It finally happened.
It took three years of marriage. Things were going so well.
I made something for dinner that my husband couldn't eat.
I knew this day would come... but did it have to come while I'm all emotional and 6 months pregnant? DID IT?
Before I realized the extent of my dinner fail, I took a sample bowl of potato disaster in for my sweet, unsuspecting husband to try.
I saw it. As soon as his lips hit the spoon: he had to make a decision. Either eat this "soup" and destroy the lining of his stomach, or tell me the truth. I think he made the right call... because as soon as I tasted the "soup", I prepared to toss ALL of it out. The look in his eye was really priceless, though. He was afraid to tell me. Rightfully so... I mean, I can't blame the guy.
He followed me into the kitchen saying "I'm sorry". That sweet man was sorry that I screwed up dinner because he knew *I* was upset. He was sorry he couldn't fake it.
This recipe wasn't a slight one. This recipe was going to feed us tonight AND tomorrow: it was enough soup for a family of 12. Equally as frustrating, was the fact that I tore my kitchen up... I used the crock-pot as mentioned (during my lunch break I put the whole thing together), I used a giant pot, the food processor, and multiple stirring/mixing utensils.
The conversation following my attempt not to cry while standing over my range:
Me: I'm going to Arby's
JD: I can go to Arby's and you can see all the cute trick-or-treaters
Me: I don't want to put a bra back on ::doorslam::
Because I would rather the Arby's employee see me like this.. not the children. Although, it is an evening for freaking kids out.... I don't want to scare them in THAT way.
You know what's hard? Angrily driving away on Halloween. It's tricky to dodge all of the pedestrians with their bags of candy. So I had to angrily drive about 5 miles an hour to get out of my neighborhood. Once I was on the home stretch to Arby's I was going AT LEAST 25.... (Arby's is really just on the outside of our neighborhood).
Pinterest. I blame Pinterest. Sometimes that super easy crock-pot recipe that looks too good to be true really is just that.
So, now my house is basically bursting with garlic scented fumes (not the holiday scented glade plug-ins that I just bought...).... and we had to eat Arby's for dinner. My poor fetus had Arby's for dinner. I don't feel so bad for JD. He loves Arby's.
By the time I got home, JD had cleaned the kitchen. Have I mentioned how great he is? He is really great. I don't know what he did with all of the kitchen paraphernalia so quickly... for all I know the crock pot, giant pot of soup and the food processor are all sitting in the backyard. I don't care: I didn't have to look at it again.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
"I know this is silly, but this table isn't for food or drinks"
My disclaimer before I type this whole reconstruction of Luke's birthday party: I have really great neighbors. Not only do I have really great neighbors, but they have really sweet children. Their kids have manners, they play well together - and most importantly (to me): They always welcome Luke during the Summer and holidays as if he has never been away. They are good kids.
I suppose I'm ambitious when it comes to events. I like having people in my home - and I even like getting ready to have people in my home. It makes me happy to have people eating and laughing in my house.
So - I decided to have Luke's birthday party in our home.
We had Luke's birthday party in our home last year... but we didn't really advertise it the way we did this year. This year people were told in advance and even RSVP'd. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, Friends and Couch Amandas were present - a good group of people.
With the help of Fallon and Couch Amanda - we set up the decorations, the snacks and the banana split bar. Since I'm a Carlile first and foremost - no party is complete without those little smokey weenies (all beef, of course). JD never complains :)
People started arriving and, naturally, I was running behind... but really it was just a matter of pulling food out of the fridge and setting it up - so I was done shortly and got to mingle some. Since I enjoy having people in my home.... something about it is calming to me - I don't get super frantic and I even get to have fun (most of the time).
Soon after everyone got here, we started the line for the banana split bar (which was really more of a sundae bar because I forgot to put the bananas out at first.... whoops). The kids were relatively quiet and contained and, especially with all of the sugar being dumped into their systems, very well behaved.
Then they found the party poppers.
Since the party poppers were my idea - I sort of expected there to be confetti and ribbon everywhere, but this is a birthday party, right? That's okay! Still calm. Still having a good time. Luke is having a great time, so that's all that matters anyway. It totally didn't matter that it looked like Kesha threw up a night out in my living room. Nope.
Following the party poppers and a brief moment where the children disappeared upstairs into Luke's room - Luke opened presents. He really racked up in the present department. I made sure his daddy reminded him to say "thank you" after each gift: which he probably would have done anyway - but a 9 year old at a party opening gifts may forget if he isn't reminded and then his family might be embarrassed. We know he is sweet and thankful, but I want everyone else to know too!
After presents we had cake. I started to get a little uneasy HERE. Mainly because the sundaes seemed to be taking effect, and even the best children with the best manners and the best intentions turn into little evil versions of themselves when loads of sugar are involved. Apparently they missed the table with the little smokies and the cheese dip because they did NOT have any protein in their bodies. Just trust me. Granted, the ones with parents here seemed to stay mostly in check because their parents were hovering...
So as I watched them shovel more sugar down their throats and become a little more evil - I started recognizing a problem.
Let's pause here and back up a bit. I have a table off the side of my living room (I suppose it's a dining room, but we don't use it as such) that was my great grandmother's. This table is one of my most prized possessions. If my house was to catch fire - first I would gather the people (duh), then the animals... then this table. We don't eat on it because it hasn't been treated... and it's a little rickety....but I love this table. My Aunt Diana gave the table to me after we moved into this house - it immediately became part of the house for me.
Soon after the cake cutting, I realized that I forgot to put a fence around this table... nor did I make some kind of bubble device to keep it safe. There were at least 5 cups of koolaid condensating on my grandmother's childhood table. There were several dripping bowls of melted sundaes producing little ice cream rings on my table. I seriously almost stroked out.
I didn't want people to realize how neurotic I really am about this table... so I quietly placed all of the mess producing items in the kitchen. In no particular order. Then I went over to the table and, in my most teacher-like but still nice voice, said "I know this is silly, but this table isn't for food or drinks"... then I made a nervous laugh noise. It was a little uncontrollable. The kids looked at me like I just told them there was an invisible clown in the room making balloon animals - go find him!
Glasses continued to get placed on this table, and at this point my only mission was to keep clearing them off. I wiped all the sticky ice cream rings off the table - they didn't leave terrible marks, but I should probably have this table waxed anyways to keep THIS from happening.
I know... this is really my fault. Why do I have a table in what should be my dining room that you're not allowed to put food or drinks on? Well..... I don't have a good answer - that's just how it is. I didn't want to seem like a total ass and tell everyone at the door not to use that table. I didn't want to make a giant announcement about it. So instead I chose to have a mini-meltdown over it that I HOPE only my husband, and maybe Couch Amanda, could recognize. I know I'm a little uptight. But only about that table. If you spilled red koolaid all over my black/white swirly rug: I would have been TOTALLY FINE. It's just that table that makes me freak out. I should make a t-shirt that says that...
Soon all the kids with parents present left because things were winding down - and the kids that didn't have parents here, I found upstairs with Luke's bow and arrow set - so I sent them home. Clearly it was time.
We still have mounds of birthday cake - and I'm fighting my urge to eat it for brunch.
I'm glad Luke had fun. I'm even more glad that I had help cleaning up (Husband, Fallon, Amanda....).
Next year: His birthday party will be at a location. Where someone else can attempt to control the chaos far away from my great grandmother's table - and then those people will clean up. And I will come home. And hug that table.
The end.
I suppose I'm ambitious when it comes to events. I like having people in my home - and I even like getting ready to have people in my home. It makes me happy to have people eating and laughing in my house.
So - I decided to have Luke's birthday party in our home.
We had Luke's birthday party in our home last year... but we didn't really advertise it the way we did this year. This year people were told in advance and even RSVP'd. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandparents, Friends and Couch Amandas were present - a good group of people.
With the help of Fallon and Couch Amanda - we set up the decorations, the snacks and the banana split bar. Since I'm a Carlile first and foremost - no party is complete without those little smokey weenies (all beef, of course). JD never complains :)
People started arriving and, naturally, I was running behind... but really it was just a matter of pulling food out of the fridge and setting it up - so I was done shortly and got to mingle some. Since I enjoy having people in my home.... something about it is calming to me - I don't get super frantic and I even get to have fun (most of the time).
Soon after everyone got here, we started the line for the banana split bar (which was really more of a sundae bar because I forgot to put the bananas out at first.... whoops). The kids were relatively quiet and contained and, especially with all of the sugar being dumped into their systems, very well behaved.
Then they found the party poppers.
Since the party poppers were my idea - I sort of expected there to be confetti and ribbon everywhere, but this is a birthday party, right? That's okay! Still calm. Still having a good time. Luke is having a great time, so that's all that matters anyway. It totally didn't matter that it looked like Kesha threw up a night out in my living room. Nope.
Following the party poppers and a brief moment where the children disappeared upstairs into Luke's room - Luke opened presents. He really racked up in the present department. I made sure his daddy reminded him to say "thank you" after each gift: which he probably would have done anyway - but a 9 year old at a party opening gifts may forget if he isn't reminded and then his family might be embarrassed. We know he is sweet and thankful, but I want everyone else to know too!
After presents we had cake. I started to get a little uneasy HERE. Mainly because the sundaes seemed to be taking effect, and even the best children with the best manners and the best intentions turn into little evil versions of themselves when loads of sugar are involved. Apparently they missed the table with the little smokies and the cheese dip because they did NOT have any protein in their bodies. Just trust me. Granted, the ones with parents here seemed to stay mostly in check because their parents were hovering...
 | |||
| Luke's Minecraft cake |
 |
| Making a wish! |
Let's pause here and back up a bit. I have a table off the side of my living room (I suppose it's a dining room, but we don't use it as such) that was my great grandmother's. This table is one of my most prized possessions. If my house was to catch fire - first I would gather the people (duh), then the animals... then this table. We don't eat on it because it hasn't been treated... and it's a little rickety....but I love this table. My Aunt Diana gave the table to me after we moved into this house - it immediately became part of the house for me.
 |
| THE table |
I didn't want people to realize how neurotic I really am about this table... so I quietly placed all of the mess producing items in the kitchen. In no particular order. Then I went over to the table and, in my most teacher-like but still nice voice, said "I know this is silly, but this table isn't for food or drinks"... then I made a nervous laugh noise. It was a little uncontrollable. The kids looked at me like I just told them there was an invisible clown in the room making balloon animals - go find him!
Glasses continued to get placed on this table, and at this point my only mission was to keep clearing them off. I wiped all the sticky ice cream rings off the table - they didn't leave terrible marks, but I should probably have this table waxed anyways to keep THIS from happening.
I know... this is really my fault. Why do I have a table in what should be my dining room that you're not allowed to put food or drinks on? Well..... I don't have a good answer - that's just how it is. I didn't want to seem like a total ass and tell everyone at the door not to use that table. I didn't want to make a giant announcement about it. So instead I chose to have a mini-meltdown over it that I HOPE only my husband, and maybe Couch Amanda, could recognize. I know I'm a little uptight. But only about that table. If you spilled red koolaid all over my black/white swirly rug: I would have been TOTALLY FINE. It's just that table that makes me freak out. I should make a t-shirt that says that...
Soon all the kids with parents present left because things were winding down - and the kids that didn't have parents here, I found upstairs with Luke's bow and arrow set - so I sent them home. Clearly it was time.
We still have mounds of birthday cake - and I'm fighting my urge to eat it for brunch.
I'm glad Luke had fun. I'm even more glad that I had help cleaning up (Husband, Fallon, Amanda....).
Next year: His birthday party will be at a location. Where someone else can attempt to control the chaos far away from my great grandmother's table - and then those people will clean up. And I will come home. And hug that table.
The end.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Dress Malfunction
A few weeks ago (or maybe longer...) I had kind of an incident. I'm able to laugh about it now... but previously that was not the case!
Allow me to set the stage: my employer buys our clothes for work... even though I love my own clothes, it has its benefits that they provide them (I never have to wonder what I'm going to wear). On this particular day, I was wearing the black button up dress. It's kind of like a shirt dress (though it is in the trash now...). The dress buttons all the way up and has a sash to tie in front. I actually liked this dress... it looked less "worky" than the rest of our clothes.
Apparently this was the kind of day where we were so slammed in the front office, none of us even looked at each other. We were either busy with our heads down working, or talking strangers into living at our community.
I had a young guy come to look for an apartment with his girlfriend. We spent a good 30 minutes together looking at several apartments out on the property... talking, laughing, making it not seem weird that we're all going to look at empty apartments (as long as I've done this... it's still a little uncomfortable to walk into a vacant apartment with a stranger... I can't explain it). It was also a windy day.
When we got back to the office, the guy wanted to step out and take a phone call... his girlfriend went with him, and I decided it was time for a quick bathroom break. As soon as I walked in the bathroom - I saw my exposed lady-bits.
My dress was unbuttoned down past my bra all the way where the sash ties in the middle. I was immediately mortified.
I tried to stand at angles in the mirror to see if maybe they couldn't have noticed....all the while my face bright red. So red.
They DEFINITELY noticed. I mean... they could have given you details about my bra.
Now, I understand that I didn't like... nip slip them or anything... BUT STILL!!! I flashed these people... in empty apartments... out on a golf cart IN THE WIND, laughing, talking.... oh my gosh....
None of my coworkers had noticed... I hadn't noticed... I quickly buttoned up my dress (which I discovered had a stretched button hole... I need a new dress) - when the two prospects came back in I apologized and explained to them that "that's not how I typically get leases"... there was some more rambling "I'm so sorry... " "I'm a married, modest woman".... "I'm so embarrassed" ... and so on.
The guy went on to tell me that he had noticed but his girlfriend didn't... and he wasn't sure if he should tell me because he thought it might be on purpose. I assured him that it was absolutely not on purpose.. and that in the future he should feel free to tell a victim of stretched button holes!
The least he could have done was tell his girlfriend to tell me... my douche-bag radar immediately went off.
He did lease an apartment with me on the spot.. and moved in that day.
My ego would have been, admittedly, more bruised if he hadn't leased. Don't judge me.
I suppose I was due a flush-myself-down-the-toilet moment.
Last night I was out with my husband.. and this friendly couple + 1 were sitting behind us (it was perfect porch eating/drinking weather, by the way). She was nice enough to ask if I cared that she smoked... which of course I did, but she was nice enough to ask and there was enough of a breeze... I decided I didn't care too terribly bad that she wanted a cigarette.
Right before we left, she came back from the bathroom with her dress tucked into her panties.
For a split second, my sangria splashed brain said "that is hilarious!"... and then I remembered how relieved I would have been if someone had told me about my exposed breasts that windy day... I leaned back and whispered in her ear... she thanked me, corrected the situation.. and her fellow never noticed.
I hope the clothing karma gods saw my act and will behave in the future. Is that how it works? Eh. Probably not. Stupid, stupid stretched button hole.
Allow me to set the stage: my employer buys our clothes for work... even though I love my own clothes, it has its benefits that they provide them (I never have to wonder what I'm going to wear). On this particular day, I was wearing the black button up dress. It's kind of like a shirt dress (though it is in the trash now...). The dress buttons all the way up and has a sash to tie in front. I actually liked this dress... it looked less "worky" than the rest of our clothes.
 |
| kind of like this one.. but not. (I just googled this photo...it's from About.com) |
I had a young guy come to look for an apartment with his girlfriend. We spent a good 30 minutes together looking at several apartments out on the property... talking, laughing, making it not seem weird that we're all going to look at empty apartments (as long as I've done this... it's still a little uncomfortable to walk into a vacant apartment with a stranger... I can't explain it). It was also a windy day.
When we got back to the office, the guy wanted to step out and take a phone call... his girlfriend went with him, and I decided it was time for a quick bathroom break. As soon as I walked in the bathroom - I saw my exposed lady-bits.
My dress was unbuttoned down past my bra all the way where the sash ties in the middle. I was immediately mortified.
I tried to stand at angles in the mirror to see if maybe they couldn't have noticed....all the while my face bright red. So red.
They DEFINITELY noticed. I mean... they could have given you details about my bra.
Now, I understand that I didn't like... nip slip them or anything... BUT STILL!!! I flashed these people... in empty apartments... out on a golf cart IN THE WIND, laughing, talking.... oh my gosh....
None of my coworkers had noticed... I hadn't noticed... I quickly buttoned up my dress (which I discovered had a stretched button hole... I need a new dress) - when the two prospects came back in I apologized and explained to them that "that's not how I typically get leases"... there was some more rambling "I'm so sorry... " "I'm a married, modest woman".... "I'm so embarrassed" ... and so on.
The guy went on to tell me that he had noticed but his girlfriend didn't... and he wasn't sure if he should tell me because he thought it might be on purpose. I assured him that it was absolutely not on purpose.. and that in the future he should feel free to tell a victim of stretched button holes!
The least he could have done was tell his girlfriend to tell me... my douche-bag radar immediately went off.
He did lease an apartment with me on the spot.. and moved in that day.
My ego would have been, admittedly, more bruised if he hadn't leased. Don't judge me.
I suppose I was due a flush-myself-down-the-toilet moment.
Last night I was out with my husband.. and this friendly couple + 1 were sitting behind us (it was perfect porch eating/drinking weather, by the way). She was nice enough to ask if I cared that she smoked... which of course I did, but she was nice enough to ask and there was enough of a breeze... I decided I didn't care too terribly bad that she wanted a cigarette.
Right before we left, she came back from the bathroom with her dress tucked into her panties.
For a split second, my sangria splashed brain said "that is hilarious!"... and then I remembered how relieved I would have been if someone had told me about my exposed breasts that windy day... I leaned back and whispered in her ear... she thanked me, corrected the situation.. and her fellow never noticed.
I hope the clothing karma gods saw my act and will behave in the future. Is that how it works? Eh. Probably not. Stupid, stupid stretched button hole.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Chicken and Bananas
I told myself I wasn't going to blog about this....
Several times I said that....
but, I think it's partially the reason I haven't been around much lately - and I've come to terms with the way things have gone... so I don't mind that anyone knows at this point.
6 weeks ago tomorrow I woke up and knew things were different.
I wasn't pregnant anymore.
No, I wasn't very far along... 8 weeks. Long enough to know I was pregnant. Long enough to puke in a Target store. Long enough to make a name list and tell my parents (and his parents). Long enough to have an aversion to chicken and bananas. Long enough to read the books and have hopes and fears about the baby... long enough.
The truth is: we prayed and planned for that baby.
It kind of swept the rug out from under me, so to speak, to lose the pregnancy... as soon as I realized we were pregnant I was in love with that little piece of us (affectionately referred to as "the bean"). The timing couldn't have been more perfect (it seemed).
People typically say the same things in different ways when they hear about a miscarriage (I've found): "oh, it'll happen again for you", "it just wasn't the right time", "I'm so sorry, how far along were you? ::pause for answer:: oh.... " (some people seemed to blow it off... because I wasn't pregnant enough for it to count or something).
I immediately felt disconnected from..... everything. I can't explain why.
As common as a miscarriage is.... it didn't comfort me at all to know that it happens all the time and that I wasn't alone. That doesn't matter when you lose something that is so incredibly precious.
I watched the pregnant things about me change back to normal quickly... of course if I hadn't told you, it would have been almost impossible to tell that I was pregnant at all...
I had a ton of trouble sleeping, a lot of sadness that progressed to anger... and some guilt was in the mix. Then came the insecurity. Then acceptance.
Now, finally, some peace about it.
It had been a rough month or so - I feel like I'm finally coming out of a funk (JD too....). It was all unexpected and it was difficult to face. Hello, light at the end of the tunnel! So happy to see you!
The silver linings (because you know I had to find them!) in no particular order:
1 - I won't be super fat pregnant during the hottest, nastiest time of year.
2 - We can save more money (as if we're ever going to be prepared...but, you know)
3 - We have time to finish the house (.... hypothetically. HA!)
4 - I have time to get into better shape - which by the way: I have been doing. Down a dress size since March 14! Back into boot camp!
5 - JD and I have worked through something pretty tough together that we've never had to face before... he is a great husband - and has always been supportive - but things have evolved for us recently... in a way I couldn't have expected.
6 - I have more time to ponder natural birth vs pain killers and giant needles.... although I think the choice is clear...(ouch!)
7 - It's served as a wake up call... I'm a bit of a control freak... and it's just unrealistic to continue to be that way. Besides, maybe I wasn't prepared. Who knows. I know I don't know.... and I suppose that's the point.
8 - I can eat both chicken AND bananas again. Only if the chicken is thin, though.
To the couple of friends who knew and helped carry us during that experience: thank you so much... I never could have functioned without you.
Several times I said that....
but, I think it's partially the reason I haven't been around much lately - and I've come to terms with the way things have gone... so I don't mind that anyone knows at this point.
6 weeks ago tomorrow I woke up and knew things were different.
I wasn't pregnant anymore.
No, I wasn't very far along... 8 weeks. Long enough to know I was pregnant. Long enough to puke in a Target store. Long enough to make a name list and tell my parents (and his parents). Long enough to have an aversion to chicken and bananas. Long enough to read the books and have hopes and fears about the baby... long enough.
The truth is: we prayed and planned for that baby.
It kind of swept the rug out from under me, so to speak, to lose the pregnancy... as soon as I realized we were pregnant I was in love with that little piece of us (affectionately referred to as "the bean"). The timing couldn't have been more perfect (it seemed).
People typically say the same things in different ways when they hear about a miscarriage (I've found): "oh, it'll happen again for you", "it just wasn't the right time", "I'm so sorry, how far along were you? ::pause for answer:: oh.... " (some people seemed to blow it off... because I wasn't pregnant enough for it to count or something).
I immediately felt disconnected from..... everything. I can't explain why.
As common as a miscarriage is.... it didn't comfort me at all to know that it happens all the time and that I wasn't alone. That doesn't matter when you lose something that is so incredibly precious.
I watched the pregnant things about me change back to normal quickly... of course if I hadn't told you, it would have been almost impossible to tell that I was pregnant at all...
I had a ton of trouble sleeping, a lot of sadness that progressed to anger... and some guilt was in the mix. Then came the insecurity. Then acceptance.
Now, finally, some peace about it.
It had been a rough month or so - I feel like I'm finally coming out of a funk (JD too....). It was all unexpected and it was difficult to face. Hello, light at the end of the tunnel! So happy to see you!
The silver linings (because you know I had to find them!) in no particular order:
1 - I won't be super fat pregnant during the hottest, nastiest time of year.
2 - We can save more money (as if we're ever going to be prepared...but, you know)
3 - We have time to finish the house (.... hypothetically. HA!)
4 - I have time to get into better shape - which by the way: I have been doing. Down a dress size since March 14! Back into boot camp!
5 - JD and I have worked through something pretty tough together that we've never had to face before... he is a great husband - and has always been supportive - but things have evolved for us recently... in a way I couldn't have expected.
6 - I have more time to ponder natural birth vs pain killers and giant needles.... although I think the choice is clear...(ouch!)
7 - It's served as a wake up call... I'm a bit of a control freak... and it's just unrealistic to continue to be that way. Besides, maybe I wasn't prepared. Who knows. I know I don't know.... and I suppose that's the point.
8 - I can eat both chicken AND bananas again. Only if the chicken is thin, though.
To the couple of friends who knew and helped carry us during that experience: thank you so much... I never could have functioned without you.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
What if I hadn't asked?!
I asked for her.
Something I regretted immediately after she arrived.
I, at four or five years old, asked for a baby sister. No brothers, please - I already had one of those.
I remember my parents telling me that I had a sister on the way.... although looking back, I wonder if they even KNEW she was a girl, or if they were too afraid to tell me that there was a possibility it was a boy... You see, I got my way back then. And... most of the time now. It's a long-standing trend.
I asked them how she got in there.. "we prayed for her" is the answer I remember - and I think that's a pretty spectacular way to explain to a four or five year old that a baby is on the way... it wasn't even a lie.
While Momma was pregnant with Leanna, people brought gifts. Gifts for me AND the baby. I had that "big sister" t-shirt... I was "prepped" for the arrival of baby sister. I could tell something big was about to happen (even as a child you can comprehend that when people speak to you with their heads cocked to the side - they are nervous about how you're feeling)- but I didn't understand what the big deal was. I didn't really understand all of the gifts, either - but it wasn't all that unusual for people to show up at our house with treats for me.
Then she got here.
Then I understood why people were talking to me with their heads cocked to the side and an inflection in their voice.
I was one pissed off 5 (almost 6) year old.
My Aunt Diana somehow got voted to take care of me for the first few days (weeks? I don't know... I was 5) after Leanna and Momma came home from the hospital. I say voted because I was catching on to how things were going to go... and I was kind of a pill.
Now... things you should know about Aunt Diana (Garage Sale Julie's mom. pronounced: Dinah... as in.. someone's in the kitchen with...) - she is loving, dramatic, sweet and can be very sarcastic.
Obviously after my parents brought Leanna home from the hospital and I wasn't able to see my mother every second that I wanted to like previously (she was exhausted and taking care of a newborn, after all), and Aunt Diana was there to comfort me... which she did, for the most part. I imagine this is how it went though...from my blurry little memory:
I would wake up in the wee hours of the morning wanting my Momma... Aunt Diana would sing me back to sleep, scratch my back and talk to me about Leanna....I would wake up again, and she would do something else sweet and kind and I would doze off.... around the third time, she started messing with me. This is how: I would start crying.... she got one of those devices used to measure liquid medicine for children and started "measuring my tears" so the next morning we could "see how upset I was" or some crap like that. Real smooth, Aunt Diana. I know she was just sleepy. She and I are actually a whole lot alike NOW... but then, I did not think she was humorous AT ALL. Giant alligator tears followed her measuring joke.
After the baby came, the gifts slowed down. Not cool. My world was rocked. You see, I was kind of like an only child with a bonus: I had (have) an amazing big brother - but he was off to college by the time I was three... so that house was MINE. I was kicking myself for allowing this to happen. What was I thinking? Shouldn't I have just gone to get a doll? Good grief.
There was a pivotal moment in my relationship with Leanna... she was somewhere between 3 and 6 months when I decided I should probably get over myself and start trying to like her. Apparently they were going to keep her... so....
I had a little camera... disposable, I believe, and asked Mom to take our picture in the front yard holding some teeny version of the American flag. I was holding the baby and the American flag. Clearly I wanted to work things out.. I was playing nice... I wasn't even thinking about taking her back to the hospital and leaving her there with some other family. I MUST find these photos.
Leanna is absolutely one my best friends. Nobody else knows me like her.... and vice versa. Having a sister is like having a built in BFF. We've been attached since, well, that day in the yard with a mini-flag (in my head). Of course, we had some growing pains... somewhere while I was 13 and she was 7ish things got hairy, but for the most part - we've been living happily in sisterhood.
ONE DAY I plan to live closer to both of them... we're only about 5 hours apart right now... but that's just too far.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Ghosts? Oh, I don't know about that :)
Three things you should know before reading the rest of this post:
1 - I don't dig Halloween. I don't do haunted houses, or scary movies or even STORIES.... although, I do like candy.
2 - I love Valentine's day. It isn't just a Sweetheart day to me... it is my Grandma's birthday... it is my Mother-in-Law's birthday... my parents always gave me valentine's growing up... my first boyfriend had a mom sweet enough to teach him to send flowers - so early on I liked this day... I guess I'm typical: give me candy, flowers, jewelry... and in the case of this year: a new mattress... and yes, I'm happy. The cheese that comes along with this holiday doesn't bother me at all. Truthfully: the husband and I, we're cheesy people.
3 - I like old buildings and antiques. Sometimes these items come with stories, I realize.
So last weekend, we took a little getaway to Eureka Springs. Eureka is a lovely spot... lots of good shopping (antiquing), eating (and drinking), and some really pretty Victorian homes. I LOVE it there. It's beautiful and in the mountains... I could have stayed if it weren't for that whole job thing that I have going on. The husband and I really needed a weekend away - and we happen to be fond of Eureka. We packed up our clothes, a couple of good bottles of champagne, and gloves - because on Saturday the high was in the 20's. Left a few hours early from work.... and we arrived in time to enjoy the night. It's only about a 4 hour drive.
I don't think I realized this when I made the reservation: but The Crescent (our hotel for the weekend) is kind of known for being haunted. It's really neat - built in 1886... it was, some time in the early 1900's, run by some doctor who claimed to cure cancer. The bottom line: people probably died there. So they have a "ghost tour" and claims of frequent sightings.
Now, I don't necessarily have to buy into these stories or claims to be freaked out: I NEVER even let my ears hear things like this... I'm a weenie. I don't care what you think.
We're about half a bottle of champagne in when I realize that a ghost tour is going on right outside of our door. Naturally, I listened with my face against the door and one eye glued to the peep hole. A group of about 15 people being led by a woman in Victorian era garb talking about how the room RIGHT NEXT TO US was a doctor's office (Dr. Ellis). She said something like this: "something something something, sometimes Dr. Ellis is seen walking into his office and often guests can smell his cigarettes (hotel is non-smoking), something something something doesn't have to open the door"..... THAT is when I give my husband the stink eye as to say "WHY ARE WE HERE?"... but RIGHT THEN, when I took my face away from the peep hole, that old door shook a little.... just a little. I look out again to see at least 6 cameras pointed at my door and a woman exclaiming "THAT DOOR JUST MOVED!! TAKE A PHOTO MAYBE WE'LL SEE AN ORB".... then they all took photos.
I tried so hard not to laugh... but called JD over to look at the fools. I mean, I was glad to be a part of their ghost tour and all, but the whole thing made me feel much better about staying in a "haunted" hotel. He looked out of the peep hole, and when he pulled his face away, the door shook a little bit more. "IT DID IT AGAIN!!" came from the crowd. It was hilarious. Of course, the tour guide totally fed off of it, "these kinds of things happen". I hope one of them had an amazing camera and can see my giant eye in the peep hole. I realize that's unlikely, but that would really freak one of those ghost hunting weirdos out. No offense, if you are one.
We had an amazing rest of the weekend. We ventured out, spent too much money on really tasty food, accidentally purchased an antique liquor cabinet from the 30's, watched movies, had a Valentine's date, relaxed..... it felt WONDERFUL. We disappeared and recharged for a couple of days. I do so love disappearing with that man.
1 - I don't dig Halloween. I don't do haunted houses, or scary movies or even STORIES.... although, I do like candy.
2 - I love Valentine's day. It isn't just a Sweetheart day to me... it is my Grandma's birthday... it is my Mother-in-Law's birthday... my parents always gave me valentine's growing up... my first boyfriend had a mom sweet enough to teach him to send flowers - so early on I liked this day... I guess I'm typical: give me candy, flowers, jewelry... and in the case of this year: a new mattress... and yes, I'm happy. The cheese that comes along with this holiday doesn't bother me at all. Truthfully: the husband and I, we're cheesy people.
3 - I like old buildings and antiques. Sometimes these items come with stories, I realize.
So last weekend, we took a little getaway to Eureka Springs. Eureka is a lovely spot... lots of good shopping (antiquing), eating (and drinking), and some really pretty Victorian homes. I LOVE it there. It's beautiful and in the mountains... I could have stayed if it weren't for that whole job thing that I have going on. The husband and I really needed a weekend away - and we happen to be fond of Eureka. We packed up our clothes, a couple of good bottles of champagne, and gloves - because on Saturday the high was in the 20's. Left a few hours early from work.... and we arrived in time to enjoy the night. It's only about a 4 hour drive.
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| Spring St, Eureka Springs, AR. LOVE! |
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| The backside of the hotel. Pretty, hmm? |
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| By the fire in the lobby |
We're about half a bottle of champagne in when I realize that a ghost tour is going on right outside of our door. Naturally, I listened with my face against the door and one eye glued to the peep hole. A group of about 15 people being led by a woman in Victorian era garb talking about how the room RIGHT NEXT TO US was a doctor's office (Dr. Ellis). She said something like this: "something something something, sometimes Dr. Ellis is seen walking into his office and often guests can smell his cigarettes (hotel is non-smoking), something something something doesn't have to open the door"..... THAT is when I give my husband the stink eye as to say "WHY ARE WE HERE?"... but RIGHT THEN, when I took my face away from the peep hole, that old door shook a little.... just a little. I look out again to see at least 6 cameras pointed at my door and a woman exclaiming "THAT DOOR JUST MOVED!! TAKE A PHOTO MAYBE WE'LL SEE AN ORB".... then they all took photos.
I tried so hard not to laugh... but called JD over to look at the fools. I mean, I was glad to be a part of their ghost tour and all, but the whole thing made me feel much better about staying in a "haunted" hotel. He looked out of the peep hole, and when he pulled his face away, the door shook a little bit more. "IT DID IT AGAIN!!" came from the crowd. It was hilarious. Of course, the tour guide totally fed off of it, "these kinds of things happen". I hope one of them had an amazing camera and can see my giant eye in the peep hole. I realize that's unlikely, but that would really freak one of those ghost hunting weirdos out. No offense, if you are one.
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| Hotel cat in the lobby "Casper". He was not necessarily friendly, but he seemed to tolerate people. I did catch a couple of kids carrying him up the stairs, much to his dismay, late on Saturday night... he must get that often. Mostly, he sleeps. |
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| Valentine's Date. Isn't he so handsome? I love him in a suit. |
Sunday, February 5, 2012
In Driving News...
People here can't drive.
Before any Little Rockian that may read this gets upset, just.... just wait.
I moved here from DFW... pretty much the capital of bad driving (behind Houston.... I thought...and anyone from Tennessee). I battled 635, 35 and Beltline on a regular basis. I know bad driving. I spent a long time after I moved out of small town East Texas to DFW trying to control my road rage. With Little Rock being smaller than Dallas... I assumed that the number of A-hole drivers would go down, too.
Nope. Little Rock wins.
I live and work in West Little Rock - so I rarely have to get on the highway anymore. Typically, when I do finally get out of West Little Rock, it's because my husband and I are venturing out together and he is driving - so I pretty much try to ignore the driving aspect of the journey. I take residential roads to my job... I eat lunch at home usually... I have my own corner of LR here. I like it.
Last week we helped Couch Amanda move from WLR to the Heights (closer to downtown, for those of you who are unfamiliar). She even has her own couch that we packed up (awww). Her dog, who occupies my backyard at least once or twice a week (her name is Kota), was staying with us during the morning of the move because, as Amanda said "she knows your backyard and those smells". We were done by 2 with the big move. Couch Amanda provided pizza and beer.. and then we took naps.
I had an appointment at 4. I was backing out of my driveway at 3:40 when she came to get her dog from our backyard (which always bums Pete out.... Pete digs Kota). I waved and kept going. I had places to be.
I'm less than a mile from my exit, when I saw this asshole driver move from the inner left lane allllll the way over three lanes of traffic without a signal into the right lane. This was... I guess 4 or 5 cars ahead of me. I just shook my head... as I had already done 3 times on my short drive because that's how it goes here. Ignorant driving. Traffic lights are just a suggestion... lane stripes don't matter. Blinkers? What's a blinker?
So... this A-hole driver is a few cars ahead of me now... and they exit where I'm exiting.
I get a little closer to this jerk.
A little closer, again. I recognize this dent in the left back bumper....
Then I see Dakota's little head pop up from the passenger seat.
THAT IS AMANDA. THAT IS MY ASSHOLE DRIVER.
Yeah. I was leaving my house as she was getting there... and she managed to get in front of me? What?
I've said this to her face before, so I'm not going to hold back: she is a terrible driver. Imagine the worst female driver you know: she is that PLUS she is Asian. It's bad. The bad part: she thinks nothing of it. In her mind, she is a fine driver. Every time she hits the road.. I get nervous for her. And anyone that may cross her path.
The first time I rode somewhere with her - our friendship was new and I was nicer. Now, when she offers to drive I laugh and tell her how much I value my life. And my limbs. And not having to be medicated.
I immediately called her (which I realize now was not really going to help ANY of this... plus it was going to distract her from "driving") ... at this point I'm right behind her. She would never know because mirrors don't matter to her (in the car). I can see her digging into her purse for her phone. She missed the call and then called me back real quick just in time for me to turn off the street and away from her. I recapped the whole thing for her... naturally, she denied that it was as bad as I was saying - but just trust me: it was. It was bad.
I'm not trying to say that I'm the BEST driver... but I did attend the David Carlile School of Driving.. so... I'm at least slightly better than the average driver. (that one's for you, Dad).
So... with all this negative Couch Amanda driving talk... I am also going to mention this:
My year and a half long streak of not hitting any idle objects with my vehicle is over. Except this wasn't totally idle...
When it thunder storms here, as it so often does, we put our big dog in his bed - which happens to be in the garage. He is terrified of thunder. If it's nasty weather during the day when I need to be at work, the garage is the best option because Shep is not to be trusted in the house alone (I recall a missing Sonicare, chewed up hot rollers, a destroyed vanity and missing makeup. HE ATE MY SONICARE).
So... he doesn't mind being in the garage - but he hates when I open the garage door to back out. I'm sure it's the noises and the headlights and the rain... but I hate soooo much to hear that dog cry.
I jumped the gun the other day. As soon as I hit my garage button, I slammed it in reverse and.... caught the garage.. Yeah...All to avoid hearing my Shep cry.
It's not so bad... the husband shook his head at me and said "it'll buff out". Hopefully the Jetta is still going to get her facelift soon... even though my not driving into things streak has started over.
4 whole days!
Before any Little Rockian that may read this gets upset, just.... just wait.
I moved here from DFW... pretty much the capital of bad driving (behind Houston.... I thought...and anyone from Tennessee). I battled 635, 35 and Beltline on a regular basis. I know bad driving. I spent a long time after I moved out of small town East Texas to DFW trying to control my road rage. With Little Rock being smaller than Dallas... I assumed that the number of A-hole drivers would go down, too.
Nope. Little Rock wins.
I live and work in West Little Rock - so I rarely have to get on the highway anymore. Typically, when I do finally get out of West Little Rock, it's because my husband and I are venturing out together and he is driving - so I pretty much try to ignore the driving aspect of the journey. I take residential roads to my job... I eat lunch at home usually... I have my own corner of LR here. I like it.
Last week we helped Couch Amanda move from WLR to the Heights (closer to downtown, for those of you who are unfamiliar). She even has her own couch that we packed up (awww). Her dog, who occupies my backyard at least once or twice a week (her name is Kota), was staying with us during the morning of the move because, as Amanda said "she knows your backyard and those smells". We were done by 2 with the big move. Couch Amanda provided pizza and beer.. and then we took naps.
I had an appointment at 4. I was backing out of my driveway at 3:40 when she came to get her dog from our backyard (which always bums Pete out.... Pete digs Kota). I waved and kept going. I had places to be.
I'm less than a mile from my exit, when I saw this asshole driver move from the inner left lane allllll the way over three lanes of traffic without a signal into the right lane. This was... I guess 4 or 5 cars ahead of me. I just shook my head... as I had already done 3 times on my short drive because that's how it goes here. Ignorant driving. Traffic lights are just a suggestion... lane stripes don't matter. Blinkers? What's a blinker?
So... this A-hole driver is a few cars ahead of me now... and they exit where I'm exiting.
I get a little closer to this jerk.
A little closer, again. I recognize this dent in the left back bumper....
Then I see Dakota's little head pop up from the passenger seat.
THAT IS AMANDA. THAT IS MY ASSHOLE DRIVER.
Yeah. I was leaving my house as she was getting there... and she managed to get in front of me? What?
I've said this to her face before, so I'm not going to hold back: she is a terrible driver. Imagine the worst female driver you know: she is that PLUS she is Asian. It's bad. The bad part: she thinks nothing of it. In her mind, she is a fine driver. Every time she hits the road.. I get nervous for her. And anyone that may cross her path.
The first time I rode somewhere with her - our friendship was new and I was nicer. Now, when she offers to drive I laugh and tell her how much I value my life. And my limbs. And not having to be medicated.
I immediately called her (which I realize now was not really going to help ANY of this... plus it was going to distract her from "driving") ... at this point I'm right behind her. She would never know because mirrors don't matter to her (in the car). I can see her digging into her purse for her phone. She missed the call and then called me back real quick just in time for me to turn off the street and away from her. I recapped the whole thing for her... naturally, she denied that it was as bad as I was saying - but just trust me: it was. It was bad.
I'm not trying to say that I'm the BEST driver... but I did attend the David Carlile School of Driving.. so... I'm at least slightly better than the average driver. (that one's for you, Dad).
So... with all this negative Couch Amanda driving talk... I am also going to mention this:
My year and a half long streak of not hitting any idle objects with my vehicle is over. Except this wasn't totally idle...
When it thunder storms here, as it so often does, we put our big dog in his bed - which happens to be in the garage. He is terrified of thunder. If it's nasty weather during the day when I need to be at work, the garage is the best option because Shep is not to be trusted in the house alone (I recall a missing Sonicare, chewed up hot rollers, a destroyed vanity and missing makeup. HE ATE MY SONICARE).
So... he doesn't mind being in the garage - but he hates when I open the garage door to back out. I'm sure it's the noises and the headlights and the rain... but I hate soooo much to hear that dog cry.
I jumped the gun the other day. As soon as I hit my garage button, I slammed it in reverse and.... caught the garage.. Yeah...All to avoid hearing my Shep cry.
It's not so bad... the husband shook his head at me and said "it'll buff out". Hopefully the Jetta is still going to get her facelift soon... even though my not driving into things streak has started over.
4 whole days!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sometimes, I drop the ball.
IS IT REALLY JUST TUESDAY?
Feels like it should be at least Thursday....hmm...
SO, I have a tendency to take situations that may not be awkward at all and turn them into moments that make me want to flush myself down the toilet.
It happens more often than I would like to admit, but a few of them - I'm willing to share.
Like this one:
About a year ago my dear friend, Riley, was super pregnant and had a baby shower thrown for her. I was a hostess (one of a few) for her baby shower. There was a boat load of food involved - and food arranging and food eating and food decorating. Not to mention: she RACKED UP on adorable baby things - it was a total success. As being a hostess of a shower goes, I did okay.
We all planned on splitting the cost of the shower evenly among us to keep things fair. I got an email from Riley's sister-in-law, Ashley, a few weeks after the shower giving the total that we were all going to split. Naturally, because I'm so on top of things, I immediately wrote out a check and put it in an envelope to mail.
A few weeks later I got another email from Ashley saying that she was still waiting on her check from me - which couldn't be possible, I thought, because I wrote the check out and sent it. Probably just stuck in the post, I thought.
I got one more email from her - which I totally dismissed because LADY, I SENT YOUR CHECK.
Fast forward to a month ago I was changing out purses and.... YEP... found the envelope. Addressed, stamped and ready to go. I never sent that effing check. I had a moment of shame in my closet as I was completing the purse switch... but decided that it had been so long and I wasn't sure how to approach it yet... so I kind of just dropped it. I've discovered that this is an inherited trait: if I ignore it, it'll go away. I'm not saying it's the best way to handle things... I'm just saying that sometimes I use it.
OKAY - onto the part where I make things weird:
two weekends ago (because that's how my time is officially measured now... by weekends) I was on a plane to DFW to see College Annette, when I hear a very familiar voice with a Mississippi twang say "MELANIE!!!?" - it was Riley... and she had in tow with her, none other than Ashley. I was at the front of the plane (my logic is that I can forget it's a plane when I'm at the front because it has fewer windows... and if something terribly wrong goes down... I'm most likely to just get it over with quickly in the nose of the plane... I'll never know what hit me... as you can see, I love flying...longest parenthesis side note ever) - anyway: I was in the front and they were seated around the middle of the plane. We had a strange yelling conversation for just a second, but switched to texting because we were clearly annoying some of the other passengers who didn't want to be awake so early on a Saturday (don't worry, it was before take-off that we used the cell phones).
We get off the plane and stop at the ladies room.... Riley is still trapped inside the bathroom, so it's just me and this woman who thinks I don't pay for baby showers that I'm hostessing. Which, apparently, I don't. But not on purpose. Eye contact was minimal.
Elephant in the room.
Big elephant.
Finally, it pretty much flew out: "ICLEANEDOUTMYPURSE.....ANDFOUNDYOURCHECK. I never sent it. I'm so sorry. I thought I did.... I'll get you a check..."
She looked at me like I just told her that I had a talking frog in my suitcase.... then she, very sweetly, said "oh, that? I didn't even remember that!"... we both had an awkward laugh, and right then Riley walked out of the bathroom... so I felt the need to make it even weirder and catch Riley up to speed. Riley gave me the same talking-frog-in-the-suitcase look.... then we all moved on with our bags on wheels to say good morning to Dallas.
There was definitely a more graceful way to handle this. I can think of 3. Right now.
Good grief.
Feels like it should be at least Thursday....hmm...
SO, I have a tendency to take situations that may not be awkward at all and turn them into moments that make me want to flush myself down the toilet.
It happens more often than I would like to admit, but a few of them - I'm willing to share.
Like this one:
About a year ago my dear friend, Riley, was super pregnant and had a baby shower thrown for her. I was a hostess (one of a few) for her baby shower. There was a boat load of food involved - and food arranging and food eating and food decorating. Not to mention: she RACKED UP on adorable baby things - it was a total success. As being a hostess of a shower goes, I did okay.
We all planned on splitting the cost of the shower evenly among us to keep things fair. I got an email from Riley's sister-in-law, Ashley, a few weeks after the shower giving the total that we were all going to split. Naturally, because I'm so on top of things, I immediately wrote out a check and put it in an envelope to mail.
A few weeks later I got another email from Ashley saying that she was still waiting on her check from me - which couldn't be possible, I thought, because I wrote the check out and sent it. Probably just stuck in the post, I thought.
I got one more email from her - which I totally dismissed because LADY, I SENT YOUR CHECK.
Fast forward to a month ago I was changing out purses and.... YEP... found the envelope. Addressed, stamped and ready to go. I never sent that effing check. I had a moment of shame in my closet as I was completing the purse switch... but decided that it had been so long and I wasn't sure how to approach it yet... so I kind of just dropped it. I've discovered that this is an inherited trait: if I ignore it, it'll go away. I'm not saying it's the best way to handle things... I'm just saying that sometimes I use it.
OKAY - onto the part where I make things weird:
two weekends ago (because that's how my time is officially measured now... by weekends) I was on a plane to DFW to see College Annette, when I hear a very familiar voice with a Mississippi twang say "MELANIE!!!?" - it was Riley... and she had in tow with her, none other than Ashley. I was at the front of the plane (my logic is that I can forget it's a plane when I'm at the front because it has fewer windows... and if something terribly wrong goes down... I'm most likely to just get it over with quickly in the nose of the plane... I'll never know what hit me... as you can see, I love flying...longest parenthesis side note ever) - anyway: I was in the front and they were seated around the middle of the plane. We had a strange yelling conversation for just a second, but switched to texting because we were clearly annoying some of the other passengers who didn't want to be awake so early on a Saturday (don't worry, it was before take-off that we used the cell phones).
We get off the plane and stop at the ladies room.... Riley is still trapped inside the bathroom, so it's just me and this woman who thinks I don't pay for baby showers that I'm hostessing. Which, apparently, I don't. But not on purpose. Eye contact was minimal.
Elephant in the room.
Big elephant.
Finally, it pretty much flew out: "ICLEANEDOUTMYPURSE.....ANDFOUNDYOURCHECK. I never sent it. I'm so sorry. I thought I did.... I'll get you a check..."
She looked at me like I just told her that I had a talking frog in my suitcase.... then she, very sweetly, said "oh, that? I didn't even remember that!"... we both had an awkward laugh, and right then Riley walked out of the bathroom... so I felt the need to make it even weirder and catch Riley up to speed. Riley gave me the same talking-frog-in-the-suitcase look.... then we all moved on with our bags on wheels to say good morning to Dallas.
There was definitely a more graceful way to handle this. I can think of 3. Right now.
Good grief.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
used-ta-could
Wednesday night was ladies night... this meant mostly free drinks and no cover charge.
Thursday night was college night... it's the same as ladies' night - except guys got to experience the same "perks".
Friday night was... well it was Friday night: no school the next day.
Saturday night was anticipation of Sunday... which was the last day of the weekend - or freedom from class. Naturally there were celebrations.
I guess we used to go out. Kind of all the time. (we = my college bestie, Annette, and me. and a few other regulars).
Last night was a birthday celebration for my friend Kristie. Kristie wanted to go to dinner, to a wine bar and then out dancing. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?
Well, not to take away from her birthday extravaganza, because it WAS fun. However, it just reminds me that I'm not built for that kind of night out anymore. And trust me, I was rusty.
Dinner was good. I can do dinner.
The wine bar was PERFECT. I loved it. I had never been to this particular one - I will definitely go back.
The dancing.
This is where I started to feel like a fish out of water.
I was so awkward.
I used to have this fluid motion of handing the bouncer my ID, giving them exact cash and holding out my wrist to be stamped.
That skill has left me.
I handed over my ID - as if they even needed it...
Handed them a $20 - they looked agitated as they had to give me change
Then I walked into the bar without looking back... some guy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to his wrist. Oops, missed the stamp.
In college, going out meant walking across the street from Annette's apartment to the bar, and playing frogger back home at 2 or 3 AM. (cringing slightly as I realize that my Mother-in-law is probably reading this... what can I say... young and dumb, I was).
Being the responsible adult that I am now - one drink was all I was going to have because I knew I would be making my way to my car and driving home late.
Did you know that these places are not tolerable without getting sloshed? I guess I had never noticed before. The smoking. The dancing.. the bad, bad dancing. The random people who bump into you and say "oh, sorry babe" while uninvitedly (new word) touching your waist...I did what I could to make the most of it - and most importantly, I think Kristie had fun.
Of course, I probably would have had more fun if my hubby had been there to be silly with me (he was home with Luke - typically I wouldn't go out without him, but it was a birthday thing).
I guess something happened to me after I got married. I'm pretty sure that anytime I'm out sans JD, I assume someone evil is out to get me. Someone is going to come out of the random darkness and try to chase me, steal all of my money, grab my engagement ring and band, leave me in a ditch beat up... probably in a puddle, too...and haul ass driving away in my car. Please note that I think I've "gone out" without JD 2 or 3 times. ever. Bottom line: I'm paranoid.
How paranoid, you ask?
Paranoid enough to take a teeny-tiny wristlet that doesn't even match my outfit to hold my ID, key, 1 lip gloss and money instead of a purse like normal. Paranoid enough to wear shoes I can run in. Paranoid enough to keep my ring upside down and out of sight (which I suppose can be misleading... but trust me, I give out no signals). Paranoid enough to have a plan that involved elbows and crotches in the event that I am attacked as planned.
Typing it out like this make me think it's not so "paranoid" and it is so practical, though. Not all bad ideas!
The good news: Nobody attacked me AND my thighs got a good workout from all of the dancing.
Anyways... I went out this weekend and it was fun but I realize that there is a reason I don't do that all that often (read as though I'm saying it in one breath, because that's how I'm typing it).
Happy Birthday, Kristie! I am happy to call you my friend, and working with you keeps things FUN! :)
Thursday night was college night... it's the same as ladies' night - except guys got to experience the same "perks".
Friday night was... well it was Friday night: no school the next day.
Saturday night was anticipation of Sunday... which was the last day of the weekend - or freedom from class. Naturally there were celebrations.
I guess we used to go out. Kind of all the time. (we = my college bestie, Annette, and me. and a few other regulars).
Last night was a birthday celebration for my friend Kristie. Kristie wanted to go to dinner, to a wine bar and then out dancing. That sounds like fun, doesn't it?
Well, not to take away from her birthday extravaganza, because it WAS fun. However, it just reminds me that I'm not built for that kind of night out anymore. And trust me, I was rusty.
Dinner was good. I can do dinner.
The wine bar was PERFECT. I loved it. I had never been to this particular one - I will definitely go back.
The dancing.
This is where I started to feel like a fish out of water.
I was so awkward.
I used to have this fluid motion of handing the bouncer my ID, giving them exact cash and holding out my wrist to be stamped.
That skill has left me.
I handed over my ID - as if they even needed it...
Handed them a $20 - they looked agitated as they had to give me change
Then I walked into the bar without looking back... some guy tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to his wrist. Oops, missed the stamp.
In college, going out meant walking across the street from Annette's apartment to the bar, and playing frogger back home at 2 or 3 AM. (cringing slightly as I realize that my Mother-in-law is probably reading this... what can I say... young and dumb, I was).
Being the responsible adult that I am now - one drink was all I was going to have because I knew I would be making my way to my car and driving home late.
Did you know that these places are not tolerable without getting sloshed? I guess I had never noticed before. The smoking. The dancing.. the bad, bad dancing. The random people who bump into you and say "oh, sorry babe" while uninvitedly (new word) touching your waist...I did what I could to make the most of it - and most importantly, I think Kristie had fun.
Of course, I probably would have had more fun if my hubby had been there to be silly with me (he was home with Luke - typically I wouldn't go out without him, but it was a birthday thing).
I guess something happened to me after I got married. I'm pretty sure that anytime I'm out sans JD, I assume someone evil is out to get me. Someone is going to come out of the random darkness and try to chase me, steal all of my money, grab my engagement ring and band, leave me in a ditch beat up... probably in a puddle, too...and haul ass driving away in my car. Please note that I think I've "gone out" without JD 2 or 3 times. ever. Bottom line: I'm paranoid.
How paranoid, you ask?
Paranoid enough to take a teeny-tiny wristlet that doesn't even match my outfit to hold my ID, key, 1 lip gloss and money instead of a purse like normal. Paranoid enough to wear shoes I can run in. Paranoid enough to keep my ring upside down and out of sight (which I suppose can be misleading... but trust me, I give out no signals). Paranoid enough to have a plan that involved elbows and crotches in the event that I am attacked as planned.
Typing it out like this make me think it's not so "paranoid" and it is so practical, though. Not all bad ideas!
The good news: Nobody attacked me AND my thighs got a good workout from all of the dancing.
Anyways... I went out this weekend and it was fun but I realize that there is a reason I don't do that all that often (read as though I'm saying it in one breath, because that's how I'm typing it).
Happy Birthday, Kristie! I am happy to call you my friend, and working with you keeps things FUN! :)
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Open Eyes. and punching bags.
Tomorrow is Friday :)
Tomorrow Luke comes home :)
We have a ton to be Thankful for.
I know we're past the whole "holiday, I'm so thankful for everything including nose hair" season - but...truthfully, we should have those moments more often than just Thanksgiving through Christmas - I think. No, don't stop reading - this will be good, I promise.
I work in property management... which keeps things.... interesting (to say the least). There are days when I come home wondering HOW a resident can act the way they act... or, sometimes, smell the way they smell. It's definitely not an easy job - being involved in something as important as an individual's living arrangements comes with heavy dealings. My position involves training other employees, but a big part of my job is also being a buffer between the maintenance/office teams and the resident. I love my job - but I left there today choking back some tears... and desperately needing a shower.
We've been installing fire extinguishers into alllll of the apartments this week - so we've seen things. This also gives us an excuse to check out the properties in detail and do an inspection. We've seen nasty, unclean homes. We've seen spotless, obviously recently bleached homes. We've seen people attempt to hide their pets. We've seen one particular bathroom completely decorated in Dora the Explorer gear. We've seen strange displays of "art". We've seen kitchens with dinner on the counter from 3 nights ago (or more). We've seen bugs. Big ones.
It's easy to forget as a very blessed, very fortunate person that some people are really just trying to get by. The whole "put yourself in their shoes" thing comes into play often with this job, but it becomes real once you walk into some of these homes.
I inspected an apartment today that I know belonged to a family. 2 little girls... both probably under 4 and a little boy. This is a 2 bedroom apartment. The living room had a pull-out sofa bed (this is the first room I could see... my immediate thought was "oh, they've got more people living here than they have documented on the lease"... because that's just where my mind goes first) - so, pull-out sofa bed and a small table. Nothing in the dining room. Nothing in the kitchen except a sippy-cup. One bedroom had a mattress on the floor... and that's when I saw a little pink tricycle in the corner of an empty bedroom....
I know we're all dealt different lives and situations (this was my best attempt to not say cards... cliche and all). I also believe that not everyone is equipped to survive all situations, meaning: some people may be be given rougher lives because Someone greater knows they can pull through... when others cannot. It's the only way I can rationalize it. Yes, I have to try...
It's just... I came home from my really great job to my fully furnished, warm home. I know not everybody gets that. It's easy to get sucked into being greedy and materialistic (I'm willing to admit that it is for me. I definitely struggle with it)... it's not that I forget how privileged I am. But some days my eyes seem to be open wider than normal. Today is one of those days.
Not to take away from the above, but I have to include this:
One apartment had a giant punching bag in the living room and I REALLY wanted to kick it as soon as I saw it... but I maintained my professionalism and did not... UNTIL: my maintenance guy forgot his drill and had to go back out to get it... as soon as he rounded the corner out the door I gave that punching bag my best kick.
I felt pretty smug. I also felt like I needed one of these punching bags!
I turned around to see the camera that the resident keeps in the upper living room corner. I waved. Caught.
Just then, my maintenance team member walked in to catch me waving at the ceiling. So I had to explain myself.
Busted.
Tomorrow Luke comes home :)
We have a ton to be Thankful for.
I know we're past the whole "holiday, I'm so thankful for everything including nose hair" season - but...truthfully, we should have those moments more often than just Thanksgiving through Christmas - I think. No, don't stop reading - this will be good, I promise.
I work in property management... which keeps things.... interesting (to say the least). There are days when I come home wondering HOW a resident can act the way they act... or, sometimes, smell the way they smell. It's definitely not an easy job - being involved in something as important as an individual's living arrangements comes with heavy dealings. My position involves training other employees, but a big part of my job is also being a buffer between the maintenance/office teams and the resident. I love my job - but I left there today choking back some tears... and desperately needing a shower.
We've been installing fire extinguishers into alllll of the apartments this week - so we've seen things. This also gives us an excuse to check out the properties in detail and do an inspection. We've seen nasty, unclean homes. We've seen spotless, obviously recently bleached homes. We've seen people attempt to hide their pets. We've seen one particular bathroom completely decorated in Dora the Explorer gear. We've seen strange displays of "art". We've seen kitchens with dinner on the counter from 3 nights ago (or more). We've seen bugs. Big ones.
It's easy to forget as a very blessed, very fortunate person that some people are really just trying to get by. The whole "put yourself in their shoes" thing comes into play often with this job, but it becomes real once you walk into some of these homes.
I inspected an apartment today that I know belonged to a family. 2 little girls... both probably under 4 and a little boy. This is a 2 bedroom apartment. The living room had a pull-out sofa bed (this is the first room I could see... my immediate thought was "oh, they've got more people living here than they have documented on the lease"... because that's just where my mind goes first) - so, pull-out sofa bed and a small table. Nothing in the dining room. Nothing in the kitchen except a sippy-cup. One bedroom had a mattress on the floor... and that's when I saw a little pink tricycle in the corner of an empty bedroom....
I know we're all dealt different lives and situations (this was my best attempt to not say cards... cliche and all). I also believe that not everyone is equipped to survive all situations, meaning: some people may be be given rougher lives because Someone greater knows they can pull through... when others cannot. It's the only way I can rationalize it. Yes, I have to try...
It's just... I came home from my really great job to my fully furnished, warm home. I know not everybody gets that. It's easy to get sucked into being greedy and materialistic (I'm willing to admit that it is for me. I definitely struggle with it)... it's not that I forget how privileged I am. But some days my eyes seem to be open wider than normal. Today is one of those days.
Not to take away from the above, but I have to include this:
One apartment had a giant punching bag in the living room and I REALLY wanted to kick it as soon as I saw it... but I maintained my professionalism and did not... UNTIL: my maintenance guy forgot his drill and had to go back out to get it... as soon as he rounded the corner out the door I gave that punching bag my best kick.
I felt pretty smug. I also felt like I needed one of these punching bags!
I turned around to see the camera that the resident keeps in the upper living room corner. I waved. Caught.
Just then, my maintenance team member walked in to catch me waving at the ceiling. So I had to explain myself.
Busted.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Avoid the "R"
I'm not particularly good at driving in reverse....
And when I say "not particularly good", what I mean is: I totally avoid it. I don't even parallel park. Ever.
So when I backed into our garage after a trip to the grocery store on Monday, people were impressed. Well... I was impressed. My husband was impressed. See? People.
We don't have a short, flat and easy driveway. We have a monster, steep, insane driveway* (side note to come).
I also have a little problem hitting idle objects. In fact, I've only ever hit idle objects (mostly going in reverse... of course). My first incident occured when I was 17... backing down a driveway that I had only been parked in for less than 5 minutes... I hit a friends truck and knocked it into the street. I was driving a teeny tiny car and knocked a truck into. the street. Dad was upset, but I'm pretty sure he wanted to laugh.
About a year and a half ago I managed to side swipe one of those cement platforms that gas pumps sit on... making my back passenger door difficult to open. It wasn't such an eye sore that it became a priority to fix... plus, to be honest, fixing a dent in my car just isn't high up on the priority list anyways. It was a super cramped, awkward parking lot - the husband grumbled a little, but he knows me... so it wasn't a huge deal (you should know... the DAY this happened my sister got a brand new car. not just any car: the car I wanted... I was cranky about it for a good 3 hours).
6 months after the cement gas pump thingy jumped out in front of me... one of my maintenance men at work decided it would be a grand idea to park his golf cart behind my car. in the dark. while it was raining. Naturally, when I left the office, I did not check to see if there were any golf carts behind my vehicle.....SCRAPEEEEEEEEE allll down the same side of the car as the other dent. This one is a little more noticeable. Husband (and father) rolled his eyes at this one. I still maintain that it was not totally my fault.
It's safe to say that my next mode of transportation will include one of those little rear view camera things. Fancy.
Here we are, a year later. I haven't hit anything in a year... and I think that's a good enough record to get my car fixed :) The Jetta is very excited about her facelift. We have many more great years together. This may even inspire me to clean the trunk out.
I have a lot of junk in my trunk.
No really. It's bad.
Side note as promised: **Our driveway is a pain in the ass. but you aren't allowed to say that. Only we're allowed to talk about our driveway in such a manner. You see, we understand that it would bother some people - but pretty much any time someone new comes over, the first thing they do is complain about the driveway. It gets its feelings hurt and I get annoyed. This is how I look at it: we're very unlikely to get robbed. Between the giant dog, the alarm system and the steep driveway - they'll just pass on by. Whoever "they" may be. Bottom line: I see my driveway. I love my house. Find something nice to say if you come over. Rant complete.
And when I say "not particularly good", what I mean is: I totally avoid it. I don't even parallel park. Ever.
So when I backed into our garage after a trip to the grocery store on Monday, people were impressed. Well... I was impressed. My husband was impressed. See? People.
We don't have a short, flat and easy driveway. We have a monster, steep, insane driveway* (side note to come).
I also have a little problem hitting idle objects. In fact, I've only ever hit idle objects (mostly going in reverse... of course). My first incident occured when I was 17... backing down a driveway that I had only been parked in for less than 5 minutes... I hit a friends truck and knocked it into the street. I was driving a teeny tiny car and knocked a truck into. the street. Dad was upset, but I'm pretty sure he wanted to laugh.
About a year and a half ago I managed to side swipe one of those cement platforms that gas pumps sit on... making my back passenger door difficult to open. It wasn't such an eye sore that it became a priority to fix... plus, to be honest, fixing a dent in my car just isn't high up on the priority list anyways. It was a super cramped, awkward parking lot - the husband grumbled a little, but he knows me... so it wasn't a huge deal (you should know... the DAY this happened my sister got a brand new car. not just any car: the car I wanted... I was cranky about it for a good 3 hours).
6 months after the cement gas pump thingy jumped out in front of me... one of my maintenance men at work decided it would be a grand idea to park his golf cart behind my car. in the dark. while it was raining. Naturally, when I left the office, I did not check to see if there were any golf carts behind my vehicle.....SCRAPEEEEEEEEE allll down the same side of the car as the other dent. This one is a little more noticeable. Husband (and father) rolled his eyes at this one. I still maintain that it was not totally my fault.
It's safe to say that my next mode of transportation will include one of those little rear view camera things. Fancy.
Here we are, a year later. I haven't hit anything in a year... and I think that's a good enough record to get my car fixed :) The Jetta is very excited about her facelift. We have many more great years together. This may even inspire me to clean the trunk out.
I have a lot of junk in my trunk.
No really. It's bad.
Side note as promised: **Our driveway is a pain in the ass. but you aren't allowed to say that. Only we're allowed to talk about our driveway in such a manner. You see, we understand that it would bother some people - but pretty much any time someone new comes over, the first thing they do is complain about the driveway. It gets its feelings hurt and I get annoyed. This is how I look at it: we're very unlikely to get robbed. Between the giant dog, the alarm system and the steep driveway - they'll just pass on by. Whoever "they" may be. Bottom line: I see my driveway. I love my house. Find something nice to say if you come over. Rant complete.
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