9am

By 9am this morning I had dropped the F-bomb three times at work.

Hint: if you send me T.E.N. emails between 6pm and 8pm, I'm not going to get them until the next morning.

Hint: if you send me E.I.G.H.T. "follow up" emails between 8am and 9am, I'm going to stall and not help you.

Hint: if you call me to "follow up," at 9:04am, I'm going to "miss" your call.


TGIF.

We'll see who has the last laugh!

Gram spent the evening in the hospital on Sunday night with chest pains and insanely high blood pressure.
At 102 years old, this sort of thing is bound to happen occasionally.
Once they got her BP and pain under control the doctor asked her if she wanted to spend the night for observation or just go home. She, not surprisingly, just wanted to go home.
Grandma Shirley said to her, "Are you sure, Ma? I mean, if we get home and you drop dead, I'm going to be really mad at you!"
Gram chuckled and said, "I would feel bad about that, but please just don't hit me."
The doctor and nurse looked up accusingly at Shirley, who sat there dumbfounded, knowing full well that Gram was joking too, but the damage was done and she could do nothing but shake her head in shame.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with so many generations of humor, love and blog fodder from these sweet, cranky old ladies.

Stew

Lauren wants to make lamb stew for Easter dinner.
I told her only if we call it "The Lion and the Lamb Stew."

I kill myself.

Blue Light Special

Sometimes you just don't quite know what to say.

8:30pm
Richard: Iiiiii'm hunnnnngry.
Erin: What do you want to eat?
Rich: I want to go out to eat.
Erin: Rich, I'm already in my jammies!
Richard makes popcorn.

9:30pm
Richard: Iiiiii'm hunnnnnnnnnnnngry! Why won't you go out with me?
Erin: Rich! It's 9:30! I'm not going anywhere, you goofball.
Richard heats up a bowl of soup.

10:30pm
Richard: Iiiiiiii'm ssooooooooo HUUUUNNNNNNNNGGGGRRRRYYYY!
Erin: OK! Let's go. I'll put clothes on.
Richard: No. It's ok. We don't have to go anywhere. [SIGH]
Erin: Ok, why don't you have some peanut butter toast? That will help fill you up.
Richard: We have that?!
Erin: Yes...
Richard hops up and goes into the kitchen
Shortly thereafter, the lights in the house flicker, the microwave is heard, followed immediately by a flash of blue light and the distinct sound of electronics dying.
Richard: Oops.
Erin: WOW! What did you do?
Richard: I put the peanut butter in the microwave.

Neti Pot

Self: Time to try the Neti Pot.

Myself: Yeah! It's not even 7am yet. Let's go for it!

Self: Oprah recommends it and I'm about ready to try anything.

Myself: Well if Oprah recommends it...

Self: Hey, the products she recommends are typically pretty good.

Myself: Well if Oprah started a school in Africa for underpriveledged girls, would you start one, too?

Self: Don't be stupid.

Myself: Fine. Go nuts. There's no way this is going to end well.

Self: OK, empty the packet of salt, run the hot water, stir and...bottoms up!

Myself: Bottoms up!

Self: Nostril one--not so bad! On to the next.

Myself: Tip your head back...thaaaat's the way.

Self: What's this?!? NO! No! NOOO this is all wrong! There's not supposed to be salt water coming out my mouth![Gag! Gag, hack, cough. Tears.]

Myself: Oh yeah...you're supposed to tip your head FORWARD, stupid.

Self: We are in a fight.

Myself: You did this to yourself.

"Give yourself lots of grace."

Dear Jen and Kara Jo,
Thank you for the much-needed encouragement yesterday at church.
It really meant a lot to me.
Love,
Erin

Richard's Funny #24 for 2008

On the way to my doctor's appointment on Wednesday, I called Richard.
We were planning to meet at the Fleet Farm on highway 36 to park his car and then ride together.
"I'm out of gas," I said. "Are you almost there?"
He said, "Yeah, I'm pulling in now."
"Cool--will you watch for me and then pump my gas for me so I don't have to do it?"
"Right there in front of all those people?"

Mystery Solved: Space Eels

Well, friends and brethren. Have I got a story for you.
A little background:
I've been waking up with a bloody nose quite frequently lately. I just chalked it up to the fact that the climate is so dry right now, and my pregnancy (did you know that your blood volume increases by 50% while you're pregnant?!). SO...the bloody noses are annoying and frequent, but I can deal.
WELL.
Last night the BANGING and POPPING were back, coming from the roof.
Thankfully, Richard was home, so I woke him up and made him crawl into the attic. (It's amazing what a pregnant girl can get her husband to do!)
You will not believe what he found up there.
My Troublesome Co-Worker!!
Turns out, Trouble has been hiding out in our attic and sending down NOT Space Eels, but robotic nose worms to burrow into my schnoz at night and record data about my pregnancy, which is sent directly to him via email. Apparently he's gotten pretty desperate since I told him to get lost (I never reported to you, gentle readers, but I told him to get lost about 2 weeks ago). The banging and popping was coming from the worms themselves. Apparently, unless they are well contained (which. they. weren't.), they make all kinds of crazy noises and jump around like jumping beans...until they are sent on mission. They can be as quiet as...worms...when they are sent for a particular nose.
Richard popped open a can of spinach, and you can guess what happened next. (HUCK-ga-ga-ga-ga.)
As Rich was kicking some Co-Worker butt, I was able to get some things off my chest. With each blow, I said:
"Figure out how to change the paper in the copier yourself!"
"I never, EVER want to hear the word 'episiotomy' from you again!"
"Stop keeping track of how many caffeinated beverages I drink, you weirdo!"
"No, I don't want your kid's exer-saucer! Or potty-training manual! Or your wife's breast pump!"
"I never, EVER want to hear the words, 'breast pump' from you again!"
"For the last time, MY NUMBER ONE PET PEEVE IS WHEN PEOPLE COMMENT ON WHAT I AM EATING! Shut! Your! Mouth!"
"And get out of my attic, you freak."

Man, what a night.





You can't make this shit up.
Oh, wait.

Watching American Idol

I don't care who ya are. That's funny.















Our photographer, to answer your questions.

Big Bang Theory

I am home alone.
Richard left on Sunday morning to go to Milwaukee for some business meetings and will return tonight.
My first evening home alone was uneventful. Lauren spent the night with me and I slept soundly.
Last night was a little more interesting.
At 3:30, I heard a very loud BANG followed by Pedro growling. I sat up in bed (positive that by exposing my back to the wall that I was sacrificing any safety I might have had by staying in bed), groped for my glasses and turned on the light. Pedro was still growling and the cat ran for the back door.
WHAT was going on?
After several hours (ok, seconds), I texted Richard (as if he could help me), and stumbled to the bathroom, turning on every light that I passed.
I continued to hear very loud bangs and I was convinced that the boogey man was trying to get in through the roof to steal my baby and leave me for dead (nice, huh? Thanks, local news.).
I left most of the lights burning and went back to bed. Still, bangs were coming from overhead, but Pedro had stopped growling so I began to relax enough to THINK.
That's when I came up with this theory:
The temperature literally went from 35 degrees to 20 degrees below zero over a period of 36 hours. There was a lot of moisture in the air when it warmed up, and I can only imagine in the wooden eaves of our roof. As the temperature dropped quickly, that moisture had to go somewhere, resulting in the loud popping and banging that woke the three of us up.
I'm a freaking genius.

This entire scenario took place over the course of about 4 minutes--one tenth of the time it took me to type it all out.

Never let them see you cry.

You know those days where something really stupid happens, and you lose your temper because of how lame it is, and you stick up for yourself because you're tired of being spoken to like you're an idiot, so you ask for more respect and then you GET it, and you're so worked up and stunned that they conceded the point that you can barely keep it together until they're gone (after. giving. you. a. hug.) and then you burst into tears at your desk just in time for your boss to come out and ask if you're ok and you suddenly look like a ridiculous hormonal pregnant woman, and you know exactly how it looks because you're 9 months pregnant, which makes you cry more, because the truth is that hormones have nothing to do with it, and sticking up for yourself has been a long time coming and you're only sorry that you waited til you have 3 weeks left to do it?

I hate those days.

Sing a Song

This morning I had to run back into the house after I had already kissed Richard goodbye (I'm trying to cut down on time away from my cell phone, what with Cara just ABOUT to give birth, and the fact that I, myself, am a ticking time bomb...).
When I got inside, I thought I could hear something strange.
At first I thought Rich was on the phone, but it seemed way too cheerful for a 7:30am phone call.
"Rich?" I shouted.
Nothing, just the continued sing-song banter coming from somewhere in the house.
"Richard?!"
Silence.
"Yeah...?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
"Were you singing?"
"No..."
"What were you doing?"
"Singing. To Pedro."

Made my whole morning. Too stinking cute.

p.s. I'm banking on the fact that Rich won't read my blog today because he's too busy. I think he'd kill me if he knew I was posting this.

Lovesick

I need Love Potion Number 9.

Really.

I'm so in love that I spent the day in bed with...Pedro, sniffling, shivering and snoring.

Oh, and blowing my nose.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Things that make you go, "Ewww."

Today, Angie posted about getting her oil changed.

Well, her story made me think of another story.

My sister's best friend from Alabama was riding in the car with her little brother when one of them (I forget which) said, "I smell hamburgers. Do you smell hamburgers?"

The other one said, "Yeah, I do!"

That was the end of the conversation.

They later found a very cooked mouse near the engine block.

Ewww.

Pyramid of Excellence

This morning I woke up at 6:44. Not cool, since I needed to leave the house at 7 in order to make it to the breakfast hosted by our Vice President honoring the fact that I was nominated for the Pyramid of Excellence Award, along with four others from our division.
Richard ironed my shirt while I fixed my hair and face and flew out the door.
I made it to work in 20 minutes, and ran-walked as fast as I could to the conference room.
One of my co-workers commented that he hadn't seen me move that fast in a long time. True.
I made it to the conference room in good time and even managed to fix a plate before the VP started speaking.
WELL.
Turns out this wasn't a breakfast for the nominees. It was a breakfast for the WINNERS of the Pyramid of Excellence. Good thing we ironed my shirt.
I wish I had had ten extra seconds to brush my hair and lint roll, but we all have our moments, I guess.
It's a strange feeling winning an award for something you didn't expect...or particularly feel deserving of. I could go on about all the ways I don't think I deserve an award (Come on! You all know about my work attitude!), but I won't. It's just another one of those things that makes me wonder how other people see me.

Next Episode

Dear Past Erin,
Snoop Dogg featuring Dr. Dre is never appropriate for the workplace.
Turn your iPod down when you walk away from your desk.
Just trust me.
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

p.s. What you don't know CAN hurt you. Some of your co-workers are huge fans. Especially the troublesome ones. Just an FYI.
p.p.s. Hold up.

Nights Like These

You know those nights where you think you're awake because you're still thinking about LOST, when all of a sudden your spouse asks if you need help turning over because you're snoring, and rather than argue, you let him help you turn over because you're so confused, but then you realize you couldn't possibly have been snoring because you were wide awake and thinking about LOST, but then you look at the clock and it's 3:32am, so you must have been asleep, so you mention to your spouse that you think that the person on the boat is someone Ben let go off the island and has been trying to find his way back and your spouse responds that he thinks it's someone from Ben's team which hadn't occurred to you in all your hours of thinking about it, and now you have to pee (bad), so you struggle to sit up with a firm push from your spouse on your backside and immediately knock your glasses on the floor, to which your spouse says, "I'll get 'em. Can you make it without your glasses?" and you say, "I guess. I just don't want to step on them," so you stumble to the bathroom, come back to bed and then lay awake thinking about LOST for another hour before your spouse asks you if you need help turning over again?

I have never had a night like that. Thank goodness. That would really suck.

She's one of THEM now.

This morning, Richard told me with sadness in his voice that Lauren would not be watching LOST with us tonight.
I said, "I know, she told me. I wonder why not? Did she tell you?"
"No. I think she has better friends than us."
"Or maybe she has to work?"
"No. I just know she's watching it with The Others."

Dear Dad,

I hope you don't mind, but I used you today.
Well, sort of.
I needed to return your call, but chose to do it just as Troublesome Co-Worker was approaching my desk.
As it went to your voicemail and he was still standing here looking at me, I covered the receiver and said sweetly, "Do you need something? It's going to be quite a while."
He said, "Um, muhm mumblity fumblity foom moom," and walked away.
I left you a message and made three other phone calls lest Co-Worker should think I was finished working.
I hope you don't mind,
All my love,
Erin
p.s. I really think I might be on to something. You may have more phone calls to look forward to over the next 26 days. Do you mind if I call you seven times per day?

E.M.A.I.L.: an anagram for T.O.R.T.U.R.E.

Dear Other Co-Worker,
Check. Your. Freaking. Email.
I don't feel like I should have to come looking for you (PREGNANT!) to tell you that I sent you an email.
Out of breath,
Erin

Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.

Dear Troublesome Co-Worker,
Does my blank stare really not do it for you?
Honestly, you're not picking up on any bad vibes? None?
Please stop sitting on my desk.
Please stop touching my stuff. Yes, I have a cool iPod. I also have a cool phone.
No, my purses are not new and were not Christmas presents. Why are you paying attention?
Richard, my husband, likes my hair better down, too. I'll remember that. Thanks.
Actually, I'm not all that studious (though well-read, if I do say so myself). When you're eight and a half months pregnant, you tend to carry some extra fluid, and strangely enough, my contacts don't fit right anymore because of it.
Nope, they're not new glasses.
Um, I've only gained 23 pounds.
What do you weigh?
How's. The. Wife?
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. I'm fine.
p.p.s. Please pass this on to Dom.


Gentle Reader, lest you be confused, Dom and the Troublesome Co-Worker are NOT the same person. That's right. These guys are my cross to bear. It's been this way my entire life. I've got socially-inept-nice-guy disease. I just can't seem to shake it.


Anyone who catches the reference to Jane Eyre wins a prize.

Karma's a...

On Saturday, Mom and I braved Walmart.

We shouldn't have done it, in retrospect, but we were feeling adventurous.

While trying to park, Mom got herself into a little bit of a bind. She couldn't stop because of the way she was situated in the lane, but couldn't keep going because a pedestrian was trying to cross.

Long story short (but definitely not the end of the world), the pedestrian had to step back on to the curb to make room for us. She, apparently, was offended by this and flipped Mom off.

Imagine it! A pedestrian flipping off a driver--practically in slow motion, or, under 10mph anyway. I would NEVER be that brave.

Well, we spent an hour or so in the store doing our shopping and while Mom waited in the checkout line, I ran back up to customer service to pick something up. As I made my way back to where Mom was waiting, I saw the girl who flipped us off.

A 1-gallon jug of tomato juice had just exploded all over her groceries.

Sucks, don't it?

Finally some pics!

Here are some pics (thanks, Naomi!) of the newest "family" member.
Dang, just looking at the pictures again...I just love her so much!

I can't believe she's finally here!

Welcome to the world,

Natalie Ann Sorenson!

Born February 1, 2008 at 2:11am

Weighing 6 pounds, 14 ounces and measuring 19.5 inches long.

She has more BLACK hair than her daddy!

We are thrilled at your arrival, little girl. I will pray for you and love you and teach you as long as I can. I can't wait to see you grow into a Godly woman, wife and mother.

I love you already!

*I forgot my camera at home when we went to visit, so I will have to post pictures later!

Funniest.

Thing. EVER.
Seriously. I'm 8.5 months pregnant. I had to run to the bathroom.
Thanks, Brenda, for the link.