Maybe I'm a cynic or overly morbid, but I find this amusing.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Eternal Embrace? Or Kiss?
It's interesting that this article came out with Valentine's Day so close. It says that this couple was found buried in an "Eternal Embrace" after 5000(?) years of being buried. It's sort of sweet, I guess. All I can think of, though, is when Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (finally) got married. If you'll remember, at their wedding they partook in an "Eternal Kiss." Did it go something like this?
Maybe I'm a cynic or overly morbid, but I find this amusing.
Maybe I'm a cynic or overly morbid, but I find this amusing.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Too funny not to post...
OPEN LETTERS TO PEOPLE OR ENTITIES WHO ARE UNLIKELY TO RESPOND .
AN OPEN LETTER TOM R. JAMES THATCHER, BRAND MANAGER, PROCTER & GAMBLE.
- - - -
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core™ or Dri-Weave™ absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.
[...]
As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.
Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."
Are you [...] kidding me?
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness—actual smiling, laughing happiness—is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull[...]. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.
Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX
AN OPEN LETTER TOM R. JAMES THATCHER, BRAND MANAGER, PROCTER & GAMBLE.
- - - -
Dear Mr. Thatcher,
I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core™ or Dri-Weave™ absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.
[...]
As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.
Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."
Are you [...] kidding me?
What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness—actual smiling, laughing happiness—is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?
Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull[...]. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.
Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX
Movie Buffet
Last night I went to see The Queen with Mom and her friend, Janet, which I would highly recommend. Despite the fact that some of the actors go in and out of their British / American accents, the three of us thought it was a great movie.
After the movie we went to the bathroom (as all girls do), and Janet said, "Ooh...Dream Girls is playing next door! I really want to see that!"
Mom and I said things like, "Me, too! It looks really good."
Janet said, "No, I mean I really want to see that. Let's go."
Mom and I looked at eachother. "You mean, sneak in?"
"Yeah! We do it all the time! It's called a movie buffet."
I interjected, "Ok. I have to say that getting kicked out of a movie theater on a Monday night with my mom and her best friend is probably my worst nightmare."
"Oh, Erin. Come on," they BOTH said.
"Follow my lead," Janet said.
So, I followed them both into the COMPLETELY EMPTY movie theater with my face burning and stomach flipping. I guess I don't know what I expected--some pimply-faced 16-year-old to come after us with his broom and dust pan, shouting? Maybe.
I ended up sitting between Mom and Janet for the movie, and they both told me to relax repeatedly. How embarassing.
Of course, no one even noticed we were in there, despite the fact that the theater remained empty (apparently it didn't register for the employees that no tickets had been sold for the movie even though there were three people in it), and we snuck out afterward unscathed.
As we left, I'm pretty sure I heard Janet say, "Boy, I'm glad we woke up...now we can go home!" But I was too scared to ask.
By the way, the movie was LOUSY, so I guess I'm glad I didn't pay for it. I probably would have asked for my money back anyway!
After the movie we went to the bathroom (as all girls do), and Janet said, "Ooh...Dream Girls is playing next door! I really want to see that!"
Mom and I said things like, "Me, too! It looks really good."
Janet said, "No, I mean I really want to see that. Let's go."
Mom and I looked at eachother. "You mean, sneak in?"
"Yeah! We do it all the time! It's called a movie buffet."
I interjected, "Ok. I have to say that getting kicked out of a movie theater on a Monday night with my mom and her best friend is probably my worst nightmare."
"Oh, Erin. Come on," they BOTH said.
"Follow my lead," Janet said.
So, I followed them both into the COMPLETELY EMPTY movie theater with my face burning and stomach flipping. I guess I don't know what I expected--some pimply-faced 16-year-old to come after us with his broom and dust pan, shouting? Maybe.
I ended up sitting between Mom and Janet for the movie, and they both told me to relax repeatedly. How embarassing.
Of course, no one even noticed we were in there, despite the fact that the theater remained empty (apparently it didn't register for the employees that no tickets had been sold for the movie even though there were three people in it), and we snuck out afterward unscathed.
As we left, I'm pretty sure I heard Janet say, "Boy, I'm glad we woke up...now we can go home!" But I was too scared to ask.
By the way, the movie was LOUSY, so I guess I'm glad I didn't pay for it. I probably would have asked for my money back anyway!
Monday, February 05, 2007
Par-tay!
The Graduation Party for my mom went great! We had a ton of people crammed in my tiny little house, and everyone seemed to have a great time! Even the meal turned out great. I have new respect for church kitchen workers. Cooking for a group is hard work!
The best part of the night was that my mom had a great time.
Here are some photos.
Apparently, I am a terrible photographer. I'm choosing the BEST photos from the night, and they are lousy.
Brandy, I need help.
Thanks for coming, everyone.
I made this.
NOT.
Isn't she cute?? : )
I like this photo because it looks like I'm afraid of the peacock.
Most of the gang (about 6 more people are around the corner.
Brandy, what am I doing wrong? It seems like you should be able to see Sandy and Lauren better in this photo.
The best part of the night was that my mom had a great time.
Here are some photos.
Apparently, I am a terrible photographer. I'm choosing the BEST photos from the night, and they are lousy.
Brandy, I need help.
Thanks for coming, everyone.
I made this.
NOT.
Isn't she cute?? : )
I like this photo because it looks like I'm afraid of the peacock.
Most of the gang (about 6 more people are around the corner.
Brandy, what am I doing wrong? It seems like you should be able to see Sandy and Lauren better in this photo.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Kitchen, etc.
Lauren and I painted the kitchen on Wednesday night. It looks ok.
Rich also hung up a new dining room light. It looks ok.
I'm tired now.
Before.
After.
Lamp, looking crooked.
Lamp looking more crooked.
Rich also hung up a new dining room light. It looks ok.
I'm tired now.
Before.
After.
Lamp, looking crooked.
Lamp looking more crooked.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
For What it's Worth
For what it's worth, I logged in to blogger 3 times yesterday and couldn't think of a single thing to say. Today, since I still don't have much to say, I thought I'd show you what I've been up to.
This is me. Just kidding. My favorite pic of all time of Mandi. Look close at her face. She's laughing at me because she knows I'm about to get in trouble for taking her photo.
Where's Waldo?
Lookin great after painting two of Sarah's bedrooms.
That's freakin' sweet!
Lucy and Pedro very tired out. By the way, don't use that pillow. It's Pedro's.
This is me. Just kidding. My favorite pic of all time of Mandi. Look close at her face. She's laughing at me because she knows I'm about to get in trouble for taking her photo.
Where's Waldo?
Lookin great after painting two of Sarah's bedrooms.
That's freakin' sweet!
Lucy and Pedro very tired out. By the way, don't use that pillow. It's Pedro's.
Monday, January 29, 2007
I'm just saying.
At some point last week I said, "I have a great idea! I'm going to change all the hardware on my kitchen cupboards. It should be an easy job and shouldn't cost more than $100!"
I was wrong on all counts. The project was not a great idea, it was not easy, and so far it has cost me in excess of $200.
Naomi (who proved herself as a very good friend) went to Menards with me on Saturday night, then to Home Depot, then back to Menards, and finally to another Menards in Stillwater. We finally got to work around 8pm on Saturday night and were well into our project when we discovered that the hinges we purchased DIDN'T FIT. Of course, we noticed this AFTER the stores were closed. By then we were both so tired and frustrated that we watched Ugly Betty while we waited for our husbands to return. Thank goodness for Tevo. (Tivo?)
So, Rich and I worked on the cupboards until midnight last night.
Now, I don't know how husband/wife home projects go at YOUR house, but at OUR house, they usually involve someone (me) getting hurt, someone (me) crying for any number of reasons, and someone (else) getting frustrated for both of the aforementioned issues. The project usually ends with apologies, I won't lie.
We still have two cupboards to go. I'd like to meet the person who installed our cupboards. A word to the wise. Installing cupboards does NOT necessarily have to entail stripping EVERY. SINGLE. SCREW.
I'm just saying.
I was wrong on all counts. The project was not a great idea, it was not easy, and so far it has cost me in excess of $200.
Naomi (who proved herself as a very good friend) went to Menards with me on Saturday night, then to Home Depot, then back to Menards, and finally to another Menards in Stillwater. We finally got to work around 8pm on Saturday night and were well into our project when we discovered that the hinges we purchased DIDN'T FIT. Of course, we noticed this AFTER the stores were closed. By then we were both so tired and frustrated that we watched Ugly Betty while we waited for our husbands to return. Thank goodness for Tevo. (Tivo?)
So, Rich and I worked on the cupboards until midnight last night.
Now, I don't know how husband/wife home projects go at YOUR house, but at OUR house, they usually involve someone (me) getting hurt, someone (me) crying for any number of reasons, and someone (else) getting frustrated for both of the aforementioned issues. The project usually ends with apologies, I won't lie.
We still have two cupboards to go. I'd like to meet the person who installed our cupboards. A word to the wise. Installing cupboards does NOT necessarily have to entail stripping EVERY. SINGLE. SCREW.
I'm just saying.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Right Side
For 23 years, I slept on my left side.
It started out of convenience because I sucked my left thumb. (Til I was like, 19. You go ahead and guess if I'm exaggerating...) By the time I stopped sucking my thumb it was such a habit I couldn't break it, not that I thought it was necessary.
And then I got married.
Apparently I snore.
I sleep on the right side of the bed, and if I lay on my left side, which I greatly prefer, I am snoring right in Richard's face. Twice last night he woke me up to tell me to turn back over to my right side.
I'm not gonna lie, folks, I Richard's life is really in danger. If I get woken up one more time...I don't think I can be held responsible for my actions. I miss my single-gal bed where I could stretch out and snore all I wanted.
I'm starting to think ear plugs are in order--for me, so I can't hear Rich complaining!
It started out of convenience because I sucked my left thumb. (Til I was like, 19. You go ahead and guess if I'm exaggerating...) By the time I stopped sucking my thumb it was such a habit I couldn't break it, not that I thought it was necessary.
And then I got married.
Apparently I snore.
I sleep on the right side of the bed, and if I lay on my left side, which I greatly prefer, I am snoring right in Richard's face. Twice last night he woke me up to tell me to turn back over to my right side.
I'm not gonna lie, folks, I Richard's life is really in danger. If I get woken up one more time...I don't think I can be held responsible for my actions. I miss my single-gal bed where I could stretch out and snore all I wanted.
I'm starting to think ear plugs are in order--for me, so I can't hear Rich complaining!
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Thanks a Lot
I'd like to thank the tan Crown Victoria that sped up in order to cut me off, then slowed down enough to flip me off on the way to work this morning.
Awesome way to start the day.
I dreamt last night that at our wedding, Richard and I met with God. He smoothed my hair and kissed the top of my head and then he looked Richard in the eye and clasped his hand on the side of Rich's neck/shoulder then kissed him on the cheek thereby blessing both of us and our marriage.
I then dreamt that Satan was trying to come between us by keeping us both so busy that (in the projected future of my dream) we realized we hadn't spoken to each other in years.
What does this mean?
I then spent the rest of the night dreaming about American Idol. Go figure.
Awesome way to start the day.
I dreamt last night that at our wedding, Richard and I met with God. He smoothed my hair and kissed the top of my head and then he looked Richard in the eye and clasped his hand on the side of Rich's neck/shoulder then kissed him on the cheek thereby blessing both of us and our marriage.
I then dreamt that Satan was trying to come between us by keeping us both so busy that (in the projected future of my dream) we realized we hadn't spoken to each other in years.
What does this mean?
I then spent the rest of the night dreaming about American Idol. Go figure.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Lists
I wish I could write lists. Alas, it appears that the ancient art of haiku is my forte.
Check this one out from McSweeneys by Mark Tuben.
Things an Overbearing Mother Might Say to a Son Just Waking Froma Coma.
BY MARK TUBEN
- - - -
"You just don't look as rested as I would have expected."
"It's funny how they say that, because, when you think about it, there really is no way to make up for lost time."
"Meanwhile, I haven't even had a chance to sit down."
"Dogs are strange that way. They seem sad, but then you realize it's just the hunger. I don't think he even noticed."
"At least you didn't have any work to miss."
"To be honest, I think she had already made up her mind."
"I preferred your hair the other way."
"You missed the best episode of Wings, and then it was canceled. But that was years ago."
Check this one out from McSweeneys by Mark Tuben.
Things an Overbearing Mother Might Say to a Son Just Waking Froma Coma.
BY MARK TUBEN
- - - -
"You just don't look as rested as I would have expected."
"It's funny how they say that, because, when you think about it, there really is no way to make up for lost time."
"Meanwhile, I haven't even had a chance to sit down."
"Dogs are strange that way. They seem sad, but then you realize it's just the hunger. I don't think he even noticed."
"At least you didn't have any work to miss."
"To be honest, I think she had already made up her mind."
"I preferred your hair the other way."
"You missed the best episode of Wings, and then it was canceled. But that was years ago."
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Digital Camera: The Saga Continues
On the way to Emma's birthday party, apparently I deleted every single photo I've taken so far on my new camera. I discovered this as I deleted every single photo I had taken of Emma's party. My oh-so-helpful husband said, "I know what formatting means because you have to format a computer's hard drive to delete everything on it. You should have asked me when it asked you if you wanted to format your memory card. I'm not helping, am I?"
No, dear.
If I had SEEN the question, I, invariably would have said NO! But I never even saw the question. Many of the photos, I had already transfered to a hard drive, but some really good ones, I didn't. Like, Carlee, Sarah, and Marah's birthdays. Mandi's game, including some very cute pics of just me and her. Not to mention Emma with frosting all over her face.
Ugh.
I tried not to cry at the party when I discovered my error--I didn't think it would do to be the only one crying at a one-year-old's birthday party.
I have endured TOO MUCH emotional trauma over digital cameras. I'm just sick about losing those photos.
In an effort to try to recapture SOMETHING, I took four more photos of Emma opening her Gloworm from "Uncle Richard" and "Auntie Erin." Here are the best two.
No, dear.
If I had SEEN the question, I, invariably would have said NO! But I never even saw the question. Many of the photos, I had already transfered to a hard drive, but some really good ones, I didn't. Like, Carlee, Sarah, and Marah's birthdays. Mandi's game, including some very cute pics of just me and her. Not to mention Emma with frosting all over her face.
Ugh.
I tried not to cry at the party when I discovered my error--I didn't think it would do to be the only one crying at a one-year-old's birthday party.
I have endured TOO MUCH emotional trauma over digital cameras. I'm just sick about losing those photos.
In an effort to try to recapture SOMETHING, I took four more photos of Emma opening her Gloworm from "Uncle Richard" and "Auntie Erin." Here are the best two.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Girls Night
Had an impromptu (and much needed) girls night last night that consisted of watching tv, making invitations for my mom's graduation party, and dyeing my hair. It was a fun night.
I'm SO GLAD the weekend is almost here. It's been a rough week.
Here are the before/during and after hair pictures.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
A mean case of the Blahs.
Reasons I was looking forward to today:
1. I got to sleep in.
2. I had a good parking spot.
3. I had Olive Garden leftovers for my lunch (as my best friend Rachel Ray would say, "Yum-O!")
4. I had a new Polo sweater to wear today.
5. I'm feeling a LOT better today!
Why I now feel blah:
1. Slept in, but laid half-awake for the last 60 mins of my "sleep in time" because I was scared I would oversleep.
2. I may have had a good spot, but it's still really cold.
3. I had two bites of my left overs left and 1. I broke my fork. 2. I got a new fork and found a ROCK in the bottom of my plate. I'm not freaking kidding. I guess I should look on the bright side. I didn't chip my tooth.
4. My mom had a sudden moment of inspiration on who the sweaters could belong to, and I'm afraid she's right. I knew this would happen.
5. I'm not really feeling that much better, though I do sound more like myself than Peter Brady.
1. I got to sleep in.
2. I had a good parking spot.
3. I had Olive Garden leftovers for my lunch (as my best friend Rachel Ray would say, "Yum-O!")
4. I had a new Polo sweater to wear today.
5. I'm feeling a LOT better today!
Why I now feel blah:
1. Slept in, but laid half-awake for the last 60 mins of my "sleep in time" because I was scared I would oversleep.
2. I may have had a good spot, but it's still really cold.
3. I had two bites of my left overs left and 1. I broke my fork. 2. I got a new fork and found a ROCK in the bottom of my plate. I'm not freaking kidding. I guess I should look on the bright side. I didn't chip my tooth.
4. My mom had a sudden moment of inspiration on who the sweaters could belong to, and I'm afraid she's right. I knew this would happen.
5. I'm not really feeling that much better, though I do sound more like myself than Peter Brady.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
When it's time to change, you've got to rearrange...
I'm proud of my title for two reasons.
1. I finally changed to the "New Blogger," something I've been putting off for months. I don't deal with change well. (Only fellow bloggers will probably understand this.)
2. I sound a lot like Peter Brady (or Greg?) from the Brady Bunch episode where they sing that song because his voice is changing.
You know what sucks the most about being sick at work? (Besides actually being at work.) When people find out you're sick. Most people approach my desk already half way through their question, and when I respond as Peter Brady, they take a full step backward (and in the case of the girl who made the headband comment actually hold a folder to their face to protect themselves from any untoward germs) and say, "Are you sick?"
No. Just trying something new. What do you think?
I find this really rude, offensive, and downright hurtful. Do I take a step backward and hold a folder in my face to protect myself from your coffee / garlic breath? Um, no.
Usually to really make these people uncomfortable, I tell them exactly what's wrong with me. Believe it or not, people don't like to hear that I have virtual blisters on my sinuses. I haven't had any repeat business at all today and have gotten a surprising amount of work done.
Yay me.
Also, no one has claimed the sweaters yet, so I'll be wearing one of them to work tomorrow.
1. I finally changed to the "New Blogger," something I've been putting off for months. I don't deal with change well. (Only fellow bloggers will probably understand this.)
2. I sound a lot like Peter Brady (or Greg?) from the Brady Bunch episode where they sing that song because his voice is changing.
You know what sucks the most about being sick at work? (Besides actually being at work.) When people find out you're sick. Most people approach my desk already half way through their question, and when I respond as Peter Brady, they take a full step backward (and in the case of the girl who made the headband comment actually hold a folder to their face to protect themselves from any untoward germs) and say, "Are you sick?"
No. Just trying something new. What do you think?
I find this really rude, offensive, and downright hurtful. Do I take a step backward and hold a folder in my face to protect myself from your coffee / garlic breath? Um, no.
Usually to really make these people uncomfortable, I tell them exactly what's wrong with me. Believe it or not, people don't like to hear that I have virtual blisters on my sinuses. I haven't had any repeat business at all today and have gotten a surprising amount of work done.
Yay me.
Also, no one has claimed the sweaters yet, so I'll be wearing one of them to work tomorrow.
Monday, January 15, 2007
The Polo Fairy.
I stayed home sick today because I can hardly talk and apparently have a polyp in my left sinus. Cool.
While I was (briefly) feeling good enough, I worked on some laundry. Imagine my surprise when I found a blue Pick N Save bag in the hamper containing not one, but two cashmere Ralph Lauren Polo v-neck sweaters. Tags on and everything.
Whose are they?
If they are yours, you have until Wednesday to tell me the exact size and color of each sweater, or I'm going to assume that the Polo Fairy visited my house and I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Game on, people.
While I was (briefly) feeling good enough, I worked on some laundry. Imagine my surprise when I found a blue Pick N Save bag in the hamper containing not one, but two cashmere Ralph Lauren Polo v-neck sweaters. Tags on and everything.
Whose are they?
If they are yours, you have until Wednesday to tell me the exact size and color of each sweater, or I'm going to assume that the Polo Fairy visited my house and I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Game on, people.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Melt Down City
I think everybody has that one friend who makes them feel fat, stupid, and ugly.
I have four.
I spent the evening with them last night and when I combined their perfect-ness and two glasses of wine, and I ended up feeling like Ugly Betty sitting in the corner, eating chips.
It's stupid, I know...but they just make me feel bad. Like I stepped into an issue of Seventeen or Marie Claire, or worst of all, Cosmo, and can't get out. The problem is that I really, really love these girls. It would be easy to say I just won't hang out with them anymore, but I don't want to. I just have to figure out a way to not let them get me down. (It's taken 15 years...why not start now?) I wish I knew what they actually thought of me, you know?
Can anyone identify with what I'm saying?
This, of course, led to a major melt down last night. Poor Richard. He tries to make me feel better about myself when things like this happen, but he can't. Whether he means it or not, I know that he has to say nice things to me, so it just doesn't mean as much as it should.
That's all I have to say. Sorry I'm a little disjointed today.
I have four.
I spent the evening with them last night and when I combined their perfect-ness and two glasses of wine, and I ended up feeling like Ugly Betty sitting in the corner, eating chips.
It's stupid, I know...but they just make me feel bad. Like I stepped into an issue of Seventeen or Marie Claire, or worst of all, Cosmo, and can't get out. The problem is that I really, really love these girls. It would be easy to say I just won't hang out with them anymore, but I don't want to. I just have to figure out a way to not let them get me down. (It's taken 15 years...why not start now?) I wish I knew what they actually thought of me, you know?
Can anyone identify with what I'm saying?
This, of course, led to a major melt down last night. Poor Richard. He tries to make me feel better about myself when things like this happen, but he can't. Whether he means it or not, I know that he has to say nice things to me, so it just doesn't mean as much as it should.
That's all I have to say. Sorry I'm a little disjointed today.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Broken
My boss rolled his ankle this afternoon and believes that it may be broken. He went to the health center and had a brace put on it, but refuses to go to the emergency room because he has too many meetings this afternoon.
With this interesting turn of events my job description here in the corporate world now reads: babysitter, mother, wife, nurse.
Let's just hope it never turns into nurse-midwife.
With this interesting turn of events my job description here in the corporate world now reads: babysitter, mother, wife, nurse.
Let's just hope it never turns into nurse-midwife.
Never, Never, Never...
Never show your co-workers weakness.
I asked one of my co-workers (in my 25-29 age box) if she thought my hair looked ok, because people have been giving my new headband strange looks all day--even from the guys. I finally got fed up with it and asked if it looks dumb. Her response?
"No...it's...cute. I mean, it's different...?"
Awesome.
The very, very vain, bored, and silly girl in me is tempted to take a photo and put it up so you all can vote, but something tells me I'd lose the respect of all the guys who read my blog (and some of the gals).
I haven't written a haiku in a while...
I thought my headband
looked cute in my short hair but
it seems I was wrong.
I asked one of my co-workers (in my 25-29 age box) if she thought my hair looked ok, because people have been giving my new headband strange looks all day--even from the guys. I finally got fed up with it and asked if it looks dumb. Her response?
"No...it's...cute. I mean, it's different...?"
Awesome.
The very, very vain, bored, and silly girl in me is tempted to take a photo and put it up so you all can vote, but something tells me I'd lose the respect of all the guys who read my blog (and some of the gals).
I haven't written a haiku in a while...
I thought my headband
looked cute in my short hair but
it seems I was wrong.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
His eye is on the Pigeon.
Yesterday on my way to work a pigeon was blown down from an overpass by a semi. It hit the top of the semi and rolled off, wings flapping in a giant ball of feathers and blood. It flopped through the air, hit the Lexus in front of me, and landed directly in front of my car where I was able to straddle it without treading on it with my tires.
I cried the whole way to work.
Not because I was so sad about the loss of animal life, but because he must have been so scared and confused. Lauren suggested that perhaps he didn't know what was going on and only thought he got caught in the wind. This is a plausible scenario, I know, what with the fact that it was a pigeon and probably wasn't thinking at all, but it didn't make me feel any better.
When I was a little girl (in 4th grade, to be precise), my dad and I were walking to a coffee shop in Norman, OK where we lived at the time when we came across sparrow with a broken wing. I cried as much then as I did yesterday. Dad tried to comfort me and offered to go back to the bird to "end his suffering." I emphatically denied this option at first but upon more thought I sent him back. I wish I had had the presence of mind to do the same thing yesterday for that dumb pigeon. I probably wouldn't have ended up so upset.
Matthew 10:29 says, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny ? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father."
So, why did God want me to see that yesterday? What should I draw from history repeating itself in my little life?
All I know at this point is that it wasn't a very good way to start out the day.
I cried the whole way to work.
Not because I was so sad about the loss of animal life, but because he must have been so scared and confused. Lauren suggested that perhaps he didn't know what was going on and only thought he got caught in the wind. This is a plausible scenario, I know, what with the fact that it was a pigeon and probably wasn't thinking at all, but it didn't make me feel any better.
When I was a little girl (in 4th grade, to be precise), my dad and I were walking to a coffee shop in Norman, OK where we lived at the time when we came across sparrow with a broken wing. I cried as much then as I did yesterday. Dad tried to comfort me and offered to go back to the bird to "end his suffering." I emphatically denied this option at first but upon more thought I sent him back. I wish I had had the presence of mind to do the same thing yesterday for that dumb pigeon. I probably wouldn't have ended up so upset.
Matthew 10:29 says, "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny ? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father."
So, why did God want me to see that yesterday? What should I draw from history repeating itself in my little life?
All I know at this point is that it wasn't a very good way to start out the day.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Happy Anniversary
Yesterday, Rich and I celebrated our second anniversary.
We stayed rented a movie and ordered a pizza.
It's been a good two years.
Don't be confused--it hasn't been an easy two years. At times, it wasn't even particularly a very fun two years. After we were first married, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "What have I done? What have I gotten myself in to?" I found myself very suddenly in a partnership in which I was not only expected to be accountable for my actions but to hold someone else accountable for his actions. This was a heavy responsibility, weighted with many consequences and filled with a kind of power I'd never had before; the choice to truly hurt or comfort and love. I'm sorry to admit that there were times when I chose (and still do) to hurt instead of comort and nurture my husband.
My marriage is a testament to God's love. He has used my husband to refine (and define) me in ways I didn't think were possible--or necessary. I'm learning very slowly what it means to be a godly woman and wife. I know some of you who've been married for years may turn up your nose at my naiveté, but I'm proud of my two years and my young marriage. I'm really happy, and I look forward to the trials and joys that lie ahead of Richard and I.
Keep reading--I'll fill you in as we go. : )
We spent the weekend at the Grand Casino in Mille Lacs where we had a nice dinner and lost $14.25 on the slot machines ($10 of which was Rich, thankyouverymuch).
Not a great pic of Rich, but a lot better than the pig-face I was making in the first try.
We stayed rented a movie and ordered a pizza.
It's been a good two years.
Don't be confused--it hasn't been an easy two years. At times, it wasn't even particularly a very fun two years. After we were first married, I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "What have I done? What have I gotten myself in to?" I found myself very suddenly in a partnership in which I was not only expected to be accountable for my actions but to hold someone else accountable for his actions. This was a heavy responsibility, weighted with many consequences and filled with a kind of power I'd never had before; the choice to truly hurt or comfort and love. I'm sorry to admit that there were times when I chose (and still do) to hurt instead of comort and nurture my husband.
My marriage is a testament to God's love. He has used my husband to refine (and define) me in ways I didn't think were possible--or necessary. I'm learning very slowly what it means to be a godly woman and wife. I know some of you who've been married for years may turn up your nose at my naiveté, but I'm proud of my two years and my young marriage. I'm really happy, and I look forward to the trials and joys that lie ahead of Richard and I.
Keep reading--I'll fill you in as we go. : )
We spent the weekend at the Grand Casino in Mille Lacs where we had a nice dinner and lost $14.25 on the slot machines ($10 of which was Rich, thankyouverymuch).
Not a great pic of Rich, but a lot better than the pig-face I was making in the first try.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Pipe Dreams
Last fall Rich and I decided we were going to remodel our house. We decided to upgrade our deck to a 3-season porch, and we were going to completely remodel the bathroom.
We got excited and strolled through Home Depot imagining our updated home and its immediately improved value.
To be honest, I never imagined we would actually start working on this stuff; I secretly assumed that we would only talk about these wonderful improvements, which is what happened until one day when the toilet seat broke. Richard thought we could live with it until it pinched him on the ass. He went out that night and bought a toilet seat.
I admit, with this purhcase I let my hopes rise. I thought, "This is it. This purchase will lead to a brand new bathroom!"
Alas, it did not.
Then the handle on the toilet broke. Rich bought a new handle. He picked out a pretty pewter handle that will match the new fixtures we will have...some day (I'm not getting my hopes up this time).
So...after all our grand dreams, the only thing Rich and I have remodeled is the toilet.
We got excited and strolled through Home Depot imagining our updated home and its immediately improved value.
To be honest, I never imagined we would actually start working on this stuff; I secretly assumed that we would only talk about these wonderful improvements, which is what happened until one day when the toilet seat broke. Richard thought we could live with it until it pinched him on the ass. He went out that night and bought a toilet seat.
I admit, with this purhcase I let my hopes rise. I thought, "This is it. This purchase will lead to a brand new bathroom!"
Alas, it did not.
Then the handle on the toilet broke. Rich bought a new handle. He picked out a pretty pewter handle that will match the new fixtures we will have...some day (I'm not getting my hopes up this time).
So...after all our grand dreams, the only thing Rich and I have remodeled is the toilet.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Happy New Year!
Hello, fellow bloggers! I've missed you.
I'm sorry I've been so long in posting, but I was out of town.
We went to Nebraska for my cousin Miranda's wedding. It was a wonderful wedding, and it all happened just in the nick of time because the next day we got 12 inches of snow! We didn't think we would make it home.
My pics from the wedding didn't turn out very well (I have since upgraded my camera), but here are a few of my favorite photos.
Mir and her new daughter Kayley. (Isn't this a cute photo?!)
The wedding party.
The Unity Candle
This one didn't turn out very well, but don't they look happy?
The best story from the weekend happened during the snowstorm. Adam, the groom, had gone to pick up Grandma at her house the day after the wedding. My mom said to him, "Grandma will need help getting into the Land Rover." So, Adam, the perfect gentleman, got down on one knee and clasped his hands together as if he was going to help Grandma on to a horse.
Too funny.
I'm sorry I've been so long in posting, but I was out of town.
We went to Nebraska for my cousin Miranda's wedding. It was a wonderful wedding, and it all happened just in the nick of time because the next day we got 12 inches of snow! We didn't think we would make it home.
My pics from the wedding didn't turn out very well (I have since upgraded my camera), but here are a few of my favorite photos.
Mir and her new daughter Kayley. (Isn't this a cute photo?!)
The wedding party.
The Unity Candle
This one didn't turn out very well, but don't they look happy?
The best story from the weekend happened during the snowstorm. Adam, the groom, had gone to pick up Grandma at her house the day after the wedding. My mom said to him, "Grandma will need help getting into the Land Rover." So, Adam, the perfect gentleman, got down on one knee and clasped his hands together as if he was going to help Grandma on to a horse.
Too funny.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Merry Christmas
I didn't tell you about Christmas at all.
We had a very nice (but short) Christmas weekend.
We spend all day Saturday with the Grandmas at the farm, then Sunday evening with Richard's family, and Monday with my family and then Richard's immediate family joined us at our house for dinner and "Deal or No Deal."
One of the highlights of my Christmas had to be the "Camp-Stove Coffee Cookoff." Dad gave Lauren a camp stove and a coffee pot for Christmas and challenged her to a duel. The participants were graded on three criteria. 1. Taste--whose coffee tastes the best? 2. Speed--who could make coffee the fastest? 3. Style and Cleanliness--who looked the best while cooking? Who could make coffee with the least amount of mess? It was a very close race, but Lauren pulled through in the end despite a HUGE boil-over. Simply put, her coffee tasted the best. (Sorry, Dad)
Dad and Lauren before the competition.
Dad setting his watch.
Dad adjusting the flame (yes flame) on his camp stove.
Lauren watching intently for her coffee to perk.
Both pots had overflowed by this point.
Who says we don't know how to have fun in the Duffert family?
We are heading out of town for my cousin's wedding this afternoon--have a safe and Happy New Year!
Rich gave me a digital camera for Christmas. Can you tell?
We had a very nice (but short) Christmas weekend.
We spend all day Saturday with the Grandmas at the farm, then Sunday evening with Richard's family, and Monday with my family and then Richard's immediate family joined us at our house for dinner and "Deal or No Deal."
One of the highlights of my Christmas had to be the "Camp-Stove Coffee Cookoff." Dad gave Lauren a camp stove and a coffee pot for Christmas and challenged her to a duel. The participants were graded on three criteria. 1. Taste--whose coffee tastes the best? 2. Speed--who could make coffee the fastest? 3. Style and Cleanliness--who looked the best while cooking? Who could make coffee with the least amount of mess? It was a very close race, but Lauren pulled through in the end despite a HUGE boil-over. Simply put, her coffee tasted the best. (Sorry, Dad)
Dad and Lauren before the competition.
Dad setting his watch.
Dad adjusting the flame (yes flame) on his camp stove.
Lauren watching intently for her coffee to perk.
Both pots had overflowed by this point.
Who says we don't know how to have fun in the Duffert family?
We are heading out of town for my cousin's wedding this afternoon--have a safe and Happy New Year!
Rich gave me a digital camera for Christmas. Can you tell?
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Worry Wart
My husband just turned over and said, "Why are you still awake?"
I said, "I don't know."
"Are you worried about something?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I don't know. I'm always worried about something."
"That's true," he said. And as he turned over to go back to sleep he said, "Can you turn the heater off?"
Sure, babe.
So what am I worried about?
Here's a list in no particular order:
-I haven't been to spinning in almost two weeks. Am I getting pudgy again?
-I don't know how to locate the vendor numbers I need for the end of the year accounting tomorrow.
-I'm really hungry, but is it ok to eat chips and guacamole this late at night?
-Did Christmas really go well, or is everybody just being nice?
-What on earth am I going to do with this much leftover meat?
-I think I might have gingivitis.
-Would lasagna be ok for mom's grad party?
-My fingernails grow very fast while my hair grows slow--why?
-Who am I? Or better yet, who is Erin?
-And how do other people actually see me?
-What do I want to do with my life?
-Do I actually have a career ahead of me?
-And what about this publishing thing?
So, gingivitis and hair care aside, what about this publishing thing? Dad is making a big push for me to send out something--anything--to a publisher. But what to send? And where? And why, oh why, would anyone want to read what I have to say, let alone pay me to say it?
Why don't I send something?
One word: FEAR.
Can you imagine it? My smarmy writing friends banging their heads against their well-worn over-loved and dying typewriters purchased at thrift stores in despair to learn that Erin has been published anywhere. Erin--remember her? The one who gave up a life of pain and suffering for her art to get married and live in the suburbs somehere. Didn't she have a baby? Or two? Remember Erin? The one with no discernable talent other than the uncanny and often irritating, though effortless ability to find the punch-line every single time? She was fun.
I'm afraid of what those smarmy friends would say. I'm also afraid of getting turned down. It's not like I can keep a secret--you know I'd be on here the next day saying, "The New Yorker" turned me down. My smarmy friends would feign sympathy but secretly scoff at my arrogance. "'The New Yorker?' Yeah right!"
So what if I aim low? Shoot for Reader's Digest or Cosmo?
It wouldn't hurt so much to get turned down by magazines designed for elderly potty-goers or desperate twenty-somethings.
I think I'll aim low.
I said, "I don't know."
"Are you worried about something?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"I don't know. I'm always worried about something."
"That's true," he said. And as he turned over to go back to sleep he said, "Can you turn the heater off?"
Sure, babe.
So what am I worried about?
Here's a list in no particular order:
-I haven't been to spinning in almost two weeks. Am I getting pudgy again?
-I don't know how to locate the vendor numbers I need for the end of the year accounting tomorrow.
-I'm really hungry, but is it ok to eat chips and guacamole this late at night?
-Did Christmas really go well, or is everybody just being nice?
-What on earth am I going to do with this much leftover meat?
-I think I might have gingivitis.
-Would lasagna be ok for mom's grad party?
-My fingernails grow very fast while my hair grows slow--why?
-Who am I? Or better yet, who is Erin?
-And how do other people actually see me?
-What do I want to do with my life?
-Do I actually have a career ahead of me?
-And what about this publishing thing?
So, gingivitis and hair care aside, what about this publishing thing? Dad is making a big push for me to send out something--anything--to a publisher. But what to send? And where? And why, oh why, would anyone want to read what I have to say, let alone pay me to say it?
Why don't I send something?
One word: FEAR.
Can you imagine it? My smarmy writing friends banging their heads against their well-worn over-loved and dying typewriters purchased at thrift stores in despair to learn that Erin has been published anywhere. Erin--remember her? The one who gave up a life of pain and suffering for her art to get married and live in the suburbs somehere. Didn't she have a baby? Or two? Remember Erin? The one with no discernable talent other than the uncanny and often irritating, though effortless ability to find the punch-line every single time? She was fun.
I'm afraid of what those smarmy friends would say. I'm also afraid of getting turned down. It's not like I can keep a secret--you know I'd be on here the next day saying, "The New Yorker" turned me down. My smarmy friends would feign sympathy but secretly scoff at my arrogance. "'The New Yorker?' Yeah right!"
So what if I aim low? Shoot for Reader's Digest or Cosmo?
It wouldn't hurt so much to get turned down by magazines designed for elderly potty-goers or desperate twenty-somethings.
I think I'll aim low.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Let's Talk
I need to get some things off my chest. Two things actually.
1. Stop sending me Christmas Cards.
I announced at the beginning of the Christmas season that I would NOT be sending Christmas Cards, and you people keep sending them! This, of course, makes me feel like I need to respond, and I have sent out more than 25 cards so far. I'm writing now to say, enough is enough. Don't send anymore. I love you all, and I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas, but I don't want to do it $.39 at a time. I have better things to do--as do you.
Spread yule some other way.
Yeesh.
2. I'd like to phase out the hugging.
I know Christmastime is a time for spreading the aforementioned yule, which often comes with a hug. Well, now I'm sick. Actually sick from all your virus-spreading hugs. My nose and ears are plugged and my throat hurts. Merry frickin Christmas, folks. Thanks a lot.
It's not just the viruses. I really just don't like hugging. Do I have to physically affirm that I love you every time I see you? Rest assured when I feel like giving a hug, I will give one. If I'm not in the mood, though, I really will let you stand there with your arms out feeling foolish. When I want to hug you, I will. I just don't see how it's necessary to hug all the time.
Now in regard to hugging, here's something funny. You may know the Nourse family and their affinity for the hugs. Jared, Naomi's husband, knows how I feel about hugging and when it comes time to leave their house, I can see on his face that he wants to hug me but doesn't want to make me uncomfortable. This always melts my heart so lately I have been the one who initiates the goodbye hugs when we leave their house.
See how it works? You can't hug-attack. You have to wait for me to choose the hug. Let the hug come to you.
1. Stop sending me Christmas Cards.
I announced at the beginning of the Christmas season that I would NOT be sending Christmas Cards, and you people keep sending them! This, of course, makes me feel like I need to respond, and I have sent out more than 25 cards so far. I'm writing now to say, enough is enough. Don't send anymore. I love you all, and I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas, but I don't want to do it $.39 at a time. I have better things to do--as do you.
Spread yule some other way.
Yeesh.
2. I'd like to phase out the hugging.
I know Christmastime is a time for spreading the aforementioned yule, which often comes with a hug. Well, now I'm sick. Actually sick from all your virus-spreading hugs. My nose and ears are plugged and my throat hurts. Merry frickin Christmas, folks. Thanks a lot.
It's not just the viruses. I really just don't like hugging. Do I have to physically affirm that I love you every time I see you? Rest assured when I feel like giving a hug, I will give one. If I'm not in the mood, though, I really will let you stand there with your arms out feeling foolish. When I want to hug you, I will. I just don't see how it's necessary to hug all the time.
Now in regard to hugging, here's something funny. You may know the Nourse family and their affinity for the hugs. Jared, Naomi's husband, knows how I feel about hugging and when it comes time to leave their house, I can see on his face that he wants to hug me but doesn't want to make me uncomfortable. This always melts my heart so lately I have been the one who initiates the goodbye hugs when we leave their house.
See how it works? You can't hug-attack. You have to wait for me to choose the hug. Let the hug come to you.
Monday, December 18, 2006
BUSTING with Pride, part 2 (Hootie-Hoo)
MY MOM GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE!
What a great weekend. Lauren, Richard, and I drove down to Wausau on Friday night, stayed up way too late giving mom her graduation gifts and goofing around, and then, bright and early the next morning, we were off to UWSP for the best graduation ever. The speaker was a stand-up comic. Honestly, it was the least painful graduation I've ever been to, including mine.
The best part was watching my mom come out with all the graduates with the biggest smile I've ever seen. I had texted her so that she would know where we were sitting and she spotted us immediately. She kept leaning back to wave at us through the whole ceremony. When it was her turn to walk across the stage, Lauren shouted, "That's my mom!!" While I gave her the customary Duffert-Family-Graduation, "Hootie-Hoo!"
She still has finals this week, but the end is near, and I honestly couldn't be more pleased. I can't describe what it felt like to watch her graduate--she beat the odds and went back to school, and I am so proud.
This is when I started to cry.
What a great weekend. Lauren, Richard, and I drove down to Wausau on Friday night, stayed up way too late giving mom her graduation gifts and goofing around, and then, bright and early the next morning, we were off to UWSP for the best graduation ever. The speaker was a stand-up comic. Honestly, it was the least painful graduation I've ever been to, including mine.
The best part was watching my mom come out with all the graduates with the biggest smile I've ever seen. I had texted her so that she would know where we were sitting and she spotted us immediately. She kept leaning back to wave at us through the whole ceremony. When it was her turn to walk across the stage, Lauren shouted, "That's my mom!!" While I gave her the customary Duffert-Family-Graduation, "Hootie-Hoo!"
She still has finals this week, but the end is near, and I honestly couldn't be more pleased. I can't describe what it felt like to watch her graduate--she beat the odds and went back to school, and I am so proud.
This is when I started to cry.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Christmas Angst
You know what I hate more than the Little Drummer Boy?
Giving a gift, having someone open it, and the look on their face says, "Oh."
I hate that! I never want that to happen. I love giving gifts, and I want the receiver to he as excited about their gift as I am, you know?
It's this fear that drives me.
For some reason, however, this year is different than any other. For the past two years I have freaked out about the M-I-L, and ended up doing something lame-o. But this year is different because I have really great presents for the in-laws, and just mediocre gifts for my own family. I had the perfect gift for my mom, then discovered it wasn't quite right, went back for another, and still, it's not quite right. Lauren and McClain are easy--we always make Christmas Agreements. "I'll buy you this if you'll buy me this..." But I have yet to have a moment of glorious inspiration for my dad. I have purchased several gifts for him, but none of them are quite right.
I am feeling very discouraged, friends and brethren. The in-laws were easy this year, and I feel like my whole world is upside down!
(LOL)
Giving a gift, having someone open it, and the look on their face says, "Oh."
I hate that! I never want that to happen. I love giving gifts, and I want the receiver to he as excited about their gift as I am, you know?
It's this fear that drives me.
For some reason, however, this year is different than any other. For the past two years I have freaked out about the M-I-L, and ended up doing something lame-o. But this year is different because I have really great presents for the in-laws, and just mediocre gifts for my own family. I had the perfect gift for my mom, then discovered it wasn't quite right, went back for another, and still, it's not quite right. Lauren and McClain are easy--we always make Christmas Agreements. "I'll buy you this if you'll buy me this..." But I have yet to have a moment of glorious inspiration for my dad. I have purchased several gifts for him, but none of them are quite right.
I am feeling very discouraged, friends and brethren. The in-laws were easy this year, and I feel like my whole world is upside down!
(LOL)
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Short, Imagined Dialogues
This morning as I was getting ready for work (late), I imagined my boss saying something to me about my perpetual tardiness. He has never yet noticed that I am late, to my knowledge. Or rather, he has never said anything to me about it.
Our imaginary conversation went like this:
Him: Erin, you really need to work harder at being on time. Why are you always so late?
Me: Well, it all boils down to one thing, sir.
Him: What's that?
Me: Pantyhose.
Him: Pantyhose?
Me: Yes.
Him: Please explain.
Me: Well, every single morning, I stand in front of my closet and try to figure out what to wear. Every day I ask myself, 'Will today be a pantyhose day?' Then I have to go through a small check list. 1. Do I have anything clean that does NOT necessitate pantyhose? 2. When was the last time I shaved my legs (pertaining to skirts only, obviously)? 3. What's going on today--how nice do I need to look? So on and so forth.
This whole thing probably takes about five minutes, which, when you only give yourself fifteen to get out the door, is a lot. Then, if I decide today is indeed a pantyhose day, I can automatically add at least 15 minutes of hopping around the bedroom, half-naked, on one foot while I try to squeeze into "Nude, Control Top, Large." It's at this point that I have to wonder--am I buying the right size? If I paid more than $1.99 for my pantyhose, would the whole ordeal go more smoothly? Am I sure I don't have any clean pants?
Sir, I just don't know what else to do.
Him: Perhaps you could get out of bed earlier?
Me: Oh. I guess I could do that.
Our imaginary conversation went like this:
Him: Erin, you really need to work harder at being on time. Why are you always so late?
Me: Well, it all boils down to one thing, sir.
Him: What's that?
Me: Pantyhose.
Him: Pantyhose?
Me: Yes.
Him: Please explain.
Me: Well, every single morning, I stand in front of my closet and try to figure out what to wear. Every day I ask myself, 'Will today be a pantyhose day?' Then I have to go through a small check list. 1. Do I have anything clean that does NOT necessitate pantyhose? 2. When was the last time I shaved my legs (pertaining to skirts only, obviously)? 3. What's going on today--how nice do I need to look? So on and so forth.
This whole thing probably takes about five minutes, which, when you only give yourself fifteen to get out the door, is a lot. Then, if I decide today is indeed a pantyhose day, I can automatically add at least 15 minutes of hopping around the bedroom, half-naked, on one foot while I try to squeeze into "Nude, Control Top, Large." It's at this point that I have to wonder--am I buying the right size? If I paid more than $1.99 for my pantyhose, would the whole ordeal go more smoothly? Am I sure I don't have any clean pants?
Sir, I just don't know what else to do.
Him: Perhaps you could get out of bed earlier?
Me: Oh. I guess I could do that.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Come here, Drummer Boy...
Does anybody else hate the Little Drummer Boy?
Is he actually in the Christmas Story, in the Bible? No.
I'd like to kick him. And pinch him. The drummer boy takes away any happy feelings I might be feeling about Christmas--family, memories, finding that perfect gift...and replaces them with pure unadulterated irritation. To me, the drummer boy encompasses everything that is annoying, frustrating, and just plain BAD about Christmas. Put yourself in my shoes. I'm out, running the many, many errands that are necessary at this time of year, I'm enjoying myself, humming along with the radio when suddenly, I hear a vaguely familiar melody. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the melody as I change the station, but it's too late. It's stuck with me.
"Par-um-pa-pum-pum..."
And it won't leave. For the rest of the day, "Par-um-pa-pum-pum..."
Come here, drummer. I'll pru-um you.
Since the offending percussionist is not actually the real Christmas story, and is part of a song made up in 1958, I nominate that we vote him off the island. I want him out of Christmas alltogether.
What do you think, friends and brethren? Can we send him away to live in a gingerbread house somewhere in Siberia, along with all the other Christmas irritations? You know, Rudolph, cell phone salesmen, and every mall-hired Santa in the world?
Who else should we vote off Christmas Island? I want to know what irritates you in this season. Don't hold back, folks. What bugs you that takes away from the real joy of this season?
Is he actually in the Christmas Story, in the Bible? No.
I'd like to kick him. And pinch him. The drummer boy takes away any happy feelings I might be feeling about Christmas--family, memories, finding that perfect gift...and replaces them with pure unadulterated irritation. To me, the drummer boy encompasses everything that is annoying, frustrating, and just plain BAD about Christmas. Put yourself in my shoes. I'm out, running the many, many errands that are necessary at this time of year, I'm enjoying myself, humming along with the radio when suddenly, I hear a vaguely familiar melody. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the melody as I change the station, but it's too late. It's stuck with me.
"Par-um-pa-pum-pum..."
And it won't leave. For the rest of the day, "Par-um-pa-pum-pum..."
Come here, drummer. I'll pru-um you.
Since the offending percussionist is not actually the real Christmas story, and is part of a song made up in 1958, I nominate that we vote him off the island. I want him out of Christmas alltogether.
What do you think, friends and brethren? Can we send him away to live in a gingerbread house somewhere in Siberia, along with all the other Christmas irritations? You know, Rudolph, cell phone salesmen, and every mall-hired Santa in the world?
Who else should we vote off Christmas Island? I want to know what irritates you in this season. Don't hold back, folks. What bugs you that takes away from the real joy of this season?
Friday, December 08, 2006
Good Luck, Scott
My writing friend, Scott, has a blog, Nehring The Edge, that has been nominated for The Weblog Awards. If you go to http://2006.weblogawards.org/2006/12/best_of_the_top_1751_2500_blogs.php You can vote for his site.
If you're so inclined, you can vote once a day/per computer you have access to until December 15th.
Good luck, Scott! I'll vote every day!
If you're so inclined, you can vote once a day/per computer you have access to until December 15th.
Good luck, Scott! I'll vote every day!
I'm an Imp-O-tent part of the team!
Do you remember that joke about the man who goes to get his vasectomy wearing a tuxedo?
Keep it in mind.
Since the "reorganization" of our division (i.e. swallowing up a smaller department, firing 50+ people, and getting a new name), my manager has taken on a lot more responsibility than before. He does not hesitate to remind me how important he is. As a result, I have been working very hard on some things. The first of which is to not be stupid. That one is a work in progress. The second is that I've been working a lot harder to look more professional and less...college at my job. I bought a lot of new clothes with my birthday money, and so far I feel like I've been pretty successful. I've also been receiving a lot of compliments, which, if I let my neurosis get really out of control, makes me think that I really did look like crap for the last few months. Oh well.
Yesterday even our VP noticed my transformation. I wore a black skirt and tights with a red sweater. Very sharp, friends. He said, "Well don't you look....black and red today!" (Anyone who can tell me what this means wins the prize.)
Anyway, since I'm working for someone important, I think I should look important.
Which brings us back to the man getting a vasectomy in a tuxedo.
When asked why he was wearing a tuxedo, he said, "If I'm gonna be imp-o-tent, I'm gonna look imp-o-tent."
There's a joke in there somewhere. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.
Keep it in mind.
Since the "reorganization" of our division (i.e. swallowing up a smaller department, firing 50+ people, and getting a new name), my manager has taken on a lot more responsibility than before. He does not hesitate to remind me how important he is. As a result, I have been working very hard on some things. The first of which is to not be stupid. That one is a work in progress. The second is that I've been working a lot harder to look more professional and less...college at my job. I bought a lot of new clothes with my birthday money, and so far I feel like I've been pretty successful. I've also been receiving a lot of compliments, which, if I let my neurosis get really out of control, makes me think that I really did look like crap for the last few months. Oh well.
Yesterday even our VP noticed my transformation. I wore a black skirt and tights with a red sweater. Very sharp, friends. He said, "Well don't you look....black and red today!" (Anyone who can tell me what this means wins the prize.)
Anyway, since I'm working for someone important, I think I should look important.
Which brings us back to the man getting a vasectomy in a tuxedo.
When asked why he was wearing a tuxedo, he said, "If I'm gonna be imp-o-tent, I'm gonna look imp-o-tent."
There's a joke in there somewhere. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
That's My Sister!!
Where's the worst place in the world to get hit on?
Besides prison, I'd have to say at the doctor's office.
I had lunch with Mandi yesterday after her doctor's appointment, when she told me this story.
She was sitting in the empty waiting room for her name to be called when a man in his mid-30's sat down on the double seat right next to her, despite ALL the empty seats in the whole waiting room.
She's that magnetic, friends. ; )
He, of course, very casually started a conversation.
"How are you doin today?"
"Been better," Mandi said briefly, wanting to avoid further conversation. They were, after all, at the clinic.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What are you in for?"
Mandi looked at him, "I can't stop peeing."
End of conversation.
That's my sister, shooting a man down with only four words. Classic--I love it!
In other sisterly news, Mandi was featured in the Stillwater Gazzette. Check it out.
Way to go, Noonie!
(Big Tooooooooe!)
Besides prison, I'd have to say at the doctor's office.
I had lunch with Mandi yesterday after her doctor's appointment, when she told me this story.
She was sitting in the empty waiting room for her name to be called when a man in his mid-30's sat down on the double seat right next to her, despite ALL the empty seats in the whole waiting room.
She's that magnetic, friends. ; )
He, of course, very casually started a conversation.
"How are you doin today?"
"Been better," Mandi said briefly, wanting to avoid further conversation. They were, after all, at the clinic.
"I'm sorry to hear that. What are you in for?"
Mandi looked at him, "I can't stop peeing."
End of conversation.
That's my sister, shooting a man down with only four words. Classic--I love it!
In other sisterly news, Mandi was featured in the Stillwater Gazzette. Check it out.
Way to go, Noonie!
(Big Tooooooooe!)
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Wednesday?
I woke up this morning thinking, "It's Wednesday...half way through."
I then woke up and hour later and thought, "It's EIGHT O'CLOCK!"
Which is the official story.
I really did think it was Wednesday today until just a few minutes ago. Whether or not I "overslept" on accident is still up in the air.
When I told Arnie I woke up at 8, he said (teasing me), "How can you even do that?"
Like it's hard.
Needless to say, it's NOT Wednesday, and I still have NINE THOUSAND days to go until the weekend.
Awesome. I'M. SO. HAPPY.
I then woke up and hour later and thought, "It's EIGHT O'CLOCK!"
Which is the official story.
I really did think it was Wednesday today until just a few minutes ago. Whether or not I "overslept" on accident is still up in the air.
When I told Arnie I woke up at 8, he said (teasing me), "How can you even do that?"
Like it's hard.
Needless to say, it's NOT Wednesday, and I still have NINE THOUSAND days to go until the weekend.
Awesome. I'M. SO. HAPPY.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Cheatin' Heart
I have to tell you something, and I don't know how to say it.
I'm just going to come right out and say it.
I've been cheating.
Over my lunch break, on the way home from work, even over dinner, if I can get away with it.
Yes, it's with my ex.
I tried to realign my loyalties, but I can't fool myself anymore--or you. It's just not fair.
Sure, things were going great for a while, but when the pressure is on, and we get down to the basics--the nitty, gritty details--my needs and desires, on a molecular level, you just don't cut it. I need something better, more Real. I really think I deserve it, too. You deserve to be with someone who isn't longing for another.
I know this is hard, but you'll find someone--soon. Someone better, who cares about you and loves you for who you are.
It's not you. Really. It's me.
I will always hold a special place for you in my heard, Diet Coke, but it's time we parted ways. Please don't cry. I'll keep you in the fridge for my diet-drinking friends, but I have to be true to myself, and I'm just not happy with you. I feel like I can't be me.
I'll miss you, but I've got to stick with the Real Thing--I'm a Classic kind of girl, you know?
I'm just going to come right out and say it.
I've been cheating.
Over my lunch break, on the way home from work, even over dinner, if I can get away with it.
Yes, it's with my ex.
I tried to realign my loyalties, but I can't fool myself anymore--or you. It's just not fair.
Sure, things were going great for a while, but when the pressure is on, and we get down to the basics--the nitty, gritty details--my needs and desires, on a molecular level, you just don't cut it. I need something better, more Real. I really think I deserve it, too. You deserve to be with someone who isn't longing for another.
I know this is hard, but you'll find someone--soon. Someone better, who cares about you and loves you for who you are.
It's not you. Really. It's me.
I will always hold a special place for you in my heard, Diet Coke, but it's time we parted ways. Please don't cry. I'll keep you in the fridge for my diet-drinking friends, but I have to be true to myself, and I'm just not happy with you. I feel like I can't be me.
I'll miss you, but I've got to stick with the Real Thing--I'm a Classic kind of girl, you know?
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Rambling Relief and a little Embarassment
I'm sorry I haven't blogged much, friends. A lot has been going on in my life that isn't exactly blog-worthy.
I found out today that my job is safe, which is a relief, though I also learned that I had to be fought for, which is NOT what I was hoping to hear...But at least I still have a job! Until tomorrow...
So, basically, the joke goes, "Not so fast, Smith, Jones, and Desvousges. Or wait. Desvousges, you can stay."
Um...thanks.
Not to sound ungrateful or anything. I just didn't want to hear that I was on the chopping block in the first place.
Am I rambling?
I found out today that my job is safe, which is a relief, though I also learned that I had to be fought for, which is NOT what I was hoping to hear...But at least I still have a job! Until tomorrow...
So, basically, the joke goes, "Not so fast, Smith, Jones, and Desvousges. Or wait. Desvousges, you can stay."
Um...thanks.
Not to sound ungrateful or anything. I just didn't want to hear that I was on the chopping block in the first place.
Am I rambling?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Not so fast, Smith and Jones
Those of you whose jobs are safe and you should come back tomorrow morning, take one step forward.
Not so fast, Smith and Jones.
Not so fast, Smith and Jones.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
More thoughts on Thanksgiving
I wasn't satisfied with my first post about Thanksgiving--it felt forced and hollow, but I wasn't ACTUALLY feeling very thankful until I was on my way home this afternoon, listening to the new Barlow Girl disc. They do a beautiful (although abbreviated) version of "For the Beauty of the Earth."
Read the lyrics through once:
For the beauty of the earth
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth and friends above,
For all gentle thoughts and mild.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For Thy Church, that evermore
Lifteth holy hands above,
Offering up on every shore
Her pure sacrifice of love.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
I was totally having a "Yeah, God!" moment.
And then I saw a dead turkey on the side of the road.
This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my sick sense of humor.
(And my family, like I said before.)
To the Turkey
Oh Turkey, you fool
dead on the side of the road--
Should have been dinner.
What were you doing?
Is this what they call free range--
walking down the street?
Should have been dinner
next to the pumpkin pie and
cranberry jelly.
Are you stuffed, dear sir?
With savory herbs like thyme?
Still need to be plucked?
Read the lyrics through once:
For the beauty of the earth
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth and friends above,
For all gentle thoughts and mild.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For Thy Church, that evermore
Lifteth holy hands above,
Offering up on every shore
Her pure sacrifice of love.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
I was totally having a "Yeah, God!" moment.
And then I saw a dead turkey on the side of the road.
This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my sick sense of humor.
(And my family, like I said before.)
To the Turkey
Oh Turkey, you fool
dead on the side of the road--
Should have been dinner.
What were you doing?
Is this what they call free range--
walking down the street?
Should have been dinner
next to the pumpkin pie and
cranberry jelly.
Are you stuffed, dear sir?
With savory herbs like thyme?
Still need to be plucked?
A Cornicopia of Blessings
The plan is still a little up in the air, but I THINK we are leaving tomorrow morning to go to Nebraska. I'm really looking forward to seeing the fam and having some down time. And some serious shopping time.
Yes, I am one of those crazy shoppers who races to the mall before 8am to get that GREAT deal on a chenille bathrobe...or earrings...or leaf blower...whatever. I really like it! It's shopping on a mission, and I love the challenge! I've got my list ready, I plan to scan the ads on Thursday after dinner, and Lincoln, Nebraska, HERE I COME!!
We're also going to hang out down town Lincoln before the Husker game, so watch for us on the pre-game coverage. We'll be wearing red.
This year I am especially thankful for my family--ALL of them. The siblings, the parents, the in-laws. God has blessed me in this area.
So, Happy Thanksgiving, fellow bloggers. I hope you sit down at a table tomorrow with people you love, food that satisfies, and conversation that edifies!
Yes, I am one of those crazy shoppers who races to the mall before 8am to get that GREAT deal on a chenille bathrobe...or earrings...or leaf blower...whatever. I really like it! It's shopping on a mission, and I love the challenge! I've got my list ready, I plan to scan the ads on Thursday after dinner, and Lincoln, Nebraska, HERE I COME!!
We're also going to hang out down town Lincoln before the Husker game, so watch for us on the pre-game coverage. We'll be wearing red.
This year I am especially thankful for my family--ALL of them. The siblings, the parents, the in-laws. God has blessed me in this area.
So, Happy Thanksgiving, fellow bloggers. I hope you sit down at a table tomorrow with people you love, food that satisfies, and conversation that edifies!
Monday, November 20, 2006
An Actually Happy Birthday
So the 25th Birthday turned out pretty well--even though I am very, very old now.
A whopping EIGHTEEN people turned out for my birthday party at Buca di Beppo, where laughter prevailed, food was bountiful and drinks were plentiful...very plentiful in my case. It was a GREAT party. They put is in the back, which was wise because we were very loud.
The highlight of the night for me was when the group (including a large group of high school students seated near us) decided to sing me "happy birthday." For some reason, we had to wait momentarily to start singing, so I suggested a round (or two) of "Frere Jaques," which everyone sang heartily, much to my pleasure. I believe there were actually 4 rounds started. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Why? Not because I love the song, but the sheer hilarity of the situation tickles me still. Imagine it. 30 people (some a little more lubricated than others) singing "Frere Jaques" at the top of their lungs--in ROUNDS. Could a girl ask for more?
I think not.
I also got the most BEAUTIFUL gifts. All my friends and family are so generous! I made a killing on the Jewelry and Candle front, though, including a BUNCH of handmade jewelry from Naomi, and a candleabra (?) from the Plumms.
Richard gave me the most beautiful pearl necklace that he bought from the Little Mermaid herself. He had to sell her his voice for it, but it was SO. WORTH. IT.
So, thanks, everyone for making my birthday such a success, and thank you especially, blog friends, for your warm wishes when I wasn't feeling very happy on Friday. : )
It wasn't that bad,
try not to think about it--
thirty will be worse.
A whopping EIGHTEEN people turned out for my birthday party at Buca di Beppo, where laughter prevailed, food was bountiful and drinks were plentiful...very plentiful in my case. It was a GREAT party. They put is in the back, which was wise because we were very loud.
The highlight of the night for me was when the group (including a large group of high school students seated near us) decided to sing me "happy birthday." For some reason, we had to wait momentarily to start singing, so I suggested a round (or two) of "Frere Jaques," which everyone sang heartily, much to my pleasure. I believe there were actually 4 rounds started. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Why? Not because I love the song, but the sheer hilarity of the situation tickles me still. Imagine it. 30 people (some a little more lubricated than others) singing "Frere Jaques" at the top of their lungs--in ROUNDS. Could a girl ask for more?
I think not.
I also got the most BEAUTIFUL gifts. All my friends and family are so generous! I made a killing on the Jewelry and Candle front, though, including a BUNCH of handmade jewelry from Naomi, and a candleabra (?) from the Plumms.
Richard gave me the most beautiful pearl necklace that he bought from the Little Mermaid herself. He had to sell her his voice for it, but it was SO. WORTH. IT.
So, thanks, everyone for making my birthday such a success, and thank you especially, blog friends, for your warm wishes when I wasn't feeling very happy on Friday. : )
It wasn't that bad,
try not to think about it--
thirty will be worse.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Happy Friggin Birthday.
At midnight last night, I thought, "I'm TWENTY-FIVE."
I know you're all going to roll your eyes, but I'm really having trouble with this one. When you hit 25, you're not a kid anymore. I'm a woman now.
I've accomplished a lot in my 25 years.
I graduated from high school and college, got married, traveled through Western Europe, overdrawn my checking account by $400, been "laid off," and acquired a relatively grown-up job. I've even had some of my stories published.
That's the problem? What's AFTER 25? Child bearing? A long and happy marriage?
I look forward to both of those things, but all I can see in those two things today, in my frame of mind is saggy boobs and exhaustion.
I'm in a new box now. For a long time I was in the 18-24 box. Now I'm in the 25-30 box. Next is 31-35. This doesn't sit well with me.
I'm twenty-five now,
I can't believe I'm so old
Is that an age spot??
I know you're all going to roll your eyes, but I'm really having trouble with this one. When you hit 25, you're not a kid anymore. I'm a woman now.
I've accomplished a lot in my 25 years.
I graduated from high school and college, got married, traveled through Western Europe, overdrawn my checking account by $400, been "laid off," and acquired a relatively grown-up job. I've even had some of my stories published.
That's the problem? What's AFTER 25? Child bearing? A long and happy marriage?
I look forward to both of those things, but all I can see in those two things today, in my frame of mind is saggy boobs and exhaustion.
I'm in a new box now. For a long time I was in the 18-24 box. Now I'm in the 25-30 box. Next is 31-35. This doesn't sit well with me.
I'm twenty-five now,
I can't believe I'm so old
Is that an age spot??
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Blood Pressure
Last Friday my Division announced that we are merging with another department. 50 out of 200 jobs will be cut. I don't dare write much, just know that things are quite tense around the office, and rumors are just a-flyin'. I am privy to a lot of the goings-on behind closed doors, and to say the least, it's stressing me out. Not to mention, I'm really not sure that my job is all that secure.
I had a routine doctor's appointment (a different blog topic altogether, believe me) today, and the nurse said, "Your blood pressure is a little high."
Ya THINK?
The deadline for the merger is December 1, so at least the pain be over quick--like ripping off a bandaid.
I mean, a 3M Nexcare Wound Bandage.
I had a routine doctor's appointment (a different blog topic altogether, believe me) today, and the nurse said, "Your blood pressure is a little high."
Ya THINK?
The deadline for the merger is December 1, so at least the pain be over quick--like ripping off a bandaid.
I mean, a 3M Nexcare Wound Bandage.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Colder than...
Until I got "the look" from Richard on Sunday night, I never realized that the phrase, "Colder than a well-digger's butt," just doesn't make any sense. I've always thought it was a funny thing to say but never really thought it through. The truth is, it doesn't make any sense. Why would a well-digger's butt be cold? Only if he was digging a well in the winter. Why would any one try to dig a well in winter? The ground is frozen. Follow my logic? The phrase is now completely debunked, and to be honest, I'm a little sad about it.
We were shivering as we got into bed last night and as we settled into the covers (you know that REALLY cold feeling when you first get in bed because the sheets aren't warmed up yet?), and Richard said through chattering teeth, "It's colder than a coal miner's butt!"
Close enough, babe.
Today's haiku can also serve as a limerick (I'm really proud of this one):
A well-digger's butt
is never as cold as a
coal miner's bottom.
We were shivering as we got into bed last night and as we settled into the covers (you know that REALLY cold feeling when you first get in bed because the sheets aren't warmed up yet?), and Richard said through chattering teeth, "It's colder than a coal miner's butt!"
Close enough, babe.
Today's haiku can also serve as a limerick (I'm really proud of this one):
A well-digger's butt
is never as cold as a
coal miner's bottom.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Quilting Lessons Learned
The quilting retreat was wonderful. This one was the more like a slumber party than any of the others I have been to. Kristen, Ruthie, Sarah, Naomi, and I stayed in the old camp director's house and had a blast. We even did each other's hair! I came home feeling very refreshed and thankful for the wonderful women God has put in my life. Kandi and Naomi were newbees this year and both finished GORGEOUS quilts! You'll have to check their blogs for photos, which means Kandi will have to START. A. BLOG.
I always learn a lot at the retreats. There are so many seasoned quilters there every year that it's impossible NOT to learn something.
This year, the top things I learned were:
1. How to make a purse out of an old pair of jeans. I can't in good conscience recommend lining said purses.
2. Mean people suck (though I'm still waiting for a little more clarification on this one from Kristi and Kandi).
3. White quilts are not necessarily for babies, and should, in fact, be kept far, far away from a nurshing child.
Here are some fun photos from the weekend.
This is the log cabin I've been working on for about a year now. I quilted it myself! This is the one Ruthie threw up all over. I guess I'm glad she didn't have peas or carrots for lunch...I swear I almost had an aneurism.
This is a quilt top that I finished. It is a wedding gift for a friend. I think it turned out really nice.
We dressed up as cow girls for dinner on Saturday--the whole group did, not just the 3 of us. I think we should have won best dressed, alas, we were only adoreable losers. I think we look pretty cute. : )
I always learn a lot at the retreats. There are so many seasoned quilters there every year that it's impossible NOT to learn something.
This year, the top things I learned were:
1. How to make a purse out of an old pair of jeans. I can't in good conscience recommend lining said purses.
2. Mean people suck (though I'm still waiting for a little more clarification on this one from Kristi and Kandi).
3. White quilts are not necessarily for babies, and should, in fact, be kept far, far away from a nurshing child.
Here are some fun photos from the weekend.
This is the log cabin I've been working on for about a year now. I quilted it myself! This is the one Ruthie threw up all over. I guess I'm glad she didn't have peas or carrots for lunch...I swear I almost had an aneurism.
This is a quilt top that I finished. It is a wedding gift for a friend. I think it turned out really nice.
We dressed up as cow girls for dinner on Saturday--the whole group did, not just the 3 of us. I think we should have won best dressed, alas, we were only adoreable losers. I think we look pretty cute. : )
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Retreat!!!
When people at work say, "What are you doing for the weekend?" I'm torn. I know no matter what I say, I'm going to get a look.
The conversation usually goes like this:
"I'm going on a retreat."
"Really? Who are you going with?"
"Some ladies from church."
"OHHH."
End of conversation.
Or it can go like this:
"I'm going on a quilting retreat--don't make fun."
"It takes all kinds."
End of conversation.
I can't win.
I'm very excited about the retreat this year, but also very nervous. There are a TON of us going, and for some reason I just can't shake the worry that it won't be PERFECT and that I won't get to see everyone I want to see and hang out with. I honestly feel like I'm heading to Junior High camp. Every single year I panicked because I was just positive that it wouldn't be as good as the year before. I'm trying to remember that God always has (and had, even when I was 13) a higher agenda than mine, and that every year was wonderful regardless of my petty worries.
Easier said than done.
I can't wait to get out of here, though! It's going to be a LOOOOOONG day!
It's finally here
the quilting retreat has come
got lots to get done!
The conversation usually goes like this:
"I'm going on a retreat."
"Really? Who are you going with?"
"Some ladies from church."
"OHHH."
End of conversation.
Or it can go like this:
"I'm going on a quilting retreat--don't make fun."
"It takes all kinds."
End of conversation.
I can't win.
I'm very excited about the retreat this year, but also very nervous. There are a TON of us going, and for some reason I just can't shake the worry that it won't be PERFECT and that I won't get to see everyone I want to see and hang out with. I honestly feel like I'm heading to Junior High camp. Every single year I panicked because I was just positive that it wouldn't be as good as the year before. I'm trying to remember that God always has (and had, even when I was 13) a higher agenda than mine, and that every year was wonderful regardless of my petty worries.
Easier said than done.
I can't wait to get out of here, though! It's going to be a LOOOOOONG day!
It's finally here
the quilting retreat has come
got lots to get done!
When people at work say, "What are you doing for the weekend?" I'm torn. I know no matter what I say, I'm going to get a look.
The conversation usually goes like this:
"I'm going on a retreat."
"Really? Who are you going with?"
"Some ladies from church."
"OHHH."
End of conversation.
Or it can go like this:
"I'm going on a quilting retreat--don't make fun."
"It takes all kinds."
End of conversation.
I can't win.
I'm very excited about the retreat this year, but also very nervous. There are a TON of us going, and for some reason I just can't shake the worry that it won't be PERFECT and that I won't get to see everyone I want to see and hang out with. I honestly feel like I'm heading to Junior High camp. Every single year I panicked because I was just positive that it wouldn't be as good as the year before. I'm trying to remember that God always has (and had, even when I was 13) a higher agenda than mine, and that every year was wonderful regardless of my petty worries.
Easier said than done.
I can't wait to get out of here, though! It's going to be a LOOOOOONG day!
It's finally here
the quilting retreat has come
got lots to get done!
The conversation usually goes like this:
"I'm going on a retreat."
"Really? Who are you going with?"
"Some ladies from church."
"OHHH."
End of conversation.
Or it can go like this:
"I'm going on a quilting retreat--don't make fun."
"It takes all kinds."
End of conversation.
I can't win.
I'm very excited about the retreat this year, but also very nervous. There are a TON of us going, and for some reason I just can't shake the worry that it won't be PERFECT and that I won't get to see everyone I want to see and hang out with. I honestly feel like I'm heading to Junior High camp. Every single year I panicked because I was just positive that it wouldn't be as good as the year before. I'm trying to remember that God always has (and had, even when I was 13) a higher agenda than mine, and that every year was wonderful regardless of my petty worries.
Easier said than done.
I can't wait to get out of here, though! It's going to be a LOOOOOONG day!
It's finally here
the quilting retreat has come
got lots to get done!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Going Nowhere Fast...
Thanks to Miss Confident Independence, now I can tell you all about my Spinning class last night.
I had a great time. I got there early to choose a bike at the back near the door (I wasn't sure whether to expect another "beginner yoga" experience and wanted to be close to an exit, should I happen to need one), and ended up sitting right under the fan, so I managed to stay cool through the class, which was a huge plus.
I wasn't able to keep up with the class, but I really enjoyed myself, had a great work out, and am sore in all the right places today (i.e. all the places I'd like to slim down). I fully intend to go back after the quilting retreat. The only bummer about the class was that the seats on the bikes aren't very padded. I'm going to have to get some of those padded bike shorts if I'm going to keep this up.
The best part of spinning:
When we're doing a sprint (pedaling as fast as we can) and the instructor says, "You're flying! Your legs are flying! You! Are! Flying!
The worst part of spinning:
My ass hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.
I had a great time. I got there early to choose a bike at the back near the door (I wasn't sure whether to expect another "beginner yoga" experience and wanted to be close to an exit, should I happen to need one), and ended up sitting right under the fan, so I managed to stay cool through the class, which was a huge plus.
I wasn't able to keep up with the class, but I really enjoyed myself, had a great work out, and am sore in all the right places today (i.e. all the places I'd like to slim down). I fully intend to go back after the quilting retreat. The only bummer about the class was that the seats on the bikes aren't very padded. I'm going to have to get some of those padded bike shorts if I'm going to keep this up.
The best part of spinning:
When we're doing a sprint (pedaling as fast as we can) and the instructor says, "You're flying! Your legs are flying! You! Are! Flying!
The worst part of spinning:
My ass hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.
Dear Abby
I guess no one saw this:
Dear Abby,
I'm looking for practical advice as to how to handle a difficult co-worker. I'm basically a slave in my job and I don't get to ask the people I support to make my job any easier by, for instance, sending me an email instead of shouting orders to me on the fly as he's on the way to the bathroom. When this guy gives me instructions over his shoulder in this way, I am very likely to forget because I am not usually in a spot where I can write it down immediately like I usually do. When this happens, he talks to me like I'm the dumbest person he's ever met. How do I do a better job so that I don't have to deal with him talking down and being mean to me? How do I make him stop being so mean to me?
Sincerely yours,
Overwrought Employee
I'll tell about spinning when I get some help!
Dear Abby,
I'm looking for practical advice as to how to handle a difficult co-worker. I'm basically a slave in my job and I don't get to ask the people I support to make my job any easier by, for instance, sending me an email instead of shouting orders to me on the fly as he's on the way to the bathroom. When this guy gives me instructions over his shoulder in this way, I am very likely to forget because I am not usually in a spot where I can write it down immediately like I usually do. When this happens, he talks to me like I'm the dumbest person he's ever met. How do I do a better job so that I don't have to deal with him talking down and being mean to me? How do I make him stop being so mean to me?
Sincerely yours,
Overwrought Employee
I'll tell about spinning when I get some help!
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Two-fer.
Today's a two-fer.
Blog #1
I now know what it feels like to be the fattest person in the room.
For those of you rolling your eyes right now, know this, I'm not kidding.
I know that I am not fat. I know that. But, recently, I've been putting on a little weight, and in an effort to stop (the insanity) this, I joined the 3M fitness club yesterday. It's only $18 a month for unlimited classes and machines. A great deal! I fear, though, that I may have signed up to waste $18 a month.
I decided to jump into my new membership feet first and take BEGINNER Yoga. I love doing pilates, and Yoga isn't a far stretch (no pun intended). Except that it IS a far stretch. I almost cried. Right there in the middle of a class full of glistening, sweaty, hard , size 2 bodies. I was very clearly the only beginner, and very clearly not there "Because I love it." I was bumpier and jigglier than everyone in the class, including the three MEN in attendance. Plus, I fell down not once, not twice, but three times.
I. Fell. Down. THREE TIMES!
The instructor started out trying to help me with my posture and stances, but eventually gave up entirely. She approached me after class and said, "How did you like your first yoga??" I said, "It was painful." "Well don't give up," she said. "Keep coming! Promise me you'll come back?!"
Right.
Spinning is tonight at 5. I'll let you know how it goes.
Karli, encouragement needed.
Here's blog #2.
Dear Abby,
I'm looking for practical advice as to how to handle a difficult co-worker. I'm basically a slave in my job and I don't get to ask the people I support to make my job any easier by, for instance, sending me an email instead of shouting orders to me on the fly as he's on the way to the bathroom. When this guy gives me instructions over his shoulder in this way, I am very likely to forget because I am not usually in a spot where I can write it down immediately like I usually do. When this happens, he talks to me like I'm the dumbest person he's ever met. How do I do a better job so that I don't have to deal with him talking down and being mean to me? How do I make him stop being so mean to me?
Sincerely yours,
Overwrought Employee
Blog #1
I now know what it feels like to be the fattest person in the room.
For those of you rolling your eyes right now, know this, I'm not kidding.
I know that I am not fat. I know that. But, recently, I've been putting on a little weight, and in an effort to stop (the insanity) this, I joined the 3M fitness club yesterday. It's only $18 a month for unlimited classes and machines. A great deal! I fear, though, that I may have signed up to waste $18 a month.
I decided to jump into my new membership feet first and take BEGINNER Yoga. I love doing pilates, and Yoga isn't a far stretch (no pun intended). Except that it IS a far stretch. I almost cried. Right there in the middle of a class full of glistening, sweaty, hard , size 2 bodies. I was very clearly the only beginner, and very clearly not there "Because I love it." I was bumpier and jigglier than everyone in the class, including the three MEN in attendance. Plus, I fell down not once, not twice, but three times.
I. Fell. Down. THREE TIMES!
The instructor started out trying to help me with my posture and stances, but eventually gave up entirely. She approached me after class and said, "How did you like your first yoga??" I said, "It was painful." "Well don't give up," she said. "Keep coming! Promise me you'll come back?!"
Right.
Spinning is tonight at 5. I'll let you know how it goes.
Karli, encouragement needed.
Here's blog #2.
Dear Abby,
I'm looking for practical advice as to how to handle a difficult co-worker. I'm basically a slave in my job and I don't get to ask the people I support to make my job any easier by, for instance, sending me an email instead of shouting orders to me on the fly as he's on the way to the bathroom. When this guy gives me instructions over his shoulder in this way, I am very likely to forget because I am not usually in a spot where I can write it down immediately like I usually do. When this happens, he talks to me like I'm the dumbest person he's ever met. How do I do a better job so that I don't have to deal with him talking down and being mean to me? How do I make him stop being so mean to me?
Sincerely yours,
Overwrought Employee
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Happy Halloween...
Interesting fact--the tradition of carving pumpkins comes from Ireland (which is not all that surprising due to the Celt's love of anything dark and twisty--aka, Pagan). A very clever farmer named Jack tricked the devil into climbing a very tall tree. While the devil was in the tree, Jack carved a cross in the trunk of the tree so the devil could not come down. Years later, when Jack died (not sure what happened to the devil--is he still in the tree?), he couldn't get into heaven because of his sin, and couldn't get into hell because of his trickery. He was doomed to roam the earth alone, so, he carved out a turnip and put a light inside to use as a lantern. Because of this, he became known as "Jack of the Lantern," and we carry on his tradition today, but with pumpkins instead of turnips because--who wants to carve a turnip?
Naomi and I carved pumpkins last night, and I think I may be reaching an unattractive point in my love for my pets. I carved a Kitty and a Pedro. They turned out pretty funny. We had so many seeds from three pumpkins that we roasted three different flavors. We made Spiced Seeds, which are coated in butter, garlic salt, and worsteschire (?) sauce. We made Cayenne Pepper Seeds, which are toasted in salt and cayenne pepper (yummy!), and finished with a new and dangerous flavor--Cinnamon and Salt. I was nervous about this flavor but it's DELICIOUS. All you do is sprinkle salt and cinnamon on your seeds, roast at 350 for 5 minutes, stir, and roast for 20 more minutes. To. Die. For.
Cinnamon and salt,
a dangerous combo, friends.
Three words--To. Die. For!
Monday, October 30, 2006
Mr. Congeniality
OK, so we didn't win the Costume Contest.
We were beat out by some kids. I should have known! I should have gotten some kids to help me win. Oh well. They dressed their Boxer, Roxie, up as a deer, and wore deer hunter outfits. It was pretty cute.
We DID win 2nd place in the obstacle course, though, despite a questionable "Dragging by the Leash" flag raised by none other than my husband.
I was overwhelmed with thankfulness that our class is so small, because when you gather all the dogs from all 3 training classes, things get a little out of hand. Let's just say that I'm thrilled to death that the Minpin belonging to the 4 year-old, and the Golden Retriever and the sheepdog owned by the Disgustingtons are in other classes. (Seriously, what's hard about getting your child to take a bath?)
I think you'll enjoy these photos.
Erin and Pedro at home before the big contest. (Despite what it looks like in this photo, no, I am not pregnant. Thanks for asking, though.)
We were beat out by some kids. I should have known! I should have gotten some kids to help me win. Oh well. They dressed their Boxer, Roxie, up as a deer, and wore deer hunter outfits. It was pretty cute.
We DID win 2nd place in the obstacle course, though, despite a questionable "Dragging by the Leash" flag raised by none other than my husband.
I was overwhelmed with thankfulness that our class is so small, because when you gather all the dogs from all 3 training classes, things get a little out of hand. Let's just say that I'm thrilled to death that the Minpin belonging to the 4 year-old, and the Golden Retriever and the sheepdog owned by the Disgustingtons are in other classes. (Seriously, what's hard about getting your child to take a bath?)
I think you'll enjoy these photos.
Erin and Pedro at home before the big contest. (Despite what it looks like in this photo, no, I am not pregnant. Thanks for asking, though.)
Pedro showing off his WINNING costume.
Pedro bobbing for tennis balls.
Pedro near his prize for losing at Tennis Ball bobbing--most likely wanting to attack the incredibly irritating MinPin near us. (Thank goodness they're not in our class!)
Friday, October 27, 2006
Lost in the Cosmos
Did astrologers use Pluto to determine our horoscopes?
I bet they feel dumb if they did.
My haiku for today is DEEP.
There's no more Pluto;
Nothing new under the sun.
What to use instead?
I bet they feel dumb if they did.
My haiku for today is DEEP.
There's no more Pluto;
Nothing new under the sun.
What to use instead?
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Happy HOWL-oween!
So, Pedro's dog training class is having their annual
"HOWL-oween Costume Contest and Training Party."
Of course, I'm going to dress him as Napoleon Dynamite in a "Vote for Pedro" t-shirt. I honestly think we might win. Maybe I have a sick sense of humor (hence naming the dog Pedro in the first place), but I think it's the funniest thing I've thought of in a long time. Not that it's really a creative stretch, but come on.
I don't care who you are--that's funny. ( :
My excitement was tarnished briefly at Wal-Mart yesterday when I approached someone stocking the children's clothing and asked, "Can you show me where the tiniest white t-shirts are that you sell?"
She saw the iron-on letters in my hand and said, "Are you making a costume for your baby?!?"
And I had to say, "No...it's for my dog."
I felt a little foolish, especially when it became clear that she didn't want to help once she realized that this was a canine costume, but won't she feel like an arse when I bring home the grand prize!
I hope it's money.
p.s. Anyone who knows what a "Training Party" is, let me know. I thought the words were mutually exclusive.
"HOWL-oween Costume Contest and Training Party."
Of course, I'm going to dress him as Napoleon Dynamite in a "Vote for Pedro" t-shirt. I honestly think we might win. Maybe I have a sick sense of humor (hence naming the dog Pedro in the first place), but I think it's the funniest thing I've thought of in a long time. Not that it's really a creative stretch, but come on.
I don't care who you are--that's funny. ( :
My excitement was tarnished briefly at Wal-Mart yesterday when I approached someone stocking the children's clothing and asked, "Can you show me where the tiniest white t-shirts are that you sell?"
She saw the iron-on letters in my hand and said, "Are you making a costume for your baby?!?"
And I had to say, "No...it's for my dog."
I felt a little foolish, especially when it became clear that she didn't want to help once she realized that this was a canine costume, but won't she feel like an arse when I bring home the grand prize!
I hope it's money.
p.s. Anyone who knows what a "Training Party" is, let me know. I thought the words were mutually exclusive.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
God's Green Earth: Appliances Fight Back
I literally dragged Richard all over God's Green Earth last night looking for the PERFECT coffee maker. I could have picked one out for myself, but I was having trouble because I only wanted to spend about $20, but I'm tired of $20 coffee pots, you know? I was about to just pick the $50 pot when he said, "What about this one? It'd be perfect for us--it only makes 4 cups."
That's when it all came rushing back to me.
I already had one of those little 4-cuppers. It was at home, in the bottom cupboard, behind the crock pot. I had completely forgotten that Chris and Katie Sandquist gave it to us when we got married. I used it about 10 times and put it away when mom gave us her old one (which figures, since it was on the fritz--thanks, mom).
I told Richard all of this, and he very graciously said that it was ok that I dragged him from Roseville to Woodbury and back, and could we just go eat now.
I felt a little foolish.
The coffee was great this morning, though!
That's when it all came rushing back to me.
I already had one of those little 4-cuppers. It was at home, in the bottom cupboard, behind the crock pot. I had completely forgotten that Chris and Katie Sandquist gave it to us when we got married. I used it about 10 times and put it away when mom gave us her old one (which figures, since it was on the fritz--thanks, mom).
I told Richard all of this, and he very graciously said that it was ok that I dragged him from Roseville to Woodbury and back, and could we just go eat now.
I felt a little foolish.
The coffee was great this morning, though!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Brokedown Appliances
This morning, my coffee pot (appliance #1) died. It must be getting hot enough to brew, but then by the time it hits the cold pot, I have cold coffee. Apparently the burner has burned out--or perhaps has actually started COOLING the coffee. Yes.
I intend to put up plastic over our windows (due to the extreme lack of insulation in our home), but my blow dryer (app #2) doesn't get hot enough to make the plastic tight over the windows.
And finally, my curling iron / straightener is a cool gadget (app #3). I just got it the other day, and immediately dropped it on the floor. The lock that holds the straightener closed so that I can use it as a curling iron broke, and now only keeps the straightener closed part of the time so that it keeps POPPING open and smacking me in the head. So far, because of this, I have only burned my ear once. It's getting exchanged tonight.
I tried to order the perfect coffee maker from walmart.com, but they can't garauntee that it will be here before November 6. I guess I'll just have to go actually pick one out. Either that or drink cold coffee...
Ugh.
Despite all these disasters, I'm in a pretty good mood! I got to go to an impromptu birthday party last night and have some much needed laughs.
Give me my coffee,
Need a hotter blow dryer,
Just don't burn my head!
Weak. Can anybody give me a better haiku? I'm a little rusty.
I intend to put up plastic over our windows (due to the extreme lack of insulation in our home), but my blow dryer (app #2) doesn't get hot enough to make the plastic tight over the windows.
And finally, my curling iron / straightener is a cool gadget (app #3). I just got it the other day, and immediately dropped it on the floor. The lock that holds the straightener closed so that I can use it as a curling iron broke, and now only keeps the straightener closed part of the time so that it keeps POPPING open and smacking me in the head. So far, because of this, I have only burned my ear once. It's getting exchanged tonight.
I tried to order the perfect coffee maker from walmart.com, but they can't garauntee that it will be here before November 6. I guess I'll just have to go actually pick one out. Either that or drink cold coffee...
Ugh.
Despite all these disasters, I'm in a pretty good mood! I got to go to an impromptu birthday party last night and have some much needed laughs.
Give me my coffee,
Need a hotter blow dryer,
Just don't burn my head!
Weak. Can anybody give me a better haiku? I'm a little rusty.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Updates
Jeff will be ok--thank you very sincerely, everyone for your prayers and support. He is home now, and resting comfortably.
I don't have a whole lot to share other than that I never thought I'd say I was glad the weekend was over! Talk about an emotional roller coaster! My tummy is having trouble settling down...
Richard is finally home safe and sound, and maybe life will go back to normal for a little while! (Please note that by "normal" I mean INSANELY busy.)
Today is Naomi's birthday, so be sure to wish her a
Happy Golden Birthday, Naomi!!!
Happy 25th Birthday, Carla!!
(and Dave?)
I don't have a whole lot to share other than that I never thought I'd say I was glad the weekend was over! Talk about an emotional roller coaster! My tummy is having trouble settling down...
Richard is finally home safe and sound, and maybe life will go back to normal for a little while! (Please note that by "normal" I mean INSANELY busy.)
Today is Naomi's birthday, so be sure to wish her a
Happy Golden Birthday, Naomi!!!
Happy 25th Birthday, Carla!!
(and Dave?)
Friday, October 20, 2006
Prayer Request
Yesterday morning, Jeff, my brother-in-law was in a car accident. He fell asleep at the wheel and hit a tree. We don't know how fast he was going, and he doesn't remember anything.
He was rushed to the hospital where they treated and have been treating his hand (several stitches), broken lower jaw, and lacerated spleen.
He will be ok, but they will keep him for a while to make sure his spleen doesn't bleed out.
The entire ordeal was very emotional on a lot of levels--over the day I felt fear, anxiety, frustration, anger, joy, comfort, exhaustion, and true, honest gratitude especially to Bia for showing such selfless love to my family. She was there with Jeff before any of us got there and stayed much longer than the rest of us. The love of Christ comes in all forms, and it seems that Bia is tuned-in to whatever God wanted to use her for yesterday.
I left work early to go visit him, and then went with Brenda to sign his car over to the tow guy, which, believe it or not, was NOT an easy thing. Let me suffice it to say that the guy at Budget Towing off of W. 7th Street in St. Paul needs to work on his communication skills.
Brenda and I spent an hour or more cleaning out Jeff's destroyed Cavalier. The engine is the only thing that stopped the tree from coming all the way through the car. It seemed like the fact that we had a job to do in cleaning out the car made it easier to deal with the crisis. I was impressed with how calm and collected Brenda was through the whole ordeal. I think I wasn't the only one who was anointed with the Holy Sprit yesterday.
We took everything out of Jeff's car and put it into bags and carried it out of the tow yard.
Brenda and I were both dressed relatively nicely when we started the whole ordeal, and as you can imagine, it wasn't a very clean job cleaning out a wrecked car (a bottle of Tide had exploded in the trunk, among other things), so as we picked out clothing from Jeff's car, we chose the cleanest pieces and put them on. I actually changed pants in the middle of the tow yard. I figure, give the jerk in the office a thrill. Talk about a winner.
The point is, I prayed for anointing all day. I knew I couldn't be what Brenda needed (whatever she needed) without help from God, which He provided. And also, shave your legs because you never know when you may need to strip down to your underwear in an impound lot.
Please keep our family in your prayers. Richard is in Pennsylvania this weekend, and being so far away when Jeff is hurt is really hard on him. Pray that the Lord will bless our interactions and help us to make good decisions. And pray that I can continue to be whatever Richard's family needs me to be.
He was rushed to the hospital where they treated and have been treating his hand (several stitches), broken lower jaw, and lacerated spleen.
He will be ok, but they will keep him for a while to make sure his spleen doesn't bleed out.
The entire ordeal was very emotional on a lot of levels--over the day I felt fear, anxiety, frustration, anger, joy, comfort, exhaustion, and true, honest gratitude especially to Bia for showing such selfless love to my family. She was there with Jeff before any of us got there and stayed much longer than the rest of us. The love of Christ comes in all forms, and it seems that Bia is tuned-in to whatever God wanted to use her for yesterday.
I left work early to go visit him, and then went with Brenda to sign his car over to the tow guy, which, believe it or not, was NOT an easy thing. Let me suffice it to say that the guy at Budget Towing off of W. 7th Street in St. Paul needs to work on his communication skills.
Brenda and I spent an hour or more cleaning out Jeff's destroyed Cavalier. The engine is the only thing that stopped the tree from coming all the way through the car. It seemed like the fact that we had a job to do in cleaning out the car made it easier to deal with the crisis. I was impressed with how calm and collected Brenda was through the whole ordeal. I think I wasn't the only one who was anointed with the Holy Sprit yesterday.
We took everything out of Jeff's car and put it into bags and carried it out of the tow yard.
Brenda and I were both dressed relatively nicely when we started the whole ordeal, and as you can imagine, it wasn't a very clean job cleaning out a wrecked car (a bottle of Tide had exploded in the trunk, among other things), so as we picked out clothing from Jeff's car, we chose the cleanest pieces and put them on. I actually changed pants in the middle of the tow yard. I figure, give the jerk in the office a thrill. Talk about a winner.
The point is, I prayed for anointing all day. I knew I couldn't be what Brenda needed (whatever she needed) without help from God, which He provided. And also, shave your legs because you never know when you may need to strip down to your underwear in an impound lot.
Please keep our family in your prayers. Richard is in Pennsylvania this weekend, and being so far away when Jeff is hurt is really hard on him. Pray that the Lord will bless our interactions and help us to make good decisions. And pray that I can continue to be whatever Richard's family needs me to be.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Smackem Crackem
Today over lunch I had to run to Cub to pick up a few things.
I turned down the aisle to park and had to stop and wait for an elderly woman in a turquoise Plymouth Relient (sp? don't care--you'll all make fun anyway--please see Pet peeve #7.). I watched, horrified, as she hit two, count'em, TWO cars while trying to back into a parking spot.
It went like this:
Car One
Stop at an angle in the aisle.
Back up, back up, back up, smack.
Forward.
Back up, back up, smack, crack, scrape.
Forward.
Turn wheel hard (take a long time to do so).
Car Two
Back up, back up, back up, SMACK.
Forward, scraaaaaaaape.
Back up, smack, crack.
Forward, scrape.
Back up into parking spot.
Smackem crackem, Ma'am.
Of course I think you should keep
your driver's license.
I turned down the aisle to park and had to stop and wait for an elderly woman in a turquoise Plymouth Relient (sp? don't care--you'll all make fun anyway--please see Pet peeve #7.). I watched, horrified, as she hit two, count'em, TWO cars while trying to back into a parking spot.
It went like this:
Car One
Stop at an angle in the aisle.
Back up, back up, back up, smack.
Forward.
Back up, back up, smack, crack, scrape.
Forward.
Turn wheel hard (take a long time to do so).
Car Two
Back up, back up, back up, SMACK.
Forward, scraaaaaaaape.
Back up, smack, crack.
Forward, scrape.
Back up into parking spot.
Smackem crackem, Ma'am.
Of course I think you should keep
your driver's license.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Strange Things Happen in Bars
It's true.
The other night we went to a birthday party / Hand Fest '06 for the boyfriend of a good friend of mine from college. The party was the celebration of Matt's 25th birthday, and the 3rd anniversary of the day he sliced his hand open. It was a typical birthday party--games, ice cream cake (with a frosting-drawn cut-off hand), and a few beers.
After a couple of hours, we decided to head to a favorite bar in St. Paul called the Muddy Pig. We took over two tables at the back of the bar and laughed and talked.
We'd been sitting there for about a half hour when my foot touched something soft on the floor. Thinking I had dropped my scarf, I felt around and picked up what was down there.
It was not a scarf.
It was a red, leopard-print thong.
Of course, horror overtook our table, and then hilarity. Being that we had had a few drinks, the germ factor was not at the front of all of our minds, but I'd like to go on record to say that I only held it long enough to determine that it was from Fredericks of Hollywood, and was a Large.
Joe, the guy sitting next to me, grabbed it out of my hand and flung it across the room. It hit some girl in the left breast and landed in her lap.
This, of course, brought about more hilarity, because, of course, she flipped, but had no idea where it had come from (can I get any more commas in that sentence?,,,). I'm thinking she had had more than a few because it wouldn't have taken much to figure out who had flung it, considering the fact that we were practically rolling on the floor with laughter.
Somehow, a few minutes later, the undies ended up on the floor again in front of Joe, who picked them up and put them around his neck.
It was at this point that we discovered that it was a red, leopard-print MEN'S thong.
You can't make this shit up.
The other night we went to a birthday party / Hand Fest '06 for the boyfriend of a good friend of mine from college. The party was the celebration of Matt's 25th birthday, and the 3rd anniversary of the day he sliced his hand open. It was a typical birthday party--games, ice cream cake (with a frosting-drawn cut-off hand), and a few beers.
After a couple of hours, we decided to head to a favorite bar in St. Paul called the Muddy Pig. We took over two tables at the back of the bar and laughed and talked.
We'd been sitting there for about a half hour when my foot touched something soft on the floor. Thinking I had dropped my scarf, I felt around and picked up what was down there.
It was not a scarf.
It was a red, leopard-print thong.
Of course, horror overtook our table, and then hilarity. Being that we had had a few drinks, the germ factor was not at the front of all of our minds, but I'd like to go on record to say that I only held it long enough to determine that it was from Fredericks of Hollywood, and was a Large.
Joe, the guy sitting next to me, grabbed it out of my hand and flung it across the room. It hit some girl in the left breast and landed in her lap.
This, of course, brought about more hilarity, because, of course, she flipped, but had no idea where it had come from (can I get any more commas in that sentence?,,,). I'm thinking she had had more than a few because it wouldn't have taken much to figure out who had flung it, considering the fact that we were practically rolling on the floor with laughter.
Somehow, a few minutes later, the undies ended up on the floor again in front of Joe, who picked them up and put them around his neck.
It was at this point that we discovered that it was a red, leopard-print MEN'S thong.
You can't make this shit up.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Blog Harassment Dipped in Chocolate--and at only $5 a bag!
I'm getting Blog Harassed.
I'm SORRY it's been over a week. I've been busy.
So here's what I've got for you today. I keep a secret stash of Dove DARK chocolate in my desk drawer. (If I leave it out, the vulchers I call my co-workers eat it ALL.)
My Dove Promise for today was this, "Collect 10 different kinds of tree leaves." Can I get a resounding "GAY."? Or if you're more inclined, "LAME."
I HATE Dove Promises. I have a friend whose mom actually wrote to Dove Chocolate to tell them how stupid their "promises" are. For those of you who don't know, a Dove Promise is a little...fortune...on the inside of the foil your ridiculously expensive chocolate came wrapped in.
I'm thinking of boycotting Dove because of these stupid phrases. They don't make me feel good, they make me irritable. YOU go collect 10 different kinds of tree leaves, you weird Dove-hippies. I'd be thrilled to have enough time to file my nails and remove the makeup smudges from under my eyes BEFORE two meetings in the morning, let alone go leaf collecting.
Yessiree. That's it. I'm through with Dove.
Just as soon as I'm done with this bag.
I'm SORRY it's been over a week. I've been busy.
So here's what I've got for you today. I keep a secret stash of Dove DARK chocolate in my desk drawer. (If I leave it out, the vulchers I call my co-workers eat it ALL.)
My Dove Promise for today was this, "Collect 10 different kinds of tree leaves." Can I get a resounding "GAY."? Or if you're more inclined, "LAME."
I HATE Dove Promises. I have a friend whose mom actually wrote to Dove Chocolate to tell them how stupid their "promises" are. For those of you who don't know, a Dove Promise is a little...fortune...on the inside of the foil your ridiculously expensive chocolate came wrapped in.
I'm thinking of boycotting Dove because of these stupid phrases. They don't make me feel good, they make me irritable. YOU go collect 10 different kinds of tree leaves, you weird Dove-hippies. I'd be thrilled to have enough time to file my nails and remove the makeup smudges from under my eyes BEFORE two meetings in the morning, let alone go leaf collecting.
Yessiree. That's it. I'm through with Dove.
Just as soon as I'm done with this bag.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Rough Seas
I'm having trouble keeping the lid screwed on today. Every time I start to feel like I have a handle on what I'm doing at work, or get the house under control, or get the spending down, I start to drown again.
God has a sense of humor, though. I've been thinking this thought, specifically that "I start to drown," for about a week now. This morning, one of my co-workers likened my current confusion to a title wave. She said, "If you can just get past the crest of this title wave of knowledge, you'll be out to sea and sailing peacefully in no time." Of course, she had no idea that I felt like I was drowning.
She was trying to encourage me, which was nice, I guess I'd just like to know how long this title wave will last...
God has a sense of humor, though. I've been thinking this thought, specifically that "I start to drown," for about a week now. This morning, one of my co-workers likened my current confusion to a title wave. She said, "If you can just get past the crest of this title wave of knowledge, you'll be out to sea and sailing peacefully in no time." Of course, she had no idea that I felt like I was drowning.
She was trying to encourage me, which was nice, I guess I'd just like to know how long this title wave will last...
Friday, October 06, 2006
Good One.
STORIES THAT WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY IF THE PROTAGONISTS HAD HAD CELL PHONES.
BY PETER NORVIG
BY PETER NORVIG
ROMEO:News from Verona! How now, Balthasar?Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?How doth my lady? Is my father well?How fares my Juliet? That I ask again,For nothing can be ill if she be well.
BALTHASAR:Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vaultAnd presently took post to tell it you. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
ROMEO: Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars!But soft! What SMS through yonder RAZR breaks?
SMS ON ROMEO'S PHONE:i'm ok -- poison fake rofl cul8r :-*
BALTHASAR:Then she is well, and nothing can be ill.Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. I saw her laid low in her kindred's vaultAnd presently took post to tell it you. O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,Since you did leave it for my office, sir.
ROMEO: Is it e'en so? Then I defy you, stars!But soft! What SMS through yonder RAZR breaks?
SMS ON ROMEO'S PHONE:i'm ok -- poison fake rofl cul8r :-*
Thanks, again, Tim.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Little Old Blue-Haired Ladies
It's official. I'm an old lady. Instead of washing my hair this morning, I just curled and teased it, and I think it looks pretty good. Strange thing, though--I think it's starting to turn blue.
Weird.
Speaking of little old blue-haired ladies, I forgot to tell you about Richard and my stumble at the Dome on Tuesday. After the game we had to make our way down from the ceiling (my ears popped on the way down, I swear), and we were about 5 rows down when I thought, "Wow...this is really slippery. I'd better hold on tight, I don't want to fall."
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when Richard fell down behind me taking my feet out from under me. We must have looked like dominos. The coke Richard was holding went EVERYWHERE and finally landed in one of the seats, which is where we left it. Rich caught himself with his hands, but I was not so lucky. I caught myself with the backs of my forearms which immediately began to swell. I sat there for a second, covered in coke, and assessed my injuries, which were not bad, luckily. Richard started apologizing immediately--I think to everyone around us, and tried to help me up. The whole ordeal couldn't have lasted longer than 30 seconds, which was long enough for a little blue-haired lady to pass us and say, "Are you ok?"
The irony was not lost on me.
Little old lady,
You look cute in your jersey.
Thank you for asking.
Weird.
Speaking of little old blue-haired ladies, I forgot to tell you about Richard and my stumble at the Dome on Tuesday. After the game we had to make our way down from the ceiling (my ears popped on the way down, I swear), and we were about 5 rows down when I thought, "Wow...this is really slippery. I'd better hold on tight, I don't want to fall."
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when Richard fell down behind me taking my feet out from under me. We must have looked like dominos. The coke Richard was holding went EVERYWHERE and finally landed in one of the seats, which is where we left it. Rich caught himself with his hands, but I was not so lucky. I caught myself with the backs of my forearms which immediately began to swell. I sat there for a second, covered in coke, and assessed my injuries, which were not bad, luckily. Richard started apologizing immediately--I think to everyone around us, and tried to help me up. The whole ordeal couldn't have lasted longer than 30 seconds, which was long enough for a little blue-haired lady to pass us and say, "Are you ok?"
The irony was not lost on me.
Little old lady,
You look cute in your jersey.
Thank you for asking.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Playoffs, Baby!
I have 9.4 hours of vacation accrued here. I used 4 hours of it yesterday and intend to use 4 of it today to go to the playoffs games! Yesterday was a disappointing loss to the Oakland A's, and just not a very exciting game all around. It's not very thrilling when your team only has 5 hits in the ENTIRE game.
I just don't think there is anything more fun than going to the Metrodome to watch baseball. I know most people HATE the Metrodome, but I love it. It holds so many great memories for me, that every time I go there I feel excited and anxious all over again--like it's my first time at a game.
The seats I bought from the ticket line are...terrible. They are obstructed view, so I knew what I was getting myself into, but I didn't know they would be BLOCKED view. It didn't matter much, though, because part of the fun of sitting in the nosebleed section is that you're surrounded by 25-year-olds who don't care where you sit, so we were able to shift around and see the entire disappointing game.
Today, though, our seats are AWESOME! We will be along the first base line, right by Justin Morneau, only 30 rows back, so be sure to watch for us in the crowd! I'll be the crazy screaming fan wearing a Santana t-shirt and my pink Twins hat. I should be easy to spot.
I just don't think there is anything more fun than going to the Metrodome to watch baseball. I know most people HATE the Metrodome, but I love it. It holds so many great memories for me, that every time I go there I feel excited and anxious all over again--like it's my first time at a game.
The seats I bought from the ticket line are...terrible. They are obstructed view, so I knew what I was getting myself into, but I didn't know they would be BLOCKED view. It didn't matter much, though, because part of the fun of sitting in the nosebleed section is that you're surrounded by 25-year-olds who don't care where you sit, so we were able to shift around and see the entire disappointing game.
Today, though, our seats are AWESOME! We will be along the first base line, right by Justin Morneau, only 30 rows back, so be sure to watch for us in the crowd! I'll be the crazy screaming fan wearing a Santana t-shirt and my pink Twins hat. I should be easy to spot.
Monday, October 02, 2006
2006 Central Division Champs!
Talk about the FUNNEST game of all time. Rich and I were lucky enough to go with another couple and I swear, I have never had so much fun at a ball game. The best part was when they started playing the Detroit game on the Jumbo-Tron and the Twins came back out to the dug out to watch with us. As I'm sure you can imagine, the Metrodome went CRAZY!
What a fun game.
Congratulations to the Twins on their win, and to Joe Mauer (my boyfriend) on beating out Derek Jeter (ugh) for the American League Batting Title. He sends you all his love.
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