Tuesday, January 27, 2009
In an effort to not talk about everything I actually want to talk about, I would like to share a story from the lighter side of things...
Do you ever have one of those nights, where you fall asleep and you wake up and you've only been asleep like ten minutes, but it feels like you slept ten hours and you could seriously get up and start your day...if it wasn't 1:00 a.m.? We totally had one of those nights this weekend. And when I say "we," I mean my entire family--don't even try to leave the dog and cat out of this one.
First of all, I blame my sister. She got me into this whole Twilight bit and basically until I finish all the books (I have one left), sleep is like so not important, even though it really, really is (my hubbs and kiddos will vouch for that). So I read in bed. It settles me. I am good about falling asleep with the light on, book outstretched on my forearm, two pages into it. Except, not lately. Not for like the last three books I've been reading--all in the Twilight series. Nope. See, I've fallen for a vampire and possibly a werewolf. It's a complicated thing. And now that I type that out, I realize this should probably fall under the "stuff" I was referring to in the first paragraph, that I should probably not share with the world. Too late.
My bedtime has been pushed back considerably. So a couple of nights ago I'm reading, I glance at the clock. It's like 12:50 a.m. Shortly after, I finally doze off. Ten minutes later, I'm up again. Wide awake. Ready to start my day. What the? I roll over onto my side and realize, we've added another body to the bed--my five-year-old. What the?
I stare at her, jealous of her immediate and easy sleep. Hubby too. I realize the cat and dog are enjoying a restful night as well. After about twenty minutes, I realize I am not going back to sleep anytime soon. I stare at the ceiling. In my head I'm blogging, planning dinner, singing a Kanye West song...what the?
I need to read. But baby girl is there. An eternity later (30 minutes), I turn on the lamp on my nightstand. She doesn't budge. The dog gives me a disapproving groan. I start reading...maybe a minute later, in walks my 7-yr-old. What the? She can't sleep. I turn off the light. There are way too many arms and legs in the bed now. Everyone is fidgeting and slapping each other in the head, in a disoriented kind of way. This is insane. So I get up. Grab my book, water, and pillow and head on over to my 5-yr-old's room. I just need to read and pass out. As soon as I go in there, in she walks, pillow under arm and climbs into her bed. She's out like a light. Okaaaay...
I head on over to my 7-yr-old's room. Sure enough, in she strolls. She climbs into her bed, complaining about not being able to sleep. Yeeeeah...
I head back to my bed. I hear shuffling. No. Here comes big girl. She wants to come back. Grrrr...I suggest hubby go lay down with her until she goes back to sleep. He agrees and heads over. Boy can sleep anywhere, fast. No prob. I'm getting settled again and in walks little girl. No. What the heck is going on here? I let little girl come back in my bed. Then the dog starts shaking her head...her sign that she needs to go out. She is obviously confused. So I take her down. What else do I have to do? Out she goes. In she comes. Then she decides to eat. What the? Then hubby comes down. We let the dog back out. Yeah. Then we start laughing about the situation. It's like 3:00 a.m. now. We're in the kitchen. Laughing. We joke about songs we have in our heads. Of course, I've got Kanye West rolling through (How could you be so Dr. Evil?...) and Hubbs has Living On a Prayer going on in his. That's pretty funny at 3:00 a.m. I don't care what they say.
We bring the dog in, head on back to bed and somehow, by the grace of the Lord above, we all fall back to sleep. Until the cat bites me. What the?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
So last night the hubbs and I actually got a night out alone together. Sans kiddos. Very rare. We figured out that in the almost two years we've been in Oregon now, we've gone on two (count 'em, TWO) dates, including this one. It's a sad, sad, saaad case.
Well, I guess it's not an actual date when it's your hubbs Holiday work party. And I guess, technically we weren't all alone. BUT, I did get to dig deep in the closet for the high heels and wear a pretty black dress. Also very rare. I'm calling it a date.
The party was at the Embassy Suites, near the airport. A nice place--a stream bubbling in the hotel lobby. The menu said there would be appetizers and dessert...and drinks. The theme was Casino Night. A very cool thing tagged onto this was that the hubbs won a room in the hotel, through a raffle. SO, we also got to pack a bag for an overnighter. Very excited. Even though we are literally staying in a hotel twenty minutes from home, it's fancy, walking distance and again, sans kiddos.
After making arrangements for the kiddos to have a sleepover at auntie's and the dog getting a sleepover at grandma's, we decided going out to dinner would be nice too. Romantic possibilities. In my head, at least.
So we are trying to figure out where to go. This takes some thought. After I turn down three brew pubs (let's take it up a notch, hubbs, I'm wearing a pretty black dress and heels--are you paying attention, or what?), hubbs suggests Stanford's. A good option. I'm encouraged. Then he says, "Wanna eat at the one in the airport?"
Blink. Blink. Blink.
Did he just ask me if I want to eat in the airport?
Yes, yes my hubby just asked me if I wanted to eat at a restaurant in the airport. No doubt, due to the proximity to the hotel, but still. What just happened here?
I remind him of what romance looks like. That he used to be very good at it. That he used to scare me with how romantic he was. That on our second date he pulled up in front of my house in a limo and gave me a real diamond necklace. We hadn't even kissed yet, though the moment soon followed.
I reminisced how I came home one day to an answering machine message (back in the day when we had answering machines) of him singing an entire Pet Shop Boys song to me. Call me. My roommate and I were speechless. I was borderline freaked out, with how romantic the boy was. Who does this? It was incredibly foreign to me.
There were little things too...after work, I'd climb in my car and find little notes, elaborately folded, waiting for me under my windshield wipers. He'd plan little day get-a-ways to the beach. There would be chocolate and small, pretty packages with bows on them. Fragrant roses. Waterfront dinners. He was good. Real good.
And I'm really not that kind of girl. Really. You don't have to wine and dine me. Win me over with diamonds (I do love sterling silver though). I'm not fancy. I'm kind of a t-shirt & pj pant-wearing, stretch out on the couch, watching a movie, kind of a girl. But you know, all that pomp and circumstance is nice...once in a while.
Like last night--that would be a very good example of once in a while.
Noticing the air suck out of the room at his "eating at the airport" suggestion, he quickly recovered and made reservations at the Stanford's (not in the airport).
We managed to talk about a lot of things, at dinner. He's good at making me laugh, pulling me in to our own little private bubble, ignoring the movement and noise surrounding us. We had the salmon. We took pictures. We're not above that. We had to document that we had actually done this. Been there, done that.
The holiday party was okay. Just what you imagine for a work party. Two rooms full of people you don't know. Okay, he knew five people. He introduced me. We danced. We laughed some more. He is a character after all. I had a drink with a cherry in it. Okay, I had two drinks with a cherry in it. We checked out the hotel room.
Then we got a phone call. Right at 10:00. One of the girls was throwing up. So back to the real world we go. Goodbye hotel with the bubbling stream in the lobby. Goodbye little drinks with cherries in them. Goodbye very good little jazz band. Goodbye free hotel room.
We get everyone home, I kick the heels back in the depth of the closet and get the big towels out to spread across the girl's bed and floor. Hubbs brings the throw up bowl up and thus ends our night of romance and begins our night of Tylenol and nightlight lit, bedside vigil.
There's always next year.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The things **I** have done are italicized. Be amazed. I think I could get a lot more done if I actually got out of the U.S. and got over my fear of...everything. Enjoy!
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band--does Guitar Hero count?
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower--No, but I saw 13 falling stars in one night once...
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain--climbed on a mountain...
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped--sheeeeyeeeeah...no.
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea--not at sea, but Arizona lightning storms are *amazing*
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch--I have kids, I'm sure I've done this at SOME point
15. Adopted a child--no, but thought about it...
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train - European trip, Rome to London
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked--are you crazy?
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb--no, but now I want to...
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon--ha ha ha...I laugh at this...
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice--I rode in one of those human pulling cart thingy's in downtown Portland...kind of embarrassing...no, it was.
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset--again, think Arizona...
31. Hit a home run--very funny...
32. Been on a cruise--no, but I took a boat from California to Catalina, does this count? No?
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors--if the mountains of West Virginia count, then YES...
35. Seen an Amish community--no, but I've been in an Amish market before....
36. Taught yourself a new language--7th grade--"Ong" I longongvonge Dongongnongnongyong...that's right. be jealous of my skills...
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted--by my daughters...
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling--hello?? Sharks???
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater--man, these need to make a come back in a big way!!
55. Been in a movie--No, but I almost did a Hyundai commercial...
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies--no, but bought a lot of cookies...
62. Gone whale watching
63. Gotten flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving--very funny...
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp--no, but I visited a very sobering Holocaust museum in Houston once...
67. Bounced a check/cheque--I think when I was so very young and living on the edge...
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a childhood toy--Ellie, my worn out elephant, from when I had my surgery at five...
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone--it's quite something that this has not happened...
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle--Tucson, 1992. Bliss.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book--I have a dreeeeam...
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible--not in order, but I've gotten pretty close...
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one--My mom, my grandmother, my uncles, cousin...
94. Had a baby - two
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake--you can DO that?
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
Now it's Your turn!
Thanks for playing!
Friday, January 9, 2009
I wanted to share a pic of where I go to Jazzercise. I know, you're like...Okaaaaay...(I imagine you saying this in my mom's voice and tone). But it's such a neat building. Old. Yellow. Ghosts. I loves it. Besides, you know, the losing of the weight (which has yet to happen, cuz muscle weighs MORE than fat--true story), and sweating (which I have surprisingly grown to love, cuz I imagine melting calories running down my forehead and back), the good music, the fact that I can remember the moves now and actually do them, the awesome peeps there, and how I like to pretend I'm a dancer--I just really like the feel of the place. The wood floors, how they open the windows, the little nooks and crannies, the dust bunnies. I want to live there. I imagine where I'd put my couch and everything. Is that weird?
A couple days ago I realized I had a new friend. On my face. A nice, and new (shiny) pimple. Well, I haven't decided if it's a pimple or a spider bite. I'm kind of leaning towards the spider bite. I will not go into detail how freakity I am right now, thinking that there was a SPIDER ON MY FACE, within the vicinity of my mouth.
Anyway, it's new, and if it's a spider bite, I feel it's going to be here a while. I have another spider bite elsewhere on my body (which will remain a mystery to you) and it is still there after um...three months or something awful like that. It's not as full per say, but the redness is still there. All pretty and stuff. And the pic of my spider bite shown below would be more shocking (and pretty) without the make up. I should be a make up artist with the way I can cover that baby up, but you know no make up just isn't going to happen on the blog. That's just crazy talk.
So basically, since it's probably going to be here a while, I'm calling it a beauty mark (the glass is always full). Think Cindy Crawford. Okay, more like John Boy Walton. Whichever, I'm just gonna own it and call it mine. And at least the spider didn't bite me on my Hepatitis eye ( I Look Good In Yellow ). Again, the glass is always full.
Thanks for playing! (P.S. I added another pic, pointing out my spider bite/pimple/John Boy Walton Beauty Mark, cuz my sister & Dee said they couldn't see it...ha ha...)
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Apparently a big bootaaay means, you're pretty healthy. I mean, that was some good news to wake up to this morning. I am so healthy right now.
My good friend calls me, "Miss Square" (she always draws a little square as the words are coming out of her mouth), and I persist that I am more like a pear (always drawing a little pear as the words are coming out of my mouth). According to the article, pear = good.
You totally want to know what the "Miss Square" bit is all about, right? Let's just say, when you first meet me, I might come across as innocent. Quiet. Reserved maybe. Which I am. I. Am. (okay, that's a lie)
So yeah...back to the pear. In the article, they were comparing the pear shape, that us women may tend to resemble, to the apple shape. Apparently evidence shows (in mice) that the pear shape is no doubt healthier than the apple shape. A mouse is totally the same thing as a woman.
I could be an apple too. The pear and the apple are very close. But I've always had the bigger bootay. I've always been proud of my birthing hips. I mean, I'm no Jennifer Lopez (though I did once dream of being a Fly Girl) and I'm for sure not a Beyonce (though I wouldn't hate it). This much is just plain true. I'm more of...say...my grandma. Yeah, my grandma. BUT, I'm healthy-er. The mice said so.
And now, to tie this up in a ROUND about way...
Thanks for playing.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I got cat litter in my eye yesterday. I'm just going to pause for a sec and let you laugh. Cuz, I KNOW you have never heard that one before. ((Pause))
Insert Elevator Music
Yeah, I know. Who does this ever happen to? Ever? I've contemplated the conversation with my eye doctor. I could see the look of concern on his face as he tried to figure out how to remove the lone cat litter pebble under the top of my eyelid. He's perplexed, wrinkles in his forehead popping out all over the place. Maybe a bead of sweat or two. He didn't learn this in college. We're going to have to remove your eyelid. I'm sorry. Would you like an eye patch to match the color of your other eye? We have quite the selection.
I did learn something from Chemistry after all--how to flush your eyeball. So, I'm basically sprawled out on the bathroom counter, hanging upside down under the faucet, so the water could reach under the top of my eyelid (can you picture this?), holding my hair back, trying not to touch my skin to the sink basin (germs, you know), and all of a sudden this song from my childhood goes through my head. This song has actually come up quite often over the years. I first heard it sometime in the late 1970's. It was a public service announcement for Hepatitis. These are the things I remember from childhood, people. These are the things that stick.
I searched high and low for the original song, which was not to be found, but thanks to the good people of YouTube, I found a lovely family to sing it for you. Don't leave now. You've GOT to see this. It will only take a minute.
These people apprently grew up with me in Phoenix, the first and only place I've ever heard any sort of reference to the song. We were probably in fourth grade together. Apparently the song stuck for them too. And look, they totally taught their kids the song, complete with symptom actions! (See mom, I'm not the only one)
So I flushed and flushed, to no avail. I was careful not to scratch my eye, instead obsessively looking right and left, up and down, squeezing my eye shut, trying to "push" the cat litter pebble over and out. I got nothing.
I update my status on Facebook to let my friends and networks know I have cat litter in my eye. I crave sympathy.
I walk around my house proclaiming over and over that I have cat litter in my eye, because this is just something that needs to be said out loud...over and over. My kids just say, "Still?" Yes, STILL! The minutes tick by as I curse the litter box, my cat (making a "note to self" to Google "how to toilet train your cat"), and the writer of the Hepatitis song that has stuck in my head for over thirty years.
I lay down and squeeze twenty separate little Refresh Plus lubricant eye drops into my eye, sure that the next one is gonna get it out. Nothing. I think about asking the girls to lay their hands on my eye and pray for it. Lord, please help Momma's eye not be sick. I don't want to have Hepatitis. I like the fact that the whites of my eyes are white. But I can feel myself resigning, adapting to my new life. The new, grimy feeling my left eye now possesses. I can get used to this. What's a little poop in the eye?
At some point, around dinner time, I realize that I can't feel the cat litter pebble anymore. Praise the Lord & Hallelujah my eye has been saved! I'm gonna liiiive! Two seconds later it occurs to me that it is either pushed back further into my eye, embedding itself, or maybe dissolved. This process does not help my hypochondriac mind.
Don't be alarmed the next time you see me if my skin has a little yellow tinge to it. That's just the Hepatitis. And please leave a comment about what you think about my new blinged out eye patch. I'm thinking pink diamonds.
Thanks for playing!