to take it personal and said, with a smile:

"I promise, you're gonna like these...better than the potato salad."

Knowing he had no other choice he muttered, "you better be right," loud enough for me to hear, before turning into the kitchen.

Dinner came and went and during clean up I hear, "Oh-mah-gawwwwsh, those twice baked potatoes were the best I've ever had. Is that your recipe, Ladee?"

How I wish I could've seen the grin I had on my face. For my mind played myself pointing at him and yelling, "HA! I TOLD YOU SO!"

But instead I heard myself give a couple chuckles, "heh-heh".

Later that night I was informed that he ate four potato halves. I took home an empty cookie sheet.

I couldn't have been complimented better....even if he didn't apologize for his doubting me.

I think way too much. 

If my blog posts aren't evident enough of that then, CONFESSION: I think too much.

Sometimes I wonder if I don't think any more than the next person. That we're all just a bunch of thinkers but don't voice it. I know that we always seem to have some streaming thought going on in our head, according to some show I watched years ago. 

But to contemplate, to really consider certain things, including the pointless things, until you've either got it down to a science or tire of it, I wonder how much of that we all, as a whole, really do.

I wonder this because I have had mental battles, wars, while sitting amongst a quiet group of friends. Where I think something and then debate it, or view it from another angle, debate that and then go back to my first thought before the debate to start fresh. I will then look over at a friend, remember something I needed to ask her, to which it interrupts the organized chaos that is raging in my head and suddenly my mind is now an eight semi-truck pile up all thanks to the 1998 Dodge Neon that cut everyone off.

One gal I'm subscribed to uploaded a video and in it, she was frustrated. She ranted about other YouTubers, one in particular, but how a lot of them are "fake" while screaming to their viewers that they should be themselves. She also talked about the demands these people have and the difficulty of that to post videos on a regular basis to meet the expectations of their viewers. 

This video had me coming to a screeching halt while applying my makeup. I took a look at myself in the mirror, wondering with that over-thinking brain of mine, how much her rant could very well apply to me. 

And I did a video on it. Because I want you, my favorite people in the world, to know what my response is and I think it's only fair to finally tell you what you should expect from me.