The Wonder Women

Springy

2009-03-25T15:45:00.003-05:00

My favorite things about spring, in a list:

1. Blossoms.
2. Tulips.
3. Green.
4. Opening the doors to air out the house.
5. Switching my winter and summer clothes out. It’s like a whole new wardrobe!
6. Longer days, shorter nights.
7. Easter.
8. Grilling.
9. Not craving hot thick creamy fattening food all of the time. Look out salads, here I come!
10. Sitting outside to have a drink with friends on a patio.
11. Grilled fish. This combines the three previous bullet points, but it bears repeating - nothing is better than a glass of white wine and a plate of grilled fish and asparagus on a spring afternoon.
12. Free golf lessons from my boss. Particular to this spring, but still. It means I get to play hooky from work on nice afternoons, along with all of the male managers who have been doing it all along! Finally! Inclusion!
13. Blue sky.
14. Azaleas.
15. Flowers.
16. Birdsong.
17. Naps with the windows open.
18. Packing up the family's winter coats - added bonus of additional closet space.
19. The birthdays of 5 of our siblings - my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law, my sister, my brother, my sister, all in rapid succession.
20. My baby's birthday, now thrown into that mix.

My least favorite things about spring, also in list form:

1. My baby’s birthday. Can a year seriously have passed already???
2. Not knowing what to wear in the morning. It goes from short skirts and loose fluttery blouses to Nanook of the North and back to fluttery again – and that’s just from morning til afternoon!
3. Lots of rain.
4. Um, that’s it.

what do i love about spring? EVERYTHING!

2009-03-24T07:14:00.002-05:00

the older i grow, the more i loathe winter. but oh, oh how i love spring! i have always enjoyed spring, but i think i'm beginning to treasure it even more.

perhaps my favorite part of spring is the warm (yet not stifling hot) weather along with the abundance of flowers. there was a huge field near my childhood home. each spring, right around easter, the entire field would spring forth with gorgeous daffodils. i can't even begin to describe it; it was just breathtaking really. i remember walking through the field, picking daffodils and displaying them in various vases around our home. i haven't been back to that field in years...i wonder if it still boasts this amazing display of white and yellow. it truly is a sight to behold!

another reason why i love spring is that it holds my favorite holiday - easter! i love, love, love easter! i love purchasing new easter dresses. i love waking up on easter sunday with a new feeling of hope. i love hunting easter eggs. i love eating reece's peanut butter eggs. i love the message that i hear each year on easter sunday. i LOVE the hymns that we sing.

oh, how i love spring! and i am filled with a renewed spirit just knowing that it is nearly in full force!

Spring: Time of Exploding Renewal

2009-03-23T18:08:00.000-05:00

This winter has felt so, so long and it is always about this time of year when I find that I want to burn my winter coat, that I hate the dark mornings and I begin begging for winter mercy. Now as the days are getting longer and there is a chance that the temperatures might hike above fifty degrees, I turn my face to the sun and see that the trees are beginning to bloom. Ah, spring is making its mark on the frosty face of winter.

My favorite thing about this time of year has always been that it is a time of renewal and hope. The brown grass begins to turn green, the flowers start to bloom, and the trees burst into gorgeous plumes of color. Where I live on the east coast, Washington, D.C., is famous for the cherry blossoms that explode into full bloom during this time of year. There are few things more breathtaking than approaching the Tidal Basin and finding it surrounded by hundreds of fully blooming cherry blossom trees. It always makes me want to stop, take a deep breath, and imagine that anything is possible.

I also love that spring ushers in the warm sun again. Of course, during winter the sun shines and it is always a welcome change from the gray days of snow and slush. However, once spring begins, the sun once again becomes that bright orange ball of fire that warms your skin when you turn your face toward it. How I love closing my eyes and feeling that warmth on my forehead, cheeks, nose.

My absolute favorite part of spring, though, is the fact that it means summer is on its way!

Better Late Than Never!

2009-03-13T13:36:00.002-05:00

A day late and a dollar short, but here ya go.

If I had only one television show to ever watch, I do believe that show would be . . .

DRUMROLL, PLEASE!!

. . . Deadwood. Or Firefly. Or Deadwood. Or Sopranos. Maybe Firefly.

The language in Deadwood is so dense, and the delivery so natural (read: swift,) that I can watch it fifty times and pick up things I've missed. The visuals, also dense. Plots. Dense. Moral conundrums. You guessed it - dense. You can pick a thread and follow it down a rabbit hole, and the next time you watch you can follow another one. This would be a series I could watch a hundred times. But there aren't enough episodes! And it doesn't end!

Firefly has characters that I love spending time with. And it is so optimistic and upbeat, even when it gets serious. Its backstory is as dense as Deadwood's (I'm sensing a theme in my tastes here,) though Joss Whedon did not get a chance to explore the winding paths he laid out, as the thing was also cancelled well before its time. The "tapestry" of script, set, story, etc. is nowhere near as rich as Deadwood, but its humor, lack of pretense, and general good cheer would make it a good lifelong tv companion.

And then we have The Sopranos. I love the delicious feeling of knowing we still have 3 1/2 seasons of unwatched Sopranos chillin' in our Netflix queue. I don't know that on an even playing field I would pick this one necessarily - it has less to recommend it, re-viewing wise. However, it wins the prize for being the new series to which we still look forward each weekend. That alone - the fact that I haven't already watched it fifty times, as I have the previous two - keeps it in the running.

Don't make me choose. Don't. You're too cruel. Don't!

All right. Deadwood it is.

(Firefly.)

Mad For My Mad Men

2009-03-10T15:36:00.003-05:00

Growing up I was never really interested in television. Sure, there were love affairs with Mike Seaver on Growing Pains and I enjoyed Sesame Street every once in a while, but my parents made sure that I found other ways to entertain myself as a kid. Sure, as an adult it is nice to have interests outside of television -- reading, running, photography -- but I am definitely making up for lost time in the land of television these days! My husband travels often for work and we moved to a new city a few years ago. Couple a new city with not really knowing anyone with a husband who is gone all the time and you get me watching A LOT of television.

I have a few shows that I watch purely for entertainment purposes (America's Next Top Model), a few shows that I watch to make me feel better about myself (Rock of Love Bus, anyone?), and a few shows that I watch for educational purposes (Jeopardy). There are a few shows, though, that I absolutely never miss.

If I had to choose just one television show to watch, well, it would be a tough decision. I think I may have narrowed it down to at two: The Amazing Race and Mad Men. I know this will shock some people, but I think if pressed, I would choose Mad Men as my sole television show to watch. The Amazing Race has long been a favorite of mine and I do hold it near and dear to my heart, but Mad Men currently has me under its spell.

Mad Men is also probably my current favorite because it is pretty much the only show that my husband and I both enjoy. We find ourselves mesmerized by the characters and plot twists. The wardrobes for these characters are spot on and every little detail is attended to. The music is perfection. The characters are well-developed and yet have just enough mystery to keep you guessing. The juxtaposition of light and dark is intriguing. The female characters are fantastic. And Don Draper? Do not even get me started! He is a bad man who is also a very good man. The perfect lead character. To me, this show is perfect in every way. So, there is just no way that I could ever give up my Mad Men (and women!)!

I Wonder What Was the Best Part About My Weekend?

2009-03-05T16:46:00.000-05:00

Well, hands down the best part was that I wasn’t here at work.

Sorry. This has been One Of Those Days, and it won’t be over soon. The roofers pounding just above my head aren’t helping much. So, in order to lower my blood pressure and focus on good times, good times, let’s discuss last weekend, shall we? Because last weekend? Was awesome.

My parents and middle sister came to visit. We see them 3 or 4 times a year, which is not enough, but it’s tough to make that 8 hour drive for just a weekend. The middlesis has signed the lease on her first apartment – whee!! – and we are donating some much-loved items to her household. It’s amazing how much stuff it takes to clean your bathroom or cook a spaghetti dinner, and I like to think that we’ve made it a little more possible for her to perform these tasks.

In any case, these boxed items in our shed + ever-aging baby boy = parental trip, and boy did the weather just suckity suck suck for their visit. It rained and drooped and drizzled and fizzled all weekend. Friday night while we waited for them to arrive, Darlin and I splurged on getting takeout. We ordered fried egg burgers and tater tots from a local bar, and Frog Baby garnered lots of attention in there while we waited. (It’s family friendly til a certain hour of the night – there were lots of kids, but Frog was the cutest!) We gorged ourselves, watched a Sopranos episode, and fell asleep waiting for my family to arrive. They got there around 11pm, peeked in on the baby, and then we all headed to bed.

Saturday morning dawned dreary as ever, but we rallied and sallied ho and took ourselves on up to the Natural Science Museum anyhow. We sloshed through the puddles to the front entrance, and then enjoyed a leisurely two hour (dry and warm!) exploration of the four floors of dinosaurs, whales, trees, snakes, spiders, and so forth. It was lots of fun. Dad bought Frog Baby a soft pillow with a wolf on it. He sleeps with it at night.

That evening we were all treated to a delicious PF Chang’s dinner, on Dad. We did call ahead seating, which is a parent’s savior by the way. The only way we were getting through a nice meal at a nice (slow) restaurant was if the experience was as short as possible. There was no reason to worry, though - Frog was a dream. He sat in his high chair, played with chopsticks, and ate the finger foods I’d packed. He didn’t fuss for a second. Eating out is really different with a kid. I can’t imagine when we have multiple children! That night, my mother and sister saw me perform with my band at a local bar. My mom rocked out until past midnight, drinking a rum and coke and cheering for me. What a mama.

Next day, we casually mentioned that I had praised my mother’s lasagna in a post here, and she gave us all a knowing cockeyed look and then graciously offered to make it. Oh yes. YESSSSSSS. We did a Wal Mart run for the ingredients, and approximately seven zillion hours later it was assembled and boiling hot on our plates. In the meantime, we hung around the house, enjoying each other’s company, and all in all spending too much time with the baby as the center of attention.

Monday morning dawned snowy and bright, and I decided to work from home (much to my Northern boss’s consternation, but tough cookies. It’s not worth my life!) I wished my family farewell, and then alternated working and teaching Jack about snow. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time.

It all feels a million miles away right now, as I wait to fire some people and discipline some other people. But I know that this week can't, in fact, last forever. And that another Friday is waiting for me just around the corner.

it's no wonder.

2009-03-04T08:24:00.002-05:00

it's no wonder that i loved every last second of my weekend. on friday, super jas and i treated the girls (and one of their friends) to pizza hut and a movie. we saw a movie we had seen before ('bolt'), but we enjoyed it so much the first time that we didn't mind seeing it again. it was just as cute the second time around and i would see it again and again...such a cute movie! i highly recommend it.

saturday was fairly lazy. all 4 of us piled into the car to go grocery shopping. such excitement, no?

after church on sunday, super jas and his dad headed to the annual boat, sport, and travel show at the fairgrounds. i used to attend the event with them, but after a few years, i had had enough. now, i totally and completely despise the boat, sport, and travel show. and it's such a chore hauling the girls through each of the buildings, trying to keep them happy and out of trouble. plus, how boring is it to look at fishing gear and boats all day? sooo not my idea of a good time. i decided to skip the event for the 3rd year in a row and take the girls to the children's museum. i didn't know if my mother-in-law had plans, so i called her up and invited her to tag along with us. she agreed and we had a wonderful, fun filled day together. we even ran into a couple of friends from my college days in line at the carousel. they are married now and have 2 kids and it was fun to catch up with them and their lives.

after the museum closed, we met super jas and his dad at steak-n-shake for dinner. we gorged ourselves on burgers and milkshakes and called it a day. the girls collapsed into bed and super jas and i snuggled on the couch. ah, pure bliss!

it was such a nice, relaxing weekend that i can't pick just one moment that i loved the best. i wish every weekend could be as fun!

I Wonder What I Loved Most About My Weekend?

2009-03-03T15:59:00.002-05:00

Well, it was not the migraine. Definitely not that. Maybe I loved the meds that put me to sleep so that I could be blissfully unaware of said migraine? Hmm. I did enjoy slipping away on a drug-induced haze and not feeling my head throb anymore. I also loved scrubbing my entire apartment down so that it now sparkles when I walk into a room. I may have heard angels singing when I cleaned our microwave out, people.

I loved sitting on our couch all day Saturday watching movies and bad DVR'ed television (Millionaire Matchmaker, anyone?). I loved that I got to sit next to Superman all weekend and that we got to spend some quality time together. I loved that Wondercat, who is still heavily medicated, sat quietly and caused not one problem while we rested and relaxed.

But what I loved best about my weekend? Was that it got longer by one day due to a surprise snowstorm! A unexpected three day weekend is always welcome! I took full advantage by snuggling under a warm blankie in my warm pajama pants and watched bad daytime television. I got laundry done that would have otherwise gone undone for another few days. I got to see my husband in the middle of the day on a Monday and that always feels luxurious. I love the feeling of playing hooky even when it is boss-approved and on the up and up. Ah, my three day weekend was just lovely!

That's Amore

2009-02-25T15:02:00.002-05:00

Ahhhh, my mama. She’s the oldest child of a pair of good Catholics who birthed seven children they couldn’t afford and would have had more if cancer hadn’t claimed my maternal grandmother’s reproductive organs. Mama is also the mother of five children, because after escaping her childhood household she decided she hadn’t had enough clamor and destruction. For a long time, she was also caretaker to two crotchety old in-laws, whose dietary no-nos fit on a list that ran for a mile. My mom’s cooked for a lot of people in her life, with not a lot of money in the grocery budget, and under some pretty tight dietary restrictions.

It is probably fortunate, in a way, that she hates to cook.

Were she a budding gourmand, I think she would have been frustrated by having to serve spaghetti with ketchup on it instead of pasta sauce, as she did for her siblings. I think the usual of frozen fish sticks, frozen peas, and boxed macaroni fare of my youth would have hurt her soul as she dreamed of serving frissons of fillintheblank topped with finely whipped crème fraiche and a fresh herb garnish. But she didn’t. In that arena, at least, my mother was well-served by being underfunded. A small budget reduces the pressure to perform in the kitchen arena.

I’m not telling you anything she wouldn’t tell you herself, here. In that game where you get to pretend you’re rich and pick either a chef, masseuse, chauffeur, or maid, my mother has never hesitated in her answer. She has often told me that if she never had to cook again, she would die happy. She raised a couple of cookin' daughters, because as soon ever as she could get us on our feet and chopping in the kitchen, we took over.

That being said, then, I remember that my mother always made her own spaghetti sauce. I grew up never knowing about the convenience and ease of bottled marinara. When I discovered it in college, I found it shocking that people took such short cuts. Could these be genuinely caring mothers buying the Prego and Ragu? How could people eat that disgusting stuff? Some mornings I would get up for school and see the dozen or so jars of tomato products on the counter. The big pot would be on the stove. Bay leaves, oregano, basil, sage would have been plucked from the oft-neglected spice cupboard. And on the really extra special days, next to all of these cans and bottles and jars would be resting a box of lasagna. And I would know that this was a day to skip lunch in anticipation of the best food ever known to humankind.

My mama’s lasagna is kind of like a Supreme Pizza – it has everything. She includes your standards: the noodles, the homemade sauce that bubbled and cooked all day, the ricotta, mozzarella, Parmesan. She includes tasty fresh vegetables, like sliced mushrooms, diced green peppers, chopped whole tomatoes. She throws in the meats: ground beef mixed in the sauce, pepperoni slices, hot Italian sausage chunks. She layers this in a way that I have never been able to duplicate, perfecting the distribution so that every bite you take has some special chunk of delicious in it. And she slices it up into enormous squares that are melted, crispy-on-top and surface-of-the-sun hot inside. This is always complemented with a bowl of fresh salad of lettuce, raw mushrooms, carrot slices, pepper rings, and celery. She serves up a covered basket of steaming garlic bread, for mopping every morsel of her delicious cooked sauce, and then puts on her football pads and helmet before battling her way through the slathering, viciously hungry children and to the table.

I have never, not once, been able to wait and avoid burning the roof of my mouth. And, let me tell you, it tastes even better heated up the next day.

my mama's main dish.

2009-02-24T12:44:00.002-05:00

my mom never really cooked fancy, dancy dishes. her dishes were simple, but oh so delicious! there was one dish, however, that my mom spent quite a bit of time making. ah, yes. i loved walking in the door after school and finding every square inch of our kitchen counter tops covered with tea towels. this meant only one thing. we were having homemade chicken and noodles for dinner.

i would always lift the tea towels and sneak a few of the noodles my mom had made. each noodle was irregular in shape. some were small while others were quite long. most times, i would eat the little ones because i knew she wouldn't notice that they were gone. i don't ever recall watching her actually make the noodles and boil the chicken, but i definitely remember snitching the work in progress!

my mouth waters just thinking about sitting down at our tiny, blue table. she'd dip me a bowl of the soup and i'd sprinkle just the right amount of seasoned salt on it. deee-licious. i savored each and every bite. and while eating the soup, my dad would always pester my mom about having mashed potatoes with it. this idea my mother despised. 'too much starch,' was her answer. we never did eat mashed potatoes with the chicken and noodles, but it didn't keep my dad from asking each time we dined on it.

to this day, i love my mom's homemade chicken and noodles. i bet my mom has the best in the whole world. no contest!

I Wonder What Mama Makes Best?

2009-02-23T14:48:00.002-05:00

My family was the type that ate dinner together every single night. My brother and I would come home from school or athletic practice, do our homework and wait for Dad to get home from work. Mama would be slaving away in the kitchen to make something for dinner that would refuel us, would sustain us for the night, and would taste good. I am a very picky eater and I am allergic to some random things, but there were very few meals that my mother ever made that were not delicious. The things I usually did not like were the things my brother loved best (tuna casserole, anyone? ::gag::). I got lucky, I guess. I grew up with happily married parents who loved their kids more than anything and my mother can cook with the best of them. She grew up on a farm and as second oldest with lots of siblings, so she was honing her kitchen skills from early on.

Mama will tell you that what she cooks is nothing special and that none of her recipes require any fancy ingredients. Mama will also tell you that her favorite "spice" is a little bit of salt, she loves to use butter and that "anyone can make her recipes". And Mama would be dead wrong. I have spent years trying to perfect her recipes and re-create them in my own kitchen. While I may get close, nothing tastes as good as my Mama's home cooking. I think her secret ingredient is really love.

My Mama makes this dish that we call Hamburgers in Gravy. It is freaking unbelievable. The name of the dish describes it perfectly as it really is just hamburgers in gravy. However, pair this with some homemade noodles, some Indiana corn on the cob -- sorry, I have become distracted. Let me just say that this meal is amazing. I request it every time my parents come to visit me or every time I go back home to visit them. Every. single. time. I also always request salmon patties, fried potatoes, and brownies. Oh! And...okay, I could go on and on forever with this list of things my Mama makes best.

So I will just end by saying, DANG. My Mama can cook.

Maturity, in Purses

2009-02-18T17:23:00.001-05:00

Back in the heady days of my youth, back when it was me and only me that a handbag was designed to serve, I was a purse miminalist. The smaller, the better in my book – in fact, my favorite “handbag” of all time was the tiny card wallet with keychain attached that I used to carry around with me in college. ID, check. Credit and debit cards, check. Keys, check. The end. Maybe a chapstick in my front pocket, and I’d be done.

Later, the little red hobo was able to do the job that my pockets couldn’t quite manage – that is, carry my brick of a cell phone. Life abhors a vacuum, or in this case empty space in a purse, and so my needs multiplied to fill up the bag I carried. Tiny comb. Wee perfume. Gum.

And then I got pregnant, and I decided that it was necessary for me to graduate from Tiny Cute Hobo to The Gigantic Poppins Bag, or as I self deprecatingly like to call it, the Mom Purse. The weekend after my husband left the country for Brazil for 3 months, I cheered myself up by strolling to T.J. Maxx and dithering over a selection of 10 mom purses. After over an hour of collecting options, I whittled them down to 2: a gorgeous buttery brown over the shoulder bag, and a red Liz Claiborne with white stitch detail and polka dot lining. In order to never have to switch out black/brown purses again, I went with the red. And now I have embraced my space with gusto.

The Poppins bag currently holds:

In the sunglasses pocket
A pair of sunglasses
A pacifier
Receipts

In the cell phone pocket
My new work cell
My personal cell
A paper clip

In the first big pocket
Matches from the Outback Steakhouse
2 AA batteries of questionable charge
An old broken carabiner keychain
2 Chico bags (for groceries – yeah Sunni!)
My “inspiration/shopping list/used gum disposal sheets” notebook (yeah Amanda!)
A pen and checkbook
The instruction manual for my new work cell phone
A sample pack of the wipes we make at work, with the work logo printed on the pack
A disposable diaper
A pack of baby wipes
2 teethers

In the second big pocket
My wallet, reasonably stuffed
A receipt for a benefit I declined at work 2 months ago
The list of 401k investment options recommended by our broker 1 month ago which I still haven’t acted on
More work wet wipe sample packs
A nail file
Another pen
Another net bag for groceries

In the middle big pocket
All the stuff a woman shouldn’t leave home without – i.e., 2 chapsticks, gum, comb, perfume, lotion, hand mirror, tweezers, keys, Visine, lip gloss, and ancient Kleenex

In the side zip pocket
Grocery discount cards, coupons, 2 more pens, 4 patches (like, sew on patches – WTF? Where did they come from??), more grodacious Kleenex, phone numbers for baby’s pediatrician and insurance co. if the car breaks down

There you have it, baby! Everything but the kitchen sink!

my "luggage"

2009-02-17T23:03:00.003-05:00

super jas refers to my purse as my 'luggage.' true, it is a large bag. true, it weighs a bit. true, that i carry nearly everything in there that one could want. but, to call it a piece of 'luggage' is a bit of an exaggeration in my book. boys... what do they know? and where would they be without our purses and their contents? seriously.

like i said, my bag is fairly big. currently, it holds the following items:
*wallet
*gps
*a canvas bag that little mama decorated for me that i use to carry groceries (i'm trying to be green, g love!)
*paid bills
*checkbook
*candy wrappers
*a pack of gum
*two toothbrushes (my girls went to the dentist today)
*my black bag that holds such things as loose change, eye drops, chapstick, hand sanitizer, moisturizer. i guess you could say it's like my purse within a purse.
*bottle of advil
*band aids
*an assortment of mcdonald's happy meal toys

i love my bag and i love that it's big and can hold damn near anything that i need it to. and even though it may be heavy, at least i give my arms a workout each day. just another added bonus!

I Wonder What Is In My Purse?

2009-02-16T16:17:00.002-05:00

I'm thrilled to be Monday's hostess once again! Forgive me for the lightness of this topic, but I am lucky enough to be off of work today. So, I have given my brain a vacation. This topic, however, intrigues me. I hope it intrigues you as well.

So, my purse usually weighs about ten pounds. The purse I currently carry is a gorgeous black Coach bag that my husband generously gave me for Christmas. This gift was quite a surprise and I love carrying it. It has a ton of pockets so that I can stash all of my stuff!

In the first pocket you will find my wallet, pictures of family and friends, and a pen. I always have to have the pen with me otherwise I forget to write down my purchases. That makes balancing my check book a nightmare. So, for everyone's sanity, I carry the pen.

In the center pocket of my purse you will find a Vera Bradley makeup bag that I adore. It was a gift from my mother and it is in the cutest pattern -- Java Blue. This makeup bag is stuffed full of lipsticks, lip glosses, a mirror and my absolute beauty must-have of Bonne Bell Lip Smacker in Strawberry. The center pocket of my purse also holds my keys, my Blackberry for work and my personal Blackberry. There are also bills to be paid and my camera that I always have with me.

The last pocket of my purse holds Kleenex (hello, Old Lady!!) and a memo pad for notes, thoughts, and information. This pocket also carries my migraine meds. The migraine meds are a necessary evil, unfortunately. No matter what purse I am carrying, you will find those migraine meds. I have learned that lesson the hard way.

I guess you could call me well-prepared. Also, if you meet me in a dark alley and try to steal my shoes? I will beat you with my very heavy purse!

I Wonder What We'll Remember Most?

2009-01-20T13:34:00.003-05:00

Happy Inauguration Day!

I wonder which part of President Obama's speech will be the most heavily sound-bit?

I can't wait to watch it all over again tonight ... what an historic morning for our country. I'm glowing!

Would you believe she's only 18? It's true!

2009-01-16T10:17:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday to you, super jane! :)

Wondering about the Not-Quite-So-New-Anymore Year

2009-01-14T07:41:00.000-05:00

Yes, I still work here. Hi again after months of radio silence!

2009, you are an enigma to me. There you sit, all new and shiny, a mysterious, wrapped package that may turn out to be Pandora’s box or that may turn out to be the loveliest gift I’ve ever gotten. What will I find if I just slit some of the tape and take a quick peek?

Ooh, I see some change! Change of addresses for some of those very near and dear to me, change in the national mood as we embrace hope and the hard work we should all be prepared to do to get to those new places BHO wants to take us, and even change for my piggy bank! Oh wait. Never mind. That change is earmarked for credit-card companies and the US Dept. of Edu. But over there in the corner, do I see a haircut? Hmm. Maybe I’d better retape that corner.

I’m just going to give you a little shake, 2009, and then hold my ear up to you. Ah, lovely. I hear new music from U2 and lots and lots of laughter. I hear my cell phone ringing about a million times (and that’s just for January) and final boarding calls and at least one Wedding March and my nephew’s newest bon mot as repeated by his super-proud FarFar. I hear the clickety-clack of my keyboard as I renew my commitment to Wondering. (This last noise also sounds like my only New Year’s Resolution. Let me listen again. Yup. That’s what it is.)

Do you smell good? Mmm, 2009, you smell great—like M&Ms and new culinary adventures and the gym and organic lavender lotion.

Well, there you have it. I think, after having sized you up, that you’re going to be a pretty surprising surprise, 2009.

Here’s hopin’.

Wondering About 2009

2009-01-06T21:21:00.001-05:00

There are two scenarios for 2009, I suppose. On the whole, 2009 could either be a colossal success or a giant failure. Obviously, I am hoping for success.

My dream for 2009 is that it will be bringing me wealth, health, and happiness in infinite measure. A lottery win, my seventeen year old body back, and constant belly laughs would fit the bill quite nicely. However, I am not delusional. So, I have a feeling that 2009 will bring that ever-popular mix of good and bad. ("You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have, THE FACTS OF LIFE! THE FACTS OF LIFE!") Sorry, I could not resist.

So, reality time. I hope that 2009 brings me clarity about some very large looming decisions in my life. Should I have a kid (ever)? If yes, when? Should Superman and I stay on the east coast, should we move back to the midwest or should we explore living in an entirely new location? Should I set out on a new career path? What kind of car should we buy when our lease runs out this Spring? Just how many pairs of shoes can I fit in our closet?

I also hope that 2009 brings me a lot of fun travel, a lot more time with my husband, and a chance to spend more quality time with far-flung friends. I am hoping 2009 continues to bring me as much happiness as 2008 did. I sincerely hope that 2009 teaches me to enjoy every day, that it continues to show me the beauty in the little things, and that it further teaches me to appreciate everything (and everyone) that I have in my life.

I Wonder What 2009 Will Bring?

2009-01-05T16:48:00.002-05:00

Next week our next Wonder Woman will start her rotation, but I failed to notify her in time and so I am doing one last week, to kick off the new year.

First, a look back. 2008 brought many things to Chez G Love. A child - my first. My first birthday with a 3 in front of it. My second anniversary. An academic success, a bout of financial whining. A niece. 3 months without my husband, which was by turns a precious time and a lonely, difficult time. I went to childbirth classes, baby care classes, a horse race, three baby showers, the hospital. I had a month and a half off of work, and stitches aside I ate this time up, loved every minute. I saw Yellowstone National Park. I raised money for cancer. I went to 2 weddings, 1 camping trip, and countless band performances. I spent less of this year sleeping than I ever have in my life. I whined about not sleeping frequently.

What could 2009 bring me? Chances are that we will remain a family of 3, or 5 - no more children or animals will be gracing our door post this year, at least not planned (we all know how this can go, though.) Darlin and I could switch roles. By 2009's end I may be in law school, or I may be in theatre management, or I may be in graduate school, or I may be teaching, or in a very unlikely and not-hoped-for scenario, I could still be doing what I'm now doing. We may be moving to a new place. It could be somewhere we've never been before, or somewhere we know. Somewhere close, or far from here - close, or far from either or both of or parents. We may be living in our children's hometown by next year, or we may be living in the place where the next few will be born and move from before they are even aware of what is going on. Darlin may have a wonderful job or a job that is a stepping stone to a wonderful job, or if the economy continues to mess around, he may have a job that is totally unrelated to his career and education. We cross our fingers for one of the first two.

2009 is a swirl of unknown factors and worries and exhilaration and gut wrenching uncertainty. It will be fine. But it will also be interesting.

I Wonder If We Should See You in 2009?

2008-12-16T09:12:00.002-05:00

Guys - I think I speak for all of us when I say -

BLAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHH

It's that time of year. We'll catch you in January, when our next Wonder Woman will take over posting!

I Wonder If We'll All Have A Merry Christmas??

bring it.

2008-12-04T08:31:00.005-05:00

oh, how i love me some food. isn't that what the holidays are all about? eating and conversing with family and friends? not completely gorging yourself during the holidays is just so un-american.

here's my list of things i love to eat:
1. black olives - they are usually gone long before we actually sit at the table to eat. my mother-in-law even buys me a can of black olives even though no one else in the family likes them. she loves me. and i actually like eating them at her house more because i don't have to wrestle my sister and adorable nieces for them. i can have the whole can to myself!

2. sweet potatoes - my mom makes some DELICIOUS sweet potatoes. she douses on the brown sugar and teeny marshmallows and bakes it until golden. i eat what i can during the dinner and then eat the rest of them for lunch the next day. it's the best lunch ever - sweet potatoes and dr. pepper.

3. some sort of gooey roll with nuts on top - i have no idea what it's called, but my mother-in-law makes them. we eat them on christmas morning at her house and i could seriously eat the entire pan. they are sticky and gooey and just plain awesome.

4. my mom's pies - she usually makes a lot of them - apple, cherry, pumpkin, and sometimes chocolate. the crust she makes is so good. it's not thick and doughy like store bought pie crusts. one of my favorite memories from this past thanksgiving was watching little mama and my mom put together the cherry pie. mom let leah decide whether to make a "regular" top to the pie or a lattice top. little mama chose a lattice top and so she and my mom got to work. it was so fun watching the two of them create it together. it wasn't perfect to look at, but it was made with 110% love and tasted fabulous (except for the pits that my sister kept finding.).

5. carmel apple cider - i don't normally drink starbucks, but i do like to indulge in a tall carmel apple cider during the holidays. it is oh, so delicious and i'm sure sports about the same number of calories as a piece of my mom's pie.

i eat nonstop beginning on halloween and ending sometime after the first of the year. i put on a few extra pounds during this time, no doubt. but what is winter without a little hibernation fat to keep you warm?

Is There Any Wonder About Food?

2008-12-02T15:49:00.003-05:00

I love the holidays for many reasons. The twinkling lights, the stillness after a snowfall, gifts under the tree, Rudolph, the magic in the air, and THE FOOD. This entry could be about 400 paragraphs long, but I will spare you. So, here is my short list of holiday favorites:

The classic candy cane. Simple and delicious. I love adding canes to my hot chocolate too!
Pizzelles. A lovely woman who used to work for my dad used to make these every Christmas and deliver a stack to our house. Those pizzelles were all mine because I would eat all of them before anyone else even had a chance to grab one out of my greedy little hands.
Chex Mix. I realize Chex Mix can be made year round but I always remember my Mom making it most often during the holidays. Eating it right out of the oven makes it a great snack to warm up with after coming inside from the cold winter air.
Chex Muddy Buddies. Oh my word. This dish alone could cause me to gain twenty pounds during the holiday season. Love it.
Sugar cookies cut into fun shapes with that to-die for frosting. I used to work with a girl who made sugar cookies like I have never had before. They would literally melt in your mouth. I finally figured out that recipe last Christmas and my hips now tell that tale every day. The frosting is that delectable stuff that lingers on your tongue for merely a moment before melting away.
Nuts. Remember the nuts that your grandmother used to keep in a bowl at her house? It had that special cracker? It was always out at holidays? Me too! Delish! I could sit by this bowl and nibble all day long.
Gingerbread cookies. Cute and tasty! A favorite of Superman's and mine!
Christmas Morning Breakfast. This could be any variation of food, but my favorite is my Mom's specialty of pancakes, bacon, blueberry muffins, cinnamon rolls, and coffee cake. The perfect way to spend time with your family while making my muffin top muffin-ier.
Grandma's Noodles. Everyone's grandmother has a special dish she makes that everyone loves. My maternal grandmother's dish is homemade noodles. Made the old-fashioned way, they are perfection in a pan and I lust for them at least once a week.
Champagne. Bubbly and sparkly! A perfect beverage to wash down any of my favorite holiday foods.

Like I said, this list is in no way comprehensive. I could have made a list muuuuuch longer. I mean, mulled wine! Cheese! Advent calendar chocolates! Tree-shaped Reese's! Pizza King on Christmas! Holiday-tinis! Stained Glass cookies! Holiday Margaritas!

I Wonder What Is My Favorite Holiday Food?

2008-12-01T08:50:00.002-05:00

Have we done this before? And if we have, who cares? I could talk about food all week, and I know I ain't alone!

So. I have the love for the holiday food. I instantly discard all of those ridiculous articles that give you tips on how not to gain weight over the holidays. Bah! I say to those. Weight, schmeight, we're talking rummed up egg nog here! Roast turkey! Mulled wine! Pies, pies, pies! Who cares about a pesky couple of pounds that will just drop off in the summer when it's too hot to eat anyway? NOT THIS GIRL!

The chocolates can be a bit much. Candy canes, I'm not a huge fan, although if you are what you eat I might be married to a candy cane. They are a major part of my tree decoration and the tree gets pretty bare by mid-month, while Darlin' always has suspiciously pepperminty breath and red red lips.

So, the candy ain't so much my thing, but step back from the baked goods table, lest you be bowled over. Pecan tassies are a sort of mini pecan pie cookie thing that my mom makes only this time of year, and I could pop those all day. I love any kind of pie, the fluffier the better, with tons of whipped cream. I'm also a fan of the savories this time of year - roasted anything sounds good to me (turkey, ham, beef, nuts, pumpkin seeds.) I love a chicken pot pie, or a hearty stew served with hunks of bread, cheese drizzled on top. And I could eat my weight in cheese and crackers. My sister's boyfriend makes a TO DIE FOR cheeseball, I smack my lips just thinking about it.

Last but not least, let's talk holiday drinks. I love cranberry martinis, which (being red and all) always seem to premiere at one party or another. Egg nog with some sort of warming spirit in it - mulled wine - hot toddies - and gallons of wine. Besides all of these "adult" drinks, we also have the family friendly hot chocolate, the hot cider with a cinnamon stick in it, mint tea . . .

Poundage, here I come. Mmmmmmmmmm. I love the holidays.

I Wonder What I Want To Do With My Life?

2008-11-24T13:22:00.001-05:00

INSTRUCTIONS: Take one decade-changing birthday. Stir in two unexpected deaths in the family, one unfulfilling job, and enclosed spice sachet of a half-dozen passions that could never lead to paying full time work. Simmer in a medium saucepan on a stovetop for several months. In a separate bowl, whip together one slightly unfocused academic career, a penchant for short-lived bursts of enthusiasm followed by extreme boredom, and a husband with a grad school journey nearing completion. Combine and pour into a baking dish, top with a seven month old baby with plans for more on the way, and then bake until the admissions deadlines for law and graduate schools expire. Remove from heat, garnish with a staggering student loan debt which requires you to make some kind of money, and serve so hot that it burns your mouth, hands, and leaves a big scorch mark on your antique dining room tabletop.

This is how to bake up a fine Not-Quite-Mid-Life crisis. I’m enjoying one at the moment, and no, it does not taste like chicken. It tastes like desperation, actually, and a little bit of fear, and a lot of exhilaration. And brown sugar. Mmmmm, sugar.

Am considering law school. I’ve read all of the “Don’t Go to Law School, Even if Your Life Depends On It and I’m Serious, Yo” articles, and the “The LSAT is a Stupid, Scary, Horrid Test That Will Make You Break Out in Shingles” warnings, and the “I Went To Law School and Now I Have $160,000 in Loans” declamations. It hasn’t scared me away, but it has sent me skittering off to research just what exactly I could end up doing if I got a J.D. in three years. And the thought of choosing law, to the exclusion of all else, and possibly adding to our debt burden in order to do it, makes it a very sobering choice indeed.

Am also considering chilling a bit while the remaining 2-3 (HA!) babies are birthed, and then achieving my dreams, as it were, when the last kidlet is attending First Grade. It’s not so long from now, and I’m not so ambitious that I would be ticked off at hitting the game that late, whatever “game” I decided to “hit.” The problemo with this scenario, however, is the aforementioned ridiculous student loans. In order not to default on our existing ones, I have to work at something. The amount of money I make will either allow us to live the (frugal, stressful, not-even-breaking-even) lifestyle we now enjoy, or a little better, or a lot better. So that would be, like, part-time reception work, up to administrative work, and the up to full scale professional work. Would I rather just do the work I want to do long term right now? Or continue to add years of non-relevant experience to my life, simply in the name of deniro?

I could go to more grad school, but with a career in mind this time (weak smile.)

I could teach at the community college level.

I could continue in the career path I have now.

I could wait until we know where Darlin’s job prospects take us, and see what opportunities the new region of the country has to offer.

This latter seems like a recipe (do you dig my recipe theme in this post?) for accidental career trajectory, which I want to avoid. Making a preliminary decision, though, and turning my energies in that direction, could lead to supreme disappointment if I end up moving to a region of the country with no opportunities in my chosen life path.

Sometimes I feel hindered by my biology. Can you imagine if my law school finals week coincided with the due date of my next kid? I swore that I would take at least 3 months off when my next baby is born, but what if I don’t time it just right with the summer break? And if I decide to work, but don’t get a job immediately and haven’t worked in it at least a year before my next pregnancy, my leave (both for prenatal visits and after the birth) won’t be protected. So I could lose my job, and thus my healthcare coverage, right when we need the money and insurance the most.

Blargh. Blargh, I say.

I have been trying to think this way – when I’m 80 and looking back, will I think this was a good choice? Will this lead me to a happy life? Even in the name of art, being supremely poor is a stressor, but being miserable in your well-paid job would be, too. I wish I could just be an actress. Or a musician. A writer. A baby bootie knitter. A scrapbooker. A gardener. I wish I was independently wealthy. I wish I could make a difference AND make babies at the same time.

I have wished and wished for this grad school experience of my husband’s to just be over, already, and now that it may be ending soon . . . I wish I had a little more time to decide what it means.

my happy

2008-11-20T13:25:00.002-05:00

tonight, my little family and i will eat homemade stew and rolls for dinner. afterwards, we will turn on some christmas music and decorate the house for the festive season. it is a special night and one when everything always feels right with the world.

Good Things Going On

2008-11-19T13:00:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was a good day. The wonderful things that happened to me:

Superman surprised me with tickets to Handel's Messiah at the Kennedy Center the Saturday before Christmas. I cannot wait!

WALL-E came out on DVD yesterday. Pizza for dinner, WALL-E on my t.v., and my husband at my side? Perfection.

I Wonder Why I Didn't Post Yesterday?

2008-11-18T09:29:00.003-05:00

A niece for G Love. 2008 has been a wonderful year. Everyone, meet Boo!

What wonderful has happened to you lately?

my turn!

2008-11-13T10:36:00.004-05:00

let me preface this by saying that i do not have the eloquence of my fellow ww. i cannot write the way they do. i cannot express myself with big huge-mongous words that i have to look up on dictionary.com. i just can't. and i don't. okay, i feel better now. let's begin, shall we?

g-love - i envy every little, single, solitary inch of the talent you possess. folks, if you have never heard this girl sing, you are missing out! heck, i even have her on my ipod! seriously, her voice is soothing and magical and oh, words can't describe it - hence, my jealousy. i love your humor and your perspective on life. i love that you are so in love with the men in your life that you can hardly stand it. your pride and affection for them shines through in all that you do.

g-love's boy (let's call him p-love, shall we?) - i don't believe we've ever met, but i think you're hilarious. the pictures that i've seen of you make me laugh, so i know that you're funny. you have to be. and, well, if you're not, i still love you because you love g-love and that's that. i admire that you are still in school and pursuing your phd. that, my friend, is fantastic!!! and you make beautiful babies with g-love, so i think you're cool.

wicked - i envy your hair cut. i envy your spunk. i love that you are a strong, secure woman. you have gone through your fair share of challenges and changes these past few years, and you have emerged from them with your head held high. you are a scrapper and i mean that in the very best sense of the word. you fight for what you love and believe in and don't back down. i think i need a little bit of that tossed my way.

the hub - i remember getting teased a bit for "invading the head table" at your wedding. and while the wine may have prompted me to introduce myself before the time was appropriate, you didn't bat an eye. i think i may have even given you a hug and you took it all in stride. you treat our wicked m like a princess and that's exactly the type of man she needs and deserves. thank you for taking care of her.

mso rin - my first memory of you is in the sorority house kitchen making penis cookies. i envy your attitude and the confidence that you exude. you have this "take me as i am and if you don't like me, to hell with you. oh, and by the way, it's obvious you don't know what you're missing" attitude that i find amazing!!! you always provide a listening ear and can add humor to any situation. oh, and i wish i had your body.

the boy - first and foremost, i like your name! ;) any guy named what you're named is worth keeping around, in my opinion. obviously, mso thought the same! i remember hanging out with you and many others one night here in town. i agree with wicked when she says that you compliment rin perfectly. it is a definite match made in heaven. thanks for watching over her.

and that, my friends, is my love fest for the day!

Oh, How I Love These People!

2008-11-12T14:56:00.003-05:00

I am fairly free with my emotions so most of these folks already know the many ways in which I worship them, but everyone likes hearing nice things, so here goes!

G Love: Your quick wit and sharp intellect is something I envy greatly. You are kind and adaptable in more ways than you will ever know. To see you blossom as a mother has been lovely to watch these past few months. You do not sugarcoat things and I will forever love you for that. You handle things in a refreshing way that is pragmatic and passionate. Your passion for the arts is refreshing and your sarcasm is biting. You live life large, lady. Love. it.

G Love's Husband: I have never met you but just hearing G Love talk about you tells me all I need to know. You are good to our girl and you love each other with a kind of love that is rare. I truly appreciate that.

Super Jane: Your ability to laugh through situations that most people would sob through gives me strength during hard times in my own life. You are one funny lady. Your relationship with your daughters is magical and I always love hearing you talk about them. It is clear that you get the most joy in your life from them. Your relationship with Super Jas is clearly one of enduring love and while things are not always perfect, you two manage to come through things with a smile and a laugh.

Super Jas: I know you from way back. I actually met you before I met Super Jane and that makes me laugh for some reason. You are just a very nice person and let me tell you how rarely I say that about people. You are also one tough guy and I admire anyone who can come out of major surgery with a smile on their face. Your ability to support Super Jane in all of her endeavors is admirable and your strength in living with that much estrogen in your house is to be respected. Re-spec-ted, yo.

MSO Rin: Dude, you are totally awesome. Your excellent advice, ability to make people laugh in any situation, and your calm through a storm is amazing. Your beautiful smile lights up a room and your steadfastness in your beliefs is welcome in this crazy world. You are someone people can count on and that means a lot these days. I also enjoy it very much when you curse!

The Boy: Your verve for life and your professional career is something that does not come along very often. You are a truly dedicated soul to your craft. I love that. I appreciate that you are just the counterbalance that our gal MSO Rin needs and that you also understand that sometimes she just needs a hug. Your enthusiasm for anything is only part of what makes you really fun to be around (it may also be your enthusiasm for giant beads of the Mardi Gras variety!) and fun to take pictures of. You are a good man, a good person. Thank you.

I Wonder How Rin and The Boy are doing?

2008-11-10T15:04:00.000-05:00

Our Wonder Woman Rinny and her husband The Boy are having a rough week. I will respect The Boy’s closely guarded privacy, and simply tell you readers that it involves a death in the close family. Close genetics-wise, but not close geographically, which adds to their stress.

So I thought I would do the thing that is my favorite thing in the blog world, which is to say – I thought we would Wonder how much we love our friends, real and virtual, and we would send them support.

So, how Wonder Women all, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . . Rin, I love your laugh. I know you won’t be laughing much this week, but when you do I hope you know that you lift up everyone around you. And I do mean everyone around you, probably within a 5 mile radius. I also love how you make your friends a priority. Not many people do that. I’m thinking of you this week.

The Boy, I love your enthusiasm. You are a boy in that way – you get that little kid at Christmas kind of attitude over lots of things, like grilling out, or tending bar at a party, or going on a trip. I think this is one of your best features, and I would venture to say one of the reasons Rinny loves you so. It makes you really, really fun to be around. I’m thinking of you, too.

Wicked, I love your commitment to the people you love. From moving to a new place, to handholding in the hospital – from showing visitors a fantastic time, to making trips to visit them in their homes – from competing with your husband over who gives the best gifts (not who GETS), to virtual roller skating and martinis showing up on my fb all the time – you are a Wonder Woman who loves her people and doesn’t hesitate to show them. You are an affectionate soul and it is really wonderful.

Superman, I met you for like three minutes, and in that span of time you complimented me twice. So you’re clearly a keeper.

Super Jane, you are super. Reading about your life right now makes my head spin, and yet somehow you aren’t a bitter old crank like I tend to be when my schedule gets packed. You are a big old trooper, and despite some serious setbacks in your young family’s life, your faith in God has never wavered. That’s not something I can say for myself, and it is something I really admire in you.

Super Jas, you were a stay at home dad for years, and as my husband can attest (with a screeching Frog Baby in the background), that ain’t easy. Way to take care of those gorgeous girls.

SIL and BIL – your little girl is almost here. I am ready to explode with excitement about this, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. You’ll make it, and everything will change, and it will be wonderful.

Who do you want to give a shout-out to today? Don’t feel like you have to stick with just the Wonder Women – shout out to whoever the heck you want. It’s LOVE week at WW.

my new law.

2008-11-08T12:27:00.003-05:00

if i were president, i would mandate that all children 3+ yrs not be carried down rain slicked stairs by their mothers if the mother is wearing black, leather high heeled boots.

this law would've saved me a lot of pain and money. the above scenario is exactly how my friday morning began. unfortunately, it ended with a nice trip to the ER and being diagnosed with a concussion. and with that, i'm going back to bed.

I Wonder What I'd Decree?

2008-11-07T10:19:00.000-05:00

My most important royal edict (no, I wouldn’t turn the presidency into a monarchy … I just like the sound of “royal edict”) would be this:

For every hour of volunteer work one completes for a non-profit organization or as independent community service, $10 of one’s consumer debt will be forgiven. All banks, credit-card companies, stores and car dealerships will agree to this proposal. No one can skip making a payment, of course, but one’s principal will be accordingly reduced every month.

Genius, right? I mean, how much more enticing can giving back to one’s community be? You can pick up litter at the park, you can cook in a soup kitchen, you can read to kids at the library, you can call out bingo numbers at the senior-citizens center, you can clean litter boxes at the animal shelter, you can usher at the symphony, and you can help get yourself out of debt!

And you’ll get addicted to helping others, I promise. So you’ll gladly keep doing it once your debt is gone, and the only incentive you’ll want is the feeling of goodwill and satisfaction that’s worth way more than $10/hour.

Of course, there would be other things, like having low-fat-but-you’d-never-know-it ice-cream vending machines. Like making eco-friendly products cost less than eco-harmful products. Like stopping production on high heels that hurt your feet. Like making it mandatory to give at least five hugs a day, and seven on Saturday. Like making sure that everyone in the country is given the chance to learn to read.

It sounds like if the WW were part of BHO’s Cabinet, things would be pretty great—maybe even more great than they’re going to be anyway!

If I Were in Charge ...

2008-11-05T14:45:00.003-05:00

... absolutely nothing would be done today.

I can't seem to stop weeping with joy at my desk to type, answer the phone, plan or attend meetings, or do anything other than whoop and holler and hug everyone who walks into my office today.

The only words I can muster are those that Tom Brokaw spoke last night that were, in turn, a quote from one of his political mentors:

"What a country."

I'll take a crack at my Presidential platforms on Friday. For now, I'm gonna go re-watch the acceptance speech (brilliant, poignant, transformative) again and try to find a job in the BHO administration.

If I Were In Charge...

2008-11-04T20:59:00.004-05:00

**All of the Wonder Women wish you a very happy Election Day. We hope you exercised your right to vote!**

If I were President, there are quite a few things I would change. Here are just a few of the things that I would put into action:

-Election Day would be a national holiday. This would free up people to vote without worrying about getting to work, voting around work hours, and we could all sleep in if we want. I will also give every person who votes a small tax cut.

-Work days/nights will be flexible and people can work when they are able/when they want. Mothers/fathers who opt to stay home with their children will be given a yearly salary and insurance coverage.

-I will remove all of the energy-sucking vehicles from our roadways and replace them with energy efficient bumper cars that allow drivers to smash into that jerk who just cut them off. Incidentally, helmets will now be required to be worn by drivers. Drivers will also be given 100 "You Suck" Driving Points to dole out at their discretion. If a person receives twenty-five YSDP in a quarter, the driver will be restricted from driving during certain hours and/or to certain places. If a driver receives 50 YSDP in six months' time, their license will be revoked. If a person receives 75 YSDP points in a year's time, their license will be revoked for their lifetime.

-I will put two people that I trust inherently, my parents, in charge of the educational systems of America. They will not want to accept these positions but I know they will take our current system to task and have it in prime condition in a short period of time. I would then allow my parents to put other people in charge of this new system and then my parents could retire to the Caribbean ASAP.

-Anyone who wants to get married can.

-On The Border would become the official caterer of The White House. A margarita machine would be installed in The Oval Office. I will not mention a wine cellar because I have no doubt that there is already one at TWH. I am also sure that there is a fantastic beer selection.

-Vacations would be required for all people. I do not care if you want to travel or stay at home but you must not work for at least two weeks every year. Your brain needs a break.

-Universal healthcare.

-I would institute a pay raise for people in service professions. Teachers, police officers, EMTs, etc. would all be given an immediate raise in pay. I would also give each person a bonus based on the number of years of service/standard of service/coolness. I would do this by taxing the entertainment industry more heavily and by reducing the salaries of actors/actresses/models, etc.

-Pajama pants would be acceptable to wear in any situation. This is a must.

Again, this is just the start of my plan as President. I have a list of about 100 other things that I could have list here. Obviously, I would not try to abuse my power, but these are all things that are very important to me. I may never become President, but a girl can dream right?

*Incidentally, if I were a magician (and not President), I would totally make the whole no exercising, eat whatever you want, stay thin deal become a reality. Because that would rule.

I Wonder What Would Change if I Were President?

2008-11-03T15:08:00.000-05:00

VOTE G LOVE 2008!

The heck with being President, I want to be Dictator. Here is what I would decree:

· The standard work week will drop to 35 hours from 45 (8 to 5 is 9 hours a day, people, and who snuck this change in hours by without a popular vote?). If it tries to creep back up I will slap its hand and tell it to go back where it belongs or it doesn’t get any dessert after supper.
· If you promise to work out for at least 30 minutes at least 3 times a week, I will use the resulting extra money that isn’t spent on your health care and give you $500 per year to buy cute workout clothes and sneaks, and $100 per year to buy good jammin’ songs for your Ipod to listen to, because we could all use some extra motivation to keep our wobbly office-chair butts heading to the gym.
· For every extra curricular activity that involves visual art, music, theatre, extra science projects, creative writing, and air guitar, I will give a school an additional $10,000 to fund the project, and $10,000 to go in its general fund as an incentive. While we’re at it, every teacher who elects to stay after school and administer these programs will get a $5000 bonus. Per semester. I will pay for this with a tax on any big corporation that pays its CEO more than $2 million per year. Whatever they pay the CEO over and above this pretty-durn-reasonable cap, they have to match in the “Keep Arts in Elementary Education” fund.
· I will implement universal health care. Um, how I would do this effectively and without significantly raising taxes is a secret. Shhhhh.
· I will set a minimum inches standard for celebrity thighs, arms, and middles, and any celebrity who fails to meet the standard will be forced to donate 75% of his/her earnings to the eating disorder prevention organization of choice.
· It will be free to adopt children in this country. If you decide to adopt a child over the age of 10, I will provide his/her college education at any public institution free of charge. Private institutions may match my generosity, if they see fit.
· Speaking of college – I will make that sucker cost $5000 or less per year to the students. I will tie repayment of any loans taken out for school to the graduate’s earnings level. This means recent graduates have the freedom to take low paying jobs if they wish – such as, I don’t know, acting jobs? Or service jobs, or naturalist jobs, or jobs at a non-profit, or whatever. It also means they have the freedom to travel a bit, to explore, to make employment and life choices that aren’t motivated largely by their need to meet their monthly student loan payments.
· I will make it legal for any two people to get married who want to get married.
· I will limit the number of frivolous lawsuits each person may file in his/her lifetime to three. Choose your frivolous lawsuits wisely – you may want to set one aside, just in case somebody insults you when you’re eighty. Who will take you seriously at age eighty if you haven’t got a frivolous lawsuit in your back pocket to threaten people with?
· I will force companies to bring back pensions, because hel-LO. 2% of my salary in a 401k ain’t no lifelong pension. I don’t know how companies wiggled out of THAT obligation, but I’m wiggling their tails right back in.
· I will make David Sedaris my speechwriter. Sheryl Crow will be my stylist. Or her stylist will be my stylist, I should say. Tina Fey will be my stunt double, to do my appearances on days when I’m feeling under the weather. Amy Poehler will be the White House resident Fool. Yes, she will wear a hat with bells on, but I’ll make it worth her while.
· Lastly (and this will be my most popular resolution, I feel) – I will declare November 3rd to be Wonder Women Day, a day when you are supposed to reach out and connect with all of the women who inspire you, about spending a second to call or email or visit a girl you love. I will force all networks to play re-runs of SATC all day, ice cream and pizza will be sold at half price, and I will send Air Force One all over the country to drop chocolates from the sky. OK, maybe that could get dangerous, maybe I’ll send out legions of chocolate via the U.S. mail. In any case – it will be a celebration of women and womanhood*, and it will be my legacy long after my term is up and I’m dead and gone.

*Don’t call me sexist! We’ve had a gazillion men Presidents so far who all had the opportunity to make a Man Day, it’s their fault they didn’t think of it first.

i love me some facebook.

2008-10-30T07:56:00.004-05:00

i resisted facebook (or fb as we facebookers call it) for quite a while. my biggest concern is that i work for a university and i did NOT want my colleagues or my students finding me. but then i realized that people couldn't "see" my page unless i gave them permission which got me thinking. i finally decided to join fb, but to add an extra layer of "protection" i used my maiden name. it was one of the best things i've done! it's like a reunion with your friends every single day!

i get to see baby pictures and wedding pictures and vacation pictures of all of my friends. i learn about how their days went, what they're eating for lunch, who they are rooting for in the monday night football game (or the upcoming election). it's so much fun!

the best part is that i've reconnected with so many friends from my past. most of these folks i never thought i'd see again! it's been fantastic catching up on their lives and feeling as though not a day has passed since we last saw each other (even if it has been 12+ years). and of course, it's always nice to communicate with "current" friends using another vehicle. i mean, who would've thought that wicked could send me virtual christmas gifts to place under my virtual christmas tree that i can open on the real christmas day? and i can't very well throw a sheep at g love in my real life. seriously, the fact that we can throw sheep at each other just makes a fb account all that more worthwhile.

MyBook? FaceSpace?

2008-10-29T13:55:00.002-05:00

I like to attempt humor by claiming to be an "old person" who doesn't know much about the "Internets" and then jumble the names of the two networking sites. It always gets a laugh, so of course I do it a lot.

My fellow WW have just shown you why I don't belong to any other cyberworld save this one and my email account. I have an addictive personality, I think, and so in order to keep my job (we're Web-free at home partially b/c we know we'd end up working off the clock if we did--see? Addictive!), I am not ever going to join in on the requesting and Poking and Linking and whatnot. If people want to keep in touch with me, they'll just have to, you know, email me!

But, then again, I also was not ever going to write a blog.

Social Networking, Anyone?

2008-10-28T08:58:00.002-05:00

MySpace was never really something I got into. As far as I can tell, it is more for the people who want to post pictures of themselves doing things that should not be posted online or a place for singles to meet. The reason I say this is because I am constantly bombarded by dirty pictures when I am on this site and I am usually only logging in because some random person has requested to be my friend and I am curious. Typically, this "friend" is someone I have never met but thinks my profile picture is cute. Ugh. My profile on MySpace is private due to some stalking issues I have dealt with in the past (people stalking me, not the other way around), so I know that they cannot see that I am married, but DUDE. Stop telling me I am a hottie and would I like to go grab a drink?

Thankfully, most of my real-life friends have abandoned MySpace or never joined in the first place, so I let that membership mostly slide. I rarely log in, I never check it unless prompted by a friend request, and you can only see my info if we are friends. I feel fairly secure in knowing that I may never check MySpace again.

I am, however, ADDICTED to Facebook. I find this site far easier to use than MySpace and it seems to be a more classy than MySpace ever hoped of being. Thank goodness. Facebook has let me network with a lot of people that I attended college with and had lost touch with. It is fun to see their spouses, their kids, and their pets. I enjoy reading their comments about my status message, I like sending them SuperPokes and I love it when I win playing Bingo! I love it when I get a friend request from someone I thought I might never hear from again and I enjoy the interaction among friends who are far away.

Facebook is a huge time suck though. I have wasted more hours at home and at work than I care to admit but I cannot seem to help myself. Must look at the new pictures g love posted of her baby! Must see what Cupcake is up to this weekend! I need to check on my Lil Green Patch! I am hopelessly addicted. Oh, Facebook, how I love thee.

I Wonder How I Feel About Social Networking Sites?

2008-10-27T08:51:00.002-05:00

Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, I have done a bad thing.

I love my siblings, all four. I want to hear about their lives, I want to know their significant others, I want to see them at Christmas and Thanksgiving and wayyyy more often than that, even. I want Frog Baby to be close to his Aunts and Uncles, I want Darlin’ to feel like they are his brothers and sisters. I make lots of effort to keep (force) my presence in their lives and theirs in mine, and it’s worth all of the time it takes.

There are two of my siblings still in college, though, the two youngest, and college may as well be Mars when it comes to staying in contact with them. I accept this as a temporary dry spell, and soldier on with the unanswered emails and the pestering text messages, so they can roll their eyes but know that I take a genuine interest. So, a couple of years ago, against my inclination (because who has time for this?), I joined myspace. And never really looked at it again – I think my myspace page says that I’m still single, and has a picture from 5 years ago on it. I checked it once in a blue moon, but didn’t have the time to figure out all of the personalization options, and also it made me feel old and technologically stupid, whereas in most circles I am the hot young savvy thing who teaches the “old” people how to do stuff on the computer – a role I much prefer. And anyways, as soon as I put up a profile, my siblings migrated away from myspace and began facebookin’, as the young varmints call it, and I was all – SCREW THIS. I have a life, you know, I can’t go flitting about from networking site to networking site, learning the ropes over and over again. I have a job. I have a husband. I have a dog and a cat and a baby. What I don’t have is time, and so I returned to the unanswered emailing and the pestering text messages and decided to leave the social networking sites to the kids.

A month or so ago, a friend had a baby, and when I nagged her husband for baby photos he said “Oh, they’re up on facebook, check them out!” Hm. Then, I was looking for a picture of my brother for a project I’m doing for our mom, and my sister said “He has some really cute ones on facebook, get them there!” Then my husband’s uncle invited us to be his friends on facebook, and I realized that old people can do this after all, and I re-thunk my stand on social networking sites.

So yesterday, I joined facebook.

Schwoooooo, schwooooooo, schwooooooooooooooooooooooo

ScwhoooI’M SORRY?? WHAT WERE YOU SAYING??scwhooooooooowoooooooI CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OFschwooooooooooooooooooo choooooooowoooooooooooTHE SOUND OF TIME BEING SUCKED OUT OF MY DAY scwhoooooooooowhooooooYUP, THERE WENT MY SUNDAY AFTERNOONwoooooooooooooooo AND NOW MY MONDAY MORNINGscchhhhhwooooooooooooooooooooooo AND aw, hell, I think this was a mistake. Because this is wayyyy more addictive than myspace, and although I don’t get most of it yet, I get enough of it to want to learn more. They done hooked me, like a fish. I would still be on it now, I would have done it all night, if my husband hadn’t shamed me off the computer with the old “It’s a beautiful day outside” routine.

Somebody warned me, when I mentioned that I was considering joining this crack cocaine of the internet, that I would regret it because every single person I have ever known from the beginning of time would be on there and friending me and poking me and commenting on my wall and all of this nonsense. Like, people I went to elementary school with. And I was all – uh-huh, well, so what? I can ignore them, right? I mean, no one is forcing me to talk to these people who are strangers to me after all of these years?

Sigh. At least I’m feeling young again. It’s been a long time since someone had to tell me to go outside and play, it’s a beautiful day, for God’s sake. And don’t forget your sweater.

And come home when the streetlights come on, or you're grounded!

my perspective.

2008-10-24T08:19:00.001-05:00

thankfully, i haven't felt much of the recession crunch. super jas and i had been living off of one income for so long, that we already made those expertly suggested cut backs long, long ago. and once you live with those cut backs (ie. no cable, no tivo, at home hair cuts, rarely eating out, etc.) for several years, you get used to them. for those who are just now instilling some of these money saving tips, take heart. you will learn to live without them. you will wonder why you ever wasted $x on that "luxury" all along.

super jas went back to work full-time about 2 months ago. it's been AMAZING having 2 incomes again!! we lived for over 3 years without 2 paychecks. 3. long. years. without a lot of the wants. as i said before, thankfully, we have lived frugally all along, so while most are struggling with the recession, we are enjoying an additional paycheck.

I Wonder What I'll REALLY Give Up?

2008-10-22T09:42:00.000-05:00

Gym membership? Nope, it’s the only way I’ll actually work out, and lately I’ve discovered that on the two weekdays that I don’t work out, I’m crankier than on the three weekdays I do work out. So I can’t let that slip or I’d lose all my friends. And friends are important in times of financial distress.

Cable subscription? It’s only $17/month b/c all we pay for is good reception, not any channels. At least we won’t have to buy a converter box in February! And we all know how much I love my shows. TV is non-negotiable. I mean, maybe if I got Netflix again … but that would be more than $17/month, so nothin’ doin’.

Sirius subscription? Not necessary! In a flash of brilliance, we decided to pony up for a lifetime subscription back in the day. Yipee! Alt Nation 21 forever!

Costco membership? Uh-uh. No sir. It pays for itself in our gas savings and our Coke savings. And every good long while, our Sun Chips savings. And Degree savings. And Swiffer savings. And Clorox CleanWipes savings. And red/yellow/orange/green peppers savings.

Magazine subscriptions? How can you even ask me that??!!??

Pretty much everything else I pay for on a regular basis is a bill … mortgage, student-loan, credit card, car/homeowner’s insurance. So, like Wicked M, here ends my thinking about my personal stakes in the economic meltdown. I’m too busy reading magazines and listening to my “loved” songs from Left of Center while on the elliptical, thinking about my 80-count box of granola bars and what’s on TV that night.

Economic Wondering

2008-10-21T23:08:00.002-05:00

Well, I am sure that this topic has been weighing heavily on the minds of all of the WW and our readers. We hear the news tell us over and over again how awful things are and how much worse they will be getting. Not exactly comforting. I have not allowed myself to wonder or worry about this very much because I have decided that worrying gets me nowhere. I have to believe that things will make a turn around and that my retirement account will rebound. I have to believe that the cycle of life will continue and that this mess will work itself out. Just like it always does.

Right?

A Much Better Perspective

2008-10-21T09:00:00.002-05:00

http://cribchronicles.com/2008/10/20/to-the-brim/

This should've been what I wrote yesterday! Much better said.

I Wonder What To Do . . .

2008-10-20T13:00:00.002-05:00

I'm throwing this wonder out there for all of us, whether we are just barely meeting our basic needs or whether we were doing great and now we're just doing ok. Whether we had $100,000 in our 401k that turned into $50,000 overnight, or we had $10,000 that is now $5,000, or we had no retirement plan and now feel even that much farther away from starting one. Whether we own our home and have seen it lose value, or whether we had to postpone our homeownership plans by precious years while we wait for the market to stabilize. Whether our jobs are secure or have the potential to disappear in the recession. Whether our car has great gas mileage, bad gas mileage, or anything in between. Whether we had a strong savings account which is now depleted, or credit card debt that we were working to slash and have now had to reconfigure our payment plan. Whether our basic expenses exceed our income, or whether we are still in the black but had to cut our standard of living while CEOs of failing companies are offered $22mil for 3 months of work.

I Wonder What We're All Going to Do?

This economic slowdown has hit our family hard and no mistake. All the tips they give you to cut expenses - no more haircuts! Stop eating out! Take your lunch to work! Eat meatless meals! This is all stuff we've been doing all along. What is the advice for those of us who already buy used cars, put cash in our medical Flex Spending Account, and make a strict grocery list incorporating-coupons-and-sales-from-which-we-do-not-deviate, Amen? What's the solution for the girl whose entire salary raise and then some was completely absorbed by the rise in gas prices, and now all of a sudden the grocery bill is twice what it was? Yesterday in a fit of feeling sorry for myself, I checked out a book from the library on cooking with beans. Beans are Great Depression food, right? Darlin snorted at my melodrama, but then he sure doesn't laugh when I show him how much I spent at Food Lion for 2 weeks of eating.

I am handmaking Christmas gifts this year. Darlin and I are skipping them for each other, skipping our anniversary camping trip (camping! cheap!), skipping a 4 hour drive down to a friend's birthday party, a 4 hour drive up to a band show that I should have participated in. We aren't cutting the book-a-month promise we made for Frog Baby, though we are definitely into used paperbacks. We aren't cutting the trip to a midwest wedding, because you can't ever go back to that wedding in the future when you are financially solvent. We splurged on McDonald's McFlurries last night because sometimes you just need some M&Ms mixed up in ice cream, in order to feel in control of your world.

It's taking our measure, this slowdown, and I am finding that I can live with less than I imagined. We've examined our Needs and Wants lists, and been shifting more and more into the Wants. I thought I Needed this or that or the other in order to survive, but in fact here I am living without it. We are currently assessing whether we truly Need two cars, or can we be a one car family? As the AIG execs chill out in Britain on a shooting holiday (3 of them, they spent $86,000 of company cash, post bailout, saying to an undercover reporter - hey, the bailout sucks, but the shooting sure was fine today, eh?), I get ready to face telling 40 hourly people that our manufacturing facility will be shutting for a handful of weeks this fall, with no work for them, unless our sales guys can work some kind of magic. I shudder to think what this could mean for my job in the near future.

I Want. I Want a haircut, very much. I Want to take professional photos of my baby before he gets much older. I Want to keep both of our cars. I Want to have our couch cleaned, and my winter coat. I Want to go to a damn movie. My list of unmet Wants is long.

I tell you what I Need, though. I Need my kid to be really healthy and fantastic. I Need my husband to be faithful and upbeat. I Need shoes. I Need a working car. I Need a job. I Need a loving and supportive family. Seems my list of unmet Needs is nonexistent.

This is whiny, and truly a reflection of how spoiled Americans are, because come on. Half the people in Brazil, for example, would think of Darlin's and my spartan life as the absolute lap of luxury. But I Want to whine, and whining on a blog is (still, and may it always be) free, so I'm granting myself this Want. The haircut can wait. And I hope you all log on and whine with me, so I don't feel so childish. We're feeling the pinch, but it's much easier to tighten your belt and get the hell over it if everybody else is doing the same. Tell me - how are you pinched? What did you have to give up? What Are You Going to Do?

What Would I Take Back?

2008-10-15T14:05:00.000-05:00

I could also discuss my pining for my hometown, but it’s been briefly chronicled already and I think all the WW had much the same experience: cried and yearned, wised up and ended the relationship, discovered friends and fun, and got over it.

So my publishable regret (there are very few. Very. Few.) is from my senior year. I took tetracycline during college, and one of its side effects is to make you extremely sensitive to the sun. As a blue-eyed, blonde, Norwegian-Scots-Irish lass, I am pretty susceptible to UV rays anyway, so adding tetracycline to the mix was going to be problematic. Very.

Well, senior year, Homecoming was approaching and I hadn’t spent much time outside the summer before, so I got a package at the local tanning bed and usually tried not to spend more than ten minutes doing a fake bake. But as the days ticked away and the weather cooled off and I started going to my appointments w/a sorority sister who had a much darker complexion than I, I lost my head a little bit. I must have fried it.

The week of Homecoming, I went for the max: twenty minutes in a bed with new bulbs … and without my ... anything.

Yes, ladies and gents, I burned. Oh how I burned. EVERYWHERE. Thanks to my ingested dermatologic drugs, all of my skin, not just my face, turned red. And the parts that were not used to seeing any light whatsoever—that of day or night or the beach or anything other than the light in the shower—were burned and blistered for weeks. It hurt to sit, to stand, to lie down, to be hugged … I just HURT.

It still hurts to think about it, honestly, so I don’t think I will anymore.

No more tanning beds for me!

The Regret

2008-10-14T15:09:00.002-05:00

I pined for a far away boyfriend all during my freshman year. Ugh. Looking back, I want to smack my freshman year self. He was a year younger than me, a basketball player, and he got a basketball scholarship to a school in Florida. I bet that you have already guessed how this ended: he cheated on me his first weekend of college. Duh. I also regret that I pined for him while also cheating on him. I am an awful person and to cut myself some slack, I was only eighteen. I hardly knew anything.

After freshman year boyfriend broke my heart, I took some time out for myself. That is when I decided to let my best guy friend get me drunk "so I could see what all the buzz was about". (pun intended) My sophomore year was a fine one and I made many many friends that year. There is not much I regret about my sophomore year. Thankfully.

Near the end of my sophomore year I began dating a fraternity guy/big time jock and the two of us had a grand old time together. We had an interesting relationship until my junior year/his senior year. He had what I call the "Senior Guy Freak Out" and our relationship become, uh, trying. He was faced with becoming a grown-up, I was faced with a boyfriend who suddenly wanted little to nothing to do with me. I could not possibly understand what he was going through, this is true, but I put up with his behavior anyway. I do regret that. I should have kicked him to the curb the minute his behavior become childish and selfish, but I was young and "in love". Whatever.

What followed were months and months of misery. The two of us would break up and get back together and have fights and make up. It was awful. I regret that we ruined what could have probably been a good friendship in trying to force a romantic relationship that had reached its end months before. I regret that a lot.

Most of the rest of my college experience was filled with unpublishable items. Most of which I do not regret at all! Thank goodness...

*On a totally different path, I would TOTALLY have told off my chem prof who tried to come on to me. And I totally would have told that other professor what I thought of his misogynistic remarks. Jerks,the both of them!

I Wonder What (Publishable) Things I Did in College That I Wish I Could Take Back?

2008-10-14T08:25:00.003-05:00

Oh man. How long do you have?

The list of stupid crap I did in college that I am now forced to remember for all time is a long, long, long list. Surprisingly little of it involves alcohol, since I was a pure young lass in those days (corruption came late for me, not until my upperclass years.) But one can still be sober and stupid, and I was, frequently.

I fell completely in love with a guy, a big geek in retrospect, who was also big into religion and could not condone females wearing anything that revealed their ankles. That would’ve been super cool to live with the rest of my days, had I been able to convince him to marry me and make lots of babies, as was my heart’s deepest wish during much of my sophomore year. Yeah, I would love to take back all that time I spent, pining away, waiting for his call. I can remember a 1 am trip to Taco Bell with Wicked and Rin of the Wonder Women, the entire duration of which I spent tapping my foot and checking my watch, desperate to get back to my room in case he called. At 1 am. Did I mention? Middle of the night? When my straight laced object of affection was probably sound asleep?

I also wish I could take back all of the hours I spent in music history. I love me some music, and I love me some music history, but that class was laaaaaaame. Ditto calculus. Blargh.

I would love to obliterate from memory some of the embarrassing stuff I did in acting class. Like, farted one time, by accident, and then did a very poor job of acting like it wasn't me (get it? acting? hahahahha.) Also, the time I was in a play and had to pretend to be a wolf, and I wore basically a black sports bra and black undies on the stage, teased my hair out, and then tumbled around with some other guys and gals in black underwear and licked my hands/paws. I would love to ditch that humiliating memory, pronto.

But the thing I most wish I could take back is wasting my freshman year pining for my high school boyfriend. He was a lovely boy, but he was also in California, a gazillion miles from my Midwestern school. There was no way it was going to work. I wish I could go back and tell myself to just embrace college, already, and enjoy yourself. It took too long for me, too long to get over being forced to go to my last choice school. As it turned out, it was a lovely place to attend college, if I could have only stopped being pissy about it. I really wish I could take that back, relive that freshman year. Sigh.

my relections of autumn.

2008-10-09T07:47:00.004-05:00

i have to agree with wicked on this one and say that i'm not a real big fan of fall. and with each year i age, i find myself dreading it more and more. i think the reason is because i have kids who adore being outside. as the season changes, their noses begin to run. allergies and colds abound which equals sleepless nights for me. we can no longer swim at the pool or jump on our bikes to chase down the ice cream truck. no, as the days grow shorter, we find ourselves stuck inside with boxes of tissues stashed strategically around the house.

my girls are most comfortable in flowy skirts, t-shirts, and flip flops. as such, we battle each morning over putting on pants, tennis shoes, and *gasp* socks. (as a side note, did you realize that socks were created as a torture mechanism?) it really is a pain, especially now that both of them can voice their opinions about it. it's much easier in the summer when they can throw on whatever they feel like and slip their flip flops on in a matter of seconds. actual clothes, shoes, and *gasp* socks take mucho more time to put on.

crap, i just realized that this wonder isn't about how i feel about autumn, it's about what i LIKE about autumn. okay, let me change directions here...

what i love about autumn is the fact that i get to bundle up in turtlenecks. i LOVE, LOVE, LOVE turtlenecks and have a million of them in all shades. i get to wear my rockin', black knee high, high heeled boots (which always fetch me compliments) and my new red coat that my folks are going to buy me for christmas (hint, hint, mom.).

another thing that i love about autumn is that it ushers in football season. i love football and have watched it every sunday afternoon for as long as i can remember. growing up, our family sundays consisted of going to church, eating lunch, slipping back into our pjs, and devouring a large pan of rice kripsy treats. i loved this tradition and, now that my girls are older, hope to continue it with my own family.

this morning gave me yet another reason to be thankful for autumn. as i drove rascal to school this morning, we saw a gorgeous tree whose leaves had already turned red. i pointed it out to her and she said, "i see! the leaves changed color from green to red." "and do you know why they turned colors?" i inquired. "yes, because it's fall!" she informed. and with that simple conversation, i realized that my 3 yr old daughter is a genius (just kidding. well, only slightly kidding!). no, our conversation reminded me that with yet another passing autumn season, my daughters are growing and changing and becoming real, live human beings. they are growing into marvelous young women who are learning about and capturing this world at breakneck speeds. it's humbling to see how much they've grown since last october. to look at pictures and watch videos and to remember them how they were only 365 short days ago...well, it's mind blowing, really.

so, even though my girls and i can't lounge at the pool or hose off our sticky ice cream fingers in the side yard, or even enjoy the warmth of sunshine on our faces, we still have lots to be enjoy this autumn season. i just need to remember to take each day as a gift and to enjoy the present, not wishing the season along, but enjoying it for what it is with my girls and favorite boy, each and every day.

I Wonder What I Love About Fall?

2008-10-07T14:28:00.003-05:00

I have always had a fairly negative view of the fall season. This is mostly due to the fact that it is the end of my beloved summertime. Ah, summer. The season of sitting by the pool, the season of cookouts and lemonade, the season of delicious heat. Fall has also always represented the ushering in of my least favorite season, winter, and for that reason alone I have always cursed autumn. As I get older, though, I appreciate the fall season more and more.

The stunning beauty of watching tree after tree burst into color -- leaves turning the color of copper, bursting in orange flame, a red so awe-inspiring a word does not do it justice. The fall season used to represent an end to me -- the end of summer -- but now I see it as a new beginning. Fall marks the beginning of school calendars, fall marks the start of another year of marriage for my spouse and me, and fall marks the beginning of the true season of family.

The crisp air beckons to my long-forgotten jeans and sweatshirts and begs for me to head to a pumpkin patch or apple orchard. The crisp apples are a delight and I love to watch children dart about picking out "their" pumpkin. Carving jack-o-lanterns is always fun and toasting pumpkin seeds is a treat. While Halloween has never been my favorite holiday (I hate being scared!), I do love to watch children maneuver in their costumes while trying to keep hold of their prized candy.

Fall means football games and hot chocolate. Fall means cuddling under a blanket on the couch while you and your spouse cheer on your favorite team(s). Fall means cookies and apple cider and warm Chex Mix.

My absolute favorite thing about fall is that it means the holidays are upon us. The time from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day is my most beloved time of year. This magical time that brings families together, requires us to eat tons of tasty food, and allows us to show the people we love just how much we truly care is what I enjoy most.

I am now thankful for fall. These days fall means family to me.

I Wonder What I Love Most About . . .

2008-10-06T20:37:00.003-05:00

. . . Autumn.

Springtime is so lovely. This past spring was particularly fecund for me, as it was the season when I welcomed my first baby. The tulips were nodding, the azaleas in bloom, and the trees budding green when I carried my son up the front porch stairs for the first time.

Following spring is, of course, the summer, a season I embrace with more enthusiasm than ever now that I have a child to share it with. We bought a handful of pool passes, even though he was a mite young to enjoy the community pool. I took him hiking, the dog trotting purposefully beside us. We sat outside at the green plastic table and chairs that I bought for about $5 at Wal Mart, and I showed him green leaves, brown branches, blue sky. The husband, when he could come out with us (summer saw the close of the school year, but not nearly the end of schoolwork for him), always managed to wheedle me into stopping at the new ice cream shop.

The end of summer tends to be miserable here in the American South. Mosquitos whine and bite, the sun beats. Both conspired against me lazing in the hammock, and instead I sat inside watching too many Netflixed television shows. I began to feel loose-skinned, doughy, unwell. September, for various reasons, was not kind to me this year.

This year more than ever, then, I welcome it, my son's first autumn, enraptured as always with the frothy perfection of a Carolina October. Tank top days and sweaters for night time - a fire is called for of an evening, and I am once again delighted that I bought a chiminea three years ago, a present for my new homeowning self. I love a pot pie, heavy gravy, root vegetables, simmering in the Crock Pot. I love the smell of pumpkins.

Autumn is Halloween, and I am trying to think of a clever costume that I can make for my five month old. Trick or treat will be a different endeavor for these next many years, and though he has not enough teeth for candy and I don't need any myself, we will still take him.

Autumn is turning leaves, and I know that he will love to watch them fall. Will learn to walk through drifts of them, and love their crunch under his feet, between his gummy jaws (he will get a handful in his mouth, without doubt.) We will take him to a farm to pet animals, walk among hay bales, select a pumpkin. He's too young to remember, but there will be pictures.

Autumn is a chill in the air, when the hat and gloves come out, but not the heavy coats and scarves. Autumn is Thanksgiving, with my parents this year, which will probably mean dinner in our pajamas, cinnamon rolls for the morning. Autumn means we are on the cusp of Christmas, when two babies, four parents, two grandparents, and two great grandparents (along with an obscene amount of dogs) will gather for stockings by the hearth, though we have agreed for the sake of thrift to buy gifts this year only for the children.

Children. Yes. This year, autumn also brings me a much loved and looked for niece, a cousin for our son. Autumn, a bounteous harvest, one I cannot wait to share with my son for the first time.

i wonder about my identity.

2008-10-02T10:49:00.002-05:00

the only thing that anyone can talk about or think about where i work is the recent security breach. i honestly didn't think much of it, even after i saw it on the midday news. i have been out of the office since monday, so i didn't get caught up on everything until this morning. my director called me in to discuss the situation. i began to worry a bit more.

and then, wouldn't you know it, another coworker of mine discovered that she was a victim of identity theft yesterday (through a breach in her previous employer). after hearing her ordeal and all that she went through, i'm definitely scared.

there were over 10,000 names on the list that was hacked. and, of course, this list included every detail of my life (and the other 9,999 folks that were on the list too). and now that we know the severity of it (as in where it originated and such - i don't want to divulge all of the details on the internet obviously), we're all freaked out. literature has been emailed to us and posted on our intranet. we're all talking about and seeing what the best option is for all of us. have i mentioned that we're freaking here?

so now, i'm having to go about doing a bunch of crap in order to keep myself from being a victim. unfortunately, this wonder is one that will be on my mind for many years to come.

Wondering About Wondercat

2008-09-30T13:15:00.002-05:00

There are a lot of things I have been wondering/worrying about lately. I will spare you the details of every little thing and just tell you that, for right now, the thing I am most wondering/worrying about is...my cat.

The Wondercat is getting on in years and I have noticed some changes in him recently. He used to greet me at the door every day when I came home from work and these days I am lucky if he even decides to greet me at all. He used to climb up into my lap and snuggle for hours. These days he can usually be found sleeping under our bedroom armoire. It would take a disaster of epic proportions to get that cat to move from his little hiding place.

Wondercat is not what you would call a small-framed cat. He is a giant cat and his favorite activity, hands down, is eating. He would probably eat constantly if we let him. We used to let him graze all day long and once he reached a size so large that the vet started giving us dirty looks whenever we arrived for a check-up, we decided to put him on a diet. Now, Wondercat is on a restricted diet and he does not like it at all. The first few weeks of the diet were a struggle. He would beg and beg for additional food and I felt like the worst cat parent ever. Then, he seemed to become accustomed to the smaller portions and he figured out when the next meal was coming. But now? Sometimes he will not even come to his dish when we whistle for him. The whistle used to make Wondercat hop to attention and he would tear into the kitchen at lightning speed. These days he will mosey in whenever he feels like it and sometimes does not even eat everything that is in his bowl. Most troubling.

So, I worry about Wondercat. Is this behavior just old age or is there something else going on here? My guess is that he is just doing this to mess with me. He knows that when I feel guilty, it means extra treats for him. Sly little cat indeed.

I wonder what I’m going to do about ___________?

2008-09-29T12:58:00.001-05:00

I’m tryin’, ya’ll. I’m trying to be perky and cutesy and happy and normal. I’m trying to write I Wonders and my own blog and emails and long overdue thank you cards for my birthday presents, trying to call friends and interact with my husband and snuggle my baby and walk my dog. I’m trying to live my daily life, but everything is done in the shadow of a great fear.

No, it’s not the poorness, though that makes my heart beat faster daily as I watch our credit card balance rise like a phoenix from the ashes of the bonfire I lit less than a year ago, the bonfire which was supposed to burn up the credit card monkey on my back for good. (Ya’ll, I spend 6% of my yearly gross salary on GAS TO DRIVE TO WORK, ok? This is not cute new boots on this credit card. This is not sexy eyeliner or fun trips to the beach. This is gas, and food, and car repairs, and that beeyotch is still climbing to the sky quicker than I can say GAWDDAMM.)

No, it’s not the job, though that is the tiger eating out my liver as I eternally shoulder a rock up a hill at the top of which are just-out-of-reach grapes that brush against my thirsting lips, or some other such torturous Greek mythic metaphor.

No, it’s not the prospect of Sarah Barracuda as my Vice President, though that makes me a little bit sick to my stomach. Both for me and for her.

Folks. I DO NOT KNOW what I am going to do about my Netflix lineup.

We’ve finished Seinfeld. We’re coming to the end of Northern Exposure – which, incidentally, does not affect my views on our Alaska governor because, yo, it’s a t.v. show, but it does make me a little more excited about winter for some odd reason. Anyhoo, I’ve got so many choices for our next series. Do we go with Weeds? Six Feet Under? The Sopranos? Do I strike out solo with Gray’s Anatomy? Do we mix it up and get, gasp, a friggin’ movie?

What are your favorite old shows? What is the show you adored most in life? What do you recommend I do about my Netflix queue? Because if I don’t hurry up, my husband will worm his way in there and make the whole thing a bunch of baseball documentaries, and then I will have nothing left to live for.

sign me up!

2008-09-25T08:22:00.003-05:00

i'll take a shopping spree just about anywhere! i'm not a huge fan of shopping, but mainly that's because i don't have a lot of extra cash to spend. i could, however, do quite a bit of damage on someone else's dime.

there is nothing in my house that i own. everything that we have falls into one of two categories 1) gifts or 2) hand-me-downs. in fact, every single piece of furniture in our house is a hand-me-down - everything from the couches to the dining room table to the bedroom dressers. literally, the only thing we've purchased on our own is the washer and dryer and that doesn't necessarily count as 'furniture' in my book. no lie.

it's not that i don't want new furniture, it's just that i can't afford it. i see fantastic living room sets that i would die for, but there is no way i can fit it into our budget right now. but...if i had a shopping spree to say, oh, pottery barn or williams sonoma or the like, every room throughout my entire house would have a brand new look.

i would not hold back one iota. i would gut my entire house and even spend a few of my own bucks to hire a decorator to do it all for me. i would buy the big stuff like couches and recliners and bedroom sets, but i would also buy the little stuff, like bathroom hand towels and new placemats. i would go hog wild!!!

i really need to stop now because just thinking about it makes my heart flutter with excitement! i need to snap back into reality, but oh what i wouldn't give to have this kind of shopping spree and finally have a home out of the pages of a catalog.

I Wonder What Store I Want to Win a Shopping Spree In?

2008-09-22T15:34:00.002-05:00

OK. The realist in me says Wal Mart - because then I could buy my groceries AND my gas AND a few things for the house and also perhaps a lifetime supply of kitty litter and some more sleepers for my exponentially growing child . . . on and on . . . and I know that's just the poor talking. And it's no fun. So I'm going to pretend all our basic needs are within our budget, and taken care of, and that this is just for fun.

So I would, OBV, want to win a spree in REI. Dude.

I *almost* was a dork and said Barnes and Noble, but if I only get one spree - hell, I can borrow books from the library, ya'll, but aint nobody out there ready to hand a kayak over the counter, as long as I have my library card to prove I'll bring it back. So I'm all over REI, where I can get my dream kayak and paddle (ok, Darlin, I'll get one for you, too!), a new family tent that will fit our exponentially growing family (lots of exponential growing going on around here), a good sporty swimsuit Speedo thing plus goggles and a cap, couple more bikes, some climbing ropes and other climbing gear, Chacos in an array of attractive colors to go with all my outfits, a few more camping supplies, and tons of clothes and accoutrements to go with all of these things. I would take Darlin's order, of course, and make sure he had every thing his little heart desired - it wouldn't be much, because he's a minimalist, but I know he must have a thing or two he'd like to get in the camping vein. Then, of course, I could outfit my kid in all kinds of stuff, I could even get him a climbing harness for each stage of life, a bike seat for my bike so he can ride in it, and then maybe a bike or two for him (when he gets old enough to ride). I could easily blow a few thou in REI.

Now, what I need on top of my shopping spree is about 20 extra hours in my week so I can actually find the time to USE all this stuff.

dinner for 75.

2008-09-18T08:39:00.002-05:00

this is a really tough one for me. several people popped into my head - matthew mcconaughey, jesus, ellen. if i really truly got to choose, i would want someone who didn't make me nervous. someone that i could be myself with. someone who already knows me so that dinner would be comfortable - like an old pair of jeans comfortable.

dinner for two? well, how about 75 or so? i don't know exactly the number, but if i truly got to choose, i would have a big reunion with 75+ of my closest friends - my sorority sisters. i know that sounds really cheesy and cliche, but it's true. we had an absolute ball in college and i would love to gather everyone together again to catch up on our lives and relive the old days.

i get together with a handful of sorority sisters on occasion, but for this shindig, i'm talking about everyone from sharon to hammond to terri. absolutely every last one of us.

what would even be better is if we could all just overtake the house for the weekend. it'd be all ours and we'd crash in our old rooms, sleep in the rack room and order papa john's for dinner maybe. we'd eat in the dining room and order up a keg or two to keep in the closet - just like the old days!

i'd love to have dinner with matthew. he is, after all, my boyfriend. but, for this one time, he'll have to wait, because a long, relaxing dinner with 75+ of my closest friends is just what i need right now. even more than i need matthew.

Dinner with Elvis

2008-09-16T09:49:00.000-05:00

I have thought and though about this topic. Luckily, I never had to write about this in school because I am fairly sure that I would have never come up with a sufficient answer. Every single time I think that I know what one person I would choose to have dinner with, I think of another person that would be just as cool, just as fun, just as interesting!

Elvis Presley is always near the top of my list. I have long had a thing for young, rebellious Elvis and I would love to sit down with him at dinner. I would probably not want to eat anything at the meal because I would want to serve all of his favorites and I just cannot handle peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Ick. Maybe Elvis would use his wealth and power to ensure that I got some of my favorites served as well?

So, young Elvis and I would chatter on about rock and roll and about musical influences and about how music has changed our lives. He would show me dance moves and I would show him my Elvis snarl. I would beg him to call me Mama at least once and I would want to hear all about his childhood. I would want him to tell me about Graceland. I would want to hear his thoughts on the world today and on music today. I would ask him to sing for me...more than once. I would take many, many pictures. I would probably find myself speechless on several occasions. Breathless even.

A man with such magnetism, a man with a sweet southern drawl, and a man with such influence on our music and society would surely make for an interesting dinner.

I wonder if I could have dinner with one person, who would it be?

2008-09-16T09:47:00.000-05:00

She is 50 years old, the oldest she will ever be. She is a large woman with light brown hair, almost auburn, and with round rosy cheeks and dimples in her elbows. I have never heard her voice, but I imagine it to be a little high, a bit thin, but sweet. Like my mother’s and mine, only with a heavy Pittsburgh accent. In my imagination she is nervous, but quick to laugh.

I think the conversation would start a little awkwardly. We have very little in common, this lady and I. She is a devout Catholic, mother to seven children, very poor. I think she finished high school, though I’m not sure. If she ever left Pennsylvania, I never heard of it. My youth spent footloose and traveling is about as far from her life experience as it gets, although she might have been happy to know that her lifetime of work yielded material benefit two generations down the line.

Well. Half a lifetime of work. She did not get her full allotment. Fifty years is not enough time. If she’d had fifty-three, she would have met me.

I would have to somehow tell her my whole life story in the course of one dinner, which would mean a considerable amount of summary. I would want to hear her life story, too. I would want to know what my mother was like as a child. I would want to know if she and her son Michael and my Pap are all together again somewhere. I would let her pick the meal, and I would have to read everything into the food she chose, whether or not she prepared it herself or had it served, how she held her fork. How she styled her hair. The course of a dinner is not enough time to know a person, but I would take it over absolutely nothing.

I knew my paternal grandparents very well – they lived with us for quite some time when I was a kid, having made no other arrangements for the infirmity of advanced age. Five small children, two very old and ill grandparents, two very tired members of the Sandwich Generation, and four bedrooms did not a particularly harmonious household make. But we got by, and they were grandparental-like, in their way. I knew my maternal grandfather, a loving, gruff, Santa Claus kind of man who spent most of his meager pension on his eighteen grandchildren, somehow giving each of us equal attention and love.

I’d love to have dinner with the one grandparent whose face I only know from my mother’s wedding pictures. From the first time I got this essay question in grade school, to now, to forever from now, I think this would be my answer. I’d love to have dinner with my mother’s mother.

Like the lovely Italian city, her name was Florence.

That's a Negative, Ghost Rider

2008-09-12T17:58:00.002-05:00

The Boy and I have actually talked about this before. And we both agreed simultaneously that it would have NEVER happened that we’d have dated … or probably even spoken.

In HS, I was hyper, loud, judgmental, liked doing homework, tried too hard to be a comedienne, and was on both the yearbook staff and Academic Team. Despite those coolness-killing apps, I had lots of friends and lots of fun. But no boys. This trajectory has been well documented on this website, so let’s FF, shall we?

In HS, The Boy (and I have no firsthand knowledge of this as he was in another part of the state and light-years [five] older than even me, the oldest of the WW, so none of us could have ever been in HS w/him at the same time … not that I remind him of that fact all the time or anything) was not a serious student, played some sort of nerdy instrument in the band, ran track, was into backcountry camping, and dated lots and lots and lots and lots. And lots.

We both have acknowledged that neither of us would have been into the other at that time in our lives and that it’s unlikely we’d have even known each other’s names. It is safe to assume that our paths would never have crossed, and if they had crossed, here’s how it would have gone down:

HE: Hey, can I copy your physics homework? I heard you let Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry* see your answers. (*names have been changed to protect … well, me)

SHE: [confused and terrified by being spoken to by a stranger; lying] Um, I don’t have it with me. Sorry.

HE: Oh, OK. [exeunt]

SHE: [turning to BFF J] Of course I let Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry* copy. I’m unrequitedly in love with all of them. Who was that guy? Is he friends with Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry*? Do you think he knows if Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry* will be at the movies tonight? Do you think Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry* will be at the movies tonight? I hope Andrew*, Alex*, Brad * and Larry* will be at the movies tonight. Let’s go to Arby’s and get a Triple Cheese Melt before work!

THE END

possibly...possibly not.

2008-09-11T10:11:00.002-05:00

super jas and i pretty much ran in similar circles in high school. from what i've heard and seen, he and i were...how shall i say this?...on the same level of 'coolness.' we both ran with the popular crowd, but never did much stuff with them outside of school. rather, he and i both had a smaller circle of very close best friend(s) that we ran around with. i guess what i'm trying to say is that we were considered popular, i suppose, but we never did much stuff with the *really* popular kids outside of class.

however...

my super jas has a bit of cockiness about him. he calls it 'confidence,' while i think it's a wee more intense than that. when we first met in college, i HATED him. i'm not one who puts up with arrogance and he had arrogance pouring off of him. a total and immediate turn-off. it took a couple of months for him to quit acting like such a jackass, but he eventually turned it around.

taking everything into consideration, i would say that there is a very high likelihood that super jas and i would've dated in high school. heck, neither of us were far removed from high school (i had only graduated 2 months prior to meeting him) when we first began dating anyway. i'm just glad our paths crossed.

Uh, No.

2008-09-09T09:17:00.003-05:00

When I read g love's post yesterday and discovered this week's topic, I laughed out loud and then did a little dance. This topic makes me cackle out loud and makes me shudder at the same time. I shudder because I have to revisit high school!

So would Superman and I have made it as a couple back in high school? I can say, without a doubt, ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOT.

First of all, to hear us each talk about our high school selves, we were both giant dorks. I will fully admit that and so would Superman. We were nerds, geeks, and dweebs all rolled into one. And we still are. Whatever. However. We were distinctly different in our nerdiness back in the day.

Back in high school, I was an athlete. I played a sport every season of the year. I was also really shy and totally oblivious to the opposite sex and any effect I may have had on them. Superman was not allowed to play sports, he was in the Marching Band, and he looked like Napoleon Dynamite. (I am not even kidding about that Napoleon Dynamite part. I have seen the picture to prove it and HOO BOY. Yeeeeah, we would not have gone out. I say that out of love.)

I was totally into jocks-as-boyfriends and the Marching Band was about as nerdy as you could get in my high school. My high school was all about what labels you wore and how often you got drunk on the weekends. Superman's high school was very small and everyone knew everyone. Very few people wore expensive label anything and to hear Superman tell it, the Marching Band was the place to be. So, because I was a super nerd, cared about school, excelled at sports, and did not drink at all, I was not very cool. Superman was in the Marching Band, got good grades, and knew everyone. It is easy to see that he would probably have been Mr. Popularity and I would have been just another face in the crowd of Dorkdom.

When I think about it, I am not even sure that Superman and I would have dated in college. There are a lot of circumstances that made our upbringings starkly contrasted and we probably would have had completely different groups of friends. Sure, we would probably have known each other and been jealous of the other's grade on a test or something. We may have ended up as chemistry partners and just been good friends.

As much as I hated high school and spent much of my miserable experience there wishing it would just be over, I do think that high school taught me some important lessons about relationships. So did college. Just as living on my own did as well. All of those experiences together taught me that when you find a good man, a true gentleman who is your intellectual match and your emotional equal, you hold on to him as tightly as you can -- even if he was the Drum Major in the Marching Band back in high school.

I wonder if my husband and I would have dated in high school

2008-09-08T12:40:00.000-05:00

I am going to tell you all something that may make you question my choice in life mate. Don’t worry, I did receive full disclosure before accepting his ring, and have come to terms with his past. We don’t speak of it, but in the interest of being true to my art, I will bring it up just this once, if you promise never to refer to it again.

Darlin played Dugeons and Dragons in high school.

And beyond.

Lest you think I write this to imply that he was a dork and I would have been too cool to associate with him, let me give you this tasty tidbit about my past: I used to sing in class. Sing. In class.

In high school.

As you can see, this is a post that lends itself to short, incredulous sentences that stand alone as paragraphs.

This.

Is for two reasons.

Reason the first – I want you to understand that we were pretty un-cool. To really feel the uncool-ness wafting over you from the screen. To sprout braces and cowlicks and pimples and awkward-limbed movements just from READING this stuff.

Reason the second – I want you to know that I am very cool now, extremely cool, and thereby I must distance my current cool self from my past, very un-cool self, by making fun of her. Just like the bullies in high school used to do.

So maybe I’m cool now, but not as nice.

Anyhow.

None of these meanderings are getting us any closer to answering the question at hand, which is: would I have dated my husband in high school? And I want you to know that, even taking into consideration the D&D information plus other vital but top secret stuff that I’ve learned about my husband’s high school persona (coff long swoopy hair coff coff), it has been made abundantly clear after years of associating with my husband and his high school friends that no, no we wouldn’t have dated. Because I don’t think even my D&D Darlin’ could have seen as far down into the bottom of the dating pit as I was, buried under all the cute girls and the sort of cute girls and the not-cute but really awesome girls – singing to myself there about as far back in the corner as I could get.

We met when we were supposed to. Years after the braces, yes, and after I learned about eyebrow waxing and this thing called a hair comb – but more to the point, after years during which I dated good men and bad ones, and learned what I needed and what I could do without, what I absolutely could not stand and what I could put up with. And through those years he did the same.

A guy I very briefly dated just out of high school once looked at me and said “Every single relationship I have been in so far has been a failure.” And I responded – Well of course. Of course. That’s how you learn! Most people don’t stick with the first person they love. They love and lose and learn and love again. Every one of my early relationships was also a failure. Every one of your relationships is SUPPOSED to be a failure!

Until you find the one that isn’t.

i wonder when the season will finally change?

2008-09-05T14:13:00.005-05:00

this time of year is always rough. one day the sun is shining and the temperature hits 90 and the next day is met with chilly, fall like weather, and rain showers. i like summer and i like fall, so i really don't care if one leaves and the other season arrives. i just wish the weather would pick a season and stick to it!

only a few days ago, we were burning up in the circle city. the a/c was on full blast and we were sweating like pigs in the heat and humidity. yesterday, however, we saw a cool down. we actually turned off the a/c in our home and we were still fine temperature wise. the storm showers came yesterday though which made it feel even cooler. and now, today, i'm trying to stave off a cold.

i started feeling it come on while i was driving home from leah's ballgame (that was held in the rain). my throat began to hurt just a bit and my nose started to run a little. last night, i took some medicine to help me get a good night's sleep, but i still woke up 37 times to blow my nose and suck on a cough drop.

i think that's what i hate most about the in-between-changing-seasons time. i can handle turning the a/c off and then on again and then off again...but i can't stand the inevitable colds and other sickies that come with this time of year. here's to hoping the weather decides to stay put -- and soon!

thanks, mom.

2008-08-28T08:05:00.002-05:00

i have my mother to thank for my goofiest piece of clothing. actually, it wasn't so much goofy as just hideous and utterly embarrassing. and the worst part of it all is that she made me wear it for my school pictures.

i was in the 1st grade when it happened, but i feel like it was yesterday. the big day had arrived - picture day!! the day when 'dan, dan the photo man' arrived in our grade school cafeteria to take school pictures. i will always remember school picture day and i will always remember 'dan, dan the photo man.' for all of you 80s kids out there, he looked a bit like scott bloom, except a little chubbier and older. he was boisterous. he had crystal blue eyes. and he had plastic, black, combs in a box on a desk next to the 'check-in.' we'd all take a comb and primp a bit before mugging for the camera. even at the young age of 6, we knew dan was a cute boy. heck, he looked like scott bloom, for crying out loud.

so when picture day in the first grade rolled around, i picked out an AWESOME outfit. i was going to wear blue jeans and a cute t-shirt with an iron-on of a unicorn on it and my kangaroo shoes. i don't remember when the battle with my mom began, but when it did, it was in full swing. she didn't want me to wear my t-shirt. she wanted me to wear a light purple skirt and blouse set. i don't remember much about the skirt, but i'll never forget that shirt. it was short sleeved, but was a mock turtleneck with tiny white flowers printed all over it. the kicker, however, was the white, frilly lace that went around the collar and down the middle of the shirt. yes, it was that bad.

we compromised in the end - well, sort of. i HAD to wear the purple, "little house on the prairie" shirt, and my mother "generously" allowed me to wear jeans and my roos.

i looked like a fool.
i felt like a fool.
especially when i had to say "cheeseburgers!" for dan, dan the photo man, the scott bloom of my first grade dreams.

Silliest Piece of Clothing?

2008-08-26T19:59:00.000-05:00

Acid wash jeans, anyone?
Banana hair clips?
High tops with two pairs of socks (in contrasting colors, of course) underneath?
Hypercolors t-shirts?

This list could be quite long if I focus solely on the decade of the eighties. If I focus on my entire life? The list would be endless.

I Wonder What the Goofiest Piece of Clothing I’ve Ever Worn Was?

2008-08-25T15:53:00.002-05:00

My last two years of college were fun years. After my initial two years of being a complete and total dork-sans-social-life, I relaxed. I decided that reading only 20 pages of my 22 page homework assignment would not result in immediate death by lightning. I tried out drinking, just a little bit (I was 20 – a real rule breaker.) I stayed up late a few times, went out with friends, learned how to make fun times instead of sitting in my room and expecting them to just happen upon me. And I also got the most acting roles I would ever have at our little college. I felt like a rock star.

One particular acting role was in a play called Beautiful Bodies. This was a play with solid leading roles for 6 women, which is unheard of. Among the characters was the well-dressed, perfectly coiffed hostess of the party . . . the bitchy New Yorker . . . the difficult and controlling lawyer . . . the totally wacky pregnant cyclist. Guess which one I was?

So yeah, I wore some odd outfits on stage for that one. I think my entrance was me in a pregnancy belly with bike shorts, a large sweatshirt, and a helmet, which I kept on my head for a large part of the first act, if I remember correctly. I won’t count stuff I’ve worn onstage for this blog post (if I did, though, I think the time I wore a wedding gown and two prosthetic noses, stuck to my face with a pair of lensless glasses, would perhaps win the contest.)

A pregnant belly really wacks up your center of gravity. It’s hard to be for real pregnant, but it was especially hard to be pretend pregnant and go from 0 months to 9 months overnight, with no chance for my back or tummy or leg or whatever muscles to learn how to handle it. In the week or so leading up to this show, we received my pregnancy-is-uncomfortable prosthesis, borrowed from some sort of teenagers-now-don't-you-have-sex-mmmmkay? type program in the area. This thing was wayyy uncomfy, with some sort of poky thing meant to squeeze your bladder, and some sort of back hurty thing, in addition to the heavy belly (and it in no way even came close to mimicking the true extreme discomfort of being nine months pregnant, but bless them, they tried to be true to life.) So I put it on and was a clumsy dolt, and our costumer decided that I needed to get some more practice in it.

Just wear it around campus this week, she said.

Wha-? I said.

Wear it. To class and stuff.

Uhhh, then people will be confused.

Yeah. Awesome, huh?

**************************

So I wore it. The young male students suddenly fell over themselves to give up their chairs for me, give me rides, open doors. Several teachers looked at me with extreme puzzlement, which they then swallowed and turned into sweet concern. I got a lot of "How you doin', hon" from the female professors. I felt a little bit like a fraud, but isn't that what acting is, after all?

To be totally honest here, I TOTALLY loved the attention. I was glad she asked me. It was super fun. But the best part? Was taking the dang thing off at the end of the day. Man, I wish I could've done that when it happened for real.

I Wonder Who's Excited That It's Friday?

2008-08-22T14:10:00.000-05:00

Anyone?

unfortunately, i'm with rin.

2008-08-21T11:49:00.001-05:00

both mso rin and i work in the university setting, so our schedules are rather hectic during this time of year. i'm not sure about rin, but the busiest time in my office is the entire month of august. freshmen moved in yesterday and upperclassmen are starting to knock on our doors, so i really can't take time away to post.

i'm so, so sorry.

I Wonder What I'd Relive?

2008-08-20T18:40:00.002-05:00

The day before I realized summer was over and school was starting again.

Heaven help me. I know I should carve out time for posting, and I'm not trying to say that my life is more important than the lives of the other Wonder Women (if you think that's what I'm going for, you must not know me), but in order to keep my head above water, I ... just ... can't.

See y'all in September. Sorry!

I Wonder What Moment I Would Choose

2008-08-19T12:17:00.002-05:00

Like g love, I too have an embarrassment of riches in the wonderful moments treasure chest of life. I am grateful that I have had such a happy life and have so many moments to choose from. In looking through my mind’s eye at the many choices I passed over for this entry, I see the night I graduated from college, the first night I spent in my very own apartment, and getting my kitten as a gift. I remember the night I met my husband and knew immediately our lives would forever be intertwined, I remember the night we got engaged, and I remember the first few moments we were married and on our own. Our romantic night in Paris during which we visited the Eiffel Tower and were citizens of a different part of the world is emblazoned in my mind. The third day of our honeymoon is also a fond memory. We sat on rafts in the pool, drinking tropical drinks and had not a care in the world. It was a glorious worry-free way to start a marriage. A trip to Vegas with two of our favorite people in the world catches my attention as I see the four of us around a table, laughing uncontrollably.

If I had to pick, though, I would have to choose a moment in which I am surrounded by everyone I love all at once. It is only a coincidence that it is my wedding day. My wedding day meant so much to me because I had moved away from Indiana only a few months before. I was navigating this new world on my own with only my soon-to-be husband’s assistance. We were building a new life together and while it was fun, it was monumentally exhausting. So, to come home to my entire family and all of my friends in one place was utterly glorious. I did not care about being “the bride” or about getting a lot of attention on this day. I only cared about marrying my Superman and about being with everyone I loved. It was a wonderful day in that I got to spend it with my closest friends, I got to repeat vows to my beloved, and I got to dance my biscuit off with everyone.

There are some days that are a little lower than others and whenever I need a little boost, I often think of my wedding day. It was a treasure in that I could squeeze my new husband’s hand, I could hug my best friend, and I could laugh at my dad’s jokes in person. I could kiss one grandmother and then the other only to then be surprised by a far-away friend who had made the trip for the event. It was wonderful to feel so loved and to feel as if life was full of possibility, adventure and excitement. Nothing was set in stone, there were no worries in the world, and there was good wine. We danced, laughed, loved and endlessly grateful. When we breathlessly left our reception, all I could remember was…joy.

I wonder what one event in my life I would choose to experience over and over again

2008-08-18T12:44:00.006-05:00

I suppose it is a testament to the beauty of my life that I struggle to choose this. Should I relive my wedding day – the tummy butterflies, the chaos, the oodles of beloved people all gathered together? How about my son’s birth? Whoa, that’s a no – one labor experience per kid is all I signed up for. Hmm, maybe dancing to Glenn Miller tunes with my sisters when we were little, twirling in our pjs? The first weekend I met my husband? Closing night of my most favorite acting experience of all time? Getting engaged? Eating a fantastic seafood dinner with friends and family gathered around? Christmas – any year?

Since I have to choose, and then treat you all to a lovely description, I’m going to follow my hormones and pick this pearl on my double string of Beautiful Life Moments – the night after my son was born. It’s easier than resisting the metric ton of estrogen guiding my every move, thought, and bodily function, and besides it’s a nice story.

So, Frog Baby was born in the morning, nearly 12 hours to the minute after I determined that I was, for sure, having contractions for really real ohmygod thisisit. At 8:10 am on a gorgeous spring Friday morning, he slipped out of my body and breathed, and I looked at his splotchy, slightly bruised, very grumpy face and thought – huh? Really? You don’t look anything like what I imagined. Could there be a mistake?

As the day progressed, and visitors came in and out and oohed and aahed, and nurses checked vital signs and phlebotomists took blood for tests and somebody helped me clear his throat when he choked on some serious baby mucus, I still felt like he was somebody else’s baby. I don’t think I kissed him, not much. I wanted to ask permission to hold him before picking him up, and didn’t feel like I should unless a nurse was there to tell me I was allowed. I never remembered to feed him – nurses had to remind me – “Mrs. G Love, when was the last time our Baby Boy tried to eat?” I was very much looking to other folks to be in charge of me during those first few hours postpartum, and regarded my baby as a delightful wee dolly in the rolling bassinette cart thing that I was allowed to play with once in a while.

So, the day whizzed by, and the evening came, and my darling husband (not benefiting from the hormone rush that kept me wired for days on end) crashed out on his fold-out chair/bed and snored the rest of the night. The midwife on duty came in at dusk and saw that I was holding Frog, his head on my chest and butt in the air, legs tucked up, openmouthed and breathing heavily. He wore only a diaper, and I held him skin to skin with a hospital baby blanket draped over him – in this way does the mother’s body “teach” the baby’s body how to regulate its own temperature. The smiling midwife asked a few questions, and then said – that’ll be his favorite position, next to you, so he can hear your heart like he did in the womb. Then she left, and it was me, a sacked out Darlin’, and my snoring son in my arms.

Aside from Darlin’s rhythmic deep breathing, all was at last quiet, and the baby and I were alone. I didn’t sleep at all, not for one second that whole night, even though I’d labored through the entire night before and was thoroughly, utterly, deeply tired. I barely blinked, feasting my hungry mother’s eyes on the unfamiliar little body, making it familiar, making him mine. I ran my fingertips over his skin. I whispered to him. I kissed his cheeks, eyelids, fingers, tugged gently at his tiny pink mouth. Cupped his wee feet in my hands. Traced the line of his dimpled knees, bent his arms at the elbow to see them move, so perfectly, look what I made, look how well it works, look how small it is! I palmed his belly, measured his forearm against my hand, stroked his dark hair, rubbed his back. Punctuated occasionally by vitals checks from the nurses, thus the night ticked by, and something strong and consuming and mutually nourishing grew between my baby and me - a ghost of the umbilical cord, the psychology text's "bonding," the morphing of the old me into the me that was somebody's mother. I poured my love and wonder and fascination over him as he slept, heavy on my chest, and then a new day dawned, and he was 24 hours old, and I too felt brand new and ready for this, this motherhood, this rest of my life. No longer a strange sight, from then on our baby’s face has been dancing at the back of my eyes, everywhere I look.

Yeah. I could handle reliving that, over and over.

mistaken.

2008-08-14T14:26:00.000-05:00

to be honest, i haven't had the chance to read g love's or wicked's response to this question. i have been out of commission all week (and actually, last week too) with dental issues that resulted in the loss of molar #31 on tuesday afternoon. but, i digress. and i apologize if what i've written sounds like the opinions of the other ww.

in my opinion, we all make mistakes. we've all been immoral at some point in our lives. we're all fallible - even the pope. our judgment gets foggy and we do something stupid. we've all had occasions when we've stuck our foots in our big mouths (see previous 'wonder') or done something at a gathering that was beyond embarrassing. we're lucky to be average folk who don't have such experiences blow up for the world to see. unfortunately, such mistakes are made much larger when it stems from the actions or words of a politician. politicians are held in the highest regard and are expected to be perfect. so when an error in judgment is made, we all know about it and can even witness it for ourselves on youtube.

i think what upsets most people that is that these folks are elected officials. it's almost as though we feel duped into believing that they are holier than thou. we hear their speeches about a utopian society and want to believe with every fiber of our beings that they are the folks that will bring us to that. but then, their humanness peeks through and our image of them is shattered. our belief and desire to have these perfect humans as our leaders gets tainted by the fact that they are simply that - human.

i guess what i'm trying to say is that i don't believe all politicians are immoral. i believe society sets them on the pedestal, expecting them to uphold the values and morals than no one can attain. so when politicians reveal that they are just like the rest of us, we don't simply blush or partake in office gossip about it. the act is splashed across every newspaper. it infiltrates the news. and we are reminded yet again that as much as we'd like to believe our chosen leader is perfect, a the end of the day, he or she is just like the rest of us.

Politicians are Immoral? Wha???

2008-08-12T15:31:00.002-05:00

Uh, what she said. Seriously, I have to follow that??

Was anyone really that surprised by John Edwards admitting to his affair? Was anyone really shocked that Elizabeth Edwards is standing by her man and is saying that her cancer has made it easier to put things like this in perspective?

I, for one, am not.

Politicians are people. They are human. We have made our politicians into infallible celebrities whose lives we follow and hoard information on. In truth, they are really just like us. We make mistakes, have affairs, lie about things that we are embarrassed about, and try to say things just the right way so that they do not sound as bad as they really are.

We live in a world that says it wants to be one way and then works in a completely opposite way. We say that we want the best man for the job but then we keep electing the same people over and over again. Sure, we may elect someone with more charisma every once in a while (Bill Clinton), but we rarely deviate even a little from our typical pattern. White, married man who has lots of money. I always thought that our elected leaders were supposed to represent us but as far as I can tell we are happy to stick with the status quo and then delude ourselves into thinking that we tried to change things and that this new person is going to change everything.

McCain is not someone that I want to hate or demonize. Obama is not someone that I want to exalt or put on a pedestal. That would not be the right way to look at these two men. What I want? Honest communication that has not been poked, prodded, and punched into the perfect sound bite so that the candidate can prove once again that he is the right man for the job.

Sure, most politicians are immoral in some way, but so are all of us. None of us is perfect and beyond reproach. I do not want a perfect person as an elected leader. I want someone who reflects who we are as a people and that would certainly not be someone who has a God complex. Americans like to get up on their high horses and say that we are trying to make the world a better place, but I truly think that what we are trying to do is conform the world to our standards. How would we feel if another country tried to do that to us?

We are never happy. We want someone who reflects us but yet we are fed the same kind of candidate over and over again -- and we accept it. "Thank you for spoon feeding me these two "perfect" candidates, Fates!" So, while having a candidate like Obama is something new and different and unique, he still fits a very Washington-political mold that we all like to think he is busting out of. He has something in his closet, like all of us, that he does not want anyone to find. Honestly, I believe that politicians need to be a little bit immoral. Their job is a tough one and it requires a little bit of moral deviation at times (hello, war!).

***My husband nearly died last year and I can tell you that his illness certainly gave me a new perspective on life. That perspective, however, does not include allowing him to cheat on me and then attempt to apologize for it and be forgiven. It would be good-bye husband in that case. But that is just me...and I am certainly no politician's wife.

***If this entry makes no sense, I apologize. I get fired up and become completely incapable of writing anything coherent on political subjects.

I wonder why politicians always seem so immoral?

2008-08-11T13:55:00.005-05:00

It makes me heartsick to see another woman standing by her skeezoid man, in the press at least, while he warbles on about narcissism and power and temptation (and frankly – do any of these women who have affairs with politicians these days look tempting to you?) And she is made the fool in front of the entire world, while he oozes all over television screens and praises her up and down, hoping that words will speak louder than actions.

It makes me angry to know that the man was willing to seriously compromise his party’s chance at regaining power in the Executive branch by running for the Democratic nomination, knowing he had this skeleton in his closet. As my husband pointed out - what if it was he, and not Obama, campaigning right now? What would our chances be of a Democratic president? Regardless of our readers’ political affiliations, I think we can all agree that to pursue the presidency with such an explosive, candidacy-crippling secret is to be both (a) naïve and (b) selfish.

It makes me disgusted to know that yet again the woman he trotted out with was an air-headed bottle blonde with no personal or professional accomplishments to speak of. . . that is, unless you count being the antihero in a McInerney novel, which (as Maureen Dowd acerbically points out) is not an accomplishment of which one should be proud. He left the lawyer at home to run their dead son’s charitable foundation, so he could step out and make diddly with a floozy. Why can't they ever at least be smart floozies?

It makes me a disenchanted voter to know that he let me down. What if his policies were the best thing for the country, as he (and his wife and oldest daughter) declaimed during the most recent primary? What if he has some real solutions to minimize poverty and care for the weak? He gave up the opportunity to have them taken seriously. A momentary temptation, a brief bit of pleasure – for this was the public’s rosier future sold. You can argue, as the eyebrow-cocking, snicker-into-their-sleeve Europeans do, that we as a voting public are much too hung up on these personal indiscretions, and miss the forest for the trees. But, for better or worse, it is an American electoral reality, one that this politician has used as a stick to berate his own philandering fellow party-members. He knew what he was risking, and has now lost, for the sake of a couple of orgasms.

Politicians sleep around. Absolute power, and all that. I don't think this is the way it has to be, but (because of the bad behavior of this man, and many others) I have lowered my standards to recognize this as the norm, and fidelity as the shining exception. The particular sting for me this time is that I feel that the woman who was betrayed had the better potential of the two. Despite her own impressive skills, she chose to hitch her cart to a man’s horse rather than drive it under her own power. He has, in the time-honored tradition of powerful political men, let her down. He isn’t President, and now it is likely he never will be, but now he’s also compromised his chances of a high profile Cabinet placement or, God help us, Vice Presidency. For what, her sacrifices?

Not to mention the personal betrayal. She married him. She bore him two children. She helped him bury one, and then, to soothe their pain, she bore him two more, taking the toll on a much older body. She sublimated her own legal career to support his political aspirations. She got cancer. She campaigned with him anyway. She went into remission. He spat on her. She stood by him.

So I guess I’m a wee bit disappointed in her, too. The handling of an infidelity is a personal choice, and she has obligations to her children that surely come into play - but I believe her public status assigns her, too, an obligation to us, the married women of the world. Expectations, standards of behavior - they are lowered that tiny bit more, and womankind takes that half shuffle backwards. These high profile wives are standing behind their men, holding the kids' hands outside the bathroom door while the Good Old Boy gets his quickie in the stalls, and then fake-smiling for the press while hoping that he at least had the good sense to wash his hands after. In a passive way she is telling me that this is the best I should hope for.

But let's not end this little rant by making it her fault. Stuck between a rock and a hard place - ahem, pardon the pun - she is left with a couple of crappy non-options, and that's the self-confessed narcissist's doing. Although I wish she'd stride outta there with her head held high, I won't add to her burden by calling for her head on the stake.

I hope that homewrecker showed him a Rielle good time.

7th grade.

2008-08-08T10:53:00.004-05:00

i say stupid things ALL the time, so i thought i'd blog about my most recent foot-in-mouth episode.

one of my coworkers (who is a very good friend of mine) is a lesbian. i love her and her partner dearly. both are fantastic people whom i admire. i have absolutely no problems with their relationship and have high respect for each of them. so why i said what i said after a staff meeting one day, i'll never know.

so said coworker, another gal, and i were leaving a staff meeting. i noticed a magnet on the side of a filing cabinet that was produced by one of the departments on campus. i picked it up, looked it over, and let out a big laugh. it was the stupidest magnet i'd ever seen with cooking measurements on it and stuff. it really was very, very dumb. but instead of saying, "oh my gosh, this magnet is so dumb!" i say, "oh my gosh, this magnet is so gay!"

the second it slipped from my mouth, i apologized profusely. i was shocked at myself! i never say that phrase! i probably hadn't said that since i was in junior high, you know? i was totally embarrassed.

thankfully, she's a rock star and instead of getting mad, she jokingly says, "super jane! i feel so discriminated against! i'm going to file a complaint with HR right now!"

i could have (and probably should have) died.

I Wonder Why I Said That?

2008-08-06T09:15:00.002-05:00

I’m sure I’ve said lots of inappropriate things. Accidentally, and on purpose. But there’s one hole I keep digging for myself over and over. I can’t seem to stop. Just about once a month, I mention this opinion to someone as thought I’ve never said it before. Maybe by writing about it I can make it stop.

The Boy and I work in higher education, right? Right. And we have very strong opinions about a great many things about our program, our employer, and college life in general, right? Oh so right. I think that I have a right to my opinion and that if I want to talk about a trend or an unwritten rule, I should be able to vocalize my thoughts on these topics whenever I want. And I do.

So. One of my favorite things to talk about is the quality and training lineage of our faculty. They’re wonderful—dedicated, inspiring, knowledgeable, supportive. We just went through about 94 searches for various reasons, so every round of applicants that we discussed found me spouting off on a weekly basis.

In a faculty/staff meeting (there are 22 of us), we were debating the merits of a certain applicant pool, and I decreed, “Well, I think it’s very important for someone who gets a degree somewhere to go away and teach or work for a while before they come back and work where they got their degree. Just staying at the same place, or leaving undergrad and then coming right back after getting an MFA somewhere else doesn’t give you enough experience.”

And then I looked around at the room, and realized … two of our faculty members and one of our professional staff … had done just that—gotten training here and stayed or left for three years and come right back.

One of those people is the chair of our department.

Oops. I usually say that in one-on-one conversations, and never to the people it described. And now there was no way out.

So I just smiled, sunk down in my chair, and proceeded to become extremely interested in my legal pad.

But, hey, I didn’t get fired, and that was months ago. So I’m in the clear, right?

Except I said a variation of that exact statement … yesterday, while talking about a former student who was sour grapes about our not interviewing her for two of the 94 searches. And who did I say it to?

Yup. The chair of our department.

And this time I didn’t have a legal pad with me.

I’ll let you know if I still have a job at the end of the day.

Dumb, Dumb, Dumb

2008-08-05T11:22:00.003-05:00

I say stupid things on a pretty consistent basis. If I tried to list all of them here it would go on forever. So, trust me on this. I will give you one comment. The penultimate of stupidity on my part.

"I really think that my future in-laws really like me! Superman's whole family seems really nice!"

*For those of you who know me and my story about the in-laws, you will understand why this is the dumbest thing I have ever said. Ever.

I Wonder What the Dumbest Comment I Ever Made Was . . .

2008-08-04T12:55:00.003-05:00

The G Love Dumb Comment Gallery, with Dumbness Instances bolded for your reading pleasure:

Exhibit A
My coworker Suzanne has come in for guidance on how to establish authority over a new direct report who is her age.
SUZANNE: “. . . I don’t have any trouble with Anita. I tell her to do something, she does it. But with Joanne, I feel weird asking her to do things.”
ME: “Well, Joanne is your age, which always makes it more awkward. You have a natural authority over Anita, seeing as how she is young enough to be your daughter. Um. Er. I mean. If you were, like, having kids at age 12. Heh heh.”

Exhibit B
Years ago, I worked a temp job, also in HR, in a hospital. Somebody I didn’t know came in to the office to show off her new baby.
NEW MOM: “Having a baby is just the most wonderful thing in the world. Are you planning on having kids soon?”
ME: “Well, I’m not married yet.”
NEW MOM (offended): “Well T.J. says he’s gonna marry me just as soon as he can afford to treat me like I deserve.”
ME: “Oh, um, of course. I just mean, well, I don’t - - - that really is a gorgeous kid!”

Exhibit C
Last year, at a sort of family reunion. I put my foot in my mouth not once, not twice, but three times with my Aunt Carly.
ME: “So, what’s your daughter up to these days? Has she finished college yet?”
AUNT CARLY: “I guess you didn’t hear that she dropped out.”
ME: “Oh. Well, you know, sometimes people just need to take a year off, take a break, or maybe college just isn’t for them.”
AUNT CARLY: “No, she’s just stupid and lazy.”
ME: “Oh. Uh-huh.”
Later, looking through photo albums together.
AUNT CARLY: “Yeah, there’s my brother and your dad. They used to be in the same class in high school, before we were even related.”
ME: “Cool. Looks like you have a lot of fun memories together.
AUNT CARLY: “Yeah, I guess.”
ME: "I don't know about you, but I love having a brother. It's so great."
AUNT CARLY: "Mmmhmmm."
ME: “So, is he here at the reunion?”
AUNT CARLY: “We aren’t on speaking terms.”
ME: “---“
Still later, sipping coffee at the dinner table.
ME: “So what do you do again, Aunt Carly?”
AUNT CARLY: “I’m not currently working.”
ME: “Oh, great. So you decided to take some time off. Sounds soooo nice.”
AUNT CARLY: “It wasn’t my decision. I was let go.”
ME: (under my breath) “*&(%(&*#^” (out loud) “Oh, I’m, uh, sorry to hear that.”

Exhibit D
In a restaurant, talking to a room full of 20 of my coworkers.
ME: “Well, Suzanne, I’m sure you’re proud of you daughter. Almost finished with college and all.”
SUZANNE: “We sure are.”
ME: “I always try to tell our interns – you can get so much farther in life with a college degree. It’s a very important thing to get, if you ever want to be taken seriously in your career. (survey room, and realize that I am the only one in there with a college degree.) --- that is, if you’re in the scientific community. Christine is a Bio major, right?”
SUZANNE: “Business.”
ME: “Oh. Well. In business and stuff, not so much, I mean experience counts for a lot, and all. Especially, you know, in manufacturing, like our jobs. --- Please pass the salt?”

My Echo, My Shadow, and Me

2008-07-31T13:24:00.000-05:00

Who is she?

A slim Italian peasant, pinning her thick black braid off her neck before heading out into the summer heat to sell fruit from woven baskets, or to pick olives, or walk to a friend’s?

A gregarious, robust Greek woman, carving slices off a roast lamb and carrying them on overloaded platters into a taverna full of drinking customers?

A Spanish bride, mantilla veil trailing behind her, carrying a bunch of bougainvillea and thinking of the coming days as a wife in the sun?

Who is my long lost ancestor?

As far as I know, I am descended from English people. There may be a German or two thrown in, but for the most part, at least if our last names are any indication, my people originally came from the British isles (I just typed British aisles first by accident, and what an image that is! Blue Light special on aisle five, buy three British people, get the fourth one free! Ahem. Anyway.) My teeth (pre-braces) would support this theory, as does the little we know of our family history.

But one of my Olde Tyme great great great grandfathers had a little game of slap and tickle with a Mediterranean beauty at some point back in that history, because I had to get this olive skin from somebody, and it probably wasn’t from somebody who lived under clouds 363 days of the year. I suppose it could just as easily have been a grandmother gettin’ it on with a hot dude from Capri, and in fact that probably makes more sense, given the olive-skinned love child would have ended up back in England in order to beget the people who begot the people who eventually moved to America and begot me.

But anyways, in short, I’ve got some Mediterranean in me I firmly believe, which means that I was born with black eyes, black hair (both since faded to dark brown), and olive skin that almost never burns in the sun. And what it also means is that my black hair is not corralled to the top-of-head area, but has ventured out to places where it IS NOT WELCOME. On a female anyway.

So. Without my absolutely vital beauty products – my tweezers and razor, and yes the pair come as a SET so I get to include them both – I would look like a werewolf. My brows, like Rin’s, cover half my face and are desperate to be once again joined, linking elbows over the bridge of my nose. As for a little further south - well, I can grow better facial hair than most teenaged boys, if left to it. To spare you unpleasant mental images, I won’t expound on my hirsute natural state any further – suffice to say, it’s forest-like. If I could have all the minutes of my life back that I have spent on hair removal – it would be a lot of minutes, okay? I briefly toy with the idea of laser hair removal or electrolysis, but then I think of bushy-browed Brooke Shields and remember that beauty trends come and go. There may be a day when long black chin hairs are in, baby, and if that’s the case I don’t want to be lamenting the irreversible decision I made back in the early 2000s. At the moment, our society seems to prefer its women hairless, dainty, almost delicate. Perhaps that will change. But until it does – it will be – my razor, my tweezers, and me.

Give Them Up? Never!

2008-07-30T09:17:00.003-05:00

I really hate to admit this but I am fairly high maintenance when it comes to beauty products. I am chalking it up to my super special sensitive skin and not my obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Due to my super special sensitive skin, I have a special body wash, a special body lotion, a special face wash, and a special facial lotion. Nothing screams, "Hi! I'm High Maintenance!" more intensely than my shower stuffed with products.

In thinking about which product I could never ever ever live without, I came to one conclusion. Honestly, that one conclusion was this: I do not want to even consider a world in which I can only have one beauty product. Alas, that is not what this entry requires of me so I will play by the rules - but not without telling you why I love all of my super special items so dearly.

I am obsessed with moisturizing. Obsessed. The minute I get out of the shower in the mornings, I slather my entire body with Curel Fragrance Free lotion. Slather. Otherwise, my skin starts to feel a little bit like snakeskin. Snakeskin is not attractive on a human and it is very uncomfortable to be itchy and dry. So far, this lotion is the one thing that manages to keep me moisturized for hours and it also seems to not make my skin itchy, rashy, and all over sensitive-y.

To continue the theme of moisturizing, I love my facial lotion. I use a combo of Clinique's Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion and another lotion that is my super secret weapon. After washing my face in the shower or washing my face before I go to bed at night, I slather my face in lotion. I totally believe that my slathering on of facial lotion is the single thing that is keeping me from looking 300 years old. Seriously, my love of the sun is unprecedented. So, facial lotion, I love thee so!

My face wash and body wash are both Aveeno brand and I was introduced to them by an allergist. Basically, I was told that I was allergic to everything on planet Earth and that nothing would calm my eczema outside of these two products and, well, I listened. I use the Skin Relief Fragrance Free body wash and the Positively Radiant Facial Cleanser. The body wash keeps me from being all itchy and the face wash seems to keep my skin fairly clear. I love these two products so much that when I do find them in stores, I tend to buy two or three bottles of each at a time. Seriously, panic starts to set in if I am running low and cannot find any in the local Target.

I also love my make-up, my hair mousse (to amp up my lifeless hair!), razor. Oh! And my shower fluffy! And my tweezers! And perfume! And, and...

But even after all of this, the one beauty product that I could never live without? Bonne Bell Lip Smacker (strawberry flavor). Dudes, it is the greatest thing ever!

What's My Beauty Must-Have?

2008-07-29T09:25:00.001-05:00

I often forgo makeup on the weekends … it’s pretty liberating, as long as I’m wearing sunglasses most of the time and never ever shop for clothes or look at myself in a clean window. Once every couple of weeks, I go to bed w/out washing my face on a Friday night (I know! HORRIBLE!). Sometimes I skip washing my hair (I have a friend who promises me that if I will just wash it every other day, it will stop being greasy on the day off and it’s what is really healthiest for my hair. I make faces at her and tell her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s only an MFA in costume design with a specialty in wigs/hair/makeup. Puh-leez.) I moisturize at least once a day, but once it’s done, I usually forget about it until the next day. My razor and I are friendly, but we don’t have a daily appointment. I rarely paint my fingernails (I swear they start to get smothered when I do and it just doesn’t feel right).

So do I even have anything I have to have? A beauty product/routine I’ll whither away without? Oh yes. And I have no one but a maternal great-uncle to thank.

I have his eyebrows.

I don’t know how it happened (well, I mean, I do … I studied the transfer of traits in middle-school biology like everybody else). My mom and my sister have beautifully shaped, arched, and thin eyebrows that don’t even need a brow brush. But I don’t have that option. If I don’t indulge in the luxury of having my eyebrows done, all the cleanliness and moisture and makeup and even adorable outfits won’t help. I have two caterpillars crawling across my brow bone, and they’re in no hurry to inch off to the nearest leafy garden. When I don’t make regular appointments with my esthetician M. (I just cheated on her with stylist J. on Friday … shh, don’t tell!), I start to feel furry and furrowed and generally grumpy. And start to look like Grumpy, too.

When I leave an appointment, I can go for days without eyeshadow and still look fresh and awake and polished. I feel happy and girly and smell like tea-tree oil. Yum.

So you can take away my concealer, my John Frieda Blonde styling gel and hair dryer, even my Care Deeply (wait! Just let me … get … a little … OK. There. Proceed.). But please, please don’t make me stop waxing. Trust me … it’s NOT. PRETTY.

i wonder what beauty product i couldn't live without?

2008-07-28T20:12:00.003-05:00

there is only one beauty product that i absolutely cannot live without. i can go without moisturizer...i can go without shaving my legs...i can even go without make-up. but, i cannot and will not go without my face wash.

for whatever reason, after i gave birth to my oldest daughter, my skin literally freaked out. i never really had a problem with acne growing up. sure, i'd get a few pimples every now and again like any normal girl, but it wasn't a serious issue. i think the skin gods decided that since i had it fairly easy as an adolescent, they would make up for it during adulthood.

after i had little mama, my skin got bumpy. i didn't have zits, just a ton of bumps covering my forehead and cheeks. i wasn't thrilled with this new hormonal change (i wasn't thrilled with a lot of hormonal changes, but that's another blog for another day...), but i wasn't sure what to do. i thought about purchasing proactiv as i knew some sorority sisters in college who had success with it. i just didn't have the extra funds to purchase it. i tried a few over-the-counter cleansers and finally found one that worked for me.

i am forever in love with (and indebted to) neutrogena oil-free acne wash. seriously, this stuff is amazing! within a week of using it, i began to see a noticeable difference in my bumpy skin. the bumps on my cheeks completely disappeared and the bumps on my forehead became few and far between. i've been using this neutrogena wash for a couple of years now and cannot live without it. as crazy as it sounds, i can feel a difference in the bumpiness of my face if i even skip using it for one night.

i just realized that i'm starting to sound like a commercial, so i think i'll stop singing praises to neutrogena now. so, in closing, i will use my bubbly, commercial voice to say, "neutrogena oil-free acne face wash has renewed my confidence and given me a new lease on life!!!! so, if you suffer from bumpiness like i did, rush to your nearest drug store and try it for yourself. i'm confident in this product and know that you will not be disappointed!"

(cheezy grin)
(and...cut.)
(that's a wrap.)

Programming Note!

2008-07-25T13:28:00.002-05:00

Accept my apologies, dear readers, for totally effing up the posting order this week. I have lame excuses w/which I won't bore you. Anyway, let's give a big hand to super jane, who on Monday ends her reign as Wonder-setter for the week. She brought us through the spring in high style. We welcome G Love as the primadonna on 4 August!

Oh the Places I'd Go ...

2008-07-25T09:20:00.002-05:00

Sleep ‘til 9:18A if J. allows it (which he usually doesn’t … he starts asking for breakfast and meowing in my face just before 6A. Why don’t cats understand weekends/days off/anything you say?). Groan and roll around a bit, throwing my arm over my eyes, then rise at 9:24A. Or maybe 9:37A. Or maybe … well, by 10A at the very, very latest.

Put on a two-cup pot of coffee. Wait in agony.

Coffee! Probably out on the back porch, in PJs and a sweatshirt b/c it’s still about 68˚F. Granola bar.

If The Boy isn’t up, get his butt up. Make his favorite breakfast: granola bar and a cold Coke.

Stretch a bit, fill up two Nalgenes, and jump in the car to head out to one of many nearby 4-mile hikes. Stop the car halfway out the driveway and run back inside to grab the sunscreen for just-in-case.

After the hike and a long pseudo-argument, find vestiges of willpower against The Boy’s pleading and head home for a late and homemade (therefore inexpensive) lunch. Back out on the porch, of course, but this time w/the umbrella up.

Maybe a game of cards (Harry Potter Uno, anyone?), maybe dominoes, maybe—if luck is a lady—I’ll read a magazine while The Boy does a little work. Just hanging out, killing time before:

Showers all around (J. likes to jump in when we’re done and sometimes doesn’t even wait until the water’s off) and off to the super-bargain matinee! With a stop at Target first for contraband chocolate. If I’m feeling super-sneaky (which I probably am), I’ll have stashed a Coke and a Dr Pepper in my bag before we left home. Then we have a movie and popcorn for dinner.

Eventually get back home after perhaps a stop at Lowes or Home Depot to check one more time to make sure the shade of green I want for the bedroom is really the shade of green I want for the bedroom. We’re not buying the paint yet, just visiting it.

Return to the back porch for more games or reading. When the mosquitoes chase us inside, choose a DVD (“House” if we haven’t already finished Season Three; we also just bought The Aviator for $5 at Target, so there’s that option), settle in on the couch. Check the weather at 10:12P, then gather up the cat and head to bed.

Could someone remind me why I didn’t call in sick today?

Just Call Me Wild Thang

2008-07-24T09:15:00.002-05:00

This is an easy one.

I’d stay in bed until Frog woke up, which is usually around 8. I’d change his diaper, wash his neck and face with a baby washcloth, and carry him into the front room, where Darlin' would be reading the paper with his coffee. I’d sit in the “sacrificial” green chair, which is the only furniture we sit on with the exorcist baby spewing all over the place, and tuck him into my lap and chat with him. Darlin' would make me my cup of coffee and maybe some toast.

At 9, I would feed the baby. After that, I would put on my workout clothes and either go for a run, sans kid, or else strap him into the stroller and take him and the dog for a walk. That would put me in the shower at a little after 10, at which point Darlin' would take a break from working and play with Frog while I got ready for the day. Once I was ready, Frog and I would go someplace – maybe the grocery to pick up ingredients for some dinners. Or a park to sit on a blanket and watch the people. To the pool, where I would let him splash in the shallow end – he loves water. Maybe to the library, so I could check out some books while he slept in the baby carrier. If I have a birthday present to buy for somebody, we might go to the mall.

I’d have to feed him at noon, but I could do that in public. We’d be home by one at the latest, so I could make lunch for Darlin' and me while the baby napped. Maybe hoagies, or some sautéed squash, or a big chef salad. We might have a glass of wine with our lunch, or maybe just a pitcher of iced tea. If it wasn’t too hot, I might serve it outside on our plastic patio furniture. Then I’d tidy up from lunch and do a little housecleaning while the baby napped – sweep the pet hair tumbleweeds off the floor, or give my houseplants some TLC. Do the requisite load of laundry for the day, maybe vacuum real quick, and then the baby’s up again.

At three, we’d sit down to nurse, and then I would read to Frog. Right now we’re reading The Chronicles of Narnia – almost done with book one. I’d help him practice sitting up, and probably take a lot of pictures of him, and maybe we’d knock on the door of the office and check on Darlin' again. Then I’d strap him in the car, and drive him and Schmupp to our little downtown, which is five minutes away by car (but we can’t walk there, drat), and then walk around the beautiful historic homes with the baby in the carrier and the dog tugging on the leash. We might swing on the swings at the park, and let the dog dig in the sand. At this point, it’s getting on to about dinner time, so we’d head home and I would make it, whatever it is, and have it baking or cooking or simmering through the 6:00 nurse. Then we’d eat, and then I’d do the dishes, and give the baby his bath, dress him in his p.j.s, and read him another story. Darlin' would finish working at about 8, at which point he’d pour us a nightcap and we would sit in the front room and read and talk, or maybe go in the t.v. room and watch a Netflix. I’d nurse the baby at 9, and then put him in his crib to sleep, and then hang out with my husband for an hour or so before going to bed myself.

Thrilling life, right?

Easy.

2008-07-23T13:17:00.002-05:00

Summer: Sleep in, go for a run, take a shower. Eat something, go to the pool and read for several hours, return to shower. Make a fantastic dinner on the grill, watch some bad reality television, hit the sack to the sound of the cicadas.

Fall: Sleep in, go for a run, take a shower. Eat something, try to get outside and enjoy the crisp air and beautiful colors, and maybe do a little shopping. Make a fantastic dinner in the wok, read a book, hit the sack to the sound of leaves being tossed about by a light breeze.

Winter: Sleep in, go for a run, take a shower. Eat something, put something in the crock pot for dinner, settle in on the couch under a blanket with a good book. Take a nap, have a lovely dinner, watch some television, and burrow into the sack to the sound of wind whipping through the trees.

Spring: Sleep in, go for a run, take a shower. Eat something, try to get outside and enjoy the blooming flowers and trees, and read under a tree. Order in dinner, have some chocolate, and hit the sack to the sound of birds chirping.

i wonder what i'd do all day if i didn't work.

2008-07-21T10:27:00.002-05:00

it's monday. who likes mondays? to help me get through this hum-drum day at work, i thought we could chat a bit about what i'd be doing if i wasn't at work. i'm not talking about a dream day where i'd spend time at the spa getting a fabulous massage from sven (although that sounds perfectly delightful). i'm talking reality here. what would i realistically be doing right this very second if i weren't stuck at work.

currently, the time is 11:23 am, so i'd most likely be playing with the girls outside. it's a beautiful day here in the circle city, so the girls and i would be swinging on the swings in the backyard or playing softball. lately, softball has been their passion. we play catch and hit the ball off of the tee and have a grand time. okay, so, scratch the swings...we'd definitely be playing ball right now.

at 12 noon or so, we come inside for lunch. i'd make hot dogs (a crowd favorite) for them with chocolate milk to drink for aj and pink lemonade for little mama. i'd drink water. we'd dine on hot dogs and grapes and graham crackers and go-gurts (cotton candy flavored) and i would spend most of the meal reminding aj to sit down on her bottom in her chair and to eat her lunch. mealtime is a bit hectic in our house and is rarely enjoyable. little mama is finally at the age where she can sit still and eat an entire meal. aj, on the other hand, never. sits. still. even at mealtime.

okay, once we finish eating, it's time to go to the pool. we'd swim for an hour or so and then head home for showers. i would scrub the hair of each baby and snuggle them in their towels as they dry off. i love the smell of 'just out of the tub' babes! nothing smells better! after changing into sun dresses, each girl would lay down for naps (me included - but i'm not in a sun dress...more like shorts and a t-shirt. is this too detailed?)

personally, nap time is my absolute favorite time of the day. we usually sleep for an hour to a hour and a half and it's just enough time to refresh me for the rest of the evening.

by now it's nearing dinnertime and on a normal work day, i'm usually home at this point. so, realistically, if i wasn't here, i'd be with the girls. i wouldn't be crunching numbers and connected to my calculator. i wouldn't be worrying about the latest audit and whether i've messed up a file for the state. instead, i'd be worrying about making sure the girls were wearing sunscreen and that i washed their hair well enough to avoid turning a greenish tint.

both work and home are important, i know. i keep my head in the game no matter which location i happen to be on a particular day, though there is no doubt that my heart always lies at home.

Help, My Inner Rebel is in a Coma

2008-07-18T12:23:00.002-05:00

At different times in my life, I have been:

o A hippy who bought all of my flowy natural-colored clothes at thrift stores and cut my own hair, and carried everything in a woven hemp bag that I bought from a street vendor in San Francisco.
o A surfer chick wannabe who wore Roxy, carried a Hurley corduroy school bag, and spent summers in a tropical print sarong and bikini top – even when I wasn’t at the beach.
o A naturalist who wore Chacos with my shorts and t-shirts, had a whistle on a chain around my neck, and a purple Nalgene covered with stickers perpetually hanging off my right index finger. In winter I added a fleece pullover as a concession to the dip in temperature, but otherwise the uniform did not change.
o A working woman who wore dress pants, heels, and crisply ironed (or, well, thrown-back-into-the-dryer-for-a-few-seconds ironed) button down shirts, who carried a black faux leather planner and wore mascara daily.
o A new mom who wore whatever was clean whether it matched or not.

So, at different times in my life, I have wanted:

o A tattoo of a sun or daisy – stylized, with some sort of reference to Peace – maybe the word Pax?
o A tattoo of one of those Hawaiian looking flowers, or maybe a dolphin or turtle.
o A tattoo of a lizard, or salamander, or frog, or maybe a tree.
o A tattoo of the rune for G, the first letter of my name.
o A tattoo of my son’s name and birthdate, or maybe just his first initial. Or his and mine and my husband’s intials intertwined in some kind of design, with room for any additional kids to be inked in later on.

And I have wanted these tattoos:

o On my right shoulder blade
o On my ankle, next to wear the surfboard strap would go (ha! Like I ever even learned to surf!)
o On my wrist, peeking out of my fleece pullover sleeve
o On my hip – easy to hide
o On any part of me that hadn’t stretched to oblivion during the pregnancy – perhaps my earlobe? My forehead?

This is why I do not have a tattoo. If in the past 5 years I have waffled this much in my personal style – how on earth could I pick something permanent to draw on my skin that I could never change (without lots of pain and money spent – youch, Wicked!)

Another reason is that my parents have a (in my opinion) slightly ridiculous attitude towards tattoos. To put it mildly, they are very anti-tat and might literally not speak to me for months if I got one. I’m 29 years old, yes, and totally financially independent for years now, and I get to choose what I do – but I know in the back of my mind that if I choose to get a tattoo and it’s one my parents see, that I will be creating a really annoying problem that I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life. This is not to say that I still won’t get one. It’s to say that in doing the cost-benefit-analysis of getting one, I have to weigh my parents’ temporarily disowning me as one of the costs. Except for this slightly overbearing way of parenting grown children, I do like my parents and very much like spending time with them. So, it's a dilemma.

Did I just say cost-benefit-analysis with regards to getting a tattoo? Oh man. The little rebel in the corner of my soul just collapsed. I’d better hurry out and get inked pronto in order to revive him, or I may as well just start drawing Social Security benefits right now, because I’m officially nine hundred years old.

A Complete Collection

2008-07-16T11:18:00.003-05:00

Some people get tattoos because they are trendy or cool. Some people get them due to peer pressure or because they may want a souvenir from their Spring Break trip of 1993. Other people see tattoos as art and as a way to express themselves. I fall into the latter category. I never dreamed of getting a tattoo and I never gave a second thought to any designs that I liked in case I ever got a tattoo. My journey toward deciding to get a tattoo was merely based on some friends saying they were going that weekend and maybe I would like to come? I figured I would just ride along and hold their hands for moral support. However, as the week passed, I found myself thinking that getting a tattoo would be kind of cool. I wanted it to mean something and I would only consider doing it if the tattoo place was clean and if the people working there were not creeps.

So, in the second semester of my sophomore year of college, I found myself on a tattoo table getting the symbol for love permanently etched on my right hip. It hurt more than I expected but only for a moment. After that initial moment of ouch(!), it felt more like a scraping sensation. The guy who did my tattoo was smart enough to have waited until after the tattoo was done to make a comment about having gotten my pants down, but he clearly was not smart enough to have waited until after I gave him his tip. Idiot. I still love this tattoo since it was a fun experience with a group of friends and in that it truly means something to me. My name means "worthy of love" and I feel a little bit like the symbol is me.

Everyone always says that after you get one tattoo, you want more. They are right. I got the itch for a second tattoo about a year later. I took myself back to the same tattoo shop and had an artist draw up an original design based on an idea I had. I wanted a ring of violets on my back. I was born in February and violets are that month's flower. They also happen to be my sorority flower and so it reminds me of the wonderful friends that I made while in college. That group of women taught me that women can be true friends and that the end of a college career does not mean the end of a friendship. I rarely see this tattoo since it sits at the small of my back, but I truly do love this design for all that it means.

My third tattoo is one that means the most to me. It stands for all that is important to me and is an outward expression of everything I want people to know about me. I have a set of three small stars on my left foot. They are each a different color and they each stand for something very important to me. It means so much to me, in fact, that no one knows what the stars represent. I can only say that the each star represents something different and that the stars together represent many things. The stars being on my foot has also come to represent many things as well. This is the tattoo that I get the most compliments on since it is the most visible. I got this tattoo while traveling in California for work. This tattoo hurt the most to get but I have to say that it is my hands down favorite.

I did have a fourth tattoo and I can only say that it was a big(!) mistake. The minute that artist finished it, I hated it. Hated. I waited the requisite amount of time for it to heal and immediately started calling laser centers for pricing to have it removed. It was a L-O-N-G process, I got an infection at one point, and it hurts like a mother to have done. It hurts far more to have a tattoo removed than it does to get one. It also costs more. A lot more. So, my history of collecting tattoos is not perfect. I still have a scar from having this tattoo removed that reminds me of how awful that entire experience was. I will never forget that. I think that is the biggest reason that I do not have another tattoo.

I do have an idea for another design and Superman and I have discussed morphing the idea into semi-matching tattoos that would mean something to both of us. However, it just has not happened. Maybe we are getting too old? Maybe we are getting too stingy with our money? Maybe we just do not need an inked symbol to remind us of what we have? So, I will never say that I will never get another tattoo...but for now? I am thrilled with my complete collection.

***I am not even going to go into my parents' reaction to my having gotten tattoos. I grew up in conservative-town America and they really do not love them. Secretly though, I think my dad thinks that it is cool.

I Think It's Too Late ...

2008-07-15T13:58:00.002-05:00

I missed the tattoo train. I had a ticket, but it just never got punched (or punctured and filled with ink, as it were). Now that I’m in my wise old thirties, I think that it’s safe to assume I’d be older than my artist. And that’s a bad sign.

I went through a very short I-need-a-tattoo phase, while I was in Great Britain my sophomore year of college. What better souvenir to myself than getting inked in London or Edinburg? It would be permanent, meaningful, and I wouldn’t have to claim it on my customs form. So I braved a few parlors after doing extensive research (which means: looking them up in the phone book to see which ones were closest to my next sightseeing stop), with a friend in tow, and never really made it past any of the front doors. I don’t remember seeing anything traumatizing, but let’s just say that my friend pointed out that Tattoo Charlie’s in Louisville was way cleaner. Every time we went inside one, I just went straight to the board to look for “my” image. Which I never found very easily, and as the seconds ticked by, I became more and more self-conscious. Nobody in the parlors bothered to look at me twice, and I just ended up “not feeling it” and slinking out and away, back to the museums and pubs and theatres—where I belonged and did not feel self-concious.

When I got back from GB (I bought myself a locket instead), I told myself and others that I’d get one if I ever went back.

Oops.

I did go back, two years later. And that time I didn’t even try going into any tattoo parlors. Pretty sad, huh?

I still say if I go again, I’ll maybe get one. This is partially b/c it really is a rockin’ souvenir, partially b/c it’s an interesting thing to throw into a conversation, and partially b/c I don’t really know if I’ll ever be in GB again. So I’m mostly safe.

I don’t think I’m cool enough for a tattoo, if I’m being honest. My friends who do have tattoos are all much cooler than I. A ring of violets on the small of the back, an icthus just inside the right hip, a sprinkling of stars at the nape of the neck, “Love is patient” in French around the left wrist. I could never pull any of those off. I’m sure some of my friends have tattoos that I don’t even know exist … and I’m glad I don’t. I’m already way less cool than they are, and I don’t need any more self-consciousness.

I wonder sometimes, though, if I were suddenly possessed with the need to get a tattoo, what? And where? At this point in my life, the realization that I’d need to place it carefully so it didn’t lose its shape is actually an obsession. I keep having flashbacks to that “SNL” faux-mercial about how “it won’t be cool forever.” Where on my body will the skin always be as it is right now? The backs of my ears, my tongue, right below my collarbone, and the palms of my hands. OK. That was actually pretty easy! Now. Tattoo image … let’s see … hmm. What in my life will never change? My love of chocolate, the fact that if necessary I will cheat at board games to win, and my husband. That give me lots of options! I’ll see if my artist sister Kat can come up with a design around those parameters. It should be awesome. I’ll send PIX messages when it’s done.

What tattoos do you have? And where are they? I obviously need inspiration.

i wonder if i'll ever get a(nother) tattoo...

2008-07-14T11:24:00.005-05:00

i've always wanted a tattoo. i've always thought it would be awesome to have some sort of symbol inked into my back or foot. something that described me. something that displayed my personality and loves in life. what has stopped me from pursuing this dream of mine? that would be none other than my fantastically straight-laced husband, super jas.

we started dating when i was a mere 18 years old, so super jas grabbed a hold of me not shortly after i escaped my parents' grasp. i knew that my life would be in danger if i ever got a tatoo while i lived under my parents' roof. they were adamant about no tattoos, crazy hair colors or anything else that was considered rebellious. in fact, my most rebellious move in high school was getting my ear pierced up on the top of my ear. i did it sans parental permission and was fully expecting a good talking to when i displayed it. but rather than reprimand me, the first thing my dad did was raise my shirt to see if my belly button was pierced. (i later pierced my belly button in college on spring break in myrtle beach and casually mentioned it to them when i returned home.) obviously, i had zero support for my tattoo dream while growing up.

i thought perhaps my luck would change in college. maybe i'd meet a guy with a tattoo and he could take me to the tattoo parlor he frequented. i'd have his tattoo artist create something marvelous for me and i'd be branded for life. but instead of meeting my tattoo clad dream, i met super jas, who is the absolute farthest thing from being tattoo clad - or rebellious. i mentioned to him a few times that i'd love to get a tattoo and each suggestion was met with a disapproving look and a head shake. 'no way,' he said. i feel sometimes like super jas is an extension of my father. for crying out loud, he's my husband! isn't he supposed to want for me what i know is best for myself? where is the support? i still mention my desire for a tattoo every now and again and super jas still disagrees.

but...

i scoured a few tattoo websites just to see what was out there and to see if anything caught my eye. indeed, i found an awesome ambigram that spelled 'walk by faith.' they also had a few others that i liked, but the 'walk by faith' tattoo stuck out. if i ever get a tattoo, i want it to mean something. to represent something. to be a part of me and who i am. i think the phrase 'walk by faith' is a pretty accurate summary of how i've lived this life of mine.

i could go ahead and get my 'walk by faith' tattoo without telling super jas, but he would be beyond LIVID with me. a tattoo just isn't worth the marital unrest. but maybe when we're 90 and he's old and senile, i'll have a rockin', rebellious girlfriend (ahem...tara) in the old folks home with me who'll encourage me to finally fulfill my dream. and together, we'll head to the tattoo parlor where she'll hold my hand while i endure the pain. after it's complete, we'll catch the shuttle back to the old folks home where i'll reveal my new adornment to super jas. he'll smile, give me a kiss, nod and think 'ah, what the heck. life is too short not to have a little more fun.'

The Martyr

2008-07-10T15:33:00.003-05:00

I don't have much time to write this post. It's 4:30, and I'll be leaving work today on time, at 5, so I've only got half an hour to dash this off and then finish up a few things.

I didn't take a lunch today, see, because I had a long training session that went through lunch. So I'm giving myself twenty minutes here at the end of the day to create this entry. It ain't an hour, but there's plenty of days that I go to the gym on my lunch and end up taking an hour and a half, so this short late lunch break balances those days.

I keep track of this stuff in my own head, and make sure that I am not cheating my company . . . at least not too often. :) I make sure my duties are completed when they're supposed to be, I make sure that I average a 40 hour week, I make sure that I get home on time unless something vital keeps me here. I'm lucky to have a boss who trusts me to make these decisions for myself.

So why does my coworker - let's call her Suzanne - why does Suzanne think that it's important for her to track my schedule and comment upon it?

I've no doubt Suzanne feels cheated, when she sees me working my normal schedule. She herself works through every lunch. She also comes in most weekends. She's been known to be here until 1:00 am some evenings. She's very busy and important, you see. Much busier than me. I'm not totally sure why that is, because I once had her job and I was able to do it in my 40 hours a week, but Suzanne prefers to work at a different pace, I suppose.

Speaking of pace - Suzanne loves to run up and down the hall, waving a piece of paper and looking important. Suzanne loves to stop in each office on her way and explain how crazy busy she is, and how she hasn't had time to even use the restroom all day. And Suzanne loves to frown at all of the rest of us on the floor who aren't as dedicated to this company as she is. She will often come to me with a list of accusations against her coworkers - it would seem Suzanne spends most of her work day tallying up the times that people arrive and leave, and how many smoke breaks they take, and whether they make a personal phone call, and various important issues like that. Suzanne also likes to frequently come into my office and complain that she doesn't make enough money for all of the hours she works, how she deserves a bonus, how she deserves to be paid her vacation time because she doesn't get to use her vacation because our company would crumble into dust if she took a week off.

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I let all of my direct reports go home early. My boss went home early, and encouraged us to do the same. So I packed up my office and headed out at 2pm. I was the last person to leave . . . except for Suzanne. Suzanne watched me go with a huge storm cloud over her head and said "Must be nice for some." Why yes, Suzanne, it sure is. I like leaving at 2pm the day before a holiday. The 68 other people at our company all also like it. You do not, and that's cool. You can hang out til 10pm if you'd like, performing work that you actually could do when you got back next Monday. It's up to you.

Suzanne was having such a hissy, that (against my recommendation, I must say) another staff person was added to help remove some of her workload. Suzanne taught this staff person how to use the copier. And nothing else. And this staff person sits at her desk and picks her nails, and often comes to me for work to do because she's bored, while Suzanne continues to rail on and on about how she is forced to do everything at this company and never gets any personal time and she should be promoted and given a raise because look at how many hours she works while the rest of us go home on time, GASP.

Suzanne. Drives. Me. Batshit.

I am thinking of having a bonfire built in her office so she can go ahead and throw herself on it, and then maybe we can all get on with the business of doing our work in peace.

I Wonder if This Happens to Other People?

2008-07-09T09:10:00.005-05:00

I frequently dine at my desk during lunchtime … sometimes alone, sometimes w/The Boy. I have an office that only three people (besides me) can unlock. It doesn’t bother me that someone else has a key to my office—we keep departmental files in my big filing cabinet so I can usually deal with knowing that while I’m on vacay or home sick, others might wander in for something.

But when I’m at work, and trying to enjoy my lunch hour, it’s a different story. I understand that if you didn’t know I was in there, you might think you could pop in really quickly to drop something off for me. I have one of those little “Will Return” clock signs that I am quite vigilant about keeping accurate. So I don’t blame the person who outranks me who unlocks my door to drop off a signed scholarship form I left for him. If he came in after I’d already pretended to leave for lunch, how could he know I was in there? No harm, no foul.

But.

There’s another coworker, one with whom I work very closely and really really like. But.

This person knows when I close my door for lunch and whether or not I’m staying in or going out. And this person lets herself into my office anyway.

This kills me for many reasons.

1. I’m understanding if she is working on a deadline or something another department needs immediately. It happens to all of us. But I find it odd that she has to borrow the three-hole-punch at 12:14P every Tuesday.
2. I have a key to her office, and would never dream of opening it up when she had closed her door but was there. I’d knock. And then wait. Or figure out a way to, oh, I don’t know, deal until the lunch hour is over.
3. She doesn’t take lunch! But I do! I am as vigilant about working my 40-hour week as I am about my clock sign. I don’t believe in constantly working for free, out of the kindness of your heart. This isn’t corporate America, so you’re not impressing anybody here when you do that. So if I work through lunch or only take 30 minutes, I keep track and give that time back to myself later. Ain’t no such thing as overtime ‘round here, so you have to take care of yourself. And yes, we’re busy, and I’m all for pitching in and five or ten minutes here and there aren’t a big deal. But, dude! Doesn’t she ever get hungry? I feel like it’s some silent judgment when I close my door for an hour and she has to let herself in for some reason, working so hard while I sit around and eat and watch “Grey’s” online.
4. Sometimes, and this doesn’t happen very often but when it does, I often consider quitting, a student will knock on my door (b/c this is the digital age and a sign with a clock-with-hands on it baffles the children). When I don’t answer, this coworker will attempt to help the student. And once in a while, she can’t help, and instead of teaching the student how to tell time, she’ll unlock and open my door and bring the student into my office behind her to ask me whatever question simply cannot wait until 1P (sometimes 12:56P).
5. If she has to give something to me or file it in my office, my mailbox is just as close to her office as my office is. And it doesn’t require a key. And is fairly safe and confidential and protected and everything.

I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to bring myself to just be a grown-up and tell her this bothers me and ask her not to do it anymore unless there’s a true emergency. It’s been going on for practically three years now, so maybe I feel like it’s too late to bring it up.

If this is the thing that bothers me the most about a coworker, I have a pretty great life. I should just continue to growl on the inside and count my blessings, right?

Well, then there was the time I had the day off but came in for something and found that she had propped open my door for the day because it was more convenient for her.

That didn’t last, let me tell you. But I didn’t yell—I used “It would make me more comfortable if you … ” politespeak—so that’s something.

i wonder what the most annoying traits in a coworker are?

2008-07-07T11:36:00.002-05:00

i have a coworker who is driving me absolutely crazy. she just started here about a month ago and i'm so irritated with her all the time. as a bit of therapy for myself, i thought i would list a few of those incredibly annoying things that she does (and throw in a few random others for funsies.)

1) she laughs when she talks. she doesn't just talk like a normal person. she chuckles while she's talking to anyone about anything. she converses in a sing-songy voice that my preschool teacher used back in the day.

2) she feels altogether way too comfortable here. she just started, folks, and she acts like she owns the place. it took me nearly a year to feel comfortable enough in this business to speak during a meeting. she was throwing out suggestions and comments about things that she has no clue about during her first ever staff meeting.

3) she's a butt kisser. a total and complete butt kisser. i'm all about making friends with the boss and being buddy-buddy with her, but this chick takes it to the next level.

4) she's so loud when she giggle-talks. i'm not sure if she's loud by nature or if she's trying to make us aware of the fact that she's talking with so-and-so about whatever program it is she's learning about. TONE IT DOWN, SISTER.

5) there's another girl in our office that always says the following phrases: 'my gut tells me that _________' and 'typically, we___________'

6) we have a guy here who talks about his wife all. the. time. he tells me how people tell him how cute she is and how sweet she is and how everyone loves her. i know her from college and she is a sweet, adorable girl, but i don't need to hear it on a daily basis, you know? oh, and his newborn daughter? she's a genius and the most adorable baby you've ever seen. really. just ask him.

7) i used to work with a guy who never picked up the phone to talk. he always talked on his speaker phone.

8) i once worked with a girl who would let her emotions fly in staff meetings. she didn't try to filter. she didn't try to soften her opinions. she just let her mouth run. and if she didn't agree with something, she would fold her arms, huff loudly, and roll her eyes. i'm not even kidding. immature much?

okay, i'm done now. i'm not sure if i feel better or just more annoyed by sitting and pondering on these things. i think i need another vacation. last week just wasn't enough.

Tale as Old As Time

2008-07-02T15:22:00.004-05:00

**POSTING THIS TODAY, A DAY EARLY, 'CUZ I'LL BE ON THE ROAD TOMORROW. APOLOGIES TO WICKED FOR GETTING ALL UP IN YOUR GRILL.**

Darlin's and my beginnings are an interesting tale. The one sentence summary is: we were both somewhat rootless when we met, but our long distance communications did eventually segue into marriage-with-child.

Well, that's not very interesting, is it? I'd better plunge into the gory details. You may want some graph paper and a protractor to keep up with this. Go ahead, get 'em, I'll wait.

****

I (and all the other WW of course) went to a Small College in the Midwest, in the 90s. Darlin's parents attended the same college, in the 70s. The 3 of us majored in theatre and studied under the same man, and their alumni activities with this man and his theatre threw us together a few times, even though the college was in the Midwest and they lived in South Carolina. They came and stayed and taught a full semester my senior year of college, which I completely missed because I had left school early to travel in Australia. Ships in the night, as it were.

Fast forward to 3 years later. I'd been dumped by my pseudo-fiance and lost my job all at once, and was feeling both homeless and directionless. I was offered a short term job as Assistant Stage Manager for a play being performed at our Small College in the Midwest, which I took, because what else was I going to do? As it turned out, my future in-laws were also visiting and involved in this show. We all worked together, and had a great time, and very early on it came up that their son was my same age. A joke was carelessly tossed out that they were going to fix me up with this son of theirs, which quickly turned into "when's the wedding" and "make sure to have lots of babies." Har dee har har, we all had a laugh, and when the show was over they went back home to Carolina and I stuck around the Midwest.

Still with me?

I decided to visit the future in-laws in South Carolina, with MSO Rin and another friend. We drove down. I met Darlin, who just happened to also be there that weekend. I was interested enough in him to exchange emails and phone numbers at the end of the weekend, and then I returned to the Midwest. The next day he got in his car and moved to Denver, CO.

We wrote, we set up a sort of weekly phone date, and soon our phone calls got more frequent. I was dating a few young gentlemen at this time, one of them semi-seriously, and I wasn't too sure what was happening with Darlin because, hellLLOO, he was in Denver and I was in the Midwest. But I kept emailing. Kept calling. Really looked forward to dialing up my internet and hearing the words "Mail Truck." Stomped my foot in frustration on days when I missed his call. Began planting the seeds with my other gentlemen callers that they were not to expect anything serious out of me (I'm making it sound like I was The Shizz at this time, and, well hey, I was verra skinny back then is, I guess, the explanation.)

Clearly, we had to do something. If you will refer to your graph paper (perhaps I should have suggested a map of the United States, instead?) you will note that he is in Denver, I am in Indiana, and those two places are very far apart. What is a fledgling relationship to do? He wasn't planning on staying in Denver. I wasn't planning on staying in the Midwest. But neither could we plan to move to the same place to be together just to see how things worked. Pressure, much? It was a quandary.

I decided to just pick a place to live. I had to find a home for myself (which, all due respect my lovely jane and Wicked, was not going to be the Midwest. Snow and me are not friends.) At this time I was feeling very disgusted with myself for having followed my last two boyfriends to places and then having the relationships fall apart, so I was determined to just move where I was gonna move and Darlin could darn well follow me if he was so interested. Very long story slightly shorter, I picked Someplace, North Carolina.

Darlin, planning on getting his PhD, had applied to 3 graduate programs. One in Atlanta, Georgia . . . and two near Someplace, North Carolina. COMPLETELY INDEPENDENTLY OF ME.

I started to have an inkling at this point, that perhaps we were fated to be?

I arranged a visit to see Darlin in Denver. Phone calls and emails do not a relationship make, and we needed to figure out if something was really happening or fakey happening. I can remember stepping off the plane, nervous as hell because dude, this could either be a really fun trip or the longest freaking week of my life. And he was standing there, wearing a very long coat and smiling a little mysteriously. And I knew with a flood of relief that the week was going to be great, and that many more great weeks would follow.

Having just been surprise-dumped by a serious boyfriend, I held Darlin at arm's length for a while. And then, a few weeks after my visit, we had a phone call during which he described an instance at a party where a girl was all over him like white on rice, and said that he was glad I'd visited because if I hadn't, he might have ended up with that other girl, but since I had, he knew I was worth waiting for and blah blah blah, I totally missed that last part because OTHER GIRL??? WHAT UP, BITCH, YOU WANNA GO?? I THINK NOT, EM-EFFER, KEEP THOSE HO-ASS HANDS OFF MY MAN, OR WE GOT PROBLEMS, DO YOU HEAR ME??

The next day I called my mom and told her with a sigh - I think I know who my husband is.

That Moment

2008-07-02T10:15:00.003-05:00

I met my husband because I had needed validation for my whining. Truly. It is safe to say that I was bitter about boys by the time I met my husband. I had spent years going from lengthy monogamous relationship to lengthy monogamous relationship and none of those men were for me. I dated every liar, manipulator, and loser west of the Atlantic and clearly was not having good luck in the romance department. I found myself single for the first time during my mid-twenties. I hated every single second of it, mostly because it was during this time that nearly all of my friends got married.

I became the token single friend at events and had to eat my catered dinner with a smile plastered on my face wondering when my Prince Charming would be coming along. I was thrilled for my friends but doubted that anyone ever really "just knew" that someone was right for them. Surely it could not be that easy. I used my mastery of sarcasm to answer questions like, "So, will you be next?" and "When will you be walking down the aisle, dear?". The bouquet toss was the bane of my existence. It was a lonely time in my life.

I finally signed up for eHarmony because I wanted to be able to say that I was doing something, anything, to help my love life. I was matched with a ton of men (who I am sure are all very nice and normal, NOT) and I even went on a few dates with boys I met on the site. They were, ah, interesting people, to say the least. I had nearly given up on "the harm" when I found myself matched to someone different.

When I first saw the picture of my husband, I was instantly drawn to him. I thought to myself, "Oh he looks like a nice guy. I could be friends with him!". And then I read his profile. His answers were nearly identical to mine -- from what we liked to do on Friday nights to the last book we had read. I knew we would have a lot in common and a lot to talk about. We rushed through the various stages of communication on the site and then he wanted to talk to me on the phone. I made a game time decision and told him that I thought we should meet in person instead. He agreed and we settled on a place and time.

I probably told 673 people where I was going to be that night in case of a "situation" (code for I have been abducted and I was last seen at...). As I drove up to the pub, I was talking to my best friend on the phone. I have no recollection of what I said, but I have no doubt that it was something bitter about how this guy would probably turn out to be like all the rest. I walked up to the front of the pub and saw this man standing at the entrance. He was leaning casually against a column and had his arms crossed. I believe it was at this moment that I said to my BFF, "Oh, he's cute! Gotta go." I may have even hung up on her, I do not remember.

This man took off his sunglasses, gave me an easy smile and leaned in for a hug. The hug was comfortable and easy. I knew the moment that I saw his smile that he was going to be someone special. This man held the door for me (he does this all the time, but he says this time was mostly so he could check out my butt) and let me choose what booth we sat in. We sat through drinks and then dinner and talked for hours. We closed the place down. We found that we had so many things in common, so many things we wanted to do together, so many things we both loved. At one point, he reached across the table to touch my arm and that was the moment.

It was like electricity shot through my arm and I can honestly say that I had a moment of shock. What?? This is happening? This really happens??? This guy? This guy was my husband? Oh, but yes. And just like that, I knew. His tender touch was what told me that he would promise to walk beside me always and that he would always be kind, tender and compassionate. And he does. And he is.

They Asked Me How I Knew My True Love Was True

2008-07-01T10:32:00.005-05:00

The Boy and I met at work. I don’t remember what our first conversation was about, but I remember the first thing he ever said to me was that I should probably have a dust mask on b/c of the work I was doing with spray adhesive. Whatta guy … safety first!

Flirting flirting, group drinking after prepping for a big Rat-Pack-style fundraiser for the theatre, more flirting, he has a girlfriend?!?, I’m dating someone (who turns out to have lied about his age in an unforgivable number of years if you weren’t really into him, which I wasn’t), more flirting, blah blah blah, first date!

We were at the Jillians at Opry Mills, having a drink in the bowling alley alcove. It was one of those cute almost-not dates where he wasn’t quite brave enough to ask me out solo, so we had a couple of friends along and they mysteriously disappeared about five minutes after we got to the arcade game area.

So. There we are, in the Hi-Life Lounge, not drinking our drinks b/c we’re talking and laughing so much we don’t have time for anything else. We talked about theatre, of course, and Memphis and Mule Town and college … and discovered we’d both studied in England around the same time. And had flown home on the same flight one week apart. And somehow, it got pretty deep pretty fast, and I found out that, just like me, he didn’t think he wanted kids and didn’t believe in divorce.*

And then we both got quiet and he took a drink of his Long Island and looked around at the hipster bowlers, trying to decide if he wanted to ask me if I wanted to play a game (luckily, he didn’t ask. I’d have said yes, and then would have discovered that he is the worst. Bowler. Ever. EVER.). And while he looked around, I looked at him, and I was just flooded with peace and excitement and just a tiny bit of abject terror because I realized …

I’m looking at my husband.

I am going to marry this man.

I’m falling in love.

I will never have to date again.

Just like that. After one kiss, after one week of knowing him, after one-half of one date.

So how did I know? I don’t know. I just did. It was like looking out the window and thinking, “It’s going to be such a beautiful day today” or getting up and knowing exactly what cute outfit you’re going to wear or setting about baking cupcakes you know are going to taste just perfect. It simply was … how my life would be.

How it still is.

*These are internal positions on both our parts. We do not judge others for their reproductive or marital decisions. Just b/c I don’t plan to do something doesn’t mean I would presume to tell someone else she can’t either.

i wonder when i knew he was the one.

2008-06-27T15:13:00.002-05:00

tomorrow, super jas and i will celebrate our 8th wedding anniversary. we've been together for nearly 12 years now and when we first met, i hated him. okay, i take that back. i didn't actually hate him, but i found him incredibly annoying. and cocky. ours is not a story of love at first sight. it's not even a story of love at 100th sight. super jas spent nearly an entire semester chasing me and i spent nearly an entire semester hiding from him (and crushing on his roommate.)

annnyway, when did i know he was the one?
it wasn't our first meeting.
it wasn't our first real phone conversation.
it was our first kiss.

i knew that night when he came to my dorm room to watch a movie that i was going to kiss him. and i did. i kissed him. i just couldn't wait for him to make a move. and when i did, my stomach did flips and i felt like i was going to puke from the excitement of it all. it was the sweetest, gentlest kiss i'd ever experienced and when we finished kissing, i knew that i could never let this boy go. something inside of me simply clicked. i knew without a doubt that he was the one.

for sure, we've had our ups and downs in the 12 years that we've been together. we've had really hard times too when i thought that maybe life would be easier without him. but then i think about how life would really be if that were true. how my world would change without him physically being next to me along this journey called life.

and then he kisses me...and the butterflies that i get in my stomach tell me that there is no way i could ever let him go.

I Wonder What We Should Write About Next?

2008-06-27T12:20:00.002-05:00

I wonder . . .

what happened to FFAF? (I hadn't seen one in a while, so I leap forth with this, a topic brainstorm)
what beauty product I couldn't live without?
if I'll ever get a(nother) tattoo, and if so, what and why?
if __________ ever knew about ___________? (e.g. my hunky high school math teacher ever knew about my crush on him?) (that was a total hypothetical, BTW - my high school math teacher was a 60 year old woman)
what was the most hurtful thing ever said to me and how it's affected my life since?
" " " " " " " " kind " " " " " " " "?
what I'm going to do about _________? (e.g. the water dripping from my office ceiling all over my files?) (and that, unfortunately, is not a hypothetical)
what one thing I did this past year that I will one day regret/be so grateful for?
who my favorite writer is and why?
what I will be remembered for? (did we do this one? I feel like we might have done this one)
which is better - the Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
who is my favorite Spice Girl (or insert appropriate group) and why?
if I were a Spice Girl (or insert appropriate group), who would I be?
if my spouse were a Spice Girl (oiag), who would he be?
what one (publishable) thing did I do in college that I wish I could take back?
what other topic suggestions folks will put in the comments? Anybody?

I've Been Here Before

2008-06-26T09:44:00.005-05:00

This I Wonder sounded very familiar to me. "We've done this before -" I thought. I scanned through the archives (and got hung up for quite a while, re-enjoying our old posts! We are some good writers, yo!) And found it - a FFAF of mine from last August, which explains why I was the only one who recognized it as a done topic. However, just linking to my old post would be cheating, so I've decided to give you a bonus blog about my current It's-Not-A-Diet-It's-A-Lifestyle-Change meal plan that is supposed to help me slowly and healthfully get back to my pre-baby weight. Because if you force me to sit here and write about mouth-watering, artery-clogging, weight-increasing yummy goodness right now, I'm never gonna make it through this, my fourth day of following the INADIALC meal plan.

So. We start the morning with a delicate egg white sandwich on an English muffin, the eggs topped with 2% mozzarella cheese (no salt allowed, alas). This accompanies 2 ounces of cold cereal with wheat germ, raisins, and skim milk, and a half-banana. I add to this my first cheat of the day - a large-ass cup of coffee with tons of cream and sugar stirred in. Oh, yeah.

My morning snack is a Kashi TLC bar - made with their patented 7 whole grains granola mixture, with a generous portion of dried cherries and chocolate chips thrown in. This is actually completely delicious, and if I don't tell anybody that I eat it with a cup of hot chocolate, then I'll still be mostly on track for the day.

For lunch today, I will be eating a Lean Cuisine lasagna (also delicious, though woefully small), with a bunch of green grapes and some strawberry yogurt as my two sides. My lunchtime dessert is not on the INADIALC meal plan, but since it is a 90-calorie bag of chocolate drizzled mini rice cakes, I don't count it as a cheat. Neither do I count the caffeine free Diet Dr. Pepper. It has no calories, so I don't know from what ghost-ingredients it is made, but it must be magic, and magic doesn't count against me in the War on Baby Weight.

Dinner tonight will be shrimp and veg kabobs, grilled, served over brown rice, with a large salad of spinach leaves, radishes, non-salmonella-infected tomatoes (fingers crossed), and olives. The olives are my second cheat of the day, unless you count the hot chocolate, in which case they are my third (unless you count the hot chocolate AND the rice cakes, in which case they are my fourth.) My final cheat will be my nighttime sweet, a very small scoop of fat free strawberry ice cream, but since it's fat free (but double churned, and thus relatively delicious) I don't count that against me either.

This INADIALC meal plan is actually quite followable. It gives lots of snacks, the meals are great and large and filling and I usually like them. It forces me to get up early and make a nice breakfast (well, the baby forces me to get up early, but the INADIALC meal plan gives me something to do with my extra morning time). And clearly I don't force myself to stick to it absolutely.

Because, you know, last night for dinner I had a chicken burrito supreme and a beer. Whatevs. I'm not made of willpower, you know.