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.

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.

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!

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.

KandiLand

Welcome to Blogworld, Kandi!
It's about freaking time. Seriously.

A haiku just for you--

Kandi is fin'ly
a part of the blogging world!
It's about damn time.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.