These are a few of my favorite things. When it comes to shopping, I love the deal hunting and the perfect item quest. Compliment my shirt and I will be all to happy to tell you that I got it for $3. Admire my shoes, and I'll tell you all about my small sample size feet and my friend in the shoe biz. And in case you were wondering, I am wearing a $5 shirt and free shoes today. And do you know what I love about my free shoes? They are always different then what everyone else is wearing. Usually because they are marked for a different country because they are considered to "fast" for the US. But I LOVE them. But enough about my fabulous shoes, back to Christmas Shopping and Surprises. Ooh, speaking of surprises, my sorta boss just brought me a scratchers ticket and a dove bar. Only one of which was a winner. I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the scratchers ticket.
Anyway, I went shopping really early on Black Friday this year. I mean, the sun isn't up yet and I am parked outside my cousins house to pick her up. My sister got wind of a midnight madness sale at Gymboree and ended up not going to sleep at all, so she was quite entertaining. We all knew the moment she stopped talking she would be out, so she didn't stop talking. One of our stops included Kohl's, where I was looking slippers for Mason, but decided I didn't want to pay $18 for it, even though it was originally priced at $32. So I thought I would go back on Monday when my Kohl's Cash was good and buy them. Lucky me, when I went back they were on sale for $15, and with my $10 Kohl's Cash, I spent only $5. What's even better, I went back on Tuesday to get something else, and that same item was now $20! That's right, I'm a shopping genius.
If there is one thing I love more then finding awesome deals on something you are going to get anyway, it's surprises. I love giving them and getting them. I love to torture people with obscure clues that will drive them crazy more then it will help them figure out what it is. I even love being tortured with those obscure clues. And I am the queen of secret keeping. Except for Mason's big gift. I just blurted it out one day. I asked him what else he wanted since I won his gift I could buy him a little something else. Then I said, "I do need to get something else to go with your cam." I caught myself there, but a little to late. I so was focused on not saying "memory card," that I completely blanked on not saying camera. And of course I couldn't think of anything else that started with cam. You know, like camping equipment. Duh. But I do still have a few things up my sleeve, so all is not lost.
Decorating. This year the outside of my house is finally getting some attention. Thanks to Rachel there is now a 9 ft inflatable Santa in my side yard and thanks to Tami, two deer in my front yard. But I have to say, the most decorated area is my cubicle. Did I mention that it is a prize winning cube? Yeah, it really is.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Why I Love Decorating For Christmas
Aside from the fact that I LOVE this season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and 5-6 days of not being at work and still getting paid. Not to mention all those wonderfully cheesy Christmas movies. What could be more wonderful then that? I love transforming the house to be all festive. Plus, once a year, I get Mason to help me rearrange furniture, no questions asked. And if that weren't enough, I also get to vacuum under all that furniture. Would you like to know what we found this year? Under the coffee table was a stick (thanks Koby, I really wanted that there). Under the sofa was a flash light, a flash drive and some paper. Behind the sofa, resting on the window ledge was a sprinkling of finger nails.
Excuse me while I gag a little. When we first discovered them, there was some confusion. "Is that really what I think it is? Did someone really bite or tear off their nails and drop them over the back of the couch?" The longer they sat there, the more grossed out I got. I quickly grabbed the vacuum and sucked those suckers up. Then I made Mason sterilize the sill. Then came the debate, clearly they weren't mine, they were too big for my little fingers. But Mason was trying with all his might to figure out if he did it. If he would do such a thing. He debated with himself for quite some time before I stepped in and came to his defense. If he were to rip off his nails, he would probably leave them on the coffee table instead of behind the couch. Which he did once or twice a long time ago until I informed how gross that really was. There are only two other men that sit on our couches often enough and for long enough periods of time to leave that many nails behind in less then a year. And to those two men, I'm watching you (you too Mason, just in case). When I catch you, I'm going to hand you all my cleaning supplies and put you to work on the ENTIRE house. And then I will throw a party, cause my whole house will be clean.
Excuse me while I gag a little. When we first discovered them, there was some confusion. "Is that really what I think it is? Did someone really bite or tear off their nails and drop them over the back of the couch?" The longer they sat there, the more grossed out I got. I quickly grabbed the vacuum and sucked those suckers up. Then I made Mason sterilize the sill. Then came the debate, clearly they weren't mine, they were too big for my little fingers. But Mason was trying with all his might to figure out if he did it. If he would do such a thing. He debated with himself for quite some time before I stepped in and came to his defense. If he were to rip off his nails, he would probably leave them on the coffee table instead of behind the couch. Which he did once or twice a long time ago until I informed how gross that really was. There are only two other men that sit on our couches often enough and for long enough periods of time to leave that many nails behind in less then a year. And to those two men, I'm watching you (you too Mason, just in case). When I catch you, I'm going to hand you all my cleaning supplies and put you to work on the ENTIRE house. And then I will throw a party, cause my whole house will be clean.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
My 30 Seconds With Fame
I am normally not the "travel to meet people" type person. If a band I love is in town, I might go. If an author I admire is in the area for a book signing I probably won't go. Unless of course I personally know the person, like Steve. When I found out The Pioneer Woman was coming to St. Louis to sign her new cook book, I got really excited. But then I found out she was going to do a Q&A session and book signing in Kansas City, and I just HAD to be there. So I called up Tami and begged to crash at her place. I didn't really have to do much begging, even before I volunteered Mason to baby-sit Tucker. I figured with a Playstation, Xbox and Wii, there would be plenty to keep them entertained for a few hours. We didn't think we had to tell Mason about bed time, surely we would be back before then...
We underestimated just how popular Ree Drummond really is. The Q&A started at 7pm, Tami and I left immediately after she signed my book at 11:30. And there were still people waiting when we left. Poor Ree, I hope Marlboro Man gave her a nice hand massage afterwards, although he did his fare share of signing too. How someone so shy is okay having his wife publish a best seller with a picture of his butt in the book, I'll never know. Of course after he took the boys back to the hotel for the evening (at least that's where I'm assuming they went) I had the great idea to get a picture of just our butts for this lovely little blog. It's probably best that I didn't think of it sooner.
The boys were so entertaining. Someone gave them boxing gloves, and soon a showdown started on the stage. And you know the stage amplified the sounds of their little feet running and tripping. The microphone was also a great source of entertainment for them. After a bashful "Hello" from each of them, they snuck over when no one was looking to make as many sounds as they could before the organizer, who we named Book Lady, of the event stopped them. And since Tami and I were growing sick of each others company (not really, but it makes for a better story) this was incredibly entertaining for us.
As for The Pioneer Woman herself, so incredibly nice. Well I knew she would be nice and friendly and cute. And she was. Even though she refused to sing for us when she was asked, Marlboro Man made her. He's my hero. I genuinely enjoyed my 30 second chat with her, and I loved the fact that she didn't really want to stop talking. If the book lady hadn't rushed me along I'm pretty sure we could have had a nice long, up into the wee hours of the morning talk. I would love to tell you that we had this great connection and it was only me that she wanted to keep talking to, but that would be a total lie. It was clear that she wanted to talk to and know every single person there. Such a friendly soul.
So was it worth the 8 hours of driving? Well, the weekend was worth the drive, heck the trip to the Half Price Book Store (where we bought a boat load of books which I can't wait to dive into) was worth the drive. But was the The Pioneer Woman herself worth the trip? I'm not 100% sure. If she wasn't in St. Louis the very next day, then it would have been absolutely worth it. If KC offers a Q&A in addition to the book signing when she releases her love story and St. Louis doesn't, there is a good chance I will make the trip again. Next time though, I will plan a little more in advance so I can make plans to see ALL of my KC people.
Pictures to come...
We underestimated just how popular Ree Drummond really is. The Q&A started at 7pm, Tami and I left immediately after she signed my book at 11:30. And there were still people waiting when we left. Poor Ree, I hope Marlboro Man gave her a nice hand massage afterwards, although he did his fare share of signing too. How someone so shy is okay having his wife publish a best seller with a picture of his butt in the book, I'll never know. Of course after he took the boys back to the hotel for the evening (at least that's where I'm assuming they went) I had the great idea to get a picture of just our butts for this lovely little blog. It's probably best that I didn't think of it sooner.
The boys were so entertaining. Someone gave them boxing gloves, and soon a showdown started on the stage. And you know the stage amplified the sounds of their little feet running and tripping. The microphone was also a great source of entertainment for them. After a bashful "Hello" from each of them, they snuck over when no one was looking to make as many sounds as they could before the organizer, who we named Book Lady, of the event stopped them. And since Tami and I were growing sick of each others company (not really, but it makes for a better story) this was incredibly entertaining for us.
As for The Pioneer Woman herself, so incredibly nice. Well I knew she would be nice and friendly and cute. And she was. Even though she refused to sing for us when she was asked, Marlboro Man made her. He's my hero. I genuinely enjoyed my 30 second chat with her, and I loved the fact that she didn't really want to stop talking. If the book lady hadn't rushed me along I'm pretty sure we could have had a nice long, up into the wee hours of the morning talk. I would love to tell you that we had this great connection and it was only me that she wanted to keep talking to, but that would be a total lie. It was clear that she wanted to talk to and know every single person there. Such a friendly soul.
So was it worth the 8 hours of driving? Well, the weekend was worth the drive, heck the trip to the Half Price Book Store (where we bought a boat load of books which I can't wait to dive into) was worth the drive. But was the The Pioneer Woman herself worth the trip? I'm not 100% sure. If she wasn't in St. Louis the very next day, then it would have been absolutely worth it. If KC offers a Q&A in addition to the book signing when she releases her love story and St. Louis doesn't, there is a good chance I will make the trip again. Next time though, I will plan a little more in advance so I can make plans to see ALL of my KC people.
Pictures to come...
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wine-o-ween, My Food Twin and The Puddles
What a weekend. I know, I know. The weekend was a long time ago. But it's the beginning of the month, what do you expect? But it gets even better, the weekend story is actually going to include Monday. It was a long weekend.
Friday - Pre-Halloween Game Night
I can't speak for everyone else, but I had a blast. Everyone else said they had a great time, but would they honestly tell me if they didn't? And it sounds like such a cheesy thing to do, but they are always so much fun. And so much cheaper and better smelling then going to a bar. The Game of Things is still a favorite and I highly recommend it. Stephanie brought over Partini which was also tons of fun (and apparently Target no longer carries it). Since I have two friends that are allergic to dogs and three dogs, every inch of the house must be cleaned. The carpet gets steam cleaned (this is important to remember for later), the kitchen and the stairs get mopped, the dust gets swiped away (all of which needed to be done anyway), and the dogs get locked up or tossed outside.
Saturday - Wine-o-ween
Really, what needs to be said about this? Take Halloween mix it up with Halloween Themed Wine from World Market, dress up in PJ's as your costume and let the fun begin.
The Wine:
The Reds
The Whites 
The Damage
It's amazing what 4 people can do.
Sunday - My Food Twin
Most people know that I have some interesting food quirks. It's not like I keep it a secret or anything, I even posted it on my dating profile. Pretty sure that's what made Mason fall for me. Anyway, I can't eat finger foods in odd numbers. Let's say we order onion rings as an appetizer, and everyone gets 3, I will have to give my 3rd one away because I can only eat 2 (or 4 if someone else doesn't want theirs). Mini peanut butter cups are eaten in 2's, so are pretzel sticks and toasted ravioli. Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks are eaten in sets of 6, because there are 3 different colors. This makes things like Twix and Kit-Kats the most perfect candy. I was recently told that I eat Kit-Kat's funny. I don't understand this. All I do is nibble the extra chocolate off the sides and then separate the wafers to eat individually. Apparently my Unofficial Future Sister In Law Emily does all of the things I just mentioned (and more), and we decided that if more then one person does them, then it's not weird.
Manic Monday - The Puddles
Remember that freshly steamed carpet in my house? Well, it's even fresher now. As I'm leaving my desk to head home, Mason calls and asks for a favor. He needs me to stop by Wal-mart and get some medicine for him, and some more shampoo for the steam cleaner. Charlie had gotten sick, all over the house. The bed skirt, my slippers, the rug by the back door, the wall and baseboard in the hall and the carpet in our bedroom, the hallway and the living room. Mason, who was also sick wanted to get the worst of it cleaned up before I got home, so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I knew I married him for a reason. He also knows that cleaning up dog diarrhea makes me almost vomit, or barf as my little niece would say (guess what word she learned to say yesterday). I'm 98% sure I know what it is that made him sick. The mud puddles in the back yard. For some reason they just look so tasty. So this weekend we are planning on raking leaves and filling in puddle catching holes. Sounds like fun doesn't it?
Friday - Pre-Halloween Game Night
I can't speak for everyone else, but I had a blast. Everyone else said they had a great time, but would they honestly tell me if they didn't? And it sounds like such a cheesy thing to do, but they are always so much fun. And so much cheaper and better smelling then going to a bar. The Game of Things is still a favorite and I highly recommend it. Stephanie brought over Partini which was also tons of fun (and apparently Target no longer carries it). Since I have two friends that are allergic to dogs and three dogs, every inch of the house must be cleaned. The carpet gets steam cleaned (this is important to remember for later), the kitchen and the stairs get mopped, the dust gets swiped away (all of which needed to be done anyway), and the dogs get locked up or tossed outside.
Saturday - Wine-o-ween
Really, what needs to be said about this? Take Halloween mix it up with Halloween Themed Wine from World Market, dress up in PJ's as your costume and let the fun begin.
The Wine:
The Reds
The Whites
The Damage
It's amazing what 4 people can do.
Sunday - My Food Twin
Most people know that I have some interesting food quirks. It's not like I keep it a secret or anything, I even posted it on my dating profile. Pretty sure that's what made Mason fall for me. Anyway, I can't eat finger foods in odd numbers. Let's say we order onion rings as an appetizer, and everyone gets 3, I will have to give my 3rd one away because I can only eat 2 (or 4 if someone else doesn't want theirs). Mini peanut butter cups are eaten in 2's, so are pretzel sticks and toasted ravioli. Trader Joe's Veggie Sticks are eaten in sets of 6, because there are 3 different colors. This makes things like Twix and Kit-Kats the most perfect candy. I was recently told that I eat Kit-Kat's funny. I don't understand this. All I do is nibble the extra chocolate off the sides and then separate the wafers to eat individually. Apparently my Unofficial Future Sister In Law Emily does all of the things I just mentioned (and more), and we decided that if more then one person does them, then it's not weird.
Manic Monday - The Puddles
Remember that freshly steamed carpet in my house? Well, it's even fresher now. As I'm leaving my desk to head home, Mason calls and asks for a favor. He needs me to stop by Wal-mart and get some medicine for him, and some more shampoo for the steam cleaner. Charlie had gotten sick, all over the house. The bed skirt, my slippers, the rug by the back door, the wall and baseboard in the hall and the carpet in our bedroom, the hallway and the living room. Mason, who was also sick wanted to get the worst of it cleaned up before I got home, so I wouldn't have to deal with it. I knew I married him for a reason. He also knows that cleaning up dog diarrhea makes me almost vomit, or barf as my little niece would say (guess what word she learned to say yesterday). I'm 98% sure I know what it is that made him sick. The mud puddles in the back yard. For some reason they just look so tasty. So this weekend we are planning on raking leaves and filling in puddle catching holes. Sounds like fun doesn't it?
Monday, October 26, 2009
Koby's Big-Boy Bed
Okay, so the big-boy bed, is really just moving his bed to our room. Mason and I agreed that it was time to let Koby sleep in the room with us instead of all alone in the kitchen. Our main concern was that he would wake up in the middle of the night and either find a nice black shoe to chew on or terrorize Sheeba.
Sleep being so precious to us, me especially, we waited until the weekend to allow him in. Saturday night, we brought him in, and he was pretty sure this was play time, even though Charlie was already curled up on my side of the bed and Sheeba was trying to hobble towards her bed. Koby's only thoughts were; "Sheeba! Let's play! Here, I'll chew on your back and you pretend you don't like it." and "Oh, Mommy wants to play too! You can't catch me!" Finally Mason caught him and we plopped him in the bed with us until we were ready to turn out the lights where he drifted off snuggled under the covers. Moments after the darkness hit and Koby did 4 circles in his own bed before plopping down, he jumped up and started barking as if there were an intruder. Wow, this is going to suck. After we finally calmed him down, he fell asleep and didn't make a peep.
Overall, he did good. So we let him sleep with us again last night. Once again, we had to let him fall asleep under the covers, snuggled in the crook of my arm. I placed him in his bed while our bed side lights were still on, and learned what exactly made him concerned about our safety the night before. On the other side of the room, there was a strange dog looking back at him, which was terrifying. He ran towards the dog barking his little head off while Sheeba and Charlie just looked at him like he was crazy. He stopped short of the wall in case that other dog was going to jump out at him. And then, the scariest thing ever happened, he made eye contact with me in the mirror. Not only is there a strange dog in this rectangle, but there is someone who looks just like his human! Freaky. He jumped back about a foot and barked harder. Finally I snatched him up and took him and his racing heart to the mirror, so he could hopefully see there was nothing to be worried about. The other dog and human weren't able to get through. I feel I should mention that this is not the first time Koby has looked in the mirror, I have showed it to him many times before. But this is the first time he has been scared of it, in fact this is the first time that he gave it more then a sniff.
Koby Juan Kanobi, aside from the scary creatures in the mirror, you did okay on your first two nights in your big-boy bed.
Sleep being so precious to us, me especially, we waited until the weekend to allow him in. Saturday night, we brought him in, and he was pretty sure this was play time, even though Charlie was already curled up on my side of the bed and Sheeba was trying to hobble towards her bed. Koby's only thoughts were; "Sheeba! Let's play! Here, I'll chew on your back and you pretend you don't like it." and "Oh, Mommy wants to play too! You can't catch me!" Finally Mason caught him and we plopped him in the bed with us until we were ready to turn out the lights where he drifted off snuggled under the covers. Moments after the darkness hit and Koby did 4 circles in his own bed before plopping down, he jumped up and started barking as if there were an intruder. Wow, this is going to suck. After we finally calmed him down, he fell asleep and didn't make a peep.
Overall, he did good. So we let him sleep with us again last night. Once again, we had to let him fall asleep under the covers, snuggled in the crook of my arm. I placed him in his bed while our bed side lights were still on, and learned what exactly made him concerned about our safety the night before. On the other side of the room, there was a strange dog looking back at him, which was terrifying. He ran towards the dog barking his little head off while Sheeba and Charlie just looked at him like he was crazy. He stopped short of the wall in case that other dog was going to jump out at him. And then, the scariest thing ever happened, he made eye contact with me in the mirror. Not only is there a strange dog in this rectangle, but there is someone who looks just like his human! Freaky. He jumped back about a foot and barked harder. Finally I snatched him up and took him and his racing heart to the mirror, so he could hopefully see there was nothing to be worried about. The other dog and human weren't able to get through. I feel I should mention that this is not the first time Koby has looked in the mirror, I have showed it to him many times before. But this is the first time he has been scared of it, in fact this is the first time that he gave it more then a sniff.
Koby Juan Kanobi, aside from the scary creatures in the mirror, you did okay on your first two nights in your big-boy bed.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Chocolate Truffles
So guess what, turns out I do know how to make truffles. I just temporarily forgot that I made them with my sister, and they were delicious (thanks for reminding me). It's a good thing that they are a little bit of a pain to make, otherwise I would probably eat them every day. So scrumptious. Which reminds me of a couple projects I have bouncing around in my head. Now where is that darned idea book?
Monday, October 19, 2009
Top 10
Monday greeted me with an irate customer accusing my team of thinking we don't need to try for them any more, and that we need to be reminded that we can be replaced. (Um, excuse me jerk-wad, we did everything correctly, and by the time you started your complaining, the part was already sitting in your warehouse). So, in an effort to rebound from that Monday morning bliss, I'm going to attempt to do a Top Ten of happy things. (I'm super busy today, so cross your fingers that I get to all ten).
1. For the 3rd time in 5 years, I won a raffle at work. The first time I won a way to big t-shirt, the second time I won an electric cooler (I know, I'm awesome). Today, I found out that I won Mason's Christmas present! I can't really tell you what it is on the off chance that he would ACTUALLY read the blog. You know as soon as I spill a secret, that's when he would read it. It's not any of the items I was crossing my fingers for (32" LCD being my first choice), but it's still a really nice prize. Here are some clues: 1) It's right up my ally. 2) It's something I have a lot of and tend to collect the really old versions. 3) If I didn't already have one that I absolutely LOVE, I would keep it for myself. 4) Maybe I should just go ahead and keep it for myself.
2. I had a great photo shoot yesterday. Although it was a little chilly, the lighting was absolutely perfect! 135 shots later, I'm tied to the computer during my free time, editing those 135 pictures. If I had that nice new camera, it would have only been that much better. Dear New Shiny Pentax, I will save you from that dark box just sitting there on that shelf all alone.
3. I found a new lotion I absolutely love, Yes To Carrots. It's strong enough to stay on all day without being greasy. And it isn't loaded down with smelly perfumes either. They have a cucumber and tomato line as well, I'm looking forward to trying those. I think the chap stick is a little expensive, but it did win the Fitness Beauty Award in 2008, so maybe it's worth it.
4. Even though I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to walking outside on the warm concrete barefoot, the cooler air does make for great sleeping. Horrible waking up and getting out of the shower, but great sleeping.
5. The colder weather also means I don't have to worry about waking up a little early so I can shave my legs. There is a 90% chance I won't be wearing shorts or a skirt today.
6. The cooler weather also means it's about time to pull out all my cute winter hats. I bet I need some new ones for this year...
7. Playing with Charlie in the snow is one of my favorite things. So I'm looking forward to some snowy white blankets this winter. If we could convince Koby that there is nothing entertaining beyond our yard, then he could join in the side yard snow ball festivities. Sheeba is scared of the side yard, so she prefers to stay nice and cozy inside.
8. I'm also very excited to hear about and see my new nieces and nephew's first real experiences with snow. Not to mention, I would really like to go sledding. If it's not going to be a pretty fall, can we just skip ahead to the snow part?
9. Whoever invented the chocolate truffle should be crowned king/queen of the universe. I love that person, and those truffles. Mmmm... I need to learn how to make those.
10. Why is #10 always the hardest to come up with? I finally gave in and got the Smooth Away, and I have to admit, I kinda like it. I can still shave my legs faster with a razor, but if Mason drags me to the air field on a hot enough day to wear shorts again, I won't have to give myself wicked bad razor burn in my rush. I can just grab my smooth away, hop in the car and arrive smooth and razor burn free.
Whew. Didn't think I was going to make it all the way to 10.
1. For the 3rd time in 5 years, I won a raffle at work. The first time I won a way to big t-shirt, the second time I won an electric cooler (I know, I'm awesome). Today, I found out that I won Mason's Christmas present! I can't really tell you what it is on the off chance that he would ACTUALLY read the blog. You know as soon as I spill a secret, that's when he would read it. It's not any of the items I was crossing my fingers for (32" LCD being my first choice), but it's still a really nice prize. Here are some clues: 1) It's right up my ally. 2) It's something I have a lot of and tend to collect the really old versions. 3) If I didn't already have one that I absolutely LOVE, I would keep it for myself. 4) Maybe I should just go ahead and keep it for myself.
2. I had a great photo shoot yesterday. Although it was a little chilly, the lighting was absolutely perfect! 135 shots later, I'm tied to the computer during my free time, editing those 135 pictures. If I had that nice new camera, it would have only been that much better. Dear New Shiny Pentax, I will save you from that dark box just sitting there on that shelf all alone.
3. I found a new lotion I absolutely love, Yes To Carrots. It's strong enough to stay on all day without being greasy. And it isn't loaded down with smelly perfumes either. They have a cucumber and tomato line as well, I'm looking forward to trying those. I think the chap stick is a little expensive, but it did win the Fitness Beauty Award in 2008, so maybe it's worth it.
4. Even though I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to walking outside on the warm concrete barefoot, the cooler air does make for great sleeping. Horrible waking up and getting out of the shower, but great sleeping.
5. The colder weather also means I don't have to worry about waking up a little early so I can shave my legs. There is a 90% chance I won't be wearing shorts or a skirt today.
6. The cooler weather also means it's about time to pull out all my cute winter hats. I bet I need some new ones for this year...
7. Playing with Charlie in the snow is one of my favorite things. So I'm looking forward to some snowy white blankets this winter. If we could convince Koby that there is nothing entertaining beyond our yard, then he could join in the side yard snow ball festivities. Sheeba is scared of the side yard, so she prefers to stay nice and cozy inside.
8. I'm also very excited to hear about and see my new nieces and nephew's first real experiences with snow. Not to mention, I would really like to go sledding. If it's not going to be a pretty fall, can we just skip ahead to the snow part?
9. Whoever invented the chocolate truffle should be crowned king/queen of the universe. I love that person, and those truffles. Mmmm... I need to learn how to make those.
10. Why is #10 always the hardest to come up with? I finally gave in and got the Smooth Away, and I have to admit, I kinda like it. I can still shave my legs faster with a razor, but if Mason drags me to the air field on a hot enough day to wear shorts again, I won't have to give myself wicked bad razor burn in my rush. I can just grab my smooth away, hop in the car and arrive smooth and razor burn free.
Whew. Didn't think I was going to make it all the way to 10.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Bad List
Zach Earll and Sprint, you are on my bad list. Sprint, you are technically only on my grey list, but you got there because you do not allow me to block individual numbers. I can block them from texting me, but they are still free to call me multiple times in the middle of the night. And we all know how well I handle being woken up in the middle of the night for no reason at all, especially when I have to wake up early the next morning.
Zach. You are so far down on the bad list that you are practically in a black hole. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, so STOP CALLING ME! I have told you several times now that you are calling/texting the wrong number. Call me multiple times in the middle of the night again, I'll see if it qualifies as harassment and slap a restraining order on your (ahem) bottom.
The Communication of Zach and Kayla:
Oct. 8
6:06pm z(text): Hey call me now
Oct. 10
10:52am z(text): Baby call me now
10:54am k(text): Who is this?
11:34am z(text): This zach earll
11:36am k(text): I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
Oct. 11
12:19am z(text): Baby i love u
11:39pm z calls, I don't answer.
11:39pm z calls, I don't answer.
11:40pm z calls, I answer, hoping to end this:
k: Hello?
z: (unintelligible ebonics or drunkenness)
k: You have the wrong number.
11:41pm z calls, Mason answers (using a voice so deep I laugh):
m: Hello? Who is this? (not sure who hung up first)
Oct:12
1:34am z calls, I don't answer.
1:34am z calls, I don't answer.
1:35am z calls, I don't answer.
1:39am z calls, I answer so I can go back to sleep:
k: (very groggy) Hello?
z: (I have no idea what he said or if it was even intelligible)
k: It is 1:30 in the morning, it is NOT okay to call me.
z: (mumbles something like "oh")
k: You have the wrong number anyway.
1:40 am z(text): I love u baby
1:40 am z(text): I love u baby
1:41am Mason tries to figure out how to block his number.
1:46am I turn off my phone. Hope there are no emergencies tonight.
6:26am k(text): I dont know who you are, or who you are looking for. But I am not her. Please delete this number from your phone. (I really hope I woke him up).
Being the Super Sleuth that I am, I looked him up on Facebook (go ahead, look him up, there is only 1 in St. Louis), and I just have one question. Why is it that NONE of my phone stalkers are ever good looking?
I have blocked his number from texting me, but stupid Sprint does not allow me to block him from calling me. So I had to save him as a contact and change his ring tone to none. At least he won't be able to wake me up anymore. But the question is, other phone companies offer number blocking, why doesn't Sprint? At this point, it is becoming a safety issue. I'm very close to hunting him down and destroying all his communication devices with a baseball bat. Did I mention that I like my sleep very much?
Zach. You are so far down on the bad list that you are practically in a black hole. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, so STOP CALLING ME! I have told you several times now that you are calling/texting the wrong number. Call me multiple times in the middle of the night again, I'll see if it qualifies as harassment and slap a restraining order on your (ahem) bottom.
The Communication of Zach and Kayla:
Oct. 8
6:06pm z(text): Hey call me now
Oct. 10
10:52am z(text): Baby call me now
10:54am k(text): Who is this?
11:34am z(text): This zach earll
11:36am k(text): I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number.
Oct. 11
12:19am z(text): Baby i love u
11:39pm z calls, I don't answer.
11:39pm z calls, I don't answer.
11:40pm z calls, I answer, hoping to end this:
k: Hello?
z: (unintelligible ebonics or drunkenness)
k: You have the wrong number.
11:41pm z calls, Mason answers (using a voice so deep I laugh):
m: Hello? Who is this? (not sure who hung up first)
Oct:12
1:34am z calls, I don't answer.
1:34am z calls, I don't answer.
1:35am z calls, I don't answer.
1:39am z calls, I answer so I can go back to sleep:
k: (very groggy) Hello?
z: (I have no idea what he said or if it was even intelligible)
k: It is 1:30 in the morning, it is NOT okay to call me.
z: (mumbles something like "oh")
k: You have the wrong number anyway.
1:40 am z(text): I love u baby
1:40 am z(text): I love u baby
1:41am Mason tries to figure out how to block his number.
1:46am I turn off my phone. Hope there are no emergencies tonight.
6:26am k(text): I dont know who you are, or who you are looking for. But I am not her. Please delete this number from your phone. (I really hope I woke him up).
Being the Super Sleuth that I am, I looked him up on Facebook (go ahead, look him up, there is only 1 in St. Louis), and I just have one question. Why is it that NONE of my phone stalkers are ever good looking?
I have blocked his number from texting me, but stupid Sprint does not allow me to block him from calling me. So I had to save him as a contact and change his ring tone to none. At least he won't be able to wake me up anymore. But the question is, other phone companies offer number blocking, why doesn't Sprint? At this point, it is becoming a safety issue. I'm very close to hunting him down and destroying all his communication devices with a baseball bat. Did I mention that I like my sleep very much?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Reason I Don't Set People Up
Dear _______ (you know who you are),
This is not easy for me to say, and perhaps it won't be easy for you to hear. But in spite of the good times/conversations we've shared, I've come to the conclusion that it's best not to continue dating. You have showed your true colors this weekend, and they turned out to be quite an ugly shade of purple. If you would have taken the time to get to know me, you would know how very much I detest purple.
I am not impressed that you used to date models, it just proves to me that you are not looking for a girl with intelligence like me. I am also not impressed that you sold all of your worldly possessions to live in another country but gave up after two weeks. Which let's be honest, that was stupid. It doesn't show me how worldly you are, it just shows me that you don't put in any effort and that you give up easily after making rash decisions. I have friends that have vacationed in Europe longer then that. Your constant need for attention is exhausting. Believe it or not, but a relationship is not all about you.
Of course all of those character flaws could have been overlooked for the time being, if you had been able to keep your hands to yourself. Apparently the button of my jeans was far more interesting then my verbal skills. For the record, I'm very nice and quite funny, not that you care. Furthermore, just because I have boobs does not mean you need to try and feel them, especially after I said no.
Perhaps contrary to your past experiences, no does actually mean no. The boundaries I set were not a dotted line, but a thick, solid, written in permanent marker line. Not only did your advances make me uncomfortable in my own home, but you managed to disrespect me and my values. Shame on you for claiming to have Christian values while not respecting women for who they are instead of what they are.
You may not have noticed anything above my chest, but I am actually quite cute. I have a lot of great things to say and I'm very entertaining. It's unfortunate that you were unwilling to get to know me instead of just my body. Because of your actions, you will never be able to witness any of the exciting mishaps that regularly occur in my life. I know for a fact that you, of all people, would have appreciated those the most.
Please know I am not upset that our time together was so brief, as I prefer to keep the company of people with more than two brain cells and at least an ounce of respect for others. Good luck finding your brainless bimbo, I'm sure there are plenty that would be happy to be nothing but a trophy.
Respectfully,
Probably every smart girl you have ever gone out with.
*I wrote this letter to make ammends for setting my friend up with this horrible "d-bag."
This is not easy for me to say, and perhaps it won't be easy for you to hear. But in spite of the good times/conversations we've shared, I've come to the conclusion that it's best not to continue dating. You have showed your true colors this weekend, and they turned out to be quite an ugly shade of purple. If you would have taken the time to get to know me, you would know how very much I detest purple.
I am not impressed that you used to date models, it just proves to me that you are not looking for a girl with intelligence like me. I am also not impressed that you sold all of your worldly possessions to live in another country but gave up after two weeks. Which let's be honest, that was stupid. It doesn't show me how worldly you are, it just shows me that you don't put in any effort and that you give up easily after making rash decisions. I have friends that have vacationed in Europe longer then that. Your constant need for attention is exhausting. Believe it or not, but a relationship is not all about you.
Of course all of those character flaws could have been overlooked for the time being, if you had been able to keep your hands to yourself. Apparently the button of my jeans was far more interesting then my verbal skills. For the record, I'm very nice and quite funny, not that you care. Furthermore, just because I have boobs does not mean you need to try and feel them, especially after I said no.
Perhaps contrary to your past experiences, no does actually mean no. The boundaries I set were not a dotted line, but a thick, solid, written in permanent marker line. Not only did your advances make me uncomfortable in my own home, but you managed to disrespect me and my values. Shame on you for claiming to have Christian values while not respecting women for who they are instead of what they are.
You may not have noticed anything above my chest, but I am actually quite cute. I have a lot of great things to say and I'm very entertaining. It's unfortunate that you were unwilling to get to know me instead of just my body. Because of your actions, you will never be able to witness any of the exciting mishaps that regularly occur in my life. I know for a fact that you, of all people, would have appreciated those the most.
Please know I am not upset that our time together was so brief, as I prefer to keep the company of people with more than two brain cells and at least an ounce of respect for others. Good luck finding your brainless bimbo, I'm sure there are plenty that would be happy to be nothing but a trophy.
Respectfully,
Probably every smart girl you have ever gone out with.
*I wrote this letter to make ammends for setting my friend up with this horrible "d-bag."
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Short and Sweet, or perhaps Long...
I have a few moments before I dive back into work, so I thought I would drop by and say hi. But since I don't really have anything great to talk about (unless you want to hear all about my puppy drama, and there is a ton of that right now), let's talk about my hair!
My hair is officially past the point where I will have to decide if I am going to keep it short for awhile or grow it out again. The part of me that works out and wants it off my neck when I sweat, wants to grow it out. The part of me that wants something a little different wants to keep it short for awhile. So I really don't know what to do. It's current length is driving me absolutely insane. To short to do what I want it to do, and to long to be cute. So lets take a poll!
My hair is officially past the point where I will have to decide if I am going to keep it short for awhile or grow it out again. The part of me that works out and wants it off my neck when I sweat, wants to grow it out. The part of me that wants something a little different wants to keep it short for awhile. So I really don't know what to do. It's current length is driving me absolutely insane. To short to do what I want it to do, and to long to be cute. So lets take a poll!
Cut my hair or grow it out?
Then just for fun, keep it natural or go red again?
I NEED your opinions PLEASE!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Has It Been 3 Weeks Yet?
Since my current state of busy does not seem to be easing up, I don't seem to have much time for blogging. Which I am not happy about. I feel I should have proper blogging time at least once a week. But tell that to my customers who are bombarding me with quote requests and making me actually work hard (how dare they?). So instead of completely abandoning my loyal readers (if I have any left after my extended time away), I have decided to randomly post some old blogs that I posted on my MySpace way back during my fist year with this company. Enjoy!
The Real Breakup Letter (November 14, 2006)
Dear Kenny,
I regret to inform you that you will no longer be able to see and/or talk to me. The decision is based on your actions at our first and final meeting. I will agree with you on the point that I am quite the catch. However, I do not date pretentious, arrogant donkeys who think they are God's gift to women. I refuse to place myself in the position of being your slave or lesser being. I will not follow you around like a lost puppy. Nor will I allow your hands to "rest" on any part of my body. I do not care how much money you make, or what kind of car you drive. I do, however, care how you treat others, myself included.
Additionally, I would like to finish my wine before YOU decide that WE are done eating. While I do not care if you open the door for me, I do not appreciate you allowing it to close in my face. Just as I do not appreciate you turning around and walking away, expecting me to follow. As stated before, I am not your lost puppy.
In the future, if a woman removes your hand from her thigh, it is not an invitation to place your hand higher on her thigh. She is politely asking you to keep your greedy little hands to yourself. Furthermore, when sending emails to people, it is important to capitalize and punctuate your words. For instance, ill is not the same as I'll. I'll means I will where as ill is how I feel when I think about you and your grubby little hands. Please do not attempt to contact me any further, as your replies will fall upon deaf ears.
Thanks,
Kayla
The Real Breakup Letter (November 14, 2006)
Dear Kenny,
I regret to inform you that you will no longer be able to see and/or talk to me. The decision is based on your actions at our first and final meeting. I will agree with you on the point that I am quite the catch. However, I do not date pretentious, arrogant donkeys who think they are God's gift to women. I refuse to place myself in the position of being your slave or lesser being. I will not follow you around like a lost puppy. Nor will I allow your hands to "rest" on any part of my body. I do not care how much money you make, or what kind of car you drive. I do, however, care how you treat others, myself included.
Additionally, I would like to finish my wine before YOU decide that WE are done eating. While I do not care if you open the door for me, I do not appreciate you allowing it to close in my face. Just as I do not appreciate you turning around and walking away, expecting me to follow. As stated before, I am not your lost puppy.
In the future, if a woman removes your hand from her thigh, it is not an invitation to place your hand higher on her thigh. She is politely asking you to keep your greedy little hands to yourself. Furthermore, when sending emails to people, it is important to capitalize and punctuate your words. For instance, ill is not the same as I'll. I'll means I will where as ill is how I feel when I think about you and your grubby little hands. Please do not attempt to contact me any further, as your replies will fall upon deaf ears.
Thanks,
Kayla
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Less to Love
I have mixed feelings about the show More to Love. In the previews they talked about how the average woman is a size 14, and this was a show about real people. Not one single contestant is a 14, they are closer to a 26. In fact, the main guy, Luke is more then 300 pounds, but that's not the point, because most of them are quite beautiful. But all we hear from these girls is, no one will love me because I'm fat. That is so irritating. One girl went so far as to say, "I've never gone out on a date before. I've been asked, but I was afraid they were asking me as a joke." Every other word out of their mouth is poor me. SO ANNOYING. Every time I watch it, I find myself yelling at them. "You're weight has NOTHING to do with you not getting dates. How you feel about yourself has everything to do with it!" It's just so frustrating. This is supposed to be a dating show, not a poor fat me show.
On the other hand it is so completely hilarious because Luke could tell them that their eyes were like a deep bowl of blue pudding, and the girls would melt at his feet. I'm pretty sure the last time some guy said something lame like that to me, I either laughed at him if I liked him or gave him one of those "did you seriously just say that" looks, usually right before telling him he is lame, if I didn't like him. Oh, I bet those Kansas City boys are glad I'm gone. I was SO MEAN to most of them.
And yes, I am going to completely ignore the fact that I haven't written you in 3 whole weeks, and you should too. Unless of course you want to yell at me in the comments. I do love comments.
On the other hand it is so completely hilarious because Luke could tell them that their eyes were like a deep bowl of blue pudding, and the girls would melt at his feet. I'm pretty sure the last time some guy said something lame like that to me, I either laughed at him if I liked him or gave him one of those "did you seriously just say that" looks, usually right before telling him he is lame, if I didn't like him. Oh, I bet those Kansas City boys are glad I'm gone. I was SO MEAN to most of them.
And yes, I am going to completely ignore the fact that I haven't written you in 3 whole weeks, and you should too. Unless of course you want to yell at me in the comments. I do love comments.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Shaggy Dog
A few weeks ago there was a poor dog who had been hit by a car lying on the side of the road. I was so upset the first day I saw him, that I almost cried. There were no homes around so I knew he had to have traveled far. I hoped his family would get word of his demise so they weren't still wondering and searching for a lost cause.
The second time I saw him lying there I almost cried. Again I was reminded of my own dogs and how much I love them. He reminded me most of Charlie, because of his size and his probable sweet demeanor. I pictured this shaggy black dog happily trotting down the road with a big dopey grin, only to have his life taken from him too soon. I hoped they would have him removed from the road by the next day so that I could selfishly drive to work without tearing up.
The third time I saw him, I grew angry. Why had no one picked up his body yet? Why was he still lying there? He should be given a proper farewell, not just left to rot in the street. For over a week he laid there and I grew angrier and angrier every time I saw him. Most days, I tried not to look, it broke my heart every time I did. In the middle of the second week I looked at him, and I looked at him closely as I drove by. My poor shaggy dog lying on the side of the road was only a piece of tire. I had gotten so worked up about the remains of a blow out. A piece of rubber gained my sympathy, I shed tears for a chunk of tread. On that day, I laughed. A few days later the "dog" was removed from the road.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Post Wedding Hair Chop
I've always wondered why every bride decides to chop off her hair after the wedding. My cousin, I understand, because she grew out her hair specifically for her bridal hair do. My sister on the other hand, had beautiful long hair, that she merely cut off without a moments hesitation. I never understood this concept, until now.
On the philosophical level, it represents a change and a transformation. The old hair represents the single version of me, which I no longer am. So we remove it, like a snake shedding it's skin. We get rid of our last name, and we get rid of our hair. And changing our hair is the easiest thing we can change externally to match the change we feel internally. Feeling smarter yet? Yes? Good. Cause that's just a pile of BS.
The real reason we chop our hair? Because we just spent the last year growing it out, not being able to make any style changes just so we could have the perfect wedding hair, and we are SICK of it! My hair had gotten so long that I couldn't even style it. It was a contest of which ponytail would win that day. Because if I left it down, it would get all messed up by my chair at work and grow giant pain inducing tangles. Not to mention the horrible static in those winter months. Don't bother sitting in a leather chair unless you want to look like you just stepped out of the Magic House with your hand still touching the giant metal ball. If I could, I would have my hair short in the winter, long in the spring and fall and bald in the summer, cause dang this thick, dark colored, heat absorbing hair is hot. Anyway, back to the point I was trying to make. Hair that long and that heavy was driving me absolutely INSANE, I consider everyone who has to look at me fortunate that I didn't shave my head that night. I think the only thing that saved my hair that night was the fact that I had other things on my mind. I hadn't gone to the bathroom since I woke up somewhere around 6 o'clock in the morning. That's 18 hours of holding it. Well, I wasn't really holding it that long, I didn't have to go until the reception was over, so maybe only 2 hours of holding it. But the point is, we just get so sick of not being able to change our hair (whether or not we would have is beside the point) and growing it out past our comfort level that we drastically change it. So without further ado...
On the philosophical level, it represents a change and a transformation. The old hair represents the single version of me, which I no longer am. So we remove it, like a snake shedding it's skin. We get rid of our last name, and we get rid of our hair. And changing our hair is the easiest thing we can change externally to match the change we feel internally. Feeling smarter yet? Yes? Good. Cause that's just a pile of BS.
The real reason we chop our hair? Because we just spent the last year growing it out, not being able to make any style changes just so we could have the perfect wedding hair, and we are SICK of it! My hair had gotten so long that I couldn't even style it. It was a contest of which ponytail would win that day. Because if I left it down, it would get all messed up by my chair at work and grow giant pain inducing tangles. Not to mention the horrible static in those winter months. Don't bother sitting in a leather chair unless you want to look like you just stepped out of the Magic House with your hand still touching the giant metal ball. If I could, I would have my hair short in the winter, long in the spring and fall and bald in the summer, cause dang this thick, dark colored, heat absorbing hair is hot. Anyway, back to the point I was trying to make. Hair that long and that heavy was driving me absolutely INSANE, I consider everyone who has to look at me fortunate that I didn't shave my head that night. I think the only thing that saved my hair that night was the fact that I had other things on my mind. I hadn't gone to the bathroom since I woke up somewhere around 6 o'clock in the morning. That's 18 hours of holding it. Well, I wasn't really holding it that long, I didn't have to go until the reception was over, so maybe only 2 hours of holding it. But the point is, we just get so sick of not being able to change our hair (whether or not we would have is beside the point) and growing it out past our comfort level that we drastically change it. So without further ado...
Monday, July 20, 2009
Last Week
Has it really been two weeks since my last post? My how you all must hate me, that is if you are still reading. Last week was a whorl-wind of activities that kept me away from my thoughts. The most exciting being the donation of my blood and the consequently almost passing out afterwards. This is my fourth time giving blood and my first time having issues with it. I did write a little before I went in... I had great blogging ideas this morning as I was trying to stay awake on my 20 min drive to work. Now that I'm sitting at my desk with the time to do the actual blogging... the ideas are gone. And so is the first cup of coffee. It's almost 10, two hours till lunch. Plenty of time for a second cup. However, I'm giving blood this afternoon, and I need to be hydrated so I can have nice big puffy veins. But I need caffeine so I can stay awake. Caffeine dehydrates you. What is a girl to do? On the plus side, if I fall asleep while giving blood, or shortly there after, then everyone will just think I passed out. Unfortunately, I don't think anyone will believe that story if I fall asleep before my donation appointment. Again, I'm left with the question of what to do. Have a better chance of staying awake or a better chance of only getting poked with a needle once.
Well, my blood guy was more of a snail then a Dracula. I had been there for a half an hour before the needle was even in my arm. And I'm pretty sure he zoned out while applying the iodine, he just kept rubbing it on. Perhaps his tortoise like movements and the knowledge of a full folder of quote requests encouraged me to squeeze the ball a little to quickly. As soon as he pulled the needle out, I felt sick. I started looking for the best place to relieve my uneasy stomach. I was debating between the back door or the trash bag hanging from the table when I realized I wasn't going to vomit after all. I was going to watch the world go blurry and dark and be that girl. The snail lowered me down and put cold wash cloths on my forehead and throat. And yes, I did almost start gagging as if I were wearing a turtle neck. I was focused more on not choking then I was on not fainting. Long story short, it sucked.
Now on to the weekend and Tami's Birthday Bash aka Harry Potter Weekend. When Tami first called me with the idea of having a Harry Potter themed party, she admitted she was a big nerd but since it was a mile stone year, she was entitled. I agreed she was a big nerd and that it sounded like great fun. Little did I know, I was going to end up dressing up like Mrs. Wesley. That's right, red hair and all. Except they didn't have any 7 day hair dye. So I'm now a red head for 28 days, give or take. Exciting, I know. And yes, we had a blast with Tami, Ben and Tucker.
Well, my blood guy was more of a snail then a Dracula. I had been there for a half an hour before the needle was even in my arm. And I'm pretty sure he zoned out while applying the iodine, he just kept rubbing it on. Perhaps his tortoise like movements and the knowledge of a full folder of quote requests encouraged me to squeeze the ball a little to quickly. As soon as he pulled the needle out, I felt sick. I started looking for the best place to relieve my uneasy stomach. I was debating between the back door or the trash bag hanging from the table when I realized I wasn't going to vomit after all. I was going to watch the world go blurry and dark and be that girl. The snail lowered me down and put cold wash cloths on my forehead and throat. And yes, I did almost start gagging as if I were wearing a turtle neck. I was focused more on not choking then I was on not fainting. Long story short, it sucked.
Now on to the weekend and Tami's Birthday Bash aka Harry Potter Weekend. When Tami first called me with the idea of having a Harry Potter themed party, she admitted she was a big nerd but since it was a mile stone year, she was entitled. I agreed she was a big nerd and that it sounded like great fun. Little did I know, I was going to end up dressing up like Mrs. Wesley. That's right, red hair and all. Except they didn't have any 7 day hair dye. So I'm now a red head for 28 days, give or take. Exciting, I know. And yes, we had a blast with Tami, Ben and Tucker.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Weekend Update
I hope everyone had a wonderful Independence Day. I apparently have not yet recovered from the weekend, it is proving to be incredibly difficult to place my fingers on the correct keys as I attempt to type. As it turns out, if I type with my eyes closed I have much better results. Just a little proof that I should be sleeping instead. Once again, I did not get to bed before midnight all weekend, including last night. But honestly, I'm not complaining, I'm just giving you an idea of how much coffee I need to drink before I resort to using tooth picks to prop my eyes open. Given the chance to do it all over again, I'd probably still be this tired. Playing with fire vs. sleep. It really is a tough one, but since I can legally blow things up only once a year, the firecrackers will always win.
The 4th of July is one of my favorite holidays. It's nice and warm, so you don't have to have everyone cramped inside. And you can either sit back and enjoy an impressive show in the sky, or you can be one of the ones lighting the fuse, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Either way, your bound to have a good time. Personally I prefer to be the one lighting the sky. But I imagine there will be a year or two that I will not be able to play, and I will just have to sit and watch. I'm okay with that. I enjoy watching the show as well.
This holiday always reminds me of my childhood. We used to have a block party where all our neighborhood friends would come up to the circle dragging their coolers and fireworks. If I remember correctly, my sister and I were each given $20 to spend, it was probably more like $10, but it FELT like $20. We mostly spent it all on snakes, sparklers, and snaps with and occasional smoke bomb for good measure. Eventually I was allowed to shoot off bottle rockets, I loved them the most, I felt like I was all grown up. The first time I did a round of black cats, it exploded a little to close to me and had my ear ringing for a few hours. I didn't care for that at all. It was years before I felt the desire to shoot those off again. Well, the block party is finally back. It may be a different crowd and a different block, but the fun is still the same. And the cooler was a big hit of course.
I don't waste my money on all those little firecrackers anymore, I only grab the Roman Candles and Jumping Jacks from the cheap table. Now I waste my money on the really cool pretty ones that I love oh so much. From the big morters that make the most awesome noise when they leave the tube to the jumbo packs that shoot hundreds of sparkly jems. Mason is already planning on making a switch board type thing, that will set off a bunch of fireworks in a row just by pressing a button. Denny and I however, are not sold on this idea, we think that will take away at least 80% of the fun. One thing we all agree on is a day trip down to Cuba next year to visit Steve at our favorite tent. After price shopping 7 tents this year, we are confident that Cuba Steve has the best deals on the big stuff and he actually knows his product. We'll be seeing you Mr. Firework Tent Guy.
The 4th of July is one of my favorite holidays. It's nice and warm, so you don't have to have everyone cramped inside. And you can either sit back and enjoy an impressive show in the sky, or you can be one of the ones lighting the fuse, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Either way, your bound to have a good time. Personally I prefer to be the one lighting the sky. But I imagine there will be a year or two that I will not be able to play, and I will just have to sit and watch. I'm okay with that. I enjoy watching the show as well.
This holiday always reminds me of my childhood. We used to have a block party where all our neighborhood friends would come up to the circle dragging their coolers and fireworks. If I remember correctly, my sister and I were each given $20 to spend, it was probably more like $10, but it FELT like $20. We mostly spent it all on snakes, sparklers, and snaps with and occasional smoke bomb for good measure. Eventually I was allowed to shoot off bottle rockets, I loved them the most, I felt like I was all grown up. The first time I did a round of black cats, it exploded a little to close to me and had my ear ringing for a few hours. I didn't care for that at all. It was years before I felt the desire to shoot those off again. Well, the block party is finally back. It may be a different crowd and a different block, but the fun is still the same. And the cooler was a big hit of course.
I don't waste my money on all those little firecrackers anymore, I only grab the Roman Candles and Jumping Jacks from the cheap table. Now I waste my money on the really cool pretty ones that I love oh so much. From the big morters that make the most awesome noise when they leave the tube to the jumbo packs that shoot hundreds of sparkly jems. Mason is already planning on making a switch board type thing, that will set off a bunch of fireworks in a row just by pressing a button. Denny and I however, are not sold on this idea, we think that will take away at least 80% of the fun. One thing we all agree on is a day trip down to Cuba next year to visit Steve at our favorite tent. After price shopping 7 tents this year, we are confident that Cuba Steve has the best deals on the big stuff and he actually knows his product. We'll be seeing you Mr. Firework Tent Guy.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
I can't be funny all the time people.
I'm getting ready to enter a busy few days here at work, which means you probably won't hear from me for awhile. So I wanted to get this one out to you before I enter the days of unreasonable torture. Sadly, I don't have one really great story to tell you about, so I'm going to give you a bunch of random mini stories.
1. Since Mason NEVER reads my blog, I figure I can talk about him all I want. And since he never reads it I don't have to worry about fluffing his ego, I can just tell you all the bad things. Unfortunately, the only bad thing I have at the moment is that he lost his glasses in the river. Twice. That's right, twice. I found them once, which was a miracle in itself. The second time, they were gone, forever. Did we think to take his old pair to wear on the river? No. Did we think to buy floaties for them when I was standing at the raft rental place looking right at them? No. Did we talk about the possibility of loosing them before we left on the trip? Yes. Did we think it would happen? Apparently not. Since Mason has been going on these family trips for years and years and has never lost his glasses, apparently that means it doesn't happen. As it turns out, you don't even have to go underwater to loose them in semi-deep, murky, steady current water. Imagine that.
2. We are getting a new vending company at work, and you have no idea how excited this makes me. Goodbye crappy Folgers coffee, hello fresh ground, not at all bitter, coffee. And, as if that weren't good enough, the vending machines will now have a "healthy snack" option. Apparently we are also getting "a better cold beverage selection" but unless they are adding Barqs Root Beer, I don't see how it could get much better then the current Pepsi and Coke options. Perhaps I am most excited about the fact that my building will be the lucky recipient of the one and only "fresh food" machine. Which apparently is going to include salad, yum. I just hope they don't have a slot to swipe my debit card.
3. With Mason and I being out of town so much this month, Koby has turned more destructive and more daring with his destructiveness. Sunday night he showed me exactly how he is able to sneak in the closed closet and chew on the insoles that are no longer sticky. When we opened the closet door he trotted out holding the insole in his mouth like a trophy. We put a bucket of water outside for the dogs with it being so hot, Koby chewed off the handle, and part of the bottom so that it no longer holds water, smart dog, now you have to be thirsty. There is now a gapping hole in my bathroom rug, I've managed to hide it, but if it gets any bigger, I'm going to have to toss the rug. And yes, the bathroom door was closed, but he has learned that it doesn't always latch, so he head butts it to get in. He has also become a huge fan of the bathroom trash, especially those dirty feminine products. Boy are they fun to shred. DISCUSTING! On the plus side, he hasn't touched the deck for two whole weeks (knock on wood).
4. Charlie, Mason and I are very excited about the 4th being just around the corner. Sheeba is not at all happy about it, I'm sure she will be hiding under the bed the entire day. And since this will be Koby's first, we're not sure how he will handle it. My guess is that since he is so "curious" he will love it. And of course Charlie can't wait to try and catch the fireworks again, the bottle rockets are his favorite. He's only been allowed to attend the festivities once, and he came back with singed hair and a big ole' goofy grin. He wasn't quite ready for the party to be over when the cop came and broke it up. I haven't yet decided if he will be allowed to join the block party or not this year.
5. We finally got Mason's car back from the shop. After 4 weeks of borrowing Dad's "I'm about to loose my muffler and I don't know what a clear coat is" car, I'm happy to say that I officially have my explorer back. Mason is now driving his car to work since he doesn't have to haul around big windows anymore. I missed it so much. I missed being able to start my car from my desk, I missed being able to change the temperature and the radio from the steering wheel, and I missed sitting up off the road. Don't get me wrong, Mason's car is very nice (when it isn't broken) but I LOVE my car.
6. Did I mention that Mason and I are very excited about the 4th of July being so near? We stopped at 4 fireworks stands on the way home from the Stockwell Family Vacation. After the second tent we said we were done. After the third tent which offered buy 1 get 4 free items, we said we were really done. After the 4th tent, where we only bought 2 things for one great deal, we drove straight home with our blinders on. While we got way more then we intended to get, we spent only a little more then we planned on spending. We got plenty of the big pretty ones that light up the sky with colors and sparkles, and we have tons of little ones that we can fire off for days to feed our slight pyromaniac tendencies. Okay, to feed my pyro tendencies and Mason's thrill at making things go boom.
7. The Challenger Baseball season is almost over, and I'm not happy about that. Even though only half of our team shows up, on a good day. But I will enjoy having two days of sleeping in again, and I'm looking forward to the Challenger Family Picnic. Always a fun time. The end of the season snuck up on me though. I was going to take tons of pictures this season, and I haven't done that yet.
I guess that's about all I have for now. Wish me luck for the beginning of the month chaos which I am about to endure.
1. Since Mason NEVER reads my blog, I figure I can talk about him all I want. And since he never reads it I don't have to worry about fluffing his ego, I can just tell you all the bad things. Unfortunately, the only bad thing I have at the moment is that he lost his glasses in the river. Twice. That's right, twice. I found them once, which was a miracle in itself. The second time, they were gone, forever. Did we think to take his old pair to wear on the river? No. Did we think to buy floaties for them when I was standing at the raft rental place looking right at them? No. Did we talk about the possibility of loosing them before we left on the trip? Yes. Did we think it would happen? Apparently not. Since Mason has been going on these family trips for years and years and has never lost his glasses, apparently that means it doesn't happen. As it turns out, you don't even have to go underwater to loose them in semi-deep, murky, steady current water. Imagine that.
2. We are getting a new vending company at work, and you have no idea how excited this makes me. Goodbye crappy Folgers coffee, hello fresh ground, not at all bitter, coffee. And, as if that weren't good enough, the vending machines will now have a "healthy snack" option. Apparently we are also getting "a better cold beverage selection" but unless they are adding Barqs Root Beer, I don't see how it could get much better then the current Pepsi and Coke options. Perhaps I am most excited about the fact that my building will be the lucky recipient of the one and only "fresh food" machine. Which apparently is going to include salad, yum. I just hope they don't have a slot to swipe my debit card.
3. With Mason and I being out of town so much this month, Koby has turned more destructive and more daring with his destructiveness. Sunday night he showed me exactly how he is able to sneak in the closed closet and chew on the insoles that are no longer sticky. When we opened the closet door he trotted out holding the insole in his mouth like a trophy. We put a bucket of water outside for the dogs with it being so hot, Koby chewed off the handle, and part of the bottom so that it no longer holds water, smart dog, now you have to be thirsty. There is now a gapping hole in my bathroom rug, I've managed to hide it, but if it gets any bigger, I'm going to have to toss the rug. And yes, the bathroom door was closed, but he has learned that it doesn't always latch, so he head butts it to get in. He has also become a huge fan of the bathroom trash, especially those dirty feminine products. Boy are they fun to shred. DISCUSTING! On the plus side, he hasn't touched the deck for two whole weeks (knock on wood).
4. Charlie, Mason and I are very excited about the 4th being just around the corner. Sheeba is not at all happy about it, I'm sure she will be hiding under the bed the entire day. And since this will be Koby's first, we're not sure how he will handle it. My guess is that since he is so "curious" he will love it. And of course Charlie can't wait to try and catch the fireworks again, the bottle rockets are his favorite. He's only been allowed to attend the festivities once, and he came back with singed hair and a big ole' goofy grin. He wasn't quite ready for the party to be over when the cop came and broke it up. I haven't yet decided if he will be allowed to join the block party or not this year.
5. We finally got Mason's car back from the shop. After 4 weeks of borrowing Dad's "I'm about to loose my muffler and I don't know what a clear coat is" car, I'm happy to say that I officially have my explorer back. Mason is now driving his car to work since he doesn't have to haul around big windows anymore. I missed it so much. I missed being able to start my car from my desk, I missed being able to change the temperature and the radio from the steering wheel, and I missed sitting up off the road. Don't get me wrong, Mason's car is very nice (when it isn't broken) but I LOVE my car.
6. Did I mention that Mason and I are very excited about the 4th of July being so near? We stopped at 4 fireworks stands on the way home from the Stockwell Family Vacation. After the second tent we said we were done. After the third tent which offered buy 1 get 4 free items, we said we were really done. After the 4th tent, where we only bought 2 things for one great deal, we drove straight home with our blinders on. While we got way more then we intended to get, we spent only a little more then we planned on spending. We got plenty of the big pretty ones that light up the sky with colors and sparkles, and we have tons of little ones that we can fire off for days to feed our slight pyromaniac tendencies. Okay, to feed my pyro tendencies and Mason's thrill at making things go boom.
7. The Challenger Baseball season is almost over, and I'm not happy about that. Even though only half of our team shows up, on a good day. But I will enjoy having two days of sleeping in again, and I'm looking forward to the Challenger Family Picnic. Always a fun time. The end of the season snuck up on me though. I was going to take tons of pictures this season, and I haven't done that yet.
I guess that's about all I have for now. Wish me luck for the beginning of the month chaos which I am about to endure.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
A Little Sympathy Please
So I went to the dentist last night. Nothing new there. The dentist chair and I are old friends, I've been there so much I could write a book. I have stories from falling asleep in the chair while being worked on, to waking up during surgery. I've had so many of those dang numbing shots that I need twice as much just to get me numb. The average person would have required two shots for the procedures I had last night. Guess how many I needed. Go ahead, guess. FIVE! Even my new dentist was shocked. It wasn't until after he started drilling we realized I needed the fifth shot, which was injected into the roof of my mouth. It hurt more then the drilling. "You're going to feel a pinch." I know what a pinch feels like, and that was no pinch. Sticking the needle in was a pinch, injecting the fluid was getting stabbed with pencils over and over again. In the end, almost the entire left side of my face was numb. My forehead and chin were spared the trauma. My left nostril and lower eye lid however, were not.
I have now officially been told by two separate dentists "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you have a big mouth." Do you know how many times I have been told that I have a big mouth? To all those people... HA! You were wrong! I do NOT have a big mouth. He also said, more then once, that it felt like he was back in dental school. That's right, I'm here to test your skills, glad I could provide a challenge for you. Keep me as a patient and you'll have TV's in all your rooms just like my last dentist got. That was nice. If nothing else, I could plant my vise grip on the remote instead of my own hands. Plus it would have been nice to have something to look at for the TWO HOURS that I was in that dang chair. I would also like to mention that they had to use a special tool to pull my cheek out past my ear. I'm pretty sure there is some internal bruising, cause it still hurts (insert appropriate amount of sympathy here).
In other news, it appears that my personal ban on coffee is over. Hopefully it's just a temporary strike against the ban. Too many nights of not getting to sleep until after midnight makes a girl crave alternative energy sources. Tomorrow I head off to make my tank top tan lines a nice bright red.
I have now officially been told by two separate dentists "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you have a big mouth." Do you know how many times I have been told that I have a big mouth? To all those people... HA! You were wrong! I do NOT have a big mouth. He also said, more then once, that it felt like he was back in dental school. That's right, I'm here to test your skills, glad I could provide a challenge for you. Keep me as a patient and you'll have TV's in all your rooms just like my last dentist got. That was nice. If nothing else, I could plant my vise grip on the remote instead of my own hands. Plus it would have been nice to have something to look at for the TWO HOURS that I was in that dang chair. I would also like to mention that they had to use a special tool to pull my cheek out past my ear. I'm pretty sure there is some internal bruising, cause it still hurts (insert appropriate amount of sympathy here).
In other news, it appears that my personal ban on coffee is over. Hopefully it's just a temporary strike against the ban. Too many nights of not getting to sleep until after midnight makes a girl crave alternative energy sources. Tomorrow I head off to make my tank top tan lines a nice bright red.
Monday, June 22, 2009
What can I say? She made my day.
Do you know what the perfect way to start your day is? Picture this, your standing in your driveway, throwing things in one car and digging in the center console of the other car. After you find what you were looking for, you see a little old Asian woman running up your driveway and engulfing you in a big hug. Could I tell you this woman's name? No. Did I find it odd to have some woman that I have never actually met running to hug me before I left for work? Not even a little. It was cute and charming, and it made me feel super tall.
I know what you're thinking. There must be more to the story. Certainly there aren't crazy women running around St. Charles randomly hugging people. Well, you're right, there is more to the story. But it is a much better story if I let you think that she is just some crazy lady. Perhaps you would run to hug me too if you had eaten a plate of my famous chocolate chip cookies. Cookies that are so good a stranger proposed to me after eating them (apparently her son was single and she approved of my cooking skills). Obviously I declined, but that's not the point.
Okay, so now you are wondering how this woman that I have never met got a plate of my cookies. Well that's the less exciting part of the story. Her husband Cecil just had surgery, and Cecil has helped us out in the past. So Mason and I made them some cookies (and he won't tell my top secret cookie recipe, so don't ask) and Mason delivered them yesterday morning. I would have gone with him to deliver them, but they were walking out the door and I was still in my not so attractive PJ's and I had just thrown my safe to walk outside pants into the wash. So Cecil's wife, whose name I still do not know, caught me this morning to say thanks. See, it would have been a much more fun story if you would have stopped reading after the first paragraph.
I know what you're thinking. There must be more to the story. Certainly there aren't crazy women running around St. Charles randomly hugging people. Well, you're right, there is more to the story. But it is a much better story if I let you think that she is just some crazy lady. Perhaps you would run to hug me too if you had eaten a plate of my famous chocolate chip cookies. Cookies that are so good a stranger proposed to me after eating them (apparently her son was single and she approved of my cooking skills). Obviously I declined, but that's not the point.
Okay, so now you are wondering how this woman that I have never met got a plate of my cookies. Well that's the less exciting part of the story. Her husband Cecil just had surgery, and Cecil has helped us out in the past. So Mason and I made them some cookies (and he won't tell my top secret cookie recipe, so don't ask) and Mason delivered them yesterday morning. I would have gone with him to deliver them, but they were walking out the door and I was still in my not so attractive PJ's and I had just thrown my safe to walk outside pants into the wash. So Cecil's wife, whose name I still do not know, caught me this morning to say thanks. See, it would have been a much more fun story if you would have stopped reading after the first paragraph.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Flip Flops and Tan Lines
Last year when the company survey came out, we asked for some very important changes. We asked for casual day every day, that our sick days, vacation days and personal days be rolled into one category, we also wanted telecommuting and profit sharing. We were given all of these things. So what did we ask for this year? The right to wear flip flops, and that our toilet seats not be loose. That's it. Of course we got them, but one would think that since we have such an agreeable company, we would have asked for bigger things then flip-flops and stable toilet seats. People laughed and nodded when they promised to fix the toilet seats, and cheered quite loudly when we were told we could wear flips. Why is everyone so happy we can wear flips again? I have no idea, we all wore them before and never got scolded. The only difference is now we can wear them guilt free. I used to bend the rules by wearing my nicer ones, flips with leather, heels, beads... now I can wear my cheapies. Which is irrelevant really, cause half the time my shoes are under my desk while my bare feet are tucked up under my legs or propped up on the box under my desk. This is also why I rarely wear shoes with laces or buckles to work, in case you were actually wondering. Which I'm sure you were not.
Hmm, I had a whole other tangent I was going to go on, but I got distracted reading Becky's blog. Oh! It was about how I am going to get a nice flip flop tan line this weekend. Not nearly as exciting as I remembered it being in my head. Anyway, we are headed up to Indy to admire shinny old cars and watch as the dragsters race by. Without fail, every time I go I get burnt to a crisp. It's not the lack of sunscreen, it's just being in the blazing sun for that many days. Fortunately it's supposed to stop raining long enough for most of the racing, not too hot, not too cold. Hopefully this way I won't drive half way to Chicago on my way to Indy. Thank goodness I have the Garmin now. No missed turns for me!
Hmm, I had a whole other tangent I was going to go on, but I got distracted reading Becky's blog. Oh! It was about how I am going to get a nice flip flop tan line this weekend. Not nearly as exciting as I remembered it being in my head. Anyway, we are headed up to Indy to admire shinny old cars and watch as the dragsters race by. Without fail, every time I go I get burnt to a crisp. It's not the lack of sunscreen, it's just being in the blazing sun for that many days. Fortunately it's supposed to stop raining long enough for most of the racing, not too hot, not too cold. Hopefully this way I won't drive half way to Chicago on my way to Indy. Thank goodness I have the Garmin now. No missed turns for me!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Watermelon Makes Me Burp
Seriously, it does. I mean, it's made entirely of sweetly flavored water and air, so it makes sense. But aside from that, I'm pretty sure I'm falling apart. I blame the old age personally. The quarter of a century mark came and went several years ago, well two years ago anyway. Over the weekend my knee popped twice, the first time shooting pain throughout my limb and almost failing to help me stand. The second time just reminding me of lingering pain. Which really wouldn't haven't been a big deal if my hip hadn't practically locked up and if my shoulder wasn't in serious pain for two weeks now. And on top of all that, I wasn't carded the last three times I bought alcohol.
Remember when you were excited you didn't get carded? I didn't even get carded on my 21st birthday. Then it was rare that I didn't get carded after that, especially since they started enforcing the "We card under 35." So either the short hair makes me look almost twice my age, or I really look twice my age. Or, the people at the restaurant, gas station and grocery store are going blind. I would understand if I had wrinkles and didn't pluck all my grays. But how on earth can I have a zit on my chin and not get carded at the same time? Seriously people, there is a ZIT ON MY CHIN, you should probably card me. And it's one of those annoying lingering ones too.
Further more, (cause I haven't done nearly enough complaining yet) my oh so kind boss placed a little bucket full of candy on my desk and it has been STARING at me all day. Well, at least the remaining pieces have been staring at me. Which by the way, I don't really love the Reese's Whipps all that much. Didn't stop me from eating the whole thing though. I think I need a vacation, one that involves laying on a beach, jumping the waves and maybe getting flung from a surf board. But I'll settle for 4:30 Friday afternoon.
Remember when you were excited you didn't get carded? I didn't even get carded on my 21st birthday. Then it was rare that I didn't get carded after that, especially since they started enforcing the "We card under 35." So either the short hair makes me look almost twice my age, or I really look twice my age. Or, the people at the restaurant, gas station and grocery store are going blind. I would understand if I had wrinkles and didn't pluck all my grays. But how on earth can I have a zit on my chin and not get carded at the same time? Seriously people, there is a ZIT ON MY CHIN, you should probably card me. And it's one of those annoying lingering ones too.
Further more, (cause I haven't done nearly enough complaining yet) my oh so kind boss placed a little bucket full of candy on my desk and it has been STARING at me all day. Well, at least the remaining pieces have been staring at me. Which by the way, I don't really love the Reese's Whipps all that much. Didn't stop me from eating the whole thing though. I think I need a vacation, one that involves laying on a beach, jumping the waves and maybe getting flung from a surf board. But I'll settle for 4:30 Friday afternoon.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Starcrunch Makes a Great Breakfast
It always amazes me how guys can carry an entire conversation using only movie quotes. I mean, I know women can have entire conversations without even talking, but at least we are not leaving you out of the conversation. More then likely, you are the center of the conversation. And ours is really easy to decipher if you just pay attention. A simple eye brow lift could mean, "What about him? He's cute." And a slight shake of the head in response would mean, "No, he's not really my type." Easy, right? No one is left out of the conversation. In fact in most cases, you don't even know that we are talking.
So when the movie quotes start flying out, my eyes roll. Because either a) I have not seen this movie and have no idea what they are talking about, or b) I have seen this movie and didn't think it was great/funny enough to memorize lines from and therefore have no idea what they are talking about. This is both fascinating and incredibly ANNOYING. Because unless you are talking to Rachelle who has this remarkable ability to keep up with their silly movie quotes, you are totally leaving the rest of us out of the conversation. Especially when you are so lucky to be sitting in-between two of these battling movie quoters.
Although it is fascinating because they have a whole conversation leading to hysterical laughter and not one word was their own. They are using someone else's statements, phrases, thoughts and actions to communicate. I once wrote a paper made up entirely of quotes, I got one of the two A's that were given out, so maybe there is something to this. Or maybe my teacher was a man and understood how to talk with someone else's words. Personally, I am so bad at using others words that I have to make up my own. I only used all the quotes in my paper because I didn't understand it enough to decipher it until at least three days later when I actually got enough sleep to clear out the fog in my brain.
So when the movie quotes start flying out, my eyes roll. Because either a) I have not seen this movie and have no idea what they are talking about, or b) I have seen this movie and didn't think it was great/funny enough to memorize lines from and therefore have no idea what they are talking about. This is both fascinating and incredibly ANNOYING. Because unless you are talking to Rachelle who has this remarkable ability to keep up with their silly movie quotes, you are totally leaving the rest of us out of the conversation. Especially when you are so lucky to be sitting in-between two of these battling movie quoters.
Although it is fascinating because they have a whole conversation leading to hysterical laughter and not one word was their own. They are using someone else's statements, phrases, thoughts and actions to communicate. I once wrote a paper made up entirely of quotes, I got one of the two A's that were given out, so maybe there is something to this. Or maybe my teacher was a man and understood how to talk with someone else's words. Personally, I am so bad at using others words that I have to make up my own. I only used all the quotes in my paper because I didn't understand it enough to decipher it until at least three days later when I actually got enough sleep to clear out the fog in my brain.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
BURNED
Okay, so the blog I was working on just got scrapped. Why? Because I just spent an hour outside during lunch and I am now bright pink! Yes, I have been outside this year, and yes I was already sporting a slight farmers tan. Now I am sporting a major farmers burn! How sad is that? And on top of that, I am horrible at washers!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Chaos Without Kids
Why is it the first question everyone asks once your married, "When are you going to have kids?" What if we don't want kids? There are plenty of married couples that choose not to have kids. In fact when a customer asked me that very question the day I came back to work after the wedding, I told him "never." Then of course I had to back track, cause the second you say that the stork pays you a visit. I mean really, three dogs are enough at the moment. Case in point, Tuesday, I pulled into the driveway only to have Mason tell me I'm about to have a very bad day. My first thought is either, something expensive or something I love very much is broken. But no, it was not about to be that easy.
Charlie got sick, all over the house. And that does not exclude my antique book shelf or our new couches. It did however help with creating a nice toilet bowl odor in the living room. I feel I should specify what kind of sick it was. Let's just say it didn't come out of the kissable side, and it wasn't anywhere near solid or easy to clean up. This is where I confess my undying gratitude to my mother for allowing me to hijack her steam cleaner. And also to Mason who sent me to pick up the steam cleaner while he dealt with the worst part of the clean up.
Yesterday I spent the day truly enjoying the feel of ultra clean carpet on my bare feet, making the dogs spend most of their time in the kitchen. Fortunately it was my day to work at home, so I could monitor Charlie and make sure he was feeling better, which he was. Although a little gas had me rushing him to the back door. Just after midnight I crawled into bed, knowing that the next day would be torture since I wasn't asleep at 10pm. And because the sick dog deep clean the day before just wasn't enough, a very unpleasant sound erupted from a very large dog. Apparently, Charlie cleaned out his food and water bowls a little to quickly and emptied his very large stomach onto the bedroom floor. Did I mention that this all happened after midnight? Did I mention that I do not do well on little to no sleep?
So tell me, if we're already changing around our schedule and loosing sleep to clean up after sick dogs and spending our free time keeping an eagle eye on Koby (who has taken to chewing on the deck), when do we have time to take care of a child?
Charlie got sick, all over the house. And that does not exclude my antique book shelf or our new couches. It did however help with creating a nice toilet bowl odor in the living room. I feel I should specify what kind of sick it was. Let's just say it didn't come out of the kissable side, and it wasn't anywhere near solid or easy to clean up. This is where I confess my undying gratitude to my mother for allowing me to hijack her steam cleaner. And also to Mason who sent me to pick up the steam cleaner while he dealt with the worst part of the clean up.
Yesterday I spent the day truly enjoying the feel of ultra clean carpet on my bare feet, making the dogs spend most of their time in the kitchen. Fortunately it was my day to work at home, so I could monitor Charlie and make sure he was feeling better, which he was. Although a little gas had me rushing him to the back door. Just after midnight I crawled into bed, knowing that the next day would be torture since I wasn't asleep at 10pm. And because the sick dog deep clean the day before just wasn't enough, a very unpleasant sound erupted from a very large dog. Apparently, Charlie cleaned out his food and water bowls a little to quickly and emptied his very large stomach onto the bedroom floor. Did I mention that this all happened after midnight? Did I mention that I do not do well on little to no sleep?
So tell me, if we're already changing around our schedule and loosing sleep to clean up after sick dogs and spending our free time keeping an eagle eye on Koby (who has taken to chewing on the deck), when do we have time to take care of a child?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Buyers Remorse and Chinese (again)
Ever have buyers remorse? How about the opposite of buyers remorse? I had a shot gun visit to KC this past weekend, and I ended up at The Legends where they have an Ann Taylor Factory Store! I had no idea these stores existed, let alone a mere four hours away. And let me tell you, it was Legendary (get it? The Legends, Legendary). I didn't have a ton of money to spend, so I moderately loaded up my arms with all kinds of good deals. Only two of the items that I tried on I didn't like. Then I put back a beautiful skirt because I wouldn't wear it as often as I would the shirts and pants, even though I LOVED IT! Up to here, I'm okay with not getting everything. But then I put back two more shirts so that I could keep my bill under $100. And now, I am mad at myself for the things I didn't buy! These two shirts I miss so much, I'm tempted to send Tami back up there to get them and mail them to me. The next time I'll be in KC isn't until June, for Tami's birthday weekend, and I won't have any time to shop. Branson is the only one in Missouri, is that really any closer then KC? Plus in KC I have a million friends to visit, so it wouldn't just be a shopping trip. Either way, I do NOT regret the items that I did buy. I didn't buy anything I didn't need. And yes I did need those jeans that fit great for only $5 more then the cheapies that don't fit GREAT I have been making due with.
Today, I was finally brave enough to visit the same Chinese place that made the horrid mistake last time. But I was not brave enough to order the same thing. I made sure to order something that was not hidden by fried breading and thick sauce. And I have to tell you, I think the Chicken Lo Mein is my new favorite dish! I can now safely eat chicken there again. Hooray!
Today, I was finally brave enough to visit the same Chinese place that made the horrid mistake last time. But I was not brave enough to order the same thing. I made sure to order something that was not hidden by fried breading and thick sauce. And I have to tell you, I think the Chicken Lo Mein is my new favorite dish! I can now safely eat chicken there again. Hooray!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Just a Whole Bunch of Random
In honor of the Challenger Baseball season starting up again, I have decided to share with you a conversation between my mother and I while waiting for more of our team to show up.
Mom: That's cute.
Me: What is?
Mom: What?
Me: What's cute?
Mom: I don't know, what?
Me: You said, "that's cute." And I said "what's cute."
Mom: What is?
Me: That's what I'm asking you.
Mom: I don't know what's cute.
Me: You just said, "that's cute."
Mom: Oh, I didn't hear that.
Yes, this is how we coach our team, just your regular Abbot and Costello. And plenty of cute things did happen. My favorite being the little girl on our team who had her face buried in the grass the whole time because she was "looking for worms" in the outfield. And then she didn't want to hit until her mother said she was going to take her picture. Not to mention, I found out just how great the new hair is shoved under a hat.
Now, I know what you are all thinking... It has been a week, where is the picture of the new hair you promised us??? I know, I owe you. I just haven't taken any yet because, I don't know how to style my own flippin' hair! And I refuse to post any pictures that make me look ridiculous.
Mom: That's cute.
Me: What is?
Mom: What?
Me: What's cute?
Mom: I don't know, what?
Me: You said, "that's cute." And I said "what's cute."
Mom: What is?
Me: That's what I'm asking you.
Mom: I don't know what's cute.
Me: You just said, "that's cute."
Mom: Oh, I didn't hear that.
Yes, this is how we coach our team, just your regular Abbot and Costello. And plenty of cute things did happen. My favorite being the little girl on our team who had her face buried in the grass the whole time because she was "looking for worms" in the outfield. And then she didn't want to hit until her mother said she was going to take her picture. Not to mention, I found out just how great the new hair is shoved under a hat.
Now, I know what you are all thinking... It has been a week, where is the picture of the new hair you promised us??? I know, I owe you. I just haven't taken any yet because, I don't know how to style my own flippin' hair! And I refuse to post any pictures that make me look ridiculous.
You didn't really believe that, did you? So instead of a picture of the new hair, how about a top ten list of things I re-learn almost every week?
10. Do not go to bed irritated. Sleep does not magically wipe the slate clean. You will not wake up all happy and chipper. In fact you may even wake up in a worse mood then when you fell asleep. Do not attempt this if you enjoy spending your days as a happy person.
9. Do not leave the dish washer door opened. Koby will not only help you clean the dishes, but it is very possible that he will get stuck in there and break all the dishes attempting to free himself.
8. Do not leave any inside doors open during Koby's free time, he will go in, find something expensive and destroy it in 2 seconds flat. In fact, don't leave any outer doors open either, this dog is an escape artist and the reason we installed a baby gate.
7. Do not leave moldy cheese in the trash can when you leave the house. Charlie will find a way to get to it and eat everything but the seal of the zip lock bag. However, he WILL tell you of his guilt before you can discover the evidence.
6. Do not keep your clean underwear in the laundry basket. Koby will simply sneak a pair and run around the house until you either a) catch him, or b) he tires of the game and moves on to terrorize Sheeba. Either way, the clean underwear is no longer clean.
5. Do not allow previously worn underwear to hit the floor. Sheeba will clean it for you, and that might gross you out to the point where you seriously debate throwing it away, even though it is your favorite pair, because the washing machine will NEVER get it clean enough.
4. Do not fall asleep on the couch while Koby is out of his kennel. He will find a bottle of shampoo or a tube of Neosporin and chew a hole through it. Assuming of course that you already closed the bedroom door limiting his access to shoes and clean underwear.
3. Do not even close your eyes after you turn off the alarm. Unless, of course you like the challenge of getting "office ready" in 30 min or less.
2. Do not allow yourself to hit the snooze button if you don't know out how to style your new hair do. There is nothing you can do with a bad hair day if your hair is too short to put it in a pony-tail and your company won't let you wear a hat. You simply have to walk around all day looking like an idiot.
1. Do not bother to tell your sister about your bottle of good nail polish breaking inside the bag and getting all over everything, because she will not offer you any sympathy until at least 20 minutes later. Instead, she will go on and on about how your incident isn't so bad because she broke her bottle all over the tile floor and in the grout and her pants... So you're problem clearly isn't very bad, even though you offered the appropriate amount of sympathy when it happened to her. And the only way you will be able to get that teeny tiny bit of sympathy is to remind her several times that the color was sentimental because it's the color that you bought for HER wedding.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sticking To It
So a friend of mine "encouraged" me sign a contract with her to workout more on stickk.com. If I don't work out at least 3 times a week, I owe her money and visa versa. No offense Tami, but I really hope you fail, I could use that extra cash for my Wii addiction. And if it's my money, I can buy the dumb oh-so-fun games like American Idol and Dance Fever, instead of the annoying shooter games Mason seems to enjoy so much that I don't even get to play Wii until he has beat the game. Or, I could just blow it all on shoes and pajama pants. On the other hand, I really don't want you to fail. And since we no longer live near each other, and can't workout together, this is the next best thing.
Anyway, last week I chose to box for my workout. True it was only Wii boxing, but I get really into it. After the first knock out I had to go change into shorts. Not only did it make me incredibly sore, but I raised my score considerably. However (here is where I get mad), on my last match I didn't get a KO. I won the match in the 3rd round, you would think my score would go up by a smaller amount, but no. It actually went down 4 points! So on Monday I started boxing again, anxious to bring my score back up I got a KO in round 2. Imagine my surprise when my score when down another 4 points! With no explanation, no reasoning, nothing. I'm pretty sure the game is rigged so that my score isn't higher then Mason's. Needless to say, I haven't boxed since. I've focused my workouts in other areas. On the plus side, I'm getting the Wii Fit for my birthday. Although, I'm making it harder to forget about it by telling everyone.
I think my next goal on stickk.com should be to eat healthier. Because so far today, I've had only crap. Wonderful sugary crap. For breakfast, I tested one of the blueberry cheesecake cups that I will be serving this afternoon, puppy chow when I got to work (that wonderful powdered sugar covered, chocolate dipped cereal) that was left over from Stephanie's trivia team from yesterday, and a krispy kreme doughnut in my last meeting (thanks a lot HP Reps). Add to that the fact that I have a baby shower this afternoon where I will more then likely eat another blueberry cheesecake cup, as well as other equally bad for me foods. And although I did not eat this bad yesterday, I still didn't eat good. Might as well just pull out the chocolate doughnuts and a glass of milk for dinner, today is already shot.
Anyway, last week I chose to box for my workout. True it was only Wii boxing, but I get really into it. After the first knock out I had to go change into shorts. Not only did it make me incredibly sore, but I raised my score considerably. However (here is where I get mad), on my last match I didn't get a KO. I won the match in the 3rd round, you would think my score would go up by a smaller amount, but no. It actually went down 4 points! So on Monday I started boxing again, anxious to bring my score back up I got a KO in round 2. Imagine my surprise when my score when down another 4 points! With no explanation, no reasoning, nothing. I'm pretty sure the game is rigged so that my score isn't higher then Mason's. Needless to say, I haven't boxed since. I've focused my workouts in other areas. On the plus side, I'm getting the Wii Fit for my birthday. Although, I'm making it harder to forget about it by telling everyone.
I think my next goal on stickk.com should be to eat healthier. Because so far today, I've had only crap. Wonderful sugary crap. For breakfast, I tested one of the blueberry cheesecake cups that I will be serving this afternoon, puppy chow when I got to work (that wonderful powdered sugar covered, chocolate dipped cereal) that was left over from Stephanie's trivia team from yesterday, and a krispy kreme doughnut in my last meeting (thanks a lot HP Reps). Add to that the fact that I have a baby shower this afternoon where I will more then likely eat another blueberry cheesecake cup, as well as other equally bad for me foods. And although I did not eat this bad yesterday, I still didn't eat good. Might as well just pull out the chocolate doughnuts and a glass of milk for dinner, today is already shot.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Vote For Me!
First of all, I was right. I really do LOVE comments, and I love seeing my number of followers grow from 3 to 5. Thanks Jim and Sue! It is very possible that I will be in your area soon. I have added a trip to KC to what I want for my birthday.
Second, I should revise my last post to include that I really don't mind waking up at the crack of dawn on a sleep in day, driving an hour and working around someone else's schedule to get my hair cut. I mean, after all, it's not like I trust anyone else to come near my hair with a pair of scissors. It's one thing to have a good stylist. But it is a completely different thing to have a good stylist who not only knows what your hair does but also knows your personality. Last time I went to a Custom Cuts for a trim and a few measly layers, the lady rolled her eyes and complained to her co-workers about having to cut my hair before she could go home. And if I walked in to an extremely upscale salon and told them I was sick of fighting with the do-rag and tangles from riding, they would look at me as if I were crazy. Peggy on the other hand gets this. My spunky, red-headed, biker b**** of an Aunt understands me. I can tell her to cut my hair however she wants to, and it always looks great. And while she usually likes to keep my hair long, she had no problems hacking away at the yards of hair. Although, I'm pretty sure I look even more like my mother now. I haven't taken any pictures of the new do yet, but as soon as I do, I will share them with all of you.
As a side note: I was walking around Wal-greens last Wednesday with a migraine looking for a special kind of medicine for Mason's cold. I don't know why he can't live off of Day-quill like the rest of the household (me). But I stumbled across the hair remover that promises that you will never need a razor, toxic creams, or wax again. You just rub off the hair with this special As Seen On TV thing (for the record, they have an entire aisle dedicated to As Seen On TV products). And I have to admit, I am insanely curious about this. Does it actually work? Does it take less time then a razor? These are the things that I NEED to know.
Steph- We may not beat your CSI theme or the Octo-mom theme, but I am confident that dressing like the floor of the movie theater will beat out Angie and Matt's team (Nerds), Loony Toons, Luau and Mexican themes. And no, I'm not supposed to know all of those, but the people around here can NOT keep a secret. Just curious, anyone who reads this one, out of these choices who would you choose to win best theme? Stephanie, you are not allowed to vote for your own team!
CSI
Octo-mom
Night at the Movies (dressed as the floor)
Nerds
Loony Toons
Luau
Second, I should revise my last post to include that I really don't mind waking up at the crack of dawn on a sleep in day, driving an hour and working around someone else's schedule to get my hair cut. I mean, after all, it's not like I trust anyone else to come near my hair with a pair of scissors. It's one thing to have a good stylist. But it is a completely different thing to have a good stylist who not only knows what your hair does but also knows your personality. Last time I went to a Custom Cuts for a trim and a few measly layers, the lady rolled her eyes and complained to her co-workers about having to cut my hair before she could go home. And if I walked in to an extremely upscale salon and told them I was sick of fighting with the do-rag and tangles from riding, they would look at me as if I were crazy. Peggy on the other hand gets this. My spunky, red-headed, biker b**** of an Aunt understands me. I can tell her to cut my hair however she wants to, and it always looks great. And while she usually likes to keep my hair long, she had no problems hacking away at the yards of hair. Although, I'm pretty sure I look even more like my mother now. I haven't taken any pictures of the new do yet, but as soon as I do, I will share them with all of you.
As a side note: I was walking around Wal-greens last Wednesday with a migraine looking for a special kind of medicine for Mason's cold. I don't know why he can't live off of Day-quill like the rest of the household (me). But I stumbled across the hair remover that promises that you will never need a razor, toxic creams, or wax again. You just rub off the hair with this special As Seen On TV thing (for the record, they have an entire aisle dedicated to As Seen On TV products). And I have to admit, I am insanely curious about this. Does it actually work? Does it take less time then a razor? These are the things that I NEED to know.
Steph- We may not beat your CSI theme or the Octo-mom theme, but I am confident that dressing like the floor of the movie theater will beat out Angie and Matt's team (Nerds), Loony Toons, Luau and Mexican themes. And no, I'm not supposed to know all of those, but the people around here can NOT keep a secret. Just curious, anyone who reads this one, out of these choices who would you choose to win best theme? Stephanie, you are not allowed to vote for your own team!
CSI
Octo-mom
Night at the Movies (dressed as the floor)
Nerds
Loony Toons
Luau
Friday, April 24, 2009
This might just be my worst one yet.
So I'm sitting here at my desk, not inclined to do anything even remotely related to work. My mini heater is on full blast to counter the effects of the air conditioner and my spring wardrobe. My legs are tucked up under me, and I reach down and touch what skin is left bare by my capris, and I realize, horror of all horrors, I forgot to shave my legs! But it gets worse, my shirt is sleeveless! And to add injury to insult, my back is in serious need of an adjustment.
Mason's attempt to kneed the knots out of the muscles surrounding my spine last night, just led to blinking back tears and shooting pain. At least until my back went numb from that great gel he literally poured on (why do men always think they need an entire handful of whatever they squeeze out of a bottle?). In other news, I am not getting my hair cut today after all. This is the problem with not booking an appointment in an ACTUAL salon. So now, I must wake up early on Sunday, drive all the way out to the middle of nowhere, and have my lovely locks sheared off all before 10 am. I happen to be a HUGE fan of sleeping in, so do not expect me to get out of bed tomorrow. No thank you.
And let's not even get into all the Trivia Team Theme drama. I had to make the executive decision because everyone else was to afraid to insult anyone. Apparently, that is not a fear of mine. But if I didn't speak up, we were going to one jumbled miss matched theme of gibberish. Gibberish wins no prizes, and I am a winner!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
To My Followers
It has been over a week since I posted a blog, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for not being there when you needed to be entertained. I'm sorry for neglecting you and your literary needs. It's not that I didn't try, honest. In fact I currently have 5 false starts in my drafts folder and that's not counting the 2 that I completely gave up on and deleted. If any of them were good enough to be posted, trust me, you would be the first to know. But do you really want to read about things I find while searching the internet for parts for my customers? Do you really care that while I was searching for memory I came across the Thrustmaster? Or that I found several different brands of "dongles" when I was looking for a USB A/B Switch? No, I didn't think so. That's why I didn't get past the first paragraph.
Aside from letting Mason get a new gun and being double (possibly triple) booked for the same weekend, my life is pleasantly boring. Still crazy busy, but all-together uneventful, at least for blogging purposes. Still addicted to Super Mario Galaxy, and still helping Mason beat Zelda. Still swamped with the amount of thank you's that have yet to be written, and still determined to make Mason write half. (sigh) If only our friends and family weren't so generous. The highlight of this week should be happening tomorrow when I go to get my hair chopped off. And I do mean chopped, at least 8 inches, gone, snipped off, bagged up, and shipped off to whichever charity I have enough hair to send it to. I'll let you know how it goes and be sure to post pictures, especially since I'm letting my hair dresser have complete control. If she wasn't my Aunt, I'd be terrified.
Aside from letting Mason get a new gun and being double (possibly triple) booked for the same weekend, my life is pleasantly boring. Still crazy busy, but all-together uneventful, at least for blogging purposes. Still addicted to Super Mario Galaxy, and still helping Mason beat Zelda. Still swamped with the amount of thank you's that have yet to be written, and still determined to make Mason write half. (sigh) If only our friends and family weren't so generous. The highlight of this week should be happening tomorrow when I go to get my hair chopped off. And I do mean chopped, at least 8 inches, gone, snipped off, bagged up, and shipped off to whichever charity I have enough hair to send it to. I'll let you know how it goes and be sure to post pictures, especially since I'm letting my hair dresser have complete control. If she wasn't my Aunt, I'd be terrified.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
My First Ride
All this warm spring weather makes me want to ride...
Ever since I was a child I have wanted a bike, in fact I can't remember ever not wanting one. Which is surprising since no one in my family had one at the time. It was just always something I had said I wanted. By the time I learned that money didn't magically reproduce in Mom and Dad's wallet, I knew that I wanted my bike to be a Harley. Riding in the back of Dad's '34 Ford Roadster, I would check out every single Harley that drove by. As I got older, I realized that the bikers sometimes thought I was checking them out. And to be fair, I was, to some degree. But it was the bike I was interested in.
My Uncle got a Fat Boy for his 50th birthday, and for some reason I didn't want to be a burden to him, so I didn't ask for a ride. Not quite understanding that a biker will generally look for any excuse to ride. When my sister meet her now husband, I was thrilled to find out that he had a bike. But it wasn't a Harley, so I found myself debating with him, over which bike was better every chance I got. Eventually I got a ride out of the deal. Well, showing off for his future sister in law attracted a cop, cutting our ride short. Providing a story for years to come on how I got him out of five tickets. That was our one and only ride.
Somehow, my Dad got a minibike and he let me drive it. Big mistake. I almost made it to the neighbors driveway before falling over. Not for one second did I have control over that bike. Being a firm believer in getting back in the saddle, I figured I just needed a bigger horse. However, the childhood confidence that I was born to ride was shattered. I didn't tell anyone though, because the moment I voiced my new fear, it would be real.
Just before Mother's Day, my Father found an excuse to get his own Softtail Custom. I got the first ride. It was heaven on earth. The itch that had been there since I was a child was digging in deep, especially since I had fallen in love with a Sportster 883 Low. I had put my name on the list for the Riders Edge course and I could hardly wait to begin, but I couldn't help thinking that I might not pass. I might forever be a back seat rider, so on my birthday I wished for my own bike to ride, and the ability to ride it.
It's easy to forget about fears when you are sitting there picking out new pipes for the bike you just declared as yours. I don't think you could have slapped the smile off of my face that day. The next week was the hardest, waiting for the bike to come home. Even though I still didn't know how to ride, if the bike were home I could at least sit on it. The day it was ready, my Dad got to be the first to drive it, and when some guy shouted out "nice bike" I wanted to stick my head out the window and shout that it was mine. But there was no need to admit to the rest of the world that I don't know how to ride my very own brand new Harley. I was too scared and nervous the first night to ride it. So I waited, after all, what's one more day? I was content to sit, listen to the rumble and smile for the camera phones. Knowing this is a hurtle I must eventually jump, (otherwise this was an incredibly expensive paper weight) I chose the next day to ride.
Dad and I took the bike to the nearest high school and practiced in the parking lot. I tried rolling it to find my balance, but the hills weren't steep enough to get the right speed. Remembering the mini bike incident, I strapped on my helmet, started her up, took a deep breath and drove off. Incident free, I circled the lot at least a dozen times. The next free evening I had, we went straight to the park to practice roads, turns and third gear. Dad followed in my car as I cautiously took turns and tried to relax my shoulders. But going 15 miles an hour on the straights and 5 on the turns with my shoulders hunched up to my ears was no way to ride. Thankfully a cancellation on the hottest weekend of the year allowed me to get into the Riders Edge class sooner then later.
The group I was in was very green. My laps in the parking lot, and slow drive through the park made me the most experienced rider. The class gave me the basics I needed to ride and a sunburn on the bottom of my chin from the reflective surface of the parking lot. Knowing I could do a small figure eight without falling over built up my confidence, but the hundred degree weather still didn't distract me from my nerves when it was time to take the test. Did I mention I was a bad test taker? Thankfully I was one of the two in the class to pass the course. But taking it to the road was another thing.
I didn't want to do it, I wanted to go back to the safety of the parking lot. I needed Dad's encouragement to advance to the next level. He practically forced me to go for a ride with him. I believe the direct quote was, "Wanna go for a ride?" I couldn't admit my fear to Dad, so I had no choice but to say yes. After a pit stop at Hallmark (yes that's right, Hallmark, the perfect place for two doo-raged, fingerless gloved bikers) we traveled the back roads with the most curves and hills. After I was able to relax my shoulders enough to really experience the ride, I was in heaven. Heaven on wheels. Aside from the tangles I later had to rip out of my hair, I loved every min of it.
Ever since I was a child I have wanted a bike, in fact I can't remember ever not wanting one. Which is surprising since no one in my family had one at the time. It was just always something I had said I wanted. By the time I learned that money didn't magically reproduce in Mom and Dad's wallet, I knew that I wanted my bike to be a Harley. Riding in the back of Dad's '34 Ford Roadster, I would check out every single Harley that drove by. As I got older, I realized that the bikers sometimes thought I was checking them out. And to be fair, I was, to some degree. But it was the bike I was interested in.
My Uncle got a Fat Boy for his 50th birthday, and for some reason I didn't want to be a burden to him, so I didn't ask for a ride. Not quite understanding that a biker will generally look for any excuse to ride. When my sister meet her now husband, I was thrilled to find out that he had a bike. But it wasn't a Harley, so I found myself debating with him, over which bike was better every chance I got. Eventually I got a ride out of the deal. Well, showing off for his future sister in law attracted a cop, cutting our ride short. Providing a story for years to come on how I got him out of five tickets. That was our one and only ride.
Somehow, my Dad got a minibike and he let me drive it. Big mistake. I almost made it to the neighbors driveway before falling over. Not for one second did I have control over that bike. Being a firm believer in getting back in the saddle, I figured I just needed a bigger horse. However, the childhood confidence that I was born to ride was shattered. I didn't tell anyone though, because the moment I voiced my new fear, it would be real.
Just before Mother's Day, my Father found an excuse to get his own Softtail Custom. I got the first ride. It was heaven on earth. The itch that had been there since I was a child was digging in deep, especially since I had fallen in love with a Sportster 883 Low. I had put my name on the list for the Riders Edge course and I could hardly wait to begin, but I couldn't help thinking that I might not pass. I might forever be a back seat rider, so on my birthday I wished for my own bike to ride, and the ability to ride it.
It's easy to forget about fears when you are sitting there picking out new pipes for the bike you just declared as yours. I don't think you could have slapped the smile off of my face that day. The next week was the hardest, waiting for the bike to come home. Even though I still didn't know how to ride, if the bike were home I could at least sit on it. The day it was ready, my Dad got to be the first to drive it, and when some guy shouted out "nice bike" I wanted to stick my head out the window and shout that it was mine. But there was no need to admit to the rest of the world that I don't know how to ride my very own brand new Harley. I was too scared and nervous the first night to ride it. So I waited, after all, what's one more day? I was content to sit, listen to the rumble and smile for the camera phones. Knowing this is a hurtle I must eventually jump, (otherwise this was an incredibly expensive paper weight) I chose the next day to ride.
Dad and I took the bike to the nearest high school and practiced in the parking lot. I tried rolling it to find my balance, but the hills weren't steep enough to get the right speed. Remembering the mini bike incident, I strapped on my helmet, started her up, took a deep breath and drove off. Incident free, I circled the lot at least a dozen times. The next free evening I had, we went straight to the park to practice roads, turns and third gear. Dad followed in my car as I cautiously took turns and tried to relax my shoulders. But going 15 miles an hour on the straights and 5 on the turns with my shoulders hunched up to my ears was no way to ride. Thankfully a cancellation on the hottest weekend of the year allowed me to get into the Riders Edge class sooner then later.
The group I was in was very green. My laps in the parking lot, and slow drive through the park made me the most experienced rider. The class gave me the basics I needed to ride and a sunburn on the bottom of my chin from the reflective surface of the parking lot. Knowing I could do a small figure eight without falling over built up my confidence, but the hundred degree weather still didn't distract me from my nerves when it was time to take the test. Did I mention I was a bad test taker? Thankfully I was one of the two in the class to pass the course. But taking it to the road was another thing.
I didn't want to do it, I wanted to go back to the safety of the parking lot. I needed Dad's encouragement to advance to the next level. He practically forced me to go for a ride with him. I believe the direct quote was, "Wanna go for a ride?" I couldn't admit my fear to Dad, so I had no choice but to say yes. After a pit stop at Hallmark (yes that's right, Hallmark, the perfect place for two doo-raged, fingerless gloved bikers) we traveled the back roads with the most curves and hills. After I was able to relax my shoulders enough to really experience the ride, I was in heaven. Heaven on wheels. Aside from the tangles I later had to rip out of my hair, I loved every min of it.
Friday, April 10, 2009
One of Those Weeks, in a nutshell.
Day 1
I have no idea what I was thinking when I got ready this morning. I must have still been asleep until about 15 minuets ago. I put on a little black sweater shrug thing over a short sleeved shirt, but that's not the odd part. Then I sat there and debated which brown shoes to wear. I decided to go with the dark brown snake skin over the light brown suede. What's worse, I even had to move the classic black pumps to get to the brown. As I'm walking out the door, I think I should take a jacket since it is only 35 degrees outside. Well, my black one is dirty and a little too thin for this chilly morning. So I figured I would just wear the one I have in the car, which is brown. I kid you not, I had to debate that for a moment because the brown wouldn't go with the black shrug. Apparently, I had completely forgotten about my BROWN shoes. To make matters worse, the brown coat left white fuzz all over the black shrug. I swear I'm normally better at dressing myself then this.
Day 2
As I'm sitting here at my desk, wearing my second choice footwear, I'm left wondering why Koby always goes for the black shoes, the same ones I didn't wear yesterday. I have two pairs of black casual dress shoes that are not designated for a certain season. Simple black pumps, and a slightly more fancy sling. These are literally the only "plain" black heels I own. I used to have a cute little pair of black kitten heels, but a little puppy ate the inside out of those, and they haven't been fixed yet. So the slings are the ones I am wearing today, which have some nice gouges in the heel from that little fur ball we call a dog. Which is also why they were the second choice. The black pumps I was going to wear today took a detour to the trash. These poor shoes have been through so much in their little sample shoe lives.
Before Koby was even born, Sheeba decided to scratch out what tiny bit of cushion there was and then convinced Charlie that the whole shoe was a toy. Charlie has only chewed on one shoe when he was still a puppy, and this self punishing dog saw how upset I was and never chewed on a shoe again. In fact I only know it was in Charlie's mouth this time because Mason caught him. But at this point in time, Mason and I were never at the house at the same time. So when I got home and saw the shoe, I investigated and found scratch marks and teeth marks way to small for my 120 pound dog to make. Sheeba was then in trouble with me, and Charlie once again put himself in time out. I went without these pumps for some time, and was unable to find black pumps I liked enough to replace them. So I bought some insoles instead. Once Koby entered our lives and I caught him sniffing around those pointed heels, I made sure to put every single pair of shoes in the closet. This morning the little snot ignored the two pairs of brown heels I had left laying out, and figured out how to get in the closed closet so he could run off with my black pump. The heel is mangled, the side is scratched, and the toe is chewed through, beyond repair. (sniff)
Day 3
Mason's birthday is today, and since he has to spend all of it at work and school, I made him breakfast in bed. I let Koby outside while I was making it so he wouldn't make to much noise and wake up Mason. Now you know, something is bound to happen, why else would I be telling you all this? Just as we are finishing our wonderful blueberry apple pancakes, the doorbell rings. And there is our neighbor holding our little puppy in her arms. Since Koby can no longer fit through the fence and Sheeba taught him how to dig, he put two and two together and dig under two fences just so he could go play with the Huskies next door. Because of Charlie, Koby doesn't know that big dogs can eat him in two bites. Especially those sweet ferocious Huskies, who happen to think that Koby is a rather large squirrel. In an effort to defend himself, Koby caused one of the Huskies to yelp, which sent Angie the neighbor to investigate. Koby forced poor Angie to walk outside in her robe to deliver a mud covered puppy to us at 6:30 in the morning. And even though their dogs helped Koby dig the hole, I'm pretty sure I owe them some cookies.
Day 4
Since my attempt to wear my black shrug on Monday bombed so badly that I took it off after an hour, I decided to try it again. Only this time, with new black shoes. Normally I make it a point to not wear things twice in two weeks, especially not twice in one week. But I figured that since the one person who would notice was working from home today, that I would be okay. So I grabbed a shirt, threw myself together and ran out the door. Half way to work, I realize that I'm pretty sure that I wore this EXACT same outfit on Monday, except the shoes. How sad is that? And to make matters worse, the security tag is still in the sweater. I can never find any scissors when I'm getting ready in the morning. I'm really kinda worried about what tomorrow will bring.
Day 5
Except for the fact that I had to help Mason get dressed this morning (since he hurt his back last night and could hardly move), it was fairly mild. No mangled shoes, no half eaten puppies, and a fresh outfit. Seriously, the highlight of my morning was trying to put Mason's shoes on his feet without untying the laces. Well that, and trying to dry off Koby with the hair dryer. Which is officially one of his favorite toys, I turn it on and he comes running. I'm confident that he will one day catch that blowing air and claim his rightful place as top dog. As for the weekend, I'm still hoping that Mason's back will feel better so we can go on the Katy Trail as planned.
I have no idea what I was thinking when I got ready this morning. I must have still been asleep until about 15 minuets ago. I put on a little black sweater shrug thing over a short sleeved shirt, but that's not the odd part. Then I sat there and debated which brown shoes to wear. I decided to go with the dark brown snake skin over the light brown suede. What's worse, I even had to move the classic black pumps to get to the brown. As I'm walking out the door, I think I should take a jacket since it is only 35 degrees outside. Well, my black one is dirty and a little too thin for this chilly morning. So I figured I would just wear the one I have in the car, which is brown. I kid you not, I had to debate that for a moment because the brown wouldn't go with the black shrug. Apparently, I had completely forgotten about my BROWN shoes. To make matters worse, the brown coat left white fuzz all over the black shrug. I swear I'm normally better at dressing myself then this.
Day 2
As I'm sitting here at my desk, wearing my second choice footwear, I'm left wondering why Koby always goes for the black shoes, the same ones I didn't wear yesterday. I have two pairs of black casual dress shoes that are not designated for a certain season. Simple black pumps, and a slightly more fancy sling. These are literally the only "plain" black heels I own. I used to have a cute little pair of black kitten heels, but a little puppy ate the inside out of those, and they haven't been fixed yet. So the slings are the ones I am wearing today, which have some nice gouges in the heel from that little fur ball we call a dog. Which is also why they were the second choice. The black pumps I was going to wear today took a detour to the trash. These poor shoes have been through so much in their little sample shoe lives.
Before Koby was even born, Sheeba decided to scratch out what tiny bit of cushion there was and then convinced Charlie that the whole shoe was a toy. Charlie has only chewed on one shoe when he was still a puppy, and this self punishing dog saw how upset I was and never chewed on a shoe again. In fact I only know it was in Charlie's mouth this time because Mason caught him. But at this point in time, Mason and I were never at the house at the same time. So when I got home and saw the shoe, I investigated and found scratch marks and teeth marks way to small for my 120 pound dog to make. Sheeba was then in trouble with me, and Charlie once again put himself in time out. I went without these pumps for some time, and was unable to find black pumps I liked enough to replace them. So I bought some insoles instead. Once Koby entered our lives and I caught him sniffing around those pointed heels, I made sure to put every single pair of shoes in the closet. This morning the little snot ignored the two pairs of brown heels I had left laying out, and figured out how to get in the closed closet so he could run off with my black pump. The heel is mangled, the side is scratched, and the toe is chewed through, beyond repair. (sniff)
Day 3
Mason's birthday is today, and since he has to spend all of it at work and school, I made him breakfast in bed. I let Koby outside while I was making it so he wouldn't make to much noise and wake up Mason. Now you know, something is bound to happen, why else would I be telling you all this? Just as we are finishing our wonderful blueberry apple pancakes, the doorbell rings. And there is our neighbor holding our little puppy in her arms. Since Koby can no longer fit through the fence and Sheeba taught him how to dig, he put two and two together and dig under two fences just so he could go play with the Huskies next door. Because of Charlie, Koby doesn't know that big dogs can eat him in two bites. Especially those sweet ferocious Huskies, who happen to think that Koby is a rather large squirrel. In an effort to defend himself, Koby caused one of the Huskies to yelp, which sent Angie the neighbor to investigate. Koby forced poor Angie to walk outside in her robe to deliver a mud covered puppy to us at 6:30 in the morning. And even though their dogs helped Koby dig the hole, I'm pretty sure I owe them some cookies.
Day 4
Since my attempt to wear my black shrug on Monday bombed so badly that I took it off after an hour, I decided to try it again. Only this time, with new black shoes. Normally I make it a point to not wear things twice in two weeks, especially not twice in one week. But I figured that since the one person who would notice was working from home today, that I would be okay. So I grabbed a shirt, threw myself together and ran out the door. Half way to work, I realize that I'm pretty sure that I wore this EXACT same outfit on Monday, except the shoes. How sad is that? And to make matters worse, the security tag is still in the sweater. I can never find any scissors when I'm getting ready in the morning. I'm really kinda worried about what tomorrow will bring.
Day 5
Except for the fact that I had to help Mason get dressed this morning (since he hurt his back last night and could hardly move), it was fairly mild. No mangled shoes, no half eaten puppies, and a fresh outfit. Seriously, the highlight of my morning was trying to put Mason's shoes on his feet without untying the laces. Well that, and trying to dry off Koby with the hair dryer. Which is officially one of his favorite toys, I turn it on and he comes running. I'm confident that he will one day catch that blowing air and claim his rightful place as top dog. As for the weekend, I'm still hoping that Mason's back will feel better so we can go on the Katy Trail as planned.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Chinese? Please!
I'm a big fan of Chinese food. Well, all food to be exact. I convinced some of my coworkers to go out for lunch on Monday, eventually we decided on one of our local Chinese places. Stephanie's hatred of most food, including egg rolls and crab rangoon tends to benefit my waist line, as I am truly addicted to fried crab goo (and doughnuts, but that is a completely different story). After denying myself that wonderful fried food (except the crab) the last few times I have had Chinese, I decided to treat myself to some yummy orange chicken. As everyone knows, most Chinese places have their "off" days. And this was one of them.
The breading on my chicken was somewhat chewy and it just tasted funny. Chalking it up to being an off day, I didn't complain. I just filled up on rice and Stephanie's crab. Not being one of those people who can toss out uneaten food, I boxed it up to eat for dinner or lunch the next day. So today, as I'm sitting at my desk with Hell's Kitchen playing on my computer and leftovers in front of me, I truly examine my chicken for the first time. It's better after the sauce has fully soaked into the breading. But it still tastes funny, and it's not white like chicken should be. After testing a few more pieces and actually cutting them open to investigate further, I discovered that I was not eating orange chicken at all. I was eating orange pork!
I'm all about pork, usually I really enjoy it. But Chinese places like this one, are notorious for having the fattiest pork that ever waddled across the farm. And for the record, pig fat does not taste good with orange sauce. If I could, I would march into the bathroom and toss my pork flavored cookies. But I can't, and I certainly wouldn't want to do it at work either. I would love to sit here and tell you that I will never go back to that place again, but odds are, I will. I will just examine my meat a little more closely from now on.
I knew I should have gone with the cashew chicken instead.
The breading on my chicken was somewhat chewy and it just tasted funny. Chalking it up to being an off day, I didn't complain. I just filled up on rice and Stephanie's crab. Not being one of those people who can toss out uneaten food, I boxed it up to eat for dinner or lunch the next day. So today, as I'm sitting at my desk with Hell's Kitchen playing on my computer and leftovers in front of me, I truly examine my chicken for the first time. It's better after the sauce has fully soaked into the breading. But it still tastes funny, and it's not white like chicken should be. After testing a few more pieces and actually cutting them open to investigate further, I discovered that I was not eating orange chicken at all. I was eating orange pork!
I'm all about pork, usually I really enjoy it. But Chinese places like this one, are notorious for having the fattiest pork that ever waddled across the farm. And for the record, pig fat does not taste good with orange sauce. If I could, I would march into the bathroom and toss my pork flavored cookies. But I can't, and I certainly wouldn't want to do it at work either. I would love to sit here and tell you that I will never go back to that place again, but odds are, I will. I will just examine my meat a little more closely from now on.
I knew I should have gone with the cashew chicken instead.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
It's Official
I'm a blogger. Crap. I never thought I would see this day.
Yes, that's right. The girl who once ran from anything looking like commitment, just committed to writing and posting a blog for anyone to read. Is my head on straight? Or have my two weeks of insomnia completely fried my brain? Or perhaps this is just some sad attempt to clear my mind before attempting to sleep. Knowing my luck, this will just be one more thing to think about instead of sleeping. What will my next blog be about??? Sleep, exit stage left. Enter, crabby k, center stage. And for the record, no one likes crabby k, least of all me. Although Eric gets credit for agreeing to go out with crabby k in an effort to cheer her up. Not many people are that brave. I guess that's what you get from the fine men in blue. And a special thanks to all those fine men and women in blue... Thank you for not giving me any tickets for the three months my plates were expired. I really appreciate it.
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