Thursday, July 28, 2011

Random Domestic Things That Probably Only I Find Interesting

Not quite sure this is worthy of a blog post. Sorry in advance if this is a waste of your time. But the 'domestic wife of the house' part of me is dying to know...

1.) Dishwasher. We have one. (Thank God.) But, the way I grew up was that you wash the dish with a scrub brush, THEN put it in the dishwasher for its second washing. So naturally, this is how I wash my dishes as an adult.

This past weekend we were at my in-law's house, and they are a put-the-dishes-in-dirty type of family. At first, this appalled me, really. I almost gagged watching those dirty dishes go into the dishwasher. I mean, the dishwasher doesn't actually wash dishes, right? It just... rinses them in detergent? :P But it seems to work for them, so maybe it's not so bad after all... or so I thought.

So fast forward to this week, I bravely (with one eye shut, the other eye skeptically keeping watch) put in some (shudder... gag) dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Fast forward 90 minutes (good lord why does it take so long?) and what do you know.... DIRTY DISHES.  The damn dishwasher DOES NOT WASH DISHES.

To rebut the comments that are surely flying through your head, dear reader... no, this is not some POS old piece of archaic machinery. It was purchased brand new less than 6 months ago. Furthermore, no, I did not let skanky dishes sit with a pile of food on them and then directly place in said dish-not-washer. They were practically clean, we're talking, a few smudges of food tops. And apparently this thing can't haaaandle the truth the food. Big fat whatever.

So my question for you is: are you a dirty-dishes putter-in'er? or a clean-dishes-putter-in'er?

2. My second domestic quandary: WHY IN THE HELL DO MY NEIGHBORS NOT RECYCLE?! Okay, I'll admit, it took me several (I'm talking.... 4) months for me to actually get around to buying a recycling bin when we first bought our house. I hang my head in shame when I think of all of the plastic I threw out with the garbage. But I'll have you know... that I saved every piece of cardboard/paper/cereal boxes for those months, and piled it in my back hall. It may have caused a bicker sesh (or two)... maybe. I admit, the pile was out of control; but once I started saving it to eventually recycle it, I couldn't throw it away.

So I finally got my butt over to the village office (literally, a mile from where I live... it's just hard to park at! was my excuse) and bought a couple of bins. Now we recycle everything, and this week we had a full recycle bin and one garbage bag from the entire house, including shitty diapers.

Like I said, the domestic part of me is wondering why on earth people in my neighborhood don't recycle. We live in an association so we automatically pay for garbage/recycle pick-up (as opposed to my in-laws, who have to procure their own garbage services... never heard of such a thing til I met them!) - so people! All you have to do is segregate it! SOO EASY. WHAT THE H-E-L-L?

My rhetorical question on the subject: if all of your garbage that your family created throughout the week was dumped in a landfill that was in your city/village/township borders, would you change your behaviors when it comes to consuming and/or recycling? 

If I had to drive by a landfill of my own waste, I sure as heck would be thinking about how to NOT keeping adding more stuff to it. Out of sight is NOT out of mind, people! I want to (lightly) throttle them.

3. Lastly, dear friends. I'd like to know what on earth you make your family for dinner. I feel like I have the same 5 things I make over and over. I am so g.d. bored with my cooking repertoire. And my goal is to get my kid back in the swing of healthy eating habits, as I fear my sweet tooth is genetic and probably not the best trait I've passed down to the poor wee one. Also, family members practically hand her a bottle of corn syrup, so there's that, too. Need to get that kid to eat more veggies, like yesterday.

Anyway, those are my domestic thoughts for the night. Time to go re-wash my dishes (by hand, obvy) -- no... I'm not bitter...

Friday, July 22, 2011

 I'm barely capable of posting with pictures, so bear with me. What little kid doesn't absolutely love to swing? Aunt Jenny in the background helping her along. :)

The big blue eyes remain... causing us parental strife as she is able to walk all over us and do whatever she pleases so long as she just looks up at us with her big blues. It's a rough gig, getting ruled by a 1-year-olds eyes.

Loves Chipotle... but really, who doesn't?

Walking w/Dada...

And running back to Mama... (jammies at the park... love it!)

Practicing her volleyball. Sorry kid, I have no pointers. I have not an athletic bone in my body...


Monday, July 11, 2011

Riiide, Sally Ride

To awake from slumber and join the world of the living each morning, I rise to the sounds of whatever is playing on the oldies station at 6:00 AM. I think it's set to the oldies station because it's the only one that comes in clearly on the dial (yes... one of those dial radio alarm clocks, it's not even digital! For shame...) AND, well, who doesn't love the oldies?
Well, it turns out, I don't love the oldies. Not all of them, anyway. On any given day, there's a pretty good chance that whatever song woke me up is what I'll end up singing in my head the rest of the day.
Today's song was Mustang Sally. NOT A FAVORITE. All day, I've been walking around crooning (in my head, mind you) "Riiiiiide, Sally Ride." Which makes me think of Sally Ride the actor, which makes me think of Mrs. Doubtfire, which makes me recite the scene in which Robin Williams prank calls Sally Ride with all of these different voices, trying to scare her off from potential nannies for her kids.
"Do you have a son?  (Yes.) Ohhh. I don't verk vith zee males.... cuz I used to be one."
"(shouting off the phone) Leila, get back in your cage!"
"I... am... job.  I... AM... JOB."
Come to think of it, if that's what waking up to (bad) oldies will do to distract me at work... I guess I'm OK with that.
Anyone else think Pierce Brosnon was a tool in that movie?! That's how I picture him in real life, based on my then-13-year-old impression of him that I got from watching that movie the first time.
More importantly, how much did you LOVE Sally Ride in Brothers & Sisters?
This random post brought to you by the letter: "Holy crap it's only 3:21 PM."

POST EDIT: Dooooooode. It's not Sally Ride... that's the astronaut! What an ejit! It's SALLY FIELD.

Friday, July 8, 2011

I Went for a Yog.

I went jogging last night for the first time in God knows how long. I made it three miles, stopping a few times for 20 second "help keep me from dying" walk breaks.
I have been thinking about going for that jog for MONTHS. You really have no idea. "What's the big deal, if you've been thinking about it, why didn't you ever do it?" you might wonder. Well. 
So let me back it up. After I had a baby, I decided to start jogging, not to lose weight really, but because I wanted to run a half marathon. Funny I mention it was NOT to lose weight. The weird thing about my pregnancy/postpartum is that I got pregnant when I weighed X, and at my 5-month pregnant checkup I weighed X+2. Yeah, a whopping 2 lbs. Well, the weight was not shy from that point on, and I think by the time I delivered, I was X+20 (or was it 25?). Anyway, the number never mattered to me, I really didn't give a shit. But who am I kidding, I probably can say that ONLY because I didn't gain more than that. If I had gained 50 lbs I probably would have been in the dumps about it.
So when I weighed myself 2 weeks postpartum, I was shocked to see that I was back at X weight. "Not too shabby, Self", I said, patting myself on the back and doing a little jig in the bathroom. I was even more shocked to see the scale announce "X-10" at my 9-week postpartum checkup. "WHAAAAT? Okay, clear the way... I have to do a cartwheel now!"
Anyway, the breastfeeding was awesome at shedding the pounds, plus I had started jogging to train for that half marathon. Half marathon came and went, I finished, I did great, I felt awesome.
And then. I took a "break" from working out, thinking I "deserved" a week or so off of running because of my awesome feat. "Hey, I went through hell and back trying to find time to run 13 miles while I had a 6 month old baby at home... I DESERVE A BREAK."
Except, it's not really a break if you never start it back up. And it's not really a break if you're not doing it just because. It's really just quitting what you had started. And to be honest, I've never been one to be a workout person, I'm not truly a runner at heart, I don't wake up and thing "God, I can't WAIT to hit the pavement." I do it for the health benefits, and truthfully because I want to look better in my clothes and feel good about my body. I didn't really need the "feel good about my body" benefits when I was training last year, I think it was more of a head-health thing.
But, combine the not working out thing with winter coming and going, then combine it with supreme laziness, also sprinkle in a few personal issues I was dealing with (or not dealing with), oh! and the ice cream.... combine in the ice cream as well. And Voila! I am back to X weight.
That's a bummer, you know? I hear about so many women having weight issues postpartum, and I can say with certainty that my weight issue has NOTHING to do with having a baby. Hell, I LOST WEIGHT after I had a baby. It has everything to do with my eating habits and those several sedentary months recently. Blurghphoey.
So, I've been reading books, checking out different websites, and trying to figure out why I do what I do, and how I need to change my behaviors to get results that I want. It's easy for me to write on my To Do List "go for a jog" (like, literally, that takes about 3 seconds to write and just about zero effort from my hand), but I've found that it's also really easy for me to NOT GO FOR A JOG. Actually, that's the easiest thing ever to do! There is plenty of TV to watch, plenty of Internet to read, plenty of other non-value-adding activities that actually make my life less full that I found myself doing. And I didn't have to break a sweat, or feel uncomfortable pains while heaving and hoeing up a long hill, totally out of breath. In fact, I felt just fine NOT GOING FOR THAT JOG, and I even had a bowl of ice cream while not doing it!
Anyway, over the last month or two, like I said, I've been at least THINKING about my health and becoming more aware of things. But I still hadn't made that leap to actually put on running shoes, and put my money where my mouth is.
So this week's To Do List included a lot of loose ends that I have to tie up (like writing Thank You cards for Claire's 1st birthday... which, omg, don't me started on how mortified I am that those still haven't gone out... today she is 16-mo... yeah, you do the math, I am 100% tacky), and I wrote "Run 5 miles" on the list.
And then I stared at it as Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday rolled around. Finally, last night, I had a revolutionary thought. A thought that was so profound, I should really get it copyrighted or something. Here it is: "I won't actually get to say I ran 5 miles until... I run 5 miles." Genius, right? I mean, hello Captain Obvious here. At your service. (I do accept tips.)
So, I got on the ole shoes (they still fit), and went for a jog. So literally, I have been thinking for months about that jog, I've said it probably a hundred times to myself, and at least a dozen to Nick, and even 3-4 times to my co-workers. My co-workers probably think I'm an idiot, by the way, as one of them is a runner and it's like Groundhog Day every time she and I talk about running. It goes like this:
    Her: "I went for a run this weekend."
    Me: "Yeah, I really, really need to start running again..."
    Her: (politely smiles)
Anyway, my lesson learned from last night: when you've taken a 9-month hiatus from running (omg, I just counted the months.... geez, 9 months?!), it's best to start on a nice, flat course. Otherwise, you end up like me: staring up the street at the 1/4 mile hill you have to run up. And you have some mental game with yourself regarding your next allowed walk break, and that walk break is AFTER the hill. So you've GOT to run up the hill, no ifs, ands, or buts. (Butts. He-he.)
So your inner dialog goes something like this.
"Rule # 1 about running up hills: Do not think about hills.
Rule # 2 about running up hills: There are no hills.
Rule (hill) # 3 (hill) about (hill) running (hill) up (hill) hills (HILL!) : do (hill) not (hill) say (hill), think (hill)  feel (hill), visualize (hill), or (hill) imagine (hill) the (hill) word (hill) "hill" (HILL!!).
Rule # 4 about running up hills: Only think about the ice cream you can eat after this is done."
KIDDING ABOUT THAT LAST ONE. Kinda. Sorta. No, I mean really. (Or do I?)
Anyway, long-winded post that actually feels more like it should be fodder for a therapist or something, but there you go. I got the first one out of the way. Now I just need to do a quick two miles and I can cross that item off of my list.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

A Few Things

This was sitting in my "draft" from September 27, 2010. Yeah, I'm so good at blogging! Well, what the hay. I'm posting it anyway, for my own nostalgia. At one point in my life, I had a baby and was excited about her being able to army crawl. I need to hold on to that lovely thought, as I now have a toddler who likes to torture me by throwing her food on the floor and splashing the dog's water bowl. Oh, and pinching me, she likes to do that, too. -LLC 7/7/11
1.) I am "training" for a "half-marathon". I "think" I may break something; either my will to live, the skin on my feet, out (see: sweaty all over) (get it, break-out?), or a combination of the above. Oh, and by "training" I mean: jog once a week, and pray that if I can jog 13 miles over the course of 2 weeks, that I'll eventually be able to jog that long in one stretch of time. I don't really get it either, the math doesn't compute. I need a calculator.
2.) My daughter Claire has two teeth, can army crawl, sits up like a champ, sleeps on her belly with her butt in the air, and looooves me. She is the bomb dot com. I kind of understand the Duggar woman now. If dilating to ten wasn't so painful, I could see having twenty? Err, um, where's that calculator. Divide that by seven, maybe.
3.) I know it's a blogging no-no to talk about work, so I will tread lightly. Since coming back to work in June, I have had three different jobs, technically. I am really excited about this third one; I haven't quite started it yet in practice (have in pay) but it will be exciting, me thinks. Things are looking up.
4.) An aside on number three above. And trying to be in line with not talking about work, I'll try to use a similie or methaphor or some other term I learned in third grade. Being a douchey person at work to people who make less money than you and people who may or may not be as high up as you are (rhymes with schmanagers) is like
well shit, I never did finish the simile... hence why it was sitting in my draft folder for almost 10 months. Alas, it's motivating me to write something new, as I said, for nostalgia's sake.