I had jury duty today. I have to confess that upon leaving the house this morning, I briefly pondered how annoying it would be to get sequestered ala the OJ trial and screw up my NaBloPoMo run on the very last day. Thankfully, there was no sequestering. Just a 30 page questionnaire asking for my life story. Up to and including my favorite radio stations. Talk about random.
My favorite was the word association page though. The team of 8 attorneys at the front of the room waiting for our paperwork will no doubt enjoy that the first thing I thought of for "prosecutor" was "Law & Order." I barely restrained myself from mentioning Jack McCoy specifically. Although I showed no restraint whatsoever describing the death row related movies I've seen as, "The one with Tom Hanks and the one with Sean Penn." Then I sealed the deal on my brilliance and listed Survivor and Project Runway as two of my favorite television shows. Speaking of which, it's that time of the week again . . .
Project Runway: Sweet P's shirt was so jacked up it's a miracle she wasn't eliminated. Maybe the fact that she was on the winning team last week saved her. Although Carmen had no shirt. Having no shirt was especially funny after Jack came right out and said he was working on pants before a jacket because he didn't want to run out of time and have to send a model down the runway with a jacket and no pants. And Ricky is officially to Project Runway what Amber was to Big Brother. That would be "The Crier."
Survivor: I guess James was saving his immunity idols to hand out as door prizes at the office Christmas party. Otherwise it seems sort of stupid to cling to them like that. Surely he must realize there will eventually be physical immunity challenges he'd be heavily favored to win. So why not use the immunity idols to get past the challenges that aren't physical? And Erik needs to stop hanging out with Peih-Gee. Because he's awesome boy next door squared and she's abrasive.
America's Next Top Model: I don't care what the judges say. I like Jenah's sense of humor. I especially did not appreciate when Tyra flat out said they're looking for girls that are sweet and bubbly. Gag me. Sweet and bubbly is fine but why is that the only way you should be. You can be sarcastic and still be likeable. Sweet is a dime a dozen. Clever and funny is more interesting. Whatever. And Heather's still super stunning but rightfully eliminated. Lost is one thing. Wandering aimlessly another.
Amazing Race: Missed it. My DVR is smart but not smart enough to realize when football games run an hour long. I used to have it set to record Cold Case afterwards as a just in case measure during football season but I guess I forgot to reprogram that when my DVR got reset last month. I've read the recap though so I know Lorena and her non committal boyfriend got eliminated. They seem like nice people but oh, well. And I hope she doesn't spend the rest of her life waiting for him to marry her because when you're boyfriend gives a "marriage is confining" spiel on national television it means don't expect a ring for Christmas.
11.30.2007
11.29.2007
Winning's not the only thing but sometimes it's quite lovely
I got a speeding ticket at lunch today. Which makes it seem like it was a bad day. Except when I got back to my desk I got an email saying I won one of the Design Mom Holiday giveaways and suddenly my day was significantly better. It's weird how that happens. Weird but good.
Just this morning I was entering a contest on another site and I started thinking about how I never win. I started thinking maybe I should stop trying. And then I won. How lovely. Like having my faith restored. Only with prizes. Besides the restored faith, of course.
I'm still a skeptic in my heart though so I don't think I'll mention what I supposedly won until I'm holding it in my hot little hands. But I think maybe I'd be okay if it never even arrived. Because just thinking I won has been like a prize all by itself. Happy Thursday.
Just this morning I was entering a contest on another site and I started thinking about how I never win. I started thinking maybe I should stop trying. And then I won. How lovely. Like having my faith restored. Only with prizes. Besides the restored faith, of course.
I'm still a skeptic in my heart though so I don't think I'll mention what I supposedly won until I'm holding it in my hot little hands. But I think maybe I'd be okay if it never even arrived. Because just thinking I won has been like a prize all by itself. Happy Thursday.
11.28.2007
Why I'll still be getting mail in my maiden name til the end of time
Still productive. Still energetic. Still think there’s no way it will last. But it’s super awesome while it does! There’s nothing I can’t accomplish! Except maybe get my insurance company to fill a prescription. Chick at the evil HMO told me today that I had to know the name, strength and dosage of my prescription before they could call my doctor to verify and authorize it. I knew the name but not the dosage. I suggested they ask the doctor for the dosage when they call. Because, you know, the doctor wrote the prescription and ought to know that sort of thing.
Insurance company chick did not see my point. We went back and forth for awhile. Part way through her third explanation about how they have to know what they’re asking for I finally felt the wall I was hitting my head against and let it go. This is the same insurance company that refuses to change the account to my married name. They keep telling me my employer has to change my name because they base their records on my employer's records. Which is odd since my employer knows my married name. They pay me in my married name. For four years now. So what's the haps? There's nothing I can do on my end. They swear there's nothing they can do on their end. I guess we've reached an impasse. Mostly I've agreed to stop trying to run up the down escalator as long as they pay my insurance claims.
Besides bickering with insurance company chick #1, I also finished moving into my new office at work, filed the giant stack of paperwork that’s been sitting on my “to be filed” shelf for 4 months, cleaned out my email inbox and ordered the kitchen set Santa will be depositing under the Christmas tree for my kids. And I may or may not have found time to ponder who will be “out” tonight on Project Runway. Tomorrow, if I maintain this level of energy, I'm going to build a small guest house in the backyard and cure world hunger. On my lunch hour. It's great to have energy.
Insurance company chick did not see my point. We went back and forth for awhile. Part way through her third explanation about how they have to know what they’re asking for I finally felt the wall I was hitting my head against and let it go. This is the same insurance company that refuses to change the account to my married name. They keep telling me my employer has to change my name because they base their records on my employer's records. Which is odd since my employer knows my married name. They pay me in my married name. For four years now. So what's the haps? There's nothing I can do on my end. They swear there's nothing they can do on their end. I guess we've reached an impasse. Mostly I've agreed to stop trying to run up the down escalator as long as they pay my insurance claims.
Besides bickering with insurance company chick #1, I also finished moving into my new office at work, filed the giant stack of paperwork that’s been sitting on my “to be filed” shelf for 4 months, cleaned out my email inbox and ordered the kitchen set Santa will be depositing under the Christmas tree for my kids. And I may or may not have found time to ponder who will be “out” tonight on Project Runway. Tomorrow, if I maintain this level of energy, I'm going to build a small guest house in the backyard and cure world hunger. On my lunch hour. It's great to have energy.
11.27.2007
I'll not be ignored
I feel as thought I’ve been in a bit of haze for several months now. Maybe I was depressed. Maybe I had lost my way. I’m not sure. But I had a breakthrough today. I successfully filled out tax related paperwork and faxed it off. Then I scheduled three doctor's appointments, called the insurance company to get the run around on prescriptions and filled out my 2008 calendar with birthdays and holidays. I haven't been this productive in months. It's crazy. It's like I'm a new girl. It's sort of awesome. I hope it lasts.
In honor of exiting the haze, I've started actual projects. Because when I'm not in a haze I start to think there are 28 hours in a day. Currently, I'm swimming through hundreds of photos to select pictures of my kids to use in a calendar to give to all the grandparents. This is my third year in a row to make it. I'm developing a bit of a following. That's if my mother counts as a following. She comes right out and asks me to keep making the calendars. Last year, she even made a point of requesting one with color photos. I know. Gotta respect someone that knows what they want.
I've also been doing laundry, washing dishes, shopping online for Christmas presents, researching kindergarten programs and starting my new job. I tried to get some cuddle time in too but my husband claims he's tired. I guess we'll see about that. It's hard to sleep with a crazy woman talking in your ear. I've also found turning the bedside lamp on to be very effective. Not to mention a finger in the ear. And pulling the covers off him. I'm like the chick in Fatal Attraction who won't be ignored. Only less creepy. Obviously.
In honor of exiting the haze, I've started actual projects. Because when I'm not in a haze I start to think there are 28 hours in a day. Currently, I'm swimming through hundreds of photos to select pictures of my kids to use in a calendar to give to all the grandparents. This is my third year in a row to make it. I'm developing a bit of a following. That's if my mother counts as a following. She comes right out and asks me to keep making the calendars. Last year, she even made a point of requesting one with color photos. I know. Gotta respect someone that knows what they want.
I've also been doing laundry, washing dishes, shopping online for Christmas presents, researching kindergarten programs and starting my new job. I tried to get some cuddle time in too but my husband claims he's tired. I guess we'll see about that. It's hard to sleep with a crazy woman talking in your ear. I've also found turning the bedside lamp on to be very effective. Not to mention a finger in the ear. And pulling the covers off him. I'm like the chick in Fatal Attraction who won't be ignored. Only less creepy. Obviously.
11.26.2007
Playgrounds could stand some improvements
I've taken my kids to the park a lot recently. Well, relatively recently. It’s gotten very cold here. The newest 4 year old would be fine going to the park despite the potential for snow. She’d also be fine doing it in sandals and a poofy pink skirt. She goes her own way. I’m just happy to get her to compromise and wear socks and a coat.
My favorite thing about the park is that it’s not my house. We get out. We see something other than our own four walls. And our house isn’t trashed when we’re done. These are very attractive qualities.
My least favorite thing about the park is that I’m required to monitor two kids at all times. Not that I don’t monitor at home. Because I do. Most of the time. It’s just a lower level of monitoring. Because the house is child proofed. And anything they might destroy I own. On top of that, I have the ability to lock doors and keep everyone contained to a defined area. Our security system even chimes if the newest 4 year old gets any bright ideas about exiting the house alone. My husband hates the chimes. I take great comfort in the chimes.
There are no chimes at the park. That means I feel obligated to see or hear my kids at all times. Because it’s 2007 and I’m super paranoid girl. I remember the safety expert with the giant mustache on Oprah years ago leading kids away from the playground with stories of lost puppies. But with two kids, it’s tough to keep up. And giant wooden fort structures don’t help. Would it kill the playground designers to slap a fence up or something? If there was a fence they could design it with only one exit. Then if I sat next to the exit you couldn’t take my kid without walking past me. And the jig would be up. Because my kid’s crazy. She’ll totally wave and ask me if I want to go see the puppy, too.
McDonald’s appears to have mastered the one exit strategy. Is there no detail they haven’t thought of? And why do they not explain these things to the people that design parks? Before I had kids, I don’t think I really respected McDonald’s. I didn’t grasp why they were so big and successful. Now that I’m their target audience I totally get it. They understand what I want. They deliver it before I even realize I wanted it. One of my personal favorite is the design of their milk jugs. They’re made bottom heavy so a kid can drink out of it without tumping it over on the table. Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t planned. Has to be. Genius. Are you taking notes Wendy’s? Because you should. You could learn a thing or two. Although your nuggets are way better. So good job. But get on the milk jugs. And the playgrounds.
I’d probably stay at the park for hours on end if I could just sit and read a book without stressing out. I have no problem not getting anything done all day. I have no problem with the kids getting dirty and scraped up either. It’s just the down time I could do without. I’m almost glad it’s winter. Except that means we’ll be hitting mall play areas now. Malls with two small kids suck. Although at least the malls cushion the play area benches. And they sell cookies. Everyday that ends with a cookie is a good day.
My favorite thing about the park is that it’s not my house. We get out. We see something other than our own four walls. And our house isn’t trashed when we’re done. These are very attractive qualities.
My least favorite thing about the park is that I’m required to monitor two kids at all times. Not that I don’t monitor at home. Because I do. Most of the time. It’s just a lower level of monitoring. Because the house is child proofed. And anything they might destroy I own. On top of that, I have the ability to lock doors and keep everyone contained to a defined area. Our security system even chimes if the newest 4 year old gets any bright ideas about exiting the house alone. My husband hates the chimes. I take great comfort in the chimes.
There are no chimes at the park. That means I feel obligated to see or hear my kids at all times. Because it’s 2007 and I’m super paranoid girl. I remember the safety expert with the giant mustache on Oprah years ago leading kids away from the playground with stories of lost puppies. But with two kids, it’s tough to keep up. And giant wooden fort structures don’t help. Would it kill the playground designers to slap a fence up or something? If there was a fence they could design it with only one exit. Then if I sat next to the exit you couldn’t take my kid without walking past me. And the jig would be up. Because my kid’s crazy. She’ll totally wave and ask me if I want to go see the puppy, too.
McDonald’s appears to have mastered the one exit strategy. Is there no detail they haven’t thought of? And why do they not explain these things to the people that design parks? Before I had kids, I don’t think I really respected McDonald’s. I didn’t grasp why they were so big and successful. Now that I’m their target audience I totally get it. They understand what I want. They deliver it before I even realize I wanted it. One of my personal favorite is the design of their milk jugs. They’re made bottom heavy so a kid can drink out of it without tumping it over on the table. Don’t even try to tell me that wasn’t planned. Has to be. Genius. Are you taking notes Wendy’s? Because you should. You could learn a thing or two. Although your nuggets are way better. So good job. But get on the milk jugs. And the playgrounds.
I’d probably stay at the park for hours on end if I could just sit and read a book without stressing out. I have no problem not getting anything done all day. I have no problem with the kids getting dirty and scraped up either. It’s just the down time I could do without. I’m almost glad it’s winter. Except that means we’ll be hitting mall play areas now. Malls with two small kids suck. Although at least the malls cushion the play area benches. And they sell cookies. Everyday that ends with a cookie is a good day.
11.25.2007
No one is allowed to call the dog old anymore
A significant death in our family occurred just over 2 months ago. I mentioned at the time how difficult it was to explain to my then 3 year old. Specifically, how to explain it so she'd understand but without leaving her worried that everyone she knows and loves could die at any moment. It's a delicate line to walk. I guess I think I did okay.
We mostly get to talk about it periodically. And not weepy, melancholy talk. Just general purpose discussion. To review. And sometimes clarify. For example, last month while driving in the car she asked out of the blue if we could go see the relative that had died. I was surprisingly caught off guard. Which means I took a really deep breath and tried hard not to run the car off the road. Then I explained that we couldn't see her anymore. My daughter suggested we call her on the phone. Right. So then I explained about no phone calls. In fact, I think I laid all the cards on the table and said we can't see or talk to her anymore at all. Then my daughter asked why she died. Good one. I explained again about people getting older and sometimes getting really, really sick.
But plenty of people she knows are old. For example, my husband routinely calls our perfect dog, Ike, old. The newest 4 year old has already connected the dots on that one and asked if Ike is going to die now. But too much emphasis on the getting sick part of the equation means anyone that's sick could die. I don't need a discussion about mortality every time her brother gets the sniffles. And "why do people get really sick" is like a whole big gray area unto itself. There is no good answer. They just sometimes do. But "just because" is not a popular answer with 4 years olds.
Last night was the end all beat all though. I leaned in to give her hugs and kisses at bedtime and she asked me if she's going to die. Technically, the exact quote was, "Momma, am I going to die?" Seriously, 4 years old. Killing me softly. Life is officially too complicated.
We mostly get to talk about it periodically. And not weepy, melancholy talk. Just general purpose discussion. To review. And sometimes clarify. For example, last month while driving in the car she asked out of the blue if we could go see the relative that had died. I was surprisingly caught off guard. Which means I took a really deep breath and tried hard not to run the car off the road. Then I explained that we couldn't see her anymore. My daughter suggested we call her on the phone. Right. So then I explained about no phone calls. In fact, I think I laid all the cards on the table and said we can't see or talk to her anymore at all. Then my daughter asked why she died. Good one. I explained again about people getting older and sometimes getting really, really sick.
But plenty of people she knows are old. For example, my husband routinely calls our perfect dog, Ike, old. The newest 4 year old has already connected the dots on that one and asked if Ike is going to die now. But too much emphasis on the getting sick part of the equation means anyone that's sick could die. I don't need a discussion about mortality every time her brother gets the sniffles. And "why do people get really sick" is like a whole big gray area unto itself. There is no good answer. They just sometimes do. But "just because" is not a popular answer with 4 years olds.
Last night was the end all beat all though. I leaned in to give her hugs and kisses at bedtime and she asked me if she's going to die. Technically, the exact quote was, "Momma, am I going to die?" Seriously, 4 years old. Killing me softly. Life is officially too complicated.
11.24.2007
Milking a camel is harder than it looks and other lessons for the week
I spent the morning doing some damage at Target. No crowd, thank you very much. Then I came home and shopped online a little more. I'm forced to shop online and occasionally talk to my children because there's next to nothing on television this week. And by next to nothing I mean, Mark Burnett and his stupid Survivor recap episode can go take a flying leap because we all know it's nothing but filler. I'll try to muddle through my weekly television recap the best I can.
Amazing Race: I felt bad for that chick milking the camel. Not the one that actually kept her cool and ended up getting eliminated. The one that's a spaz and fell to her knees weeping. I mean, who hasn't gotten a little overwhelmed and flipped out. Except she's got cameras there to catch it. I've generally had the good fortune to do my flipping out alone in the car. It usually involves rambling incoherently into my cell phone about chicken nuggets. Or you know, the color of the sky. It's called overtired, girlfriend. Get some rest.
America's Next Top Model: Does Jenah not own a hairbrush? It's hard to consider her a contender when she arrives at panel every week with a rat's nest on her head. And Heather was just as awful as I thought she'd be in the Cover Girl commercial. Although, dude, she's crazy pretty.
Project Runway: Close call for my new best friend, Christian. What was he thinking with that 80s Robert Palmer video retro madness? Even the ripped dress crazy lady had a better outfit than him. The sleeves of her dress were actually so pretty they made me want to wear them everyday for the rest of my life. Unless they make your arms look fat. Model arms never look fat. But real girl arms could. I'm just saying.
Amazing Race: I felt bad for that chick milking the camel. Not the one that actually kept her cool and ended up getting eliminated. The one that's a spaz and fell to her knees weeping. I mean, who hasn't gotten a little overwhelmed and flipped out. Except she's got cameras there to catch it. I've generally had the good fortune to do my flipping out alone in the car. It usually involves rambling incoherently into my cell phone about chicken nuggets. Or you know, the color of the sky. It's called overtired, girlfriend. Get some rest.
America's Next Top Model: Does Jenah not own a hairbrush? It's hard to consider her a contender when she arrives at panel every week with a rat's nest on her head. And Heather was just as awful as I thought she'd be in the Cover Girl commercial. Although, dude, she's crazy pretty.
Project Runway: Close call for my new best friend, Christian. What was he thinking with that 80s Robert Palmer video retro madness? Even the ripped dress crazy lady had a better outfit than him. The sleeves of her dress were actually so pretty they made me want to wear them everyday for the rest of my life. Unless they make your arms look fat. Model arms never look fat. But real girl arms could. I'm just saying.
11.23.2007
I'm allergic to crowds
I went to Wal-Mart this morning to get black socks. The black socks weren't a Christmas present for anyone. I just needed them to wear with slacks. I went at 8 am thinking I'd beat the crowd. I also figured, and this is the really dumb part, no one would be shopping at Wal-Mart on Black Friday. Because it's Wal-Mart. What do they have on Black Friday that's so special you can't get it any other day of the week when there's no crowd?
I probably think this because we live 3 minutes from a Wal-Mart. I also probably think this because unless there's milk involved in my purchase I'd rather buy it online than fight a crowd. I didn't even get out of my car when I discovered the magnitude of my mistake. I also didn't learn my lesson. Because then I cruised right over to Old Navy and did the exact same thing. And then I wised up and went home to shop online during nap time. Online shopping rules.
I probably think this because we live 3 minutes from a Wal-Mart. I also probably think this because unless there's milk involved in my purchase I'd rather buy it online than fight a crowd. I didn't even get out of my car when I discovered the magnitude of my mistake. I also didn't learn my lesson. Because then I cruised right over to Old Navy and did the exact same thing. And then I wised up and went home to shop online during nap time. Online shopping rules.
11.22.2007
Thanks
Thanksgiving is my husband's favorite holiday. He loves turkey. He loves cranberry sauce. He loves turkey and cranberry sauce together. And if he can eat it while he watches football put a fork in him he's done.
I enjoy Thanksgiving, too. Just not the way he does. I like having the day off. I like spending my day off with family. But I'm generally not into the food. I despise gravy. Which helps me save calories but leaves me only moderately impressed with turkey. I mean, it's okay. But I wouldn't run into a burning building for it or anything.
I also hate cranberry sauce, green bean casserole and pie. And for most of my life I hated stuffing, too. Even the various stuffings people have sworn up and down would be the best stuffing I ever tasted. My husband never swore his would be the best. He just made pork chops and stuffing one day and I loved it. He pulls rabbits out of his hat like that all the time.
I think it's charming that I only like his stuffing. Much like his smile is the only one I like. I'm thankful for him. Today and everyday. And the home and family we share. And the good health we're fortunate enough to enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving from me to you.
I enjoy Thanksgiving, too. Just not the way he does. I like having the day off. I like spending my day off with family. But I'm generally not into the food. I despise gravy. Which helps me save calories but leaves me only moderately impressed with turkey. I mean, it's okay. But I wouldn't run into a burning building for it or anything.
I also hate cranberry sauce, green bean casserole and pie. And for most of my life I hated stuffing, too. Even the various stuffings people have sworn up and down would be the best stuffing I ever tasted. My husband never swore his would be the best. He just made pork chops and stuffing one day and I loved it. He pulls rabbits out of his hat like that all the time.
I think it's charming that I only like his stuffing. Much like his smile is the only one I like. I'm thankful for him. Today and everyday. And the home and family we share. And the good health we're fortunate enough to enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving from me to you.
11.21.2007
I'm confusing work with high school again
I start my new job Monday. That includes moving to a new work area and getting all new co-workers. My husband says I should be excited. He seems to thrive on change. I, on the other hand, mostly get tense with change. I like to think that's part of what makes us a complimentary pair.
I have already pondered many times whether taking the promotion was the right decision. No matter how many times every single person I know tells me how great it is and how fortunate I am I still like to torture myself by fretting over stupid things like who I'll sit next to in meetings and whether anyone will like me. I've worked with the same people for years. I have lots of buddies and feel well liked by everyone. I'm going to miss them. And, truth be told, I'll miss being popular. Which is so dumb. I know it is. Because this isn't high school. Being popular isn't what it's all about. But it's nice. Oh, well.
I'm also currently fretting over Christmas presents. A girl at work with children the same age as mine is going shopping all day Friday. With her two kids. I think her mother is going too. But still. Bamboo shoots under my fingernails sound preferable. Mabye I'll try putting my Christmas tree up instead. Or better yet, cleaning up our living room to make room for our Christmas tree.
I have to make lots of extra room in our living room this year because Santa is potentially bringing our children a play kitchen. We already have a full sized playhouse in our living room so adding a kitchen up against the wall seemed like the next logical step to completely overwhelm the room with toys. Santa's even thinking of creating some extra "counter space" for them with boxes too. You know, so they'll have plenty of work space to roll out cookie dough and dice vegetables. My ability to make things more complicated than they need to be is amazing. I wish it was more of a marketable skill. It mostly just adds things to my "to do" list. We'll see how it goes.
I have already pondered many times whether taking the promotion was the right decision. No matter how many times every single person I know tells me how great it is and how fortunate I am I still like to torture myself by fretting over stupid things like who I'll sit next to in meetings and whether anyone will like me. I've worked with the same people for years. I have lots of buddies and feel well liked by everyone. I'm going to miss them. And, truth be told, I'll miss being popular. Which is so dumb. I know it is. Because this isn't high school. Being popular isn't what it's all about. But it's nice. Oh, well.
I'm also currently fretting over Christmas presents. A girl at work with children the same age as mine is going shopping all day Friday. With her two kids. I think her mother is going too. But still. Bamboo shoots under my fingernails sound preferable. Mabye I'll try putting my Christmas tree up instead. Or better yet, cleaning up our living room to make room for our Christmas tree.
I have to make lots of extra room in our living room this year because Santa is potentially bringing our children a play kitchen. We already have a full sized playhouse in our living room so adding a kitchen up against the wall seemed like the next logical step to completely overwhelm the room with toys. Santa's even thinking of creating some extra "counter space" for them with boxes too. You know, so they'll have plenty of work space to roll out cookie dough and dice vegetables. My ability to make things more complicated than they need to be is amazing. I wish it was more of a marketable skill. It mostly just adds things to my "to do" list. We'll see how it goes.
11.20.2007
Remote controlled helicopters are so yesterday
My husband's new remote controlled helicopter went back to the store yesterday after it suddenly stopped working. My husband claims there was some faulty manufacturing involved. I think it was probably related to the high number of nosedives it took into the computer desk.
No more nose dives to worry about around here. We've moved on to bigger and better things. Here's our new oversized remote controlled car attempting to run over our first born child:
Don't worry. No children were harmed in the making of that photo. The car's remarkably light. And fast. Almost fast enough to catch The World's Most Annoying Dog. Believe me we've tried:
No more nose dives to worry about around here. We've moved on to bigger and better things. Here's our new oversized remote controlled car attempting to run over our first born child:
Don't worry. No children were harmed in the making of that photo. The car's remarkably light. And fast. Almost fast enough to catch The World's Most Annoying Dog. Believe me we've tried:
11.19.2007
Imaginary book club in session
The beauty of having an imaginary book club is that when you finish the book, the whole club finishes. You can also declare the meeting whenever you want and serve calorie free refreshments. Today we’re having spinach artichoke dip. And turkey shaped cookies. With sprinkles. Grab a chair.
The book this time was Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. It’s about a fancy birthday party in South America that gets taken hostage by terrorists. Among the guests are a world class opera singer and an assortment of people from all over the world. The book is significantly less Die Hard than it sounds. It’s more about how the hostages and terrorists learn to co-exist and live together.
One complicated element is that everyone at this party speaks a different language. Multiple translations are required in order to communicate with the group and only one guy at the party knows all the languages. He’s a busy guy. There’s also the added complication of the famous opera singer. She needs to practice so that involves piano playing, sheet music and much adoration from everyone listening.
I have to confess to having a bit of a preconceived notion about the terrorists in this book. Not because they’re terrorists specifically. I just always immediately assume someone that takes hostages is a little bit stupid. Because hostage situations never end well. When’s the last time you heard of any hostage takers getting away let alone getting what they want and getting away? Mostly they end up dead. Or in prison. So if that’s your plan and you’ve reviewed it and decided it’s a good plan, you must be a little stupid in my opinion.
The terrorists in this book are from the jungle and don’t see hostage standoffs on the nightly news though so I guess I should cut them some slack. But seriously, they didn’t plan an escape route. Who the hell green lights a plan that doesn’t include escaping? I refuse to cut slack on that.
On top of that, the terrorist settled into a very comfortable existence with the hostages. Plenty of them were actually enjoying the existence and perfectly happy to stay there forever. Um. Hello? Not wanting to hurt the famous opera singer might necessitate not tossing in tear gas but give me a break. The government does not chill outside forever. In fact, they’re not really chilling. What they’re doing is drawing up plans for how to enter the house by force. They’re also devising a back up plan and a back up plan for the back up plan. But they’re definitely not waiting on you. Because you’re the only one that thinks you’re in charge of the situation.
I also found it sort of strange that none of the hostages were attempting to escape. I understand the opera singer provided nice entertainment. I understand some people were busy falling in love and didn’t want to leave. I even understand that some people might have crappy lives back home they weren’t in a hurry to get back to. But surely someone had kids or a family they missed. And didn’t they care that their wife and kids were worried about them? I’m not saying I’d be carving shanks out of soap or anything but you may rest assured I’d be plotting my escape.
The book is super well written. Someday, when I grow up, I want to write as well as Ann Patchett. She weaves together a complicated fabric of characters and never makes it feel cluttered. Her descriptions are detailed while still simple. I was very impressed. Although she could really learn a thing or two about how to end a book. When I read the last chapter of Bel Canto I swear I thought I read the names wrong. Then I thought maybe someone took on someone else’s identity. And then I just decided to pretend the last 2 pages of the book never happened. And now I like the book a lot more.
Despite the ending that I’m currently boycotting, it was a good book. Interesting and different. While it didn’t make me want to run out and buy opera tickets, it did leave me wanting to have lunch with several of the characters to find out more about them. And I like that in a book. I appreciate the recommendation from I Got Two, Babe.
Next up is The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Christy from Love, Family and Life says it’s a must read. Of course she also has her Christmas tree up already so who knows about her. Kidding. Sort of. Whatever.
The book this time was Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. It’s about a fancy birthday party in South America that gets taken hostage by terrorists. Among the guests are a world class opera singer and an assortment of people from all over the world. The book is significantly less Die Hard than it sounds. It’s more about how the hostages and terrorists learn to co-exist and live together.
One complicated element is that everyone at this party speaks a different language. Multiple translations are required in order to communicate with the group and only one guy at the party knows all the languages. He’s a busy guy. There’s also the added complication of the famous opera singer. She needs to practice so that involves piano playing, sheet music and much adoration from everyone listening.
I have to confess to having a bit of a preconceived notion about the terrorists in this book. Not because they’re terrorists specifically. I just always immediately assume someone that takes hostages is a little bit stupid. Because hostage situations never end well. When’s the last time you heard of any hostage takers getting away let alone getting what they want and getting away? Mostly they end up dead. Or in prison. So if that’s your plan and you’ve reviewed it and decided it’s a good plan, you must be a little stupid in my opinion.
The terrorists in this book are from the jungle and don’t see hostage standoffs on the nightly news though so I guess I should cut them some slack. But seriously, they didn’t plan an escape route. Who the hell green lights a plan that doesn’t include escaping? I refuse to cut slack on that.
On top of that, the terrorist settled into a very comfortable existence with the hostages. Plenty of them were actually enjoying the existence and perfectly happy to stay there forever. Um. Hello? Not wanting to hurt the famous opera singer might necessitate not tossing in tear gas but give me a break. The government does not chill outside forever. In fact, they’re not really chilling. What they’re doing is drawing up plans for how to enter the house by force. They’re also devising a back up plan and a back up plan for the back up plan. But they’re definitely not waiting on you. Because you’re the only one that thinks you’re in charge of the situation.
I also found it sort of strange that none of the hostages were attempting to escape. I understand the opera singer provided nice entertainment. I understand some people were busy falling in love and didn’t want to leave. I even understand that some people might have crappy lives back home they weren’t in a hurry to get back to. But surely someone had kids or a family they missed. And didn’t they care that their wife and kids were worried about them? I’m not saying I’d be carving shanks out of soap or anything but you may rest assured I’d be plotting my escape.
The book is super well written. Someday, when I grow up, I want to write as well as Ann Patchett. She weaves together a complicated fabric of characters and never makes it feel cluttered. Her descriptions are detailed while still simple. I was very impressed. Although she could really learn a thing or two about how to end a book. When I read the last chapter of Bel Canto I swear I thought I read the names wrong. Then I thought maybe someone took on someone else’s identity. And then I just decided to pretend the last 2 pages of the book never happened. And now I like the book a lot more.
Despite the ending that I’m currently boycotting, it was a good book. Interesting and different. While it didn’t make me want to run out and buy opera tickets, it did leave me wanting to have lunch with several of the characters to find out more about them. And I like that in a book. I appreciate the recommendation from I Got Two, Babe.
Next up is The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Christy from Love, Family and Life says it’s a must read. Of course she also has her Christmas tree up already so who knows about her. Kidding. Sort of. Whatever.
11.18.2007
Beer money
My husband went to the Cowboys game today. He got there early and had some time to kill so he drank $84 in beer. Which makes it seem like he'll be spending some quality time with his head on the bathroom floor tonight. Except $84 in beer at a professional football game is only about 10 beers. Wait. That's quite a bit of beer. Maybe that explains why he keeps giving me thumbs up signs and asking if we have anything to eat.
11.17.2007
Ronald McDonald and her crown
When my husband began renovating our master bathroom, we had to relocate all our toiletries. Because we were short on boxes, I ended up storing a lot of them in Christmas gift bags. I sorted by his stuff, my stuff, small appliances and medical stuff.
For about 9 months we stored those bags on top of a dog crate in our bedroom. The only thing more ghetto than actually looking for Icy Hot in a Snoopy Christmas gift bag is having to look at the Snoopy Christmas gift bag every day for 9 months. Not to mention there are no child proof locks on the Snoopy Christmas gift bag so we periodically get to pick up random toiletries around the house.
My husband finally got tired of that so he shoved several of the bags under the sink in the hall bathroom recently. He thinks this works fine because he rarely menstruates. Those of us that do find it difficult to locate feminine hygiene products with the large volume of crap now balanced precariously under there. But that's okay. I'll just store them on the back of the toilet from now on. I know how much my husband enjoys reading the Tampax box while he uses the bathroom.
Earlier today, our children discovered the new hiding place for the gift bags:
The newest 4 year old even found a tube of lipstick in the bottom of one and asked if she could put some on. I figured if I hadn't missed it in 10 1/2 months she could have it. Here's what "some" looks like:
Note the large chunk hanging off Ronald McDonald's upper lip there. She did go ahead and rub the chunk in but she declined the Kleenex I offered her for blotting. I guess she failed to see the need to blot something so perfect. It's also possible she failed to see the humor in posting this to the Internet:
Oh, well.
For about 9 months we stored those bags on top of a dog crate in our bedroom. The only thing more ghetto than actually looking for Icy Hot in a Snoopy Christmas gift bag is having to look at the Snoopy Christmas gift bag every day for 9 months. Not to mention there are no child proof locks on the Snoopy Christmas gift bag so we periodically get to pick up random toiletries around the house.
My husband finally got tired of that so he shoved several of the bags under the sink in the hall bathroom recently. He thinks this works fine because he rarely menstruates. Those of us that do find it difficult to locate feminine hygiene products with the large volume of crap now balanced precariously under there. But that's okay. I'll just store them on the back of the toilet from now on. I know how much my husband enjoys reading the Tampax box while he uses the bathroom.
Earlier today, our children discovered the new hiding place for the gift bags:
The newest 4 year old even found a tube of lipstick in the bottom of one and asked if she could put some on. I figured if I hadn't missed it in 10 1/2 months she could have it. Here's what "some" looks like:
Note the large chunk hanging off Ronald McDonald's upper lip there. She did go ahead and rub the chunk in but she declined the Kleenex I offered her for blotting. I guess she failed to see the need to blot something so perfect. It's also possible she failed to see the humor in posting this to the Internet:
Oh, well.
11.16.2007
Pretend we're all standing by a watercooler and everyone's watching for our boss to walk by
There's no watercooler in my office. And my boss isn't even in the office today. But let's all pretend we're standing next to one and talk television anyway.
Project Runway: It's all about Christian. Is everyone up on that? Because he's fabulous. I realize I've only experienced a few minutes of him, but I've already decided he needs a talk show. Either that or he can come live at my house and be my new best friend. We'll do each other's hair and watch Dirty Dancing on Saturday nights. It'll be awesome. And I feel kind of bad Simone got eliminated before the ripped dress girl. Because ripped dress girl appears to be on the fast track to going home anyway.
Survivor: Peih-Gee, stop. Stop talking. Stop having opinions. Stop trying to be in charge. Just stop. And why in the name of Jeff Probst were you trying to be in charge during the ball bouncing challenge when your drum had the smallest top on it? Bigger drum = bigger surface area to bounce the ball on = back off if you have a small drum.
Amazing Race: I couldn't handle the Asian dad. Seriously, his daughter has the patience of a saint and remarkable tact handling their conflicts. I would have told my dad to shut up and then refused to talk to him the rest of the day. The Goths are officially one of my favorites. I don't even know why. Maybe I just wish I could go by the name Vixen, too.
America's Next Top Model: Yawn. Of course Ambreal got eliminated. It's been a long time coming. And Heather's moping was annoying. Ambreal gets ripped apart every week without yelling at anyone in the shower. But Heather's not winning anyway. My friend thinks she will because it'd make a nice after school special kind of moment because she has Asperger's. I think she's really pretty but awkward and her awkwardness will eventually be a problem.
The Office: It's hard to decide which was better, the "Ryan is hot" diary entry, the 11 photocopies for everyone to read or shoving Toby's lunch tray off the table when he tried to sympathize.
Project Runway: It's all about Christian. Is everyone up on that? Because he's fabulous. I realize I've only experienced a few minutes of him, but I've already decided he needs a talk show. Either that or he can come live at my house and be my new best friend. We'll do each other's hair and watch Dirty Dancing on Saturday nights. It'll be awesome. And I feel kind of bad Simone got eliminated before the ripped dress girl. Because ripped dress girl appears to be on the fast track to going home anyway.
Survivor: Peih-Gee, stop. Stop talking. Stop having opinions. Stop trying to be in charge. Just stop. And why in the name of Jeff Probst were you trying to be in charge during the ball bouncing challenge when your drum had the smallest top on it? Bigger drum = bigger surface area to bounce the ball on = back off if you have a small drum.
Amazing Race: I couldn't handle the Asian dad. Seriously, his daughter has the patience of a saint and remarkable tact handling their conflicts. I would have told my dad to shut up and then refused to talk to him the rest of the day. The Goths are officially one of my favorites. I don't even know why. Maybe I just wish I could go by the name Vixen, too.
America's Next Top Model: Yawn. Of course Ambreal got eliminated. It's been a long time coming. And Heather's moping was annoying. Ambreal gets ripped apart every week without yelling at anyone in the shower. But Heather's not winning anyway. My friend thinks she will because it'd make a nice after school special kind of moment because she has Asperger's. I think she's really pretty but awkward and her awkwardness will eventually be a problem.
The Office: It's hard to decide which was better, the "Ryan is hot" diary entry, the 11 photocopies for everyone to read or shoving Toby's lunch tray off the table when he tried to sympathize.
11.15.2007
The other half lives nice
I attended a luncheon today with my father. It was thrown at his work to celebrate his length of service with the company. He's worked for the same company for 40 years. To celebrate, the company gave him a full set of new luggage and invited him and a guest to this luncheon in the executive suite.
I work for the federal government. This sort of employee appreciation is wildly unheard of in the federal government. We get a pin and a heartfelt hand shake. I'm busy thinking about how good the other half has it when they put a plate of steak in front of me. Before I even get to the steak, did you notice I said they put the plate in front of me? Right. There were waiters at this shin dig. We were served 3 courses. And one was the steak. Mine was so big I couldn't even eat the whole thing. I was so appreciative of the fact that they served steak you'd have thought I'd never eaten steak before in my life. I was marveling over it the rest of the afternoon. But, dude, wow. Steak.
My dad's boss made a point of telling me they don't eat that way everyday. She mentioned the lunchroom serves enchiladas on Thursdays and it's a big mess of goo and that's as good as it gets all week. She said they roll out the big guns for 40 years of service. I'm thinking at least they have guns to roll out. We've got pins, woman. Pins. And sometimes a Kudos bar. You know. To say kudos. Get it? I know. World's away from steak and luggage.
I work for the federal government. This sort of employee appreciation is wildly unheard of in the federal government. We get a pin and a heartfelt hand shake. I'm busy thinking about how good the other half has it when they put a plate of steak in front of me. Before I even get to the steak, did you notice I said they put the plate in front of me? Right. There were waiters at this shin dig. We were served 3 courses. And one was the steak. Mine was so big I couldn't even eat the whole thing. I was so appreciative of the fact that they served steak you'd have thought I'd never eaten steak before in my life. I was marveling over it the rest of the afternoon. But, dude, wow. Steak.
My dad's boss made a point of telling me they don't eat that way everyday. She mentioned the lunchroom serves enchiladas on Thursdays and it's a big mess of goo and that's as good as it gets all week. She said they roll out the big guns for 40 years of service. I'm thinking at least they have guns to roll out. We've got pins, woman. Pins. And sometimes a Kudos bar. You know. To say kudos. Get it? I know. World's away from steak and luggage.
11.14.2007
I guess I'm going up
Today was my deadline to accept the upwardly mobile job offer I recently received. Over the weekend I was solidly in the upwardly mobile camp. Monday morning I was in the curl up in a hole and never leave the house again camp. Yesterday I was all over the map. And today I accepted the job.
It’ll be good. That’s what I think. I like the people. I enjoy the work. Change is good. Right? Yeah, no, change is totally good. I can do it. And it’s not permanent unless I want it to be. So there’s an escape hatch, too. Just like I like it. So I guess I’m at peace with it.
In honor of my newly accepted promotion, there will be chicken nuggets and Project Runway for everyone tonight! And maybe cookies! Fresh baked cookies! Too bad my husband’s out of town for more military-esque training. In preparation for it he’s been wearing a 50 pound backpack to walk the dogs all week. Right. Me, too. I also stopped a speeding locomotive with my bare hands the other day during a diaper change. Did I mention we're having cookies tonight?
It’ll be good. That’s what I think. I like the people. I enjoy the work. Change is good. Right? Yeah, no, change is totally good. I can do it. And it’s not permanent unless I want it to be. So there’s an escape hatch, too. Just like I like it. So I guess I’m at peace with it.
In honor of my newly accepted promotion, there will be chicken nuggets and Project Runway for everyone tonight! And maybe cookies! Fresh baked cookies! Too bad my husband’s out of town for more military-esque training. In preparation for it he’s been wearing a 50 pound backpack to walk the dogs all week. Right. Me, too. I also stopped a speeding locomotive with my bare hands the other day during a diaper change. Did I mention we're having cookies tonight?
11.13.2007
Take the coins
I returned home from work today to discover that the World's Most Annoying Dog had destroyed a backrest pillow. We only owned the pillow 4 months. It matched the limited decor in our living room. His choice of things to eat is remarkably unfortunate.
He did such a number on the backrest pillow that it's entirely beyond repair. My first instinct was to lock him out of the house and hope he ran away. Unfortunately I know from having accidentally locked him out once that he knows a good thing when he's got it. He just laid in the front yard the entire time waiting for me to realize my mistake. He happily trotted inside as soon as I opened the door.
I walked directly passed the shredded backrest and went to the bathroom. While utilizing the facilities I heard it rain coins in the dining room. As soon as I heard the first clink it came back to me that my husband had left a basket of coins on the table. He's attempting to roll $50 in coins because he woke up this morning and decided 24 hours in a day is just too much time on his hands. Next week he's building a moat around the house and some turrets for our imaginary archers. Then we're going to amass an army in our cedar closet and storm Mordor because we've got nothing but time, baby.
My husband had mentioned forgetting to put his little time killer away when I talked to him on the phone earlier. He said I should put it away as soon as I got home so it wouldn't get spilled. What he should have told me was that I'd need to engage in a foot race to the front door because our 18 month old is like a coin seeking missile and I'd only have 90 seconds to detonate the potential threat. It was impressive work. Wax on.
Since the damage was already done, I walked right passed that mess too. Left it there while I changed out of my work clothes, served dinner and threw everyone in the tub. I figure, why rush through the fun parts of your day. One should savor the quiet moments spent on your hands and knees communing with your carpet. Although I'm done communing. I'm ready to pay someone to take the coins now. I'll even throw in a free dog. Just please take the coins.
He did such a number on the backrest pillow that it's entirely beyond repair. My first instinct was to lock him out of the house and hope he ran away. Unfortunately I know from having accidentally locked him out once that he knows a good thing when he's got it. He just laid in the front yard the entire time waiting for me to realize my mistake. He happily trotted inside as soon as I opened the door.
I walked directly passed the shredded backrest and went to the bathroom. While utilizing the facilities I heard it rain coins in the dining room. As soon as I heard the first clink it came back to me that my husband had left a basket of coins on the table. He's attempting to roll $50 in coins because he woke up this morning and decided 24 hours in a day is just too much time on his hands. Next week he's building a moat around the house and some turrets for our imaginary archers. Then we're going to amass an army in our cedar closet and storm Mordor because we've got nothing but time, baby.
My husband had mentioned forgetting to put his little time killer away when I talked to him on the phone earlier. He said I should put it away as soon as I got home so it wouldn't get spilled. What he should have told me was that I'd need to engage in a foot race to the front door because our 18 month old is like a coin seeking missile and I'd only have 90 seconds to detonate the potential threat. It was impressive work. Wax on.
Since the damage was already done, I walked right passed that mess too. Left it there while I changed out of my work clothes, served dinner and threw everyone in the tub. I figure, why rush through the fun parts of your day. One should savor the quiet moments spent on your hands and knees communing with your carpet. Although I'm done communing. I'm ready to pay someone to take the coins now. I'll even throw in a free dog. Just please take the coins.
11.12.2007
Date Day
My husband and I were both off work today. We deposited our children in safe hands and headed off just the two of us for the afternoon. In the land of two small children, that's called a date.
Because we are both exceptionally casual and lazy, we had no plans for our big date. We ended up having soup, trolling a mall and playing Ms. Pac-Man. We also spent 45 minutes picking out the perfect remote controlled helicopter for my husband. And as much as I'd like to say buying remote controlled toys is some sort of anomaly in our relationship, we have two remote controlled speed boats at home that say otherwise.
A couple years ago, we came up with the bright idea of racing speed boats in our swimming pool. I'm sure 12 year olds regularly come up with that idea but lack the funds to finance the operation. When you're a grown adult with money in the bank, all you need is a nearby Toys R Us. Those two boats are now decorative pieces on a shelf in our garage. We clearly needed a helicopter to go with them.
My husband's been perfecting his flying skills all evening. Before dinner, he was perfecting his take off. The key is to go straight up. You know, just in case you lose your mind and feel the need to get your own remote controlled helicopter. Now he's practicing buzzing my head. He's also gotten very good at bringing it in for a landing on the the computer desk in front of me while I type. I'd like to write more but quite frankly the draft from the helicopter is blowing crap in my eye. So I'm going to go be ridiculous with my husband. Feel free to do likewise. It's nice.
Because we are both exceptionally casual and lazy, we had no plans for our big date. We ended up having soup, trolling a mall and playing Ms. Pac-Man. We also spent 45 minutes picking out the perfect remote controlled helicopter for my husband. And as much as I'd like to say buying remote controlled toys is some sort of anomaly in our relationship, we have two remote controlled speed boats at home that say otherwise.
A couple years ago, we came up with the bright idea of racing speed boats in our swimming pool. I'm sure 12 year olds regularly come up with that idea but lack the funds to finance the operation. When you're a grown adult with money in the bank, all you need is a nearby Toys R Us. Those two boats are now decorative pieces on a shelf in our garage. We clearly needed a helicopter to go with them.
My husband's been perfecting his flying skills all evening. Before dinner, he was perfecting his take off. The key is to go straight up. You know, just in case you lose your mind and feel the need to get your own remote controlled helicopter. Now he's practicing buzzing my head. He's also gotten very good at bringing it in for a landing on the the computer desk in front of me while I type. I'd like to write more but quite frankly the draft from the helicopter is blowing crap in my eye. So I'm going to go be ridiculous with my husband. Feel free to do likewise. It's nice.
11.11.2007
On Demand is a tease
My husband and I occasionally lay in bed together late at night and contemplate watching a movie. Many is the time we've perused the On Demand selections our Verizon service has to offer. Sadly, the On Demand pay per view movies suck even more than Verizon's customer service.
For example for the low, low price of $3.99 you too can relive 1987 and watch Three Men and a Baby. I can't figure out who's paying $3.99 to watch that in 2007. And more important, what on Earth is wrong with their life? If you have On Demand you clearly have cable. There's gotta be something better on somewhere.
Last night, the heavens parted and Reno 911 The Movie was listed among the On Demand selections. We're not under the illusion that's an instant classic but we were just excited to see a name we recognized and the movie was from this century. However, then the On Demand feature didn't work. It was like the rug being pulled out from under us. We'd even popped popcorn and turned the lights off in preparation.
My crestfallen husband announced he was going to Blockbuster. This is unheard of. Generally neither of us can be bothered to get up and get dressed. Mostly we end up talking about movies we'd like to see and watching Law and Order reruns. As a testament to the truth of this statement, it's worth mentioning that Blockbuster had no record of us when he attempted to check out last night. I guess they deleted our account sometime in the 2 years since we lasted rented a movie.
After opening a new account, my husband finally returned home with The Bourne Supremacy and Borat. When I asked him which one he wanted to watch first he started to vote for The Bourne Supremacy. He really wanted to see it. Borat was my choice. But then the wheels started turning in his head and he announced we could watch Borat. He confessed that he figured I fall asleep 45 minutes into every movie we watch so he'd just switch to The Bourne Supremacy when I fell asleep. That sounds so married. And sorta lame.
I couldn't keep my eyes open at 41 minutes in. I guess I'm both married and sorta lame. But my sweet husband brought home Hot Tamales for me from the Blockbuster and watched The Bourne Supremacy with headphones on so he wouldn't keep me awake. So I think I'm okay with married and sorta lame. Although I could have done without the "I told you so."
For example for the low, low price of $3.99 you too can relive 1987 and watch Three Men and a Baby. I can't figure out who's paying $3.99 to watch that in 2007. And more important, what on Earth is wrong with their life? If you have On Demand you clearly have cable. There's gotta be something better on somewhere.
Last night, the heavens parted and Reno 911 The Movie was listed among the On Demand selections. We're not under the illusion that's an instant classic but we were just excited to see a name we recognized and the movie was from this century. However, then the On Demand feature didn't work. It was like the rug being pulled out from under us. We'd even popped popcorn and turned the lights off in preparation.
My crestfallen husband announced he was going to Blockbuster. This is unheard of. Generally neither of us can be bothered to get up and get dressed. Mostly we end up talking about movies we'd like to see and watching Law and Order reruns. As a testament to the truth of this statement, it's worth mentioning that Blockbuster had no record of us when he attempted to check out last night. I guess they deleted our account sometime in the 2 years since we lasted rented a movie.
After opening a new account, my husband finally returned home with The Bourne Supremacy and Borat. When I asked him which one he wanted to watch first he started to vote for The Bourne Supremacy. He really wanted to see it. Borat was my choice. But then the wheels started turning in his head and he announced we could watch Borat. He confessed that he figured I fall asleep 45 minutes into every movie we watch so he'd just switch to The Bourne Supremacy when I fell asleep. That sounds so married. And sorta lame.
I couldn't keep my eyes open at 41 minutes in. I guess I'm both married and sorta lame. But my sweet husband brought home Hot Tamales for me from the Blockbuster and watched The Bourne Supremacy with headphones on so he wouldn't keep me awake. So I think I'm okay with married and sorta lame. Although I could have done without the "I told you so."
11.10.2007
My husband should learn to brainstorm better
On my way to the bathroom this afternoon I told my husband I needed a topic to write about for my NaBloPoMo post for today. I gave him until I got out of the bathroom to brainstorm. All he came up with was football. So in a way, that kinda makes it his fault I'm going to have to write about him today. Here he is making out with Ike:
He and Ike were laying on the bed resting after a busy morning painting half of the wall in our master bathroom:
In his defense the other half of the wall will have wainscoting and I love the shade of brown he picked. It coordinates nicely with the tile he successfully grouted over the last three months. Unfortunately there's still no toilet, sink or shower in there. But honestly, it's only been 10 1/2 months. These things take time.
Besides painting half a wall this morning, he also accompanied me to a children's resale store where we purchased this ridiculous coat for the newest 4 year old:
It's odd that I once shopped for a lovely Mini Boden coat with toggles and somehow ended up with this wacky Cruella Deville on Pepto number. But it was $10 and it makes my husband and I laugh out loud. I also knew the newest 4 year old would love it. I have radar for things she'll love. Before I had kids I used that radar to identify things I would never be caught dead in. Now I use it to clothe my child. I think the hat really gives it something extra. So does a grown man wearing it:
He and Ike were laying on the bed resting after a busy morning painting half of the wall in our master bathroom:
In his defense the other half of the wall will have wainscoting and I love the shade of brown he picked. It coordinates nicely with the tile he successfully grouted over the last three months. Unfortunately there's still no toilet, sink or shower in there. But honestly, it's only been 10 1/2 months. These things take time.
Besides painting half a wall this morning, he also accompanied me to a children's resale store where we purchased this ridiculous coat for the newest 4 year old:
It's odd that I once shopped for a lovely Mini Boden coat with toggles and somehow ended up with this wacky Cruella Deville on Pepto number. But it was $10 and it makes my husband and I laugh out loud. I also knew the newest 4 year old would love it. I have radar for things she'll love. Before I had kids I used that radar to identify things I would never be caught dead in. Now I use it to clothe my child. I think the hat really gives it something extra. So does a grown man wearing it:
11.09.2007
Crappy Reality Television Week in Review
I promised myself I wouldn't write about crappy reality television too much during NaBloPoMo. It'd be an easy crutch to use but could quickly descend into mindless blathering. I resolved to limit that blathering to one day a week. Friday was the natural choice given that I'm generally bursting at the seams with Survivor related chatter on Friday Mornings. And so I present my crappy reality television roundup for the week:
Survivor: I'm so glad they voted out Jean-Robert. I have an appreciation for the strategy of being unlikeable so someone will want to take you to the final two. Except I'm not entirely certain that was his strategy. He just appears to have bad people skills. Specifically, an inability to identify when he's being rude and annoying. And how sweet is Erik diplomatically pointing out at Tribal Council that someone's always at the bottom of the totem pole in an alliance of 6. I suddenly like him and his pretty white teeth. Even if he did previously hang out with Jaime who I intensely dislike ever since she laughed in the guys' faces after throwing a challenge.
The Amazing Race: Heavens to Betsy that show makes me want to travel the world. The tourism industry should pay CBS to keep it on the air. Every time I watch it I become firmly convinced I need to go wherever they went that week. For example, this week I'm pretty confident my life won't be complete until I drive through the Irish countryside. I hope the Goth couple lasts a long time. Mostly because I want to see what happens when they get too tired to do their makeup anymore. Sleep versus putting on makeup. Tell me you don't eventually sleep. And what's the deal with the cheating boyfriend and his high strung girlfriend? Why is the fact that you're boyfriend cheated on you information you feel the need to share with America during a brief 30 second intro. That's odd. And emasculating to your boyfriend. Me thinks you haven't let his mistake go just yet.
America's Next Top Model: If you are characterized as the plus sized model on that show, you may as well keep your bags packed because you are eventually getting kicked off. They like to put a token non waif normal sized girl in the mix. But she never wins. And don't even get me started on the fact that the "plus sized" girl looks to be about a size 8. And since we're on the subject, there's no way Ambreal, Jenah or Bianca will win this thing. No way.
The Office: I know. It's not crappy reality television. But it's my favorite show! I love that the writers understand what working in an office is really like. Specifically, how the littlest things can get everyone bent out of shape. Like the birthday cakes last night. In my building, it's not a celebration unless there's a cake. And if there isn't one, it must be a conspiracy. Or someone hates you. Do not take away someone's cake.
Survivor: I'm so glad they voted out Jean-Robert. I have an appreciation for the strategy of being unlikeable so someone will want to take you to the final two. Except I'm not entirely certain that was his strategy. He just appears to have bad people skills. Specifically, an inability to identify when he's being rude and annoying. And how sweet is Erik diplomatically pointing out at Tribal Council that someone's always at the bottom of the totem pole in an alliance of 6. I suddenly like him and his pretty white teeth. Even if he did previously hang out with Jaime who I intensely dislike ever since she laughed in the guys' faces after throwing a challenge.
The Amazing Race: Heavens to Betsy that show makes me want to travel the world. The tourism industry should pay CBS to keep it on the air. Every time I watch it I become firmly convinced I need to go wherever they went that week. For example, this week I'm pretty confident my life won't be complete until I drive through the Irish countryside. I hope the Goth couple lasts a long time. Mostly because I want to see what happens when they get too tired to do their makeup anymore. Sleep versus putting on makeup. Tell me you don't eventually sleep. And what's the deal with the cheating boyfriend and his high strung girlfriend? Why is the fact that you're boyfriend cheated on you information you feel the need to share with America during a brief 30 second intro. That's odd. And emasculating to your boyfriend. Me thinks you haven't let his mistake go just yet.
America's Next Top Model: If you are characterized as the plus sized model on that show, you may as well keep your bags packed because you are eventually getting kicked off. They like to put a token non waif normal sized girl in the mix. But she never wins. And don't even get me started on the fact that the "plus sized" girl looks to be about a size 8. And since we're on the subject, there's no way Ambreal, Jenah or Bianca will win this thing. No way.
The Office: I know. It's not crappy reality television. But it's my favorite show! I love that the writers understand what working in an office is really like. Specifically, how the littlest things can get everyone bent out of shape. Like the birthday cakes last night. In my building, it's not a celebration unless there's a cake. And if there isn't one, it must be a conspiracy. Or someone hates you. Do not take away someone's cake.
11.08.2007
That snowball rolling down the hill is my life
Two weeks ago I wrote about my indecisiveness regarding a potential job. My solution was to put in for it just in case and decide later if I wanted it. I think my plan even involved waiting until I was on the phone scheduling the interview to decide. Right. Yeah. So there was no interview. Yesterday I got congratulated on the new position by my boss in the middle of a big meeting. I had no clue what she was talking about. Because I was still waiting to get invited for an interview.
And then I find out I'm assigned to a whole new divison and there's an office picked out for me and a project for me to oversee and everyone's excited and there's applause and in my head all I can think is, "Huh? What just happened here?"
I was supposed to have time to try out the cushy new job and see how I like it. My plan was to compare the jobs and see which one I liked better. But that's no longer possible. I just have to decide. And soon. Because this job has turned into a giant snowball rolling down a hill getting bigger and further out of my reach with every second. Putting the breaks on it at this point will require a sit down chat with some higher ups. Higher ups I've come to find out actually bickered over who would get me. I know. That's kinda awesome. Unless you're not sure you want the job. Because then it's setting the stage for massive awkwardness.
Two job opportunities is a good problem to have. Plenty of people would like to have this problem. But I'm so unsure. Tragically unsure. My head starts to pound every time I start weighing my options. And I might be developing lock jaw from clenching my teeth. It's not comfy but I'd be okay with my jaw locking shut completely for a few days. Might help reduce my caloric intake. And boy does my caloric intake need to go down.
Yesterday a coworker asked me if I was pregnant again or just gaining weight. Um. I'm sorry. Did you just call me a filthy pig or was that my imagination? Because that's what I heard inside my head. For that matter my twisted brain also read into that comment that you think I need to get myself to a Weight Watchers because I'm not wearing the extra 30 pounds well. Whatever. Like I have time to fix that problem today. I've got enough on my mind. Although I'm filing it away for next week so I can stress out about it when I have more time. Because what the hell.
And then I find out I'm assigned to a whole new divison and there's an office picked out for me and a project for me to oversee and everyone's excited and there's applause and in my head all I can think is, "Huh? What just happened here?"
I was supposed to have time to try out the cushy new job and see how I like it. My plan was to compare the jobs and see which one I liked better. But that's no longer possible. I just have to decide. And soon. Because this job has turned into a giant snowball rolling down a hill getting bigger and further out of my reach with every second. Putting the breaks on it at this point will require a sit down chat with some higher ups. Higher ups I've come to find out actually bickered over who would get me. I know. That's kinda awesome. Unless you're not sure you want the job. Because then it's setting the stage for massive awkwardness.
Two job opportunities is a good problem to have. Plenty of people would like to have this problem. But I'm so unsure. Tragically unsure. My head starts to pound every time I start weighing my options. And I might be developing lock jaw from clenching my teeth. It's not comfy but I'd be okay with my jaw locking shut completely for a few days. Might help reduce my caloric intake. And boy does my caloric intake need to go down.
Yesterday a coworker asked me if I was pregnant again or just gaining weight. Um. I'm sorry. Did you just call me a filthy pig or was that my imagination? Because that's what I heard inside my head. For that matter my twisted brain also read into that comment that you think I need to get myself to a Weight Watchers because I'm not wearing the extra 30 pounds well. Whatever. Like I have time to fix that problem today. I've got enough on my mind. Although I'm filing it away for next week so I can stress out about it when I have more time. Because what the hell.
11.07.2007
7 more reasons I'm really, really cool
I started a list of 100 things about me several months ago. I decided to fill it gradually instead of all at once. Mostly because I enjoy opportunities to cut corners. I get to add to the growing list today after getting tagged for a meme by Christine at Sippy Cups and Blackberries. The gist of the meme is to list 7 random or weird facts about yourself. Not a problem, dude. My list starts with #9 because I’m picking up my list of 100 where I left off. Like anyone but me cares. Whatever:
I’m supposed to tag 7 people when I’m done. But I’m too soft. I can't put the screws to anyone. Even delicate little meme screws. But I'll totally read your list and link if you do it!
- 9. I can drink a whole Slurpee in one sitting without getting brain freeze or chest freeze. I think maybe I’m immune to it. My husband can endure dental work without pain medication but is crippled by brain freeze on the first sip of anything cold. This amuses me.
10. I only have 1 kidney that functions. It’s the result of kidney reflux as a baby. I saw a urologist about it for years. On two separate occasions with two different friends I really needed to use the bathroom and tried to get the friend to let me use the bathroom before them by telling them I only have one kidney and my urologist says I shouldn’t wait to go. Both times the friend laughed because she thought I was kidding and went to the bathroom first. Both times they felt bad later when I told them it wasn’t a joke.
11. I’m a notorious channel flipper. Radio and television.
12. I’ve read 50 Agatha Christie books. Mostly during high school. I read so many I started writing down the titles to keep track of them. Her best book is And Then There Were None not Murder on the Orient Express no matter what anyone tells you. And Miss Marple is better than Hercule Peroit.
13. I like walnuts, peanuts and occasionally almonds but I won’t eat them in anything. I don’t care how big they are or how easy they are to pick out. My answer is still “No, thank you.”
14. I was a member of the Barbie Fan Club as a kid. My mom has the canceled check to prove it. My Barbie Dream House is packed away in my mother’s garage waiting to be handed down to my daughter. So is my Barbie Dream Pool. And my Barbie Dream Kitchen. And my Glitter Barbie with the cool glitter glass heels. And I don’t mean the cheap flip flop heels. I’m talking about the pumps that actually fit on the foot and stayed in place.
15. When I meet people or see them on TV I like to classify them in my head by what kind of relationship I could have with them. I met a friend’s fiancée and later summed up how awesome I thought she was by saying I could totally be friends with her. Whereas some whack job shrew on Dr. Phil gets classified as someone I could not be friends with. Other categories I like to use are someone that would be fun to go to happy hour with, someone that would make a good neighbor, entertaining to sit near at work and guy most likely to come into work with a gun and shoot the place up.
I’m supposed to tag 7 people when I’m done. But I’m too soft. I can't put the screws to anyone. Even delicate little meme screws. But I'll totally read your list and link if you do it!
11.06.2007
Maid wanted
Today feels like Thursday. Mostly because I seem to be behind and need the weekend to arrive soon so I can catch up. Which is unfortunate since it’s only Tuesday. And everyone in my house is probably going to continue wearing clothing for the rest of the week and thereby increase my overall laundry backlog even more by Saturday. They're very selfish like that. I don't know why I put up with any of them.
I could seriously use a maid. Not to catch up on laundry though. Mostly I wouldn’t mind if she cleaned my toilet and changed my sheets. I don't even want to discuss the last time I changed the sheets around here. Mostly because I can't remember when it was. That's fine when you're a freshman in college but it's kind of disturbing when you're the 33 year old parent that's supposedly in charge.
Speaking of grotesque laundry habits, freshman year of college a guy I knew confessed that he hadn't washed his sheets once the entire year. Nine months. Same sheets. That falls under the general heading of "Holy Cow." He's the same guy that thought he started a long distance relationship with a girl back home only to discover over Thanksgiving that she never thought they'd been dating even before he left. Upon further reflection, maybe there's a connection between those two events.
My husband thinks we need a maid, too. Although his idea of how the maid would work is completely warped. First, he actually told me we'd have to clean up around the house a little before we got a maid. Um. No. That's incorrect.
Second, maids don't come with magic wands. It's not like she can come once a month and put some sort of clutter repelling force field over the house. Our house would look nice the day she's here and then our children would fling crap everywhere and the World's Most Annoying Dog would shred something. For example, the stuffed tiger that got his face ripped off yesterday. I was sad to discover the poor faceless creature but sadder still to discover the poor faceless creature had been stuffed with teeny tiny confetti-ish balls that have now embedded themselves in our carpet until the end of time.
As always, I continue to pray that the World's Most Annoying Dog's true owners will miraculously appear and take him home. As if anyone would be stupid enough to claim that dog. Besides us, obviously.
I could seriously use a maid. Not to catch up on laundry though. Mostly I wouldn’t mind if she cleaned my toilet and changed my sheets. I don't even want to discuss the last time I changed the sheets around here. Mostly because I can't remember when it was. That's fine when you're a freshman in college but it's kind of disturbing when you're the 33 year old parent that's supposedly in charge.
Speaking of grotesque laundry habits, freshman year of college a guy I knew confessed that he hadn't washed his sheets once the entire year. Nine months. Same sheets. That falls under the general heading of "Holy Cow." He's the same guy that thought he started a long distance relationship with a girl back home only to discover over Thanksgiving that she never thought they'd been dating even before he left. Upon further reflection, maybe there's a connection between those two events.
My husband thinks we need a maid, too. Although his idea of how the maid would work is completely warped. First, he actually told me we'd have to clean up around the house a little before we got a maid. Um. No. That's incorrect.
Second, maids don't come with magic wands. It's not like she can come once a month and put some sort of clutter repelling force field over the house. Our house would look nice the day she's here and then our children would fling crap everywhere and the World's Most Annoying Dog would shred something. For example, the stuffed tiger that got his face ripped off yesterday. I was sad to discover the poor faceless creature but sadder still to discover the poor faceless creature had been stuffed with teeny tiny confetti-ish balls that have now embedded themselves in our carpet until the end of time.
As always, I continue to pray that the World's Most Annoying Dog's true owners will miraculously appear and take him home. As if anyone would be stupid enough to claim that dog. Besides us, obviously.
11.05.2007
All Hail Shamu
We came, we saw, we conquered Sea World. Here's the ubiquitous photo of Shamu to prove it:
And here's a cute dolphin we touched:
And my husband attempting to teach the sea lions to ask nicely for fish:
But enough about that. On to the important stuff. Here's my son screaming when we put him in the car seat at the start of the trip:
The screaming lasted approximately 15 minutes. That's a cheeseburger in his hand. My husband decided to shove cheeseburgers at anyone that cried instead of nuggets. When that didn't work he tried telling our 18 month old to stop crying. That makes me laugh just thinking about it.
The kids did pretty well in the hotel room. We had some moderate screaming the first night but nothing too bad. I take zero credit for that. It was my husband that talked our 18 month old into laying down. He also parted the Red Sea later that night.
The newest 4 year old thought she was at one extended sleepover party. She ate candy. She taught her brother to get out of the pack and play. She threw every pillow in the room on the floor between the beds and bounced off the side of the bed into the pile. Here she is using the bed as a trampoline:
I know. We look so normal. Let me fix that. When we got to Sea World before it opened I made everyone get out of the car and run towards the entrance like the Griswolds in National Lampoon's Vacation:
I offered to hum Chariots of Fire but my husband wasn't really down for that. He was, however, down for riding the rented stroller down a steep hill with our 18 month old:
Sea World was fun. I'd recommend it to anyone for good! clean! family! fun! Lots of stuff to see, clean bathrooms and the food isn't bad. The chick that sold me popcorn seemed like she hated her job quite a bit but everyone else was very friendly. And staying in a hotel with two small children didn't make me want to fling myself out the window. It was definitely more work. But still doable. But pack Tylenol just in case. And maybe some Benadryl if you know what I mean.
And here's a cute dolphin we touched:
And my husband attempting to teach the sea lions to ask nicely for fish:
But enough about that. On to the important stuff. Here's my son screaming when we put him in the car seat at the start of the trip:
The screaming lasted approximately 15 minutes. That's a cheeseburger in his hand. My husband decided to shove cheeseburgers at anyone that cried instead of nuggets. When that didn't work he tried telling our 18 month old to stop crying. That makes me laugh just thinking about it.
The kids did pretty well in the hotel room. We had some moderate screaming the first night but nothing too bad. I take zero credit for that. It was my husband that talked our 18 month old into laying down. He also parted the Red Sea later that night.
The newest 4 year old thought she was at one extended sleepover party. She ate candy. She taught her brother to get out of the pack and play. She threw every pillow in the room on the floor between the beds and bounced off the side of the bed into the pile. Here she is using the bed as a trampoline:
I know. We look so normal. Let me fix that. When we got to Sea World before it opened I made everyone get out of the car and run towards the entrance like the Griswolds in National Lampoon's Vacation:
I offered to hum Chariots of Fire but my husband wasn't really down for that. He was, however, down for riding the rented stroller down a steep hill with our 18 month old:
Sea World was fun. I'd recommend it to anyone for good! clean! family! fun! Lots of stuff to see, clean bathrooms and the food isn't bad. The chick that sold me popcorn seemed like she hated her job quite a bit but everyone else was very friendly. And staying in a hotel with two small children didn't make me want to fling myself out the window. It was definitely more work. But still doable. But pack Tylenol just in case. And maybe some Benadryl if you know what I mean.
11.04.2007
Game Of The Year
Indianapolis played New England today. Did you know that? Yeah, well, they did. Did you know they were both undefeated? Because they were. And it was the game of the week. Nay, the game of the year. Big time important.
If you're a true football fan you'd know that already. You'd also know that if you accidentally planned a trip to Sea World the same weekend as the game of the year and your husband loves football and insisted on getting up early so you could drive home in time for the game of the year kickoff.
When he initially told you his plan, you probably thought he was kidding. And when he literally rolled on top of you and started bouncing the entire bed bright and early that morning, you probably still thought it was a joke. But I'm pretty sure you knew he meant business when you got out of the shower and found all the blankets folded and the bags packed.
Everybody knows the game of the year can only be watched alone in your bedroom with the lights off. During halftime it's okay to use the bathroom and ask your wife how she feels about pizza for dinner. But then you need to get back to the game because the halftime report is on and watching that is kinda sorta critical to an overall understanding of the game. And let's all get it through our thick skulls that we need to keep our yaps shut and not get in front of the television.
Game of the year, Care Bear, game of the year.
If you're a true football fan you'd know that already. You'd also know that if you accidentally planned a trip to Sea World the same weekend as the game of the year and your husband loves football and insisted on getting up early so you could drive home in time for the game of the year kickoff.
When he initially told you his plan, you probably thought he was kidding. And when he literally rolled on top of you and started bouncing the entire bed bright and early that morning, you probably still thought it was a joke. But I'm pretty sure you knew he meant business when you got out of the shower and found all the blankets folded and the bags packed.
Everybody knows the game of the year can only be watched alone in your bedroom with the lights off. During halftime it's okay to use the bathroom and ask your wife how she feels about pizza for dinner. But then you need to get back to the game because the halftime report is on and watching that is kinda sorta critical to an overall understanding of the game. And let's all get it through our thick skulls that we need to keep our yaps shut and not get in front of the television.
Game of the year, Care Bear, game of the year.
11.03.2007
I'd live in my car before I'd live on Vinegar Hill
While I was waiting for Amazon to deliver my imaginary book club selections, I read Vinegar Hill by A. Manette Ansay. And yes, for the record, I did buy it at Target. I’m almost ashamed to admit that it was probably the Oprah’s Book Club selection sticker on the front cover that made me pick it up and read the back cover. But such is my life. I buy books at Target and sometimes I read Oprah’s Book Club selections. I guess I just like the fact that it means someone read it and liked it a lot.
Vinegar Hill is about a family that moves in with the husband’s parents because of financial problems. The family is above average dysfunctional. Living there is unpleasant to say the least.
I realize the book is set in 1972 and I realize that I’m a modern girl. But I’m telling you now, if I lived with inlaws that treated me and my children like scum I’d rather live in my car. Not only would I not cook and clean and walk on egg shells around everyone, I wouldn’t even come home. I’d just curl up in the backseat of the car with my kids. We’d eat cheese and crackers for dinner. Because I know I couldn’t do it. Day in and day out I could not deal with such a lonely miserable existence. Especially my children having to live with people who can’t stand them. A child should have a home where they can be themselves and feel safe and secure. That within those 4 walls if nowhere else in the world, they are accepted and loved for exactly who they are.
I read this book very quickly and I attribute that largely to waiting for things to get better for the family. It’s well written and I really enjoyed the writing style. But I don’t know that I’d recommend it. I tend to really put myself into books. I tend to really feel like I’m there and part of things. As a result, reading about a woman with a lonely miserable existence was difficult for me at times. I felt like the tone of the house actually began to infiltrate my life. I actually felt sad and caught myself looking for resemblances between my beloved husband and the insensitive husband in the book.
My husband made a comment one night about dishes that needed to be done and I think I channeled the wife in the book and just immediately started washing them. When I was done I even asked if there was anything else I could do for him. Which is so very Stepford Wife and not me. I mean, is his arm broken? If he’s got time to bring dishes in the sink to my attention seems to me he’s got time to wash a few.
Like I said, difficult but well written.
Vinegar Hill is about a family that moves in with the husband’s parents because of financial problems. The family is above average dysfunctional. Living there is unpleasant to say the least.
I realize the book is set in 1972 and I realize that I’m a modern girl. But I’m telling you now, if I lived with inlaws that treated me and my children like scum I’d rather live in my car. Not only would I not cook and clean and walk on egg shells around everyone, I wouldn’t even come home. I’d just curl up in the backseat of the car with my kids. We’d eat cheese and crackers for dinner. Because I know I couldn’t do it. Day in and day out I could not deal with such a lonely miserable existence. Especially my children having to live with people who can’t stand them. A child should have a home where they can be themselves and feel safe and secure. That within those 4 walls if nowhere else in the world, they are accepted and loved for exactly who they are.
I read this book very quickly and I attribute that largely to waiting for things to get better for the family. It’s well written and I really enjoyed the writing style. But I don’t know that I’d recommend it. I tend to really put myself into books. I tend to really feel like I’m there and part of things. As a result, reading about a woman with a lonely miserable existence was difficult for me at times. I felt like the tone of the house actually began to infiltrate my life. I actually felt sad and caught myself looking for resemblances between my beloved husband and the insensitive husband in the book.
My husband made a comment one night about dishes that needed to be done and I think I channeled the wife in the book and just immediately started washing them. When I was done I even asked if there was anything else I could do for him. Which is so very Stepford Wife and not me. I mean, is his arm broken? If he’s got time to bring dishes in the sink to my attention seems to me he’s got time to wash a few.
Like I said, difficult but well written.
11.02.2007
On the road
Today we begin our sojourn to bow before the greatness that is Shamu. I'm estimating we'll spend 5 hours in the car. I'm going to preemptively take a Tylenol before we leave just in case.
On top of two adults, two kids and lots of crap we probably won't use, we're bringing our 100 pound Rottweiler with us. Some people have family jewels. We have Ike the Great:
He is priceless and therefore incapable of being kenneled. He requires a couch to sleep on and people to wait on him. Clearly, we need to drive across the state with him.
Last time we drove cross country with Ike, my husband made us stop every two hours. Apparently the dog's bladder shrinks to the size of a thimble when he gets in a car. Either that or my husband is a giant Stay Puft Marshmallow when it comes to that dog.
He also takes Ike for rides. They watch football together. They talk. They make out. You get the idea.
At least we get to drop Ike at my brother's house while we do Sea World. My husband has grudgingly agreed to this. I feel certain that pressed on the issue he would confess to having concerns about Ike potentially getting out the door and getting lost. But I guess he's going to man up for the sake of Shamu.
He also manned up on Halloween and slapped on a pair of overalls to be the gardener in our garden themed group costume. I feel he should have tucked a trowel in his pocket but, honestly, the dude's practically a saint on Halloween. You have no idea how fine he'd be with laying on the couch watching television in his underwear instead.
But it's all about the kids anyway. Here's the 4 year old butterfly:
I was going to doll up her shirt and pants with some paint. But the wings sort of steal the show so I went with less is more. Love it. Almost as much as I love chubby cheeked spiders:
Our garden even had flowers:
The Rottweiler was supposed to be a bug zapper. I had big plans for stapling plastic bugs to a white T-shirt for him. But, alas, the real world called and wanted to know when the hell I was going to get that done. Never would be the answer. So we called it a day:
On top of two adults, two kids and lots of crap we probably won't use, we're bringing our 100 pound Rottweiler with us. Some people have family jewels. We have Ike the Great:
He is priceless and therefore incapable of being kenneled. He requires a couch to sleep on and people to wait on him. Clearly, we need to drive across the state with him.
Last time we drove cross country with Ike, my husband made us stop every two hours. Apparently the dog's bladder shrinks to the size of a thimble when he gets in a car. Either that or my husband is a giant Stay Puft Marshmallow when it comes to that dog.
He also takes Ike for rides. They watch football together. They talk. They make out. You get the idea.
At least we get to drop Ike at my brother's house while we do Sea World. My husband has grudgingly agreed to this. I feel certain that pressed on the issue he would confess to having concerns about Ike potentially getting out the door and getting lost. But I guess he's going to man up for the sake of Shamu.
He also manned up on Halloween and slapped on a pair of overalls to be the gardener in our garden themed group costume. I feel he should have tucked a trowel in his pocket but, honestly, the dude's practically a saint on Halloween. You have no idea how fine he'd be with laying on the couch watching television in his underwear instead.
But it's all about the kids anyway. Here's the 4 year old butterfly:
I was going to doll up her shirt and pants with some paint. But the wings sort of steal the show so I went with less is more. Love it. Almost as much as I love chubby cheeked spiders:
Our garden even had flowers:
The Rottweiler was supposed to be a bug zapper. I had big plans for stapling plastic bugs to a white T-shirt for him. But, alas, the real world called and wanted to know when the hell I was going to get that done. Never would be the answer. So we called it a day:
11.01.2007
If you're going to talk for 4 hours you should at least serve candy
Today I attended what could very well have been the longest meeting in the history of human existence without a bathroom break or any leftover Halloween candy. I think there should be a Constitutional amendment requiring that people cough up some SweeTarts if they're going to hold four hour meetings the day after Halloween. Not to mention, it's the first day of NaBloPoMo. People. Cut to the chase already. I've got a blog post to write.
Normally, I'm the sort of employee that can sit in a meeting all day. First, because I don't care. Some people get stressed about work that's back at their desk waiting for them. Not me. Because, truth be told, the work will still be there when I get back. It's not like it's going to do itself. And if it did, would that really be such a bad thing?
I also sort of enjoy meetings. In my mind, if I'm not sitting in my office, I'm practically on break. And there are people to chat with at meetings. I enjoy getting paid to sit around chatting. Today I surveyed the room on children's Halloween costumes. For the record, lots of Spidermans out there last night. Good to know.
On top of being the only person I know that actually enjoys meetings, I'm also the sort of person in favor of wearing Halloween costumes to work. Generally no one in my office dresses up. I decided to wear my bumble bee costume to work anyway. In a staff meeting the day before my boss' boss' boss actually encouraged us to. Only I guess I was the only one that actually felt encouraged because no one else dressed up. And I was wearing sparkly antennae on my head. So it was noticeable is what I'm saying.
I can't decide if dressing up is a positive or a negative in the office. My costume wasn't over the top. It was cute and fun while still office appropriate and professional. I think maintaining your sense of humor as you go up the career ladder is attractive. It makes you seem human and likable and someone people enjoy being around. I think it says let's get the job done but have a good time doing it. Besides, it's not like I came dressed as a hooker. Which you might think sort of goes without saying except a girl once did that in my office. Wacko.
I totally wish she sat near me.
Normally, I'm the sort of employee that can sit in a meeting all day. First, because I don't care. Some people get stressed about work that's back at their desk waiting for them. Not me. Because, truth be told, the work will still be there when I get back. It's not like it's going to do itself. And if it did, would that really be such a bad thing?
I also sort of enjoy meetings. In my mind, if I'm not sitting in my office, I'm practically on break. And there are people to chat with at meetings. I enjoy getting paid to sit around chatting. Today I surveyed the room on children's Halloween costumes. For the record, lots of Spidermans out there last night. Good to know.
On top of being the only person I know that actually enjoys meetings, I'm also the sort of person in favor of wearing Halloween costumes to work. Generally no one in my office dresses up. I decided to wear my bumble bee costume to work anyway. In a staff meeting the day before my boss' boss' boss actually encouraged us to. Only I guess I was the only one that actually felt encouraged because no one else dressed up. And I was wearing sparkly antennae on my head. So it was noticeable is what I'm saying.
I can't decide if dressing up is a positive or a negative in the office. My costume wasn't over the top. It was cute and fun while still office appropriate and professional. I think maintaining your sense of humor as you go up the career ladder is attractive. It makes you seem human and likable and someone people enjoy being around. I think it says let's get the job done but have a good time doing it. Besides, it's not like I came dressed as a hooker. Which you might think sort of goes without saying except a girl once did that in my office. Wacko.
I totally wish she sat near me.
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